Eagle, I don't want to form an alliance anymore.

Can we surpass the United States in fifteen years? Nobody knows for sure.

This acceleration plan is acceptable to moderate reformers because its core is to drive technological upgrades through investment, rather than to change the economic system through marketization.

This is not contradictory to Slava's "information technology + light industry" approach, although they have different focuses.

Driven by reformists, the plenary session also passed a resolution on expanding trade with China—the Soviet Union would increase its exports to China to over 2.5 billion rubles in 1986, mainly energy and industrial equipment, while imports from China would consist primarily of light industrial products and agricultural products.

Slava was relieved after learning of the speech.

The acceleration is at least not overt. As long as Gorbachev's attention remains on the economy rather than politics, they still have time.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

In early May, two things happened simultaneously.

The first event was the summit of the Political Consultative Committee of the Warsaw Pact Organization in Warsaw.

The 1955 Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Assistance was about to expire and needed to be renewed. This summit was a major event on the Soviet diplomatic agenda because it involved not only the continuation of the treaty but also the redefinition of relations between the Soviet Union and its Eastern European allies.

In his capacity as Deputy Foreign Minister, he accompanied the Soviet delegation to Warsaw to participate in the summit.

But her real work wasn't in the meeting room; Gorbachev delivered a speech at the summit that signaled reconciliation, emphasizing that the Soviet Union "advocated for a reduction in the intense confrontation between the two military-political alliances."

Gorbachev also stated: "If NATO agrees to dissolve, the Soviet Union is also willing to dissolve the Warsaw Pact on an equal footing."

That sounds nice, but Director Nian knows that NATO will never disband, so it's just a check that will never be cashed.

A day later, Director Nian disappeared from the meeting.

She went to Eastern Europe.

This time, his identity is that of a KGB agent.

During Andropov's lifetime, he sent her to KGB branches in Eastern European countries for exchanges and visits on several occasions. The heads of those branches had all met her, knew whose will she represented, and knew that her words were, to some extent, the words of Moscow.

Although Andropov is gone, his legacy remains, and this network of connections is still useful!

The half-life of interpersonal relationships is much longer than that of political power.

On her itinerary in Eastern Europe, Director Nian wrote "to revisit the diplomatic missions of the member states after attending the Warsaw Pact summit." In reality, she would spend half a day to a full day visiting the local KGB branch in each country she visited.

These branch offices had various cover names, some called association liaison offices, others cultural centers... The director drank tea and chatted with the people there to understand the local political atmosphere and the mentality of the cadres.

Someday in the future, her actions may prove to be crucial.

She is building a network of contacts that covers six Eastern European countries.

The leader knew that if the general course of history was not fundamentally altered, Gorbachev's reforms would eventually spread to Eastern Europe. The Moscow reformists used a brutal coup to deal with local conservatives, and those countries that had been under Soviet control for forty years would begin to experience violent upheavals at some point.

In 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, the Solidarity trade union came to power in Poland, the Romanian Revolution occurred, the Velvet Revolution took place in Czechoslovakia... the entire Eastern Bloc collapsed within months!

If the Soviet Union needs to maintain some influence in Eastern Europe by then, the network that the Soviet Union is now weaving will be its safety net.

Both she and Slava understood that change in Eastern Europe was inevitable, and she wanted to ensure that the change was controllable and that things didn't go awry and completely reverse the political landscape!

But before her trip to Eastern Europe began, she first went to Leningrad.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Leningrad, KGB First Directorate.

The official reason given by Director Nian for going there was "to select young cadres with foreign language expertise for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' international cooperation affairs."

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs does indeed need to borrow some people with foreign language skills from the KGB's intelligence training system.

The KGB's First Directorate was the most elite department in the Soviet intelligence system. People trained there were fluent in foreign languages, quick-witted, and had extensive overseas work experience, making it the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' favorite pool of talent to poach.

She spent most of the day rummaging through files in the First General Administration's personnel archives, sifting through dozens of candidate files to narrow down five or six who met the requirements. One file in particular caught her attention:

Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, 32 years old, is a young KGB major.

In 1975, after graduating from the Faculty of Law at Leningrad State University, Putin joined the KGB. He worked in the Leningrad branch for nine years before being selected in 1984 to study at the KGB Red Banner Academy (the predecessor of the Foreign Intelligence Academy) in Moscow, specializing in German-speaking countries.

The photo in the file shows a young man with a thin face, sharp eyes, and slightly pursed lips.

She glanced at his training results and performance evaluations—excellent German, top-ranked in combat and shooting among his peers, and rated as having extremely strong organizational discipline; his only shortcoming was that he "occasionally showed an overly strong sense of personal opinion in teamwork."

In the KGB's evaluation system, this is not a derogatory term, but it is definitely not a compliment either.

It means that when a person executes an order, they will use their own judgment to determine the method and intensity of execution, rather than operating like a machine following the rules.

Normally, this kind of person would be a headache for superiors, but in critical moments when real-time decisions are needed, this kind of person is often more reliable than those excellent executors who follow the rules!

She pulled Putin's file out of the stack of documents and placed it on top, then went to the head of the personnel department of the First General Directorate to arrange an interview.

The interview took place in a small, windowless meeting room.

Putin arrived on time, dressed in neat civilian clothes (KGB officers do not wear uniforms when not on duty), sat upright, and quickly glanced at the young leader's hair and pupils before quietly waiting for him to speak first.

"Comrade Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, I am Nadezhda Ivanovna Ivanova from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I am your superior in the KGB system. You can call me Comrade Ivanova."

Director Nian got straight to the point.

Her way of dealing with KGB people was to cut to the chase. These people were trained to spot lies and platitudes, and trying to beat around the bush with them was an insult to their intelligence.

When will your German language training end?

"This summer."

"Is there a clear intention to assign you to a new post after this period?"

"The First General Bureau's plan is to send me to East Germany, but the specific city has not yet been determined."

"Hmm, I guess it's Dresden?"

The director mentioned a city name—this was a preliminary idea she had seen in the files, and it had not yet been formally confirmed.

Putin's eyebrows twitched slightly.

"Well then, I have a suggestion, which can be considered an invitation."

Director Nian closed the file and placed it on the table, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

That posture, combined with her sunglasses, made her look more like someone conducting an interrogation than someone having a conversation.

"Your trip to East Germany will proceed as usual, but you will have an additional reporting line added—in addition to reporting to the regular channels of the First General Directorate, you will also report to me on the political trends you observe in East Germany, especially the attitudes of local officials and the public towards Moscow's reform policies."

This won't affect your normal work, nor will it conflict with the First General Bureau's instructions; it simply provides an additional information channel.

Putin thought about it.

"Do you have the authority to make this arrangement?"

"You don't need to worry about whether it's enough or not. Chairman Viktor Mikhailovich Chebrikov and I were both recommended by Andropov. I've already spoken to him. Now you just need to decide whether you're willing or not."

Chebrikov, the new KGB chairman, is no ordinary man either. In the original history, he was involved in the assassination attempt on Yeltsin in 1987, but unfortunately, he failed to kill him and was ousted from power by Gotto in 88.

"Yes," Putin finally replied.

"Okay, I'll help you with the paperwork for your wife and daughter to go to East Germany with you. Any other questions?"

"Nothing."

"That's settled then."

...

In early May, the hammer of the anti-alcohol movement fell.

The Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and the Council of Ministers of the USSR jointly issued a resolution "On Strengthening the Struggle Against Alcoholism and Establishing an Order for the Trade of Strong Alcoholic Beverages".

The core of the resolution is to impose strict restrictions on the sale of spirits:

Shorten business hours, significantly increase vodka prices, implement a complete ban on alcohol in workplaces and public places, and intensify the crackdown on bootlegging.

The resolution was initiated by Ligachev and Solomantsev.

Ligachev served as the regional party secretary in Tomsk for eighteen years, during which time he successfully transformed the city into a model "low-alcohol zone".

He firmly believed that alcoholism was one of the main reasons for the Soviet economy's stagnation, and that if Russians could be pulled out of their vodka bottles, labor productivity could immediately increase by 20 percent!

As a key figure in the anti-corruption campaign during the Andropov era, Solomyantsev had an almost religious aversion to any form of "debauchery".

PS: Solomyantsev was almost like Andropov reincarnated when it came to reforming party discipline. He was a man of his word, and as a hermit, he was ruthless to himself and his colleagues.

The resolution itself is worded to spirits—such as vodka and brandy—not all alcoholic beverages. It even mentions “creating better conditions for free leisure” and plans to expand the construction of cinemas, stadiums, and libraries in the next five-year plan.

From the perspective of the Moscow office, the resolution appears moderate and reasonable, even somewhat idealistic.

However, as this resolution is transmitted from Moscow to the constituent republics, then from the republics to the states, and finally from the states to the districts, it is amplified by subordinate officials at each level.

In order to demonstrate that they are earnestly implementing the central government's directives, local officials at each level will push the requirements of their superiors a little further:

When the central government says to restrict the sale of spirits, the state government interprets it as reducing the sale of all alcoholic beverages, the district government interprets it as closing all alcoholic beverage retail outlets, and at the grassroots level it becomes clearing out all vineyards!

...

During his first three weeks in Ukraine, Slava had no idea that the movement had already been launched in Moscow.

His entire focus was on establishing a foothold in Sherbitsky's territory. His first step was the same as in the Amur region—going to the countryside.

He requested that his entourage arrange the itinerary to be completely different from the VIP visits to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs:

He wouldn't go to model farms, city exhibition halls, or sit in hotels listening to local officials read reports; he wanted to go to places not on the tour route.

Ordinary collective farms, town markets, factory canteens, and villages hundreds of kilometers west of Kyiv where Ukrainian is spoken more than Russian.

His first impression of Ukraine could be summed up in one word: divided.

The industrial cities in the east and south—Kharkov, Dnipropetrovsk, Donetsk—have a similar character to Moscow.

Gray Soviet-style buildings, Russian as the dominant language on the streets, and state-owned factory chimneys drawing heavy gray-white stripes on the skyline.

These cities were the core nodes of Sherbitsky's power network; every factory director and every district party secretary was either one of his people or one of his people's people.

But heading west, towards the countryside, the scene changes completely.

The rural areas of western Ukraine retain something that can no longer be seen in the cities of the east: the national memory of Ukraine.

The farmhouse doorframes are decorated with colorful embroidery. Although the church at the village entrance was closed during the national atheist movement, the building itself still stands. The elderly secretly keep Greek Catholic icons in their homes, and the young people speak Ukrainian.

Shcherbitsky implemented a Russianization policy in Ukraine for thirteen years.

Ukrainian language classes in schools have been reduced, all public signs in cities have been changed to Russian, and Russian language proficiency is an important indicator in the assessment of cadres.

But policies can change the words on signs, but they can't change the language spoken in the kitchen or the embroidery hanging on the wall.

Slava noticed a detail while chatting with a group of farmers on a collective farm in western Ukraine:

The farm's private plots account for only about five percent of the total arable land, but the meat, eggs, and milk produced on these private plots account for almost two-fifths of the farm's total output!

The farmers slacked off in the collective fields, then worked themselves to the bone on their own small plots of land—a scene exactly like what he had seen in the Amur region, the only difference being that his agricultural research and production consortium hadn't yet extended its reach into Sherbitsky's territory.

He quickly expanded his influence through the Ministry of Industry.

A few days later, with Ryzhkov's help, his IT solutions began to attract the attention of local mid-level officials in several industrial cities in Ukraine.

He also successfully used Ligachev's power over personnel to replace the heads of several information technology pilot projects in several major agricultural regions of Ukraine, and promoted a group of young cadres who were open to reform to key positions.

Then the bulldozers arrived.

It was a day in mid-May when Slava was visiting a vineyard in Transcarpathia.

This vineyard belongs to a collective farm, but its history can be traced back to the Austro-Hungarian Empire!

According to locals, some of the twisted old vines on the hillside have been growing for over a hundred years. Their roots are deeply embedded in the volcanic soil of the southern foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, and the grapes they produce have been famous for their wine since the Tsarist era!

The farm's chairman is a Hungarian-Ukrainian man in his fifties.

The Transcarpathian region is home to a large number of Hungarian and Romanian minorities. He enthusiastically explained the characteristics of each variety to Slava in Russian with a Hungarian accent:

"Secretary, look, this row is Aurora, the white wine made from it has a honey-like aroma; that row is Sarospatak, a variety introduced from the Tokaj region of Hungary, which our family has been growing for six generations."

That patch on the top hillside is Pinot Noir, introduced from Alsace a hundred years ago during the Austro-Hungarian Empire...

He was halfway through his sentence when the roar of a diesel engine came from afar.

A bulldozer slowly climbed up the dirt road below the hillside, followed by a truck and two men in overalls. The farm chairman's expression changed the instant he saw the tractor.

"They're here!" he exclaimed, his face ashen. "They've really come!"

"Who's here?" Slava asked.

"The people in the district! They say it's an order from Moscow to uproot the vineyards!"

Last week, a third of the garden in the next village was already uprooted—thirty-year-old vines were flattened in just one afternoon. Istvan sat in the field and cried all night!

Slava stood there watching the tractor get closer and closer, its clumsy tracks leaving two deep mud tracks on the gravel road on the hillside, and the black smoke from the engine was particularly glaring under the blue sky of May.