Chapter 140 Smith's Silence

Geneva, Switzerland.

In a building near the European Organization for Nuclear Research, Smith sat in his office, the coffee in front of him having gone cold.

Outside the window was the snow-covered scenery of the Alps, dazzlingly white under the sunlight. But he was in no mood to appreciate it. His entire attention was focused on the newly downloaded paper on his computer screen.

"Failure Mode Analysis and Parameter Optimization of the tokamak-3 device under Extreme Conditions."

Authors: Lin Mo, Chen Xueming, Li Xiao.

Unit: Huaxia Nuclear Fusion Engineering Research Center.

He had already read it three times.

The first time, he read it with a critical eye, trying to find flaws. There were none.

The second time, he read it with a skeptical mindset, trying to overturn a certain conclusion. He couldn't.

The third time, he read it with the instinct of a scholar, trying to learn something. He learned a lot.

Smith put down the mouse, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

In his forty-five-year academic career, he had seen countless papers. There were mediocre ones, excellent ones, and epoch-making ones. But never had a paper given him this feeling —

Not jealousy, not anger, but a deep, indescribable... sense of powerlessness.

The door was knocked on gently.

"Come in."

His assistant, a young man in his early thirties, walked in with a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Seeing the cold coffee in front of Smith, he hesitated for a moment, then silently swapped it for a new one.

"Dr. Smith," the assistant asked cautiously, "that paper... have you read it?"

Smith nodded.

"What do you think? Do we need to issue a commentary?"

Smith opened his eyes and looked at the dazzling snow outside the window.

After a long while, he shook his head.

"No commentary."

The assistant was somewhat surprised: "No commentary? But last time with Lithium Extraction from Seawater, you..."

"That time was different." Smith interrupted him, "There was still room for skepticism then. Their data, while impressive, could still be attributed to coincidence, or selective presentation. But this time —"

He pointed to the paper on the screen, his voice low:

"The data this time is too perfect. Irreproachable."

The assistant was stunned.

He had followed Smith for three years and had never seen him speak like this. The Nobel laureate, who was always confident and even slightly arrogant, had only a complex expression on his face at this moment — not anger, not reluctance, but a certain kind of... acceptance.

"Dr. Smith," the assistant asked carefully, "do you mean that their technology is truly ahead?"

Smith was silent for a long time.

So long that the assistant thought he wouldn't answer.

Then, he sighed softly.

"You know, when I was young, I once imagined the future of Nuclear Fusion." His voice was ethereal, as if talking to himself, "At that time, I thought that the first to light the Artificial Sun would definitely be Europe, or the United States. We had the most advanced technology, the most abundant funding, and the best scientists."

He paused and gave a wry smile:

"But all these years, I have watched the Chinese catch up step by step. Room-Temperature Superconductivity, Lithium Extraction from Seawater, and now Nuclear Fusion. The methods they use, some we didn't think of, some we thought of but didn't dare to try, and some we tried but failed."

He turned his head to look at the assistant:

"Do you know what is the most terrifying part of this paper?"

The assistant shook his head.

"It's not those data." Smith said, "It's that systematic way of thinking. They ran simulations for every link that could go wrong. Magnets, first wall, Tritium Cycle, Vacuum Chamber, Heating System, Divertor — everything you can think of, they have thought of. Things you can't think of, they have also thought of."

He pointed to a chart in the paper:

"Look at this fault prediction model. They even considered the situation where two coils quench simultaneously, which has a probability of only one in ten thousand, and provided a solution. What does this mean? It means they are not gambling on luck, but using the clumsiest method to eliminate all risks."

The assistant probed: "Isn't this exactly what we should be doing?"

Smith gave a wry smile: "Yes, this is exactly what we should be doing. But we didn't. We are still arguing about which material to use, which route to take, and who to ask for funding. And they have already finished what needed to be done."

The office fell into silence.

Outside the window, a bird flew by, casting a brief shadow on the snow.

The assistant suddenly remembered something: "Dr. Smith, the International Science and Technology Alliance wants to ask you to provide an evaluation of this paper..."

Smith waved his hand: "Tell them I have nothing to evaluate. The data is there, the conclusion is there, and anyone can verify it. The only thing I can say is —"

He paused, a hint of respect he didn't even notice himself appearing in his voice:

"They did an excellent job."

The assistant opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing and quietly retreated.

The moment the door closed, Smith looked back at the screen.

The last page of the paper was the author profile.

Lin Mo's photo was in the top left corner, young, calm, with determined eyes. The profile was only a few short lines: Ph.D. from the Institute of Physics, Chinese Academy of Sciences; Chief Scientist at the Huaxia Nuclear Fusion Engineering Research Center; main research direction is tokamak-3 device design and extreme condition simulation.

Thirty years old.

Chief Scientist.

Already published such a paper in a top journal.

Smith suddenly recalled the scene when he first saw this name in the news three years ago. At that time, Lin Mo had just announced the success of Room-Temperature Superconductivity, and he had scoffed, thinking it must be fake.

Later, Lithium Extraction from Seawater was successful, and the international verification team went to Huaxia to verify it personally; he had to admit it was true.

Later still, news of 99.3% Tritium Extraction efficiency came, and he was silent.

Now, this paper was placed in front of him, using impeccable data to prove one thing again —

That young man was not a flash in the pan.

He was step by step turning humanity's energy dream into reality.

Smith reached out to pick up the coffee, only to find his hand trembling slightly.

He gave a wry smile and put down the cup.

Sixty-three years of life, he had experienced countless setbacks, but never had one made him feel... old like this.

Not the aging of the body, but the aging of the mind.

He suddenly remembered the days thirty years ago when he was working overnight in the laboratory. At that time, he was like Lin Mo, afraid of nothing, daring to think of anything, and daring to tackle any difficult problem.

But now? He sat in the office, drinking coffee, looking at other people's papers, and saying "irreproachable" as a comment on a junior.

When did it start?

When did he turn from a soldier charging at the front to a commentator sitting on the sidelines?

Smith stood up and walked to the window.

The Alps snow was still dazzlingly white. But in his eyes, that whiteness suddenly became a bit glaring.

He remembered one thing.

Three months later, the International Nuclear Fusion Conference would be held in Tokyo. The organizers had already sent an invitation, hoping he would give a keynote speech.

But now, he was suddenly unsure.

What should he talk about? Talk about Europe's progress in Nuclear Fusion? Talk about their technical routes? Talk about those issues they were still arguing about?

Or should he talk about — look, the Chinese have already run to the front, we should catch up?

Smith closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

Outside the window, it was getting late, and the outline of the snow-capped mountains became blurred in the twilight.

He suddenly remembered a sentence, not knowing who said it:

"A true opponent will let you see yourself clearly."

Yes.

He saw clearly now.

At the same time, on the other side of the ocean, in the Gobi Desert.

Lin Mo sneezed.

"Caught a cold?" Teacher Chen asked from the side.

"No." Lin Mo rubbed his nose, "Maybe someone is cursing me."

Teacher Chen laughed: "There are many people cursing you. George, Smith, and those who are watching us — can you count them all?"

Lin Mo also laughed and continued to look at the construction site in front of him.

The main project of tokamak-3 was more than half completed. In the huge circular foundation pit, embedded parts were arranged neatly, and workers were tying rebar. In the distance, tower cranes were still operating, and concrete mixers were coming and going, a scene of busyness.

"Teacher Chen," Lin Mo asked suddenly, "what do you think Smith is doing now?"

Teacher Chen thought for a while: "Reading your paper, I guess. Probably feeling depressed."

Lin Mo shook his head: "He isn't that petty. He's a Nobel laureate after all, he has that much grace."

Teacher Chen raised an eyebrow: "Speaking up for him?"

"Not speaking up for him." Lin Mo said, "I just think that true scientists will eventually respect the facts. Last time with Lithium Extraction from Seawater, he questioned it, but after verification, he accepted it. This time when the paper was published, he didn't say a word; perhaps there is really nothing left to say."

Teacher Chen was silent for a few seconds, then nodded: "Makes sense."

He looked at the rising tokamak-3 in the distance and suddenly sighed with emotion:

"Chief Lin, do you think if one day we really ignite the fire, will Smith come?"

Lin Mo thought for a moment and smiled.

"He will."

"Why?"

"Because he is a scientist." Lin Mo said, "The greatest temptation for a scientist is not to prove others wrong, but to witness a miracle happen with their own eyes."

Teacher Chen was stunned for a moment, then also laughed.

The sun set, and the Gobi Desert was dyed golden red.

Two scientists stood at the construction site, looking at the behemoth taking shape, thinking of the same thing:

The day of ignition.