165: Chapter 165 The Choice in Brussels
January 16th, Brussels, European Union headquarters, Berlaymont building, 1:27 AM.
Inside the office of the Chairman of the Industrial Committee on the 12th floor, the heavy oak door was tightly shut, and the green light of the anti-eavesdropping system was flashing.
Outside the window, the winter night in Brussels was silent and cold, with only the bell tower of the Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula looming in the mist in the distance.
Madeleine Renaud stood by the window. At 58, she was dressed in a dark blue Chanel suit, her silver-gray hair meticulously combed back.
She held a cup of cold black tea in her hand, her gaze passing through the double-paned bulletproof glass and casting toward the northeast—there lay the North Atlantic and, across the ocean, the country that was currently brandishing the stick of sanctions.
The office door was tapped three times—two light, one heavy—the agreed-upon signal.
"Come in."
The German Minister for Economic Affairs, Karl Schmidt, pushed open the door and entered.
This 62-year-old CDU veteran took off his black overcoat, which was stained with snow, revealing the gray plaid suit underneath.
His face looked exhausted, and he had deep bags under his eyes—his private jet from Berlin had been delayed by two hours.
"Madeleine, you should have been in bed two hours ago," Schmidt said in German, their native language and a habit for confidentiality.
"From the moment Washington passed the 'CHIPS and Science Act,' I lost the right to a peaceful night's sleep," Renaud replied in French, walking to the small bar to pour two glasses of whiskey. "Karl, look at this."
She pushed the tablet over. On the screen was a newly declassified document from the America Department of Commerce: "Supplementary Memorandum on Restricting the Export of Advanced Semiconductor Equipment and Technology to Certain Allies."
Schmidt flipped through it quickly, his expression growing increasingly grim.
The core content of the document had three points:
First, restricting the latest software updates for EUV lithography machines below 14nm from being exported to Europe;
Second, requiring European semiconductor companies to submit a "End-User Review Report" every quarter when using America technology;
Third, prohibiting European companies from transferring any relevant patents to "third parties that may threaten America's technological advantage"—and the definition of "third party" was vague, theoretically including any country that America disliked.
"They want to lock us into mature processes, just like... just like treating a pet dog: give it enough food, but never let the dog grow bigger than its master," Schmidt used a crude but apt analogy.
Renaud sat opposite him and sipped her whiskey. "Karl, that's not the worst of it. I spoke with the CEO of ASML on the phone yesterday, and he told me that America is pushing a new bill—requiring all equipment manufacturers that use America components to obtain a separate license from the America Department of Commerce before they can export equipment for processes below 7nm to Europe."
"That's impossible!" Schmidt slammed his glass down. "Although ASML is headquartered in the Netherlands, 70% of the core components of its lithography machines come from America. If this bill passes..."
"If it passes," Renaud continued, "the European semiconductor industry will fall two generations behind TSMC and Samsung within three years, and completely degenerate into second-rate within five years."
The office fell into silence, with only the ticking of the 18th-century antique clock on the wall.
Schmidt took off his glasses and rubbed his temples vigorously. "So, we must find a second path."
"A third path," Renaud corrected. "The first is America-led, the second is European autonomy that has failed, and the third..." She pulled up another file, "is cooperation with the East."
The logo of Spark Technology appeared on the screen, along with a 200-page technical assessment report—this was the "Analysis of the Current Status and Cooperation Potential of Spark Technology's Semiconductor Technology," secretly completed by the European Union Joint Research Centre (JRC) over six months.
The report's conclusion was marked in red:
"Spark Technology has reached a world-leading level in the field of FD-SOI (Fully Depleted Silicon-On-Insulator) technology. Its 14nm FD-SOI process has 40% better power consumption performance than TSMC's 1FET, and it has significant advantages in low-power scenarios such as IoT, automotive electronics, and edge computing."
"More importantly," Renaud turned to the next page, "Spark's entire technology stack—from design tools and manufacturing processes to packaging and testing—is completely independent of the America technology system. This means that if we cooperate with them, we can bypass all of America's export controls."
Schmidt quickly read the technical details of the report. As a former Siemens engineer, he could understand those complex process flow charts and parameter comparison tables.
"But the political risk..." He raised his head. "Chancellor Merkel is visiting Washington next month; if it gets out that we are secretly negotiating with the Chinese..."
"That's why we aren't using the government's name." Renaud already had a plan. "There are only five people on the delegation list: Infineon CTO Hans Berger, STMicroelectronics Vice President Isabella Moreau, BASF materials scientist Fritz Müller, Rheinmetall Defense electronics expert Lucas Schneider, and myself, participating as a 'private consultant.' Everyone will use business visas, and the itinerary will not be entered into the European Union's official system."
"Rheinmetall? That's a defense company!" Schmidt was surprised.
"Because Spark's technology can be used for military purposes." Renaud pulled up satellite photos. "According to intelligence, their FD-SOI process is already being used in a certain type of tactical data link chip, with an operating temperature range of -55°C to 125°C and radiation resistance that meets the military standard MIL-STD-883. This is crucial for Europe's 'Future Combat Air System' (FCAS) and 'Main Ground Combat System' (MGCS)—we cannot let America keep a stranglehold on our fighter jets' 'brains'."
Schmidt was silent for a long time. The wall clock pointed to 2:47 AM.
"Madeleine, do you know what this means?" His voice became low. "If we take this step, there is no turning back. America will view us as traitors and will use every means to punish us—from financial sanctions to the downgrading of military cooperation within the NATO framework."
"I know." Renaud stood up and walked to the huge map of Europe in the office. "But Karl, look at this map. 20 years ago, Europe possessed 40% of the global semiconductor production capacity. And now? Less than 10%. We design the chip, but the manufacturing is on the island of Taiwan; we invented FinFET, but the patent fees are paid to America; we support ASML, but the Americans can turn our lithography machines into scrap metal with a single word."
She turned around, her eyes sharp. "Europe cannot be America's gas station and assembly workshop forever. Either we take the risk now, or ten years from now, our descendants will ask: Why did Europe lose its future?"
Outside the window, the dawn in Brussels began to turn white.
Schmidt finally nodded. "When does the delegation leave?"
"Tonight," Renaud said. "I have already arranged a private jet, taking off from Luxembourg, stopping in Moscow to refuel, and then flying directly to Shenzhen. The arrival time will be 9:00 AM on January 17th their time."
"Moscow? Why..."
"Because America is monitoring all flights from Europe flying directly to China," Renaud sneered. "And the Russians are more than happy to provide us with a little 'convenience,' as long as it can cause trouble for the Americans."
She walked to her desk and signed the final document—a mandate authorizing the delegation to "sign technical cooperation agreements when necessary." The seal was not that of the European Union, but of the "European Industrial and Technological Sovereignty Foundation," a virtually unknown non-governmental organization.
"History will remember today, Karl," Renaud said, placing the document into an encrypted briefcase. "It is either our last chance to save European industry, or... the end of our careers."
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