December 24, 2030
“(Russian) Yes, the grinder’s slowing down. Since it’s for a demo, wouldn’t it be better if it ran faster?” Baek Hyung-jin asked an electrician for a favor. The electrician reluctantly agreed, boosting the grinder’s power supply. The machine spun rapidly, crushing grass, but overloaded and stopped soon after. Baek Hyung-jin checked the time. “…21 minutes. Let’s run the grinder for about 20 minutes and stop mid-demo. The audience won’t notice.” Jang Cheol-dae looked skeptical. “…Doing that could get us kicked out of Russia. Do you know how serious fraud is?”
Baek Hyung-jin and Jang Cheol-dae debated in a newly built warehouse on Moscow’s outskirts. “…We’re not Elizabeth Holmes. Does it make sense to mess with a finished prototype?” Jang Cheol-dae’s words made Baek Hyung-jin shrink. “…Well, we succeeded once, right? It’s just for show, and as long as it doesn’t fail when we sell it, we’re fine.” Jang Cheol-dae shook his head. “…No. We need to test if it actually works, but that’s impossible now. We didn’t come together to ‘fake it till we make it.’ Deceiving people and hoping it works isn’t our style. Let’s distribute the successful sample from last time and say the machine’s broken and being repaired.” Just then, Jang Cheol-jin rolled into the warehouse in his electric wheelchair.
“…Cheol-jin, what are you doing here? The prototype’s not ready,” Baek Hyung-jin said. Jang Cheol-dae turned around. Jang Cheol-jin, fully paralyzed like Stephen Hawking, communicated via a synthesized voice. “Gamamusa’s coming. He’s finished the experiment.” Jang Cheol-dae looked incredulous. “…It’s been 21 days without a peep, and now he’s coming? When?” Jang Cheol-jin displayed a call log with Gamamusa on his wheelchair’s monitor. “…I’ll be there by 9 a.m. tomorrow. I won’t be late.”
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“What? 9 a.m. tomorrow? 9 a.m.? The demo will be over by then, you idiot! Hurry up!” Jang Cheol-dae’s nagging came through the phone. Gamamusa picked at his ear. “Have you ever swum from Hokkaido to Vladivostok? Taken the Trans-Siberian Railway from Vladivostok to Moscow? I made it in just 21 days—anyone else would’ve died!” Jang Cheol-dae was dumbfounded. “…Nice job. Cancel the demo. The machine’s busted anyway.” Gamamusa shook his head. “A new machine’s being built and shipped now. The demo’s going ahead, punk.” Jang Cheol-dae was shocked. “…What nonsense? How do you build a new machine? Are you high?”
…
“…Damn it. Do I look like a delivery guy to you, Jung-pil?” Ko A-young raised her fist, pretending to hit the phone. Gamamusa was on a video call. “Do me a favor, A-young. Our team desperately needs your help. Without that machine, we’re done. You know that, right?” Ko A-young looked exasperated. “I know, I know… but I can’t help being pissed! If you hadn’t helped me back in high school, I’d have beaten you to a pulp and quit. Got it?” Gamamusa chuckled. “…Why do I get special treatment? You act all shy and embarrassed around Baek Hyung-jin and Jang Cheol-dae, but with me, you’re cussing up a storm.” Ko A-young hung up. She smoked a cigarette, tossed it into the sea, and muttered. The ship she was on wasn’t large—a cargo vessel, not a passenger ferry. “…Ugh, he’s too much.” She began recalling events from a few days ago.
…
“…So, you made a spare machine in case it broke?” Ko A-young looked puzzled. Gamamusa nodded. “…The business plan needs to work in multiple locations. Building the machine locally is cheaper and safer than transporting it. The NIS and Reconnaissance General Bureau won’t catch up.” Ko A-young nodded. “…What about the microbial culture? How do we handle that?” Gamamusa, in a Japanese delivery truck, chatted with her while fiddling with the steering wheel. “…We’ll send the culture by air. Then assemble the machine locally and add it.” He turned to her. “…Fly to Denmark. There’s a cargo route via St. Petersburg to Moscow.”
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