noveltune Chapter 128 The Price of Growing Up
Chapter 128 The Price of Growing Up
November 1, 1988.
University of Tokyo, Hongo Campus.
This is the heart of Japanese academia, a labyrinth built of red bricks and concrete. The late autumn wind swirls withered ginkgo leaves across the plaza in front of Yasuda Auditorium.
Deep inside the Faculty of Science building, there is none of the intoxicating academic romance found outside.
Large computing center.
The heavy, explosion-proof, soundproof door completely shut out all the noise from the outside world. The constant-temperature air conditioning system was running at full power, spewing out icy air that made one's pores constrict. The air was filled with the slightly acidic chemical smell of antistatic agents and the burnt smell produced by countless cooling fans spinning at high speed.
There are no windows here.
Rows of massive, black server racks stood like tombstones on the gleaming, anti-static floor. These were Hitachi's proud HITAC M-680H mainframes, their red and green indicator lights flashing, the tape drives emitting a monotonous, hypnotic hissing sound, like the heavy breathing of some behemoth.
Suzuki Amy stood at the door of the server room, subconsciously tightening her collar.
Today she was wearing a sample garment from S-Collection's unreleased professional line—a brand-new white lab coat with an impeccably tailored fit and crisp fabric. The pristine white fabric reflected a cold light under the harsh fluorescent lights, lined with a high-thread-count silk shirt, and tied at the collar in a neat Windsor knot.
His outfit stood out starkly against the backdrop of the other doctoral students around him, who wore plaid shirts, had disheveled hair, and sunken eyes.
It wasn't that Amy wanted to dress up specially. Compared to the days when she was with Satsuki, this outfit was the simplest she could find, but it still stood out among the group of science and engineering students.
Several researchers who were hurrying past with printing papers stopped in their tracks, scrutinizing the intruder with a mixture of confusion and repulsion. In this ivory tower filled with male hormones and the stench of code, a well-dressed young lady with exquisite makeup was like a Persian cat that had strayed into a pack of wolves.
Amy ignored the stares. She pushed up her glasses, took a deep breath, and strode deeper into the server room.
The leather shoes made a hollow "thump, thump" sound as they stepped on the raised floor.
At the end of that row of server racks, several Sun workstations were scattered haphazardly on a long table, with network cables of various colors tangled like a jumbled mess between the table legs and the chair back.
A man was sitting in a swivel chair with his back to the door, holding a half-empty can of coffee.
Jun Murai.
This 33-year-old assistant at the University of Tokyo, who would later be known as the "Father of the Japanese Internet," did not appear at all like a scholar at this moment. He was wearing a T-shirt with a slightly distorted collar and sandals, staring blankly at a string of error codes on the screen.
"that……"
Amy's voice sounded somewhat thin amidst the deafening roar of the machinery.
"I'm here to take the test."
Jun Murai turned around.
His gaze lingered for a second on Amy's brand-new white lab coat through his thick glasses.
"Emi Suzuki?"
He casually crushed the empty coffee can and threw it into the trash can at his feet with a "clatter".
"I heard you've lived in the US and met those crazy guys at Cisco?"
"Yes." Amy nodded, gripping the hem of her clothes tightly with both hands. "I'm their tester in Asia."
"It's quite a reputation."
Jun Murai stood up. He pointed to the workstation whose screen was flashing, and then to the row of silent mainframes behind him.
"Currently, this Sun workstation cannot connect to the JUNET (Japan University Network) master node. Data packets are being lost in large numbers at the gateway, and the latency is extremely high."
He pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket, turned around and drew a rudimentary topological diagram on a portable blackboard, then drew a heavy cross on it.
"Those old guys in academia are still arguing about whether the OSI seven-layer model or TCP/IP is the orthodox one. They demand that I write a perfect protocol stack that is compatible with both Hitachi mainframes and Fujitsu terminals."
Jun Murai threw down the chalk, dusted off his hands, and stared directly at Amy with his sharp eyes.
"I don't want a perfect paper. I want it to flow smoothly. Now."
"This is the test."
Upon hearing this, several graduate students nearby immediately began to murmur among themselves.
Wasn't it said that this person got in through connections? How come there's still an unsolvable problem? Does this mean that this girl's backing isn't strong enough?
This was an engineering disaster that seemed almost unsolvable at the time. Different hardware architectures, different operating systems, bloated protocol layers, and the pitifully thin bandwidth of the telephone line. Achieving smooth data exchange under these conditions was like asking an elephant to dance ballet.
Some people began deriving queuing theory formulas on scrap paper, attempting to prove that congestion under current bandwidth conditions is an unavoidable physical phenomenon.
Amy didn't move.
She stood there, looking at the tangled mess of cables and the "Request Timed Out" message that kept popping up on the screen.
In that instant, she felt as if she were no longer in the cold temple of East University, but back in that garage in California filled with the smell of pizza and cat hair, back to that afternoon when Ryan Bosack modified the router in an extremely crude way to save money.
"As long as I can run..."
She murmured to herself.
Amy walked to the workstation, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
She didn't pick up the reference books next to her, nor did she pay attention to those so-called "standard protocols".
He paused for a second, his hands hovering above the keyboard.
Then, it fell.
"Crackling and popping—"
A crisp tapping sound suddenly rang out, with an astonishingly fast frequency, like a sudden downpour.
She accessed the underlying network configuration and began frantically deleting code.
Remove redundant check bits.
Ignore the handshake confirmations set up for the sake of "rigor".
Modify the TCP window size to force data packets in like a flood, giving the network no chance to breathe.
Lost your package? Well, then let it be lost.
Out of order? Reorganize it at the end.
This is a brutal, savage logic, brimming with the "West Coast gangster vibe." It's not elegant, it could even be described as dirty, but it has only one purpose—connection.
Whether you're Hitachi or Fujitsu, everyone is equal in the face of data flow.
Time was cut into lines of dark green C code, rapidly surging up on the black CRT screen.
Apart from the dull hum of the mainframes, the only other sound in the server room was the almost frantic "clatter" of Amy typing on the keyboard.
Instead of touching those heavy reference books, she went straight to the UNIX system kernel source code. The cursor flew across the vi editor as she deleted the redundant verification logic in the standard protocol stack.
struct sockaddr_in……bind()……ioctl……
She was doing something that would make all the academic PhD students in the room have their hearts stop—she bypassed the standard TCP congestion control algorithm and directly modified the underlying sliding window size.
To accommodate that thin telephone line, she even wrote a raw socket script to forcibly capture the modem's weak carrier signal, pushing data packets into the buffer like bullets, giving the network no chance to "breathe" or "handshake".
The cooling fans on the Sun workstation started spinning wildly, emitting a screeching sound as the chassis temperature rose sharply.
On the screen, the compiler's progress bar slowly climbed, displaying a series of glaring yellow "Warnings".
Amy didn't even glance at it. In Silicon Valley's garage philosophy, warnings are meaningless unless there's an "Error".
An hour later.
Press Enter.
Amy pressed the button hard.
The screen went black for a moment, and then lines of green data began to scroll wildly, faster and faster, until they finally formed a green waterfall.
The previously blocked transmission curve instantly rose into a straight line pointing upwards.
Ping value: 200ms……100ms……50ms.
pass.
Not only did it get through, it was incredibly fast.
The graduate students standing behind Amy stared wide-eyed, as if they had seen a ghost.
Jun Murai had somehow appeared behind Amy. He crossed his arms, staring at the ugly but extremely efficient code on the screen, his glasses reflecting a faint green light.
"It's very dirty."
He spoke, his voice hoarse.
"It's full of opportunism and completely violates academic norms. If I wrote it as a paper, those professors would give me a severe dressing-down."
Amy's fingers froze on the keyboard. She turned around, looking nervously at the examiner, a fine layer of sweat beading on her forehead.
"but……"
Jun Murai pushed up his glasses, a playful smile playing on his lips.
"It can run."
"In this wasteland where even sending emails is impossible, what we need is this kind of unorthodox approach that can get things moving."
He pulled a magnetic card out of the pocket of that crumpled T-shirt.
Level 1 access to the University of Tokyo's Large Computing Center.
"Smack."
The magnetic card was tossed onto the table next to Amy with a crisp sound.
"Welcome to the WIDE project, researcher Suzuki."
Jun Murai turned and walked towards the group of servers, waving to Amy with his back to her.
"There's only endless overtime and unknown bugs here. Also... next time you come, don't wear such expensive clothes. The static electricity here will ruin it."
……
dusk.
The ginkgo avenue along Honjo-dori was bathed in golden-red light by the setting sun.
Students, having finished class, rode their bicycles out of the Red Gate in twos and threes, ringing their bells, discussing which cafeteria to have for dinner or their weekend get-togethers.
Amy stood by the roadside, clutching the black laptop.
The autumn wind was a bit chilly, penetrating her thin white coat, but her face was burning hot.
She clutched the magnetic card tightly in her hand, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the raised serial number on it.
I really did it! Will Satsuki-chan be happy? I didn't let her down...
"Creak—"
A black Nissan Presidential Sedan silently glided across the road and came to a smooth stop in front of her.
The rear window was rolled down halfway.
He revealed a profile as exquisite as a Noh mask.
"Satsuki-chan!"
Amy practically sprinted over, completely ignoring the surprised looks from the students around her.
Fujita Tsuyoshi had already gotten out of the car and opened the door.
Amy climbed into the car, and a warm, faint fragrance wafted towards her, instantly dispelling the cold, oily smell of the computing center.
Ah...it tastes like Satsuki-chan, I love it...
"I got it! Look!"
Like a golden retriever showing off a treasure to its owner, she eagerly held up the magnetic card in front of Satsuki, her eyes sparkling with anticipation for praise.
"Professor Murai accepted me! He said my code is dirty, but it runs!"
Satsuki was looking down at a document on her lap.
The cover of the document was marked with the words "Top Secret" in bright red, and below it was a line of smaller print: "[Draft Amendment to the Regulation of Telecommunications Services in the Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications]".
Upon hearing Amy's voice, she closed the file and casually handed it to Fujita in the front row.
Then, she turned her head.
Those obsidian-like eyes gazed at Amy, a gentle, all-encompassing smile on his face.
"Thanks for your hard work."
Satsuki reached out her hand.
Instead of taking the magnetic card, she reached out her warm fingertips and gently wiped away an inconspicuous ink stain on Amy's cheek.
The sensation of fingertips gliding across her skin sent a shiver down Amy's spine.
"Well……"
"I knew you could do it."
Satsuki took out a clean white handkerchief and carefully wiped it, her movements as gentle as if she were wiping an expensive piece of porcelain.
"In my heart, you are the most talented engineer in all of Japan. If Jun Murai rejects you, it will be a loss for the University of Tokyo."
Then, she took out a can of warm Royal Milk Tea from the car's insulated box.
"Click".
The pull tab was pulled open, and white steam billowed out.
"Give."
Amy took the milk tea, holding it in both hands, feeling the warmth emanating from the aluminum can.
The milk tea, once opened, released a rich, sweet aroma—her favorite flavor, the kind that was always loaded with sugar. Satsuki-chan would always remember it.
Overwhelmed by a sense of happiness, she wanted to stay curled up in that warm carriage forever.
"Now that the door here is open..."
Satsuki's voice remained gentle, but suddenly carried a hint of chill.
She turned her head and looked through the tinted car window at the ordinary high school students in uniforms walking in groups outside.
"Then, starting tomorrow, this car will no longer be coming to pick you up."
"Cough...cough cough!"
Amy choked on her milk tea, then suddenly looked up at Satsuki in horror.
"Huh? No... you're not coming to pick me up? Then, shall we meet at school?"
"Have you forgotten? You're coming to study at the University of Tokyo!"
Satsuki turned her head and straightened the dark green ribbon at her collar. Today she was wearing Seiwa's uniform, an outfit belonging to another world.
"You're now a special researcher at the University of Tokyo. The WIDE project has just started, and Jun Murai is a madman; he'll demand that you spend all your time in the computer lab day and night."
"And me..." Satsuki's eyes were calm, "I have to attend those young ladies' tea parties and maintain that boring circle called the 'Rose Club.' After school, I have to go to Akasaka and Ginza."
"Our schedules will be completely out of sync."
"Clatter".
Amy's milk tea can wobbled, and a few drops of brown liquid splashed onto her brand-new white lab coat.
Of course she knew.
From the moment Satsuki took her to America, and from the moment Satsuki made her look at those obscure technical documents, she had a vague idea of what was going on.
I am a selected "special case".
Exceptions are destined to be lonely.
"I know..."
Amy lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously picking at the edge of the milk tea can, her voice muffled.
"I want to stick to Satsuki-chan all the time, I want to have lunch with you on the rooftop, I want to wait for you after school..."
A bittersweet feeling welled up inside me, and my eyes started to sting.
"But that won't work."
She sniffed and looked up. Although her eyes were red, there was a stubbornness in them.
"If I only did those things, I'd just be an ordinary lackey. There are plenty of people like that everywhere."
"I want to help. I want to be... irreplaceable to Satsuki-chan."
Satsuki looked at her.
The girl who used to tremble in the classroom and was mocked for smelling like solder has now learned to wipe away her tears and endure loneliness for her goals.
"come over."
Satsuki opened her arms.
Amy could no longer hold back and threw herself into Satsuki's arms.
She buried her face in Satsuki's uniform, which had a delicate fragrance, and greedily inhaled Satsuki's scent.
"I'll miss you so much..." Amy's voice was muffled inside her clothes, trembling with tears. "The lab is so cold, the machines are so noisy, and that professor is so fierce..."
"Just bear with it."
Satsuki's fingers ran through Amy's short hair, stroking it gently and rhythmically, as if soothing a house cat about to embark on a long journey.
"This is for the future."
Satsuki's voice was deep and gentle, with a captivating magic, like a promise made by a demon.
"Amy, you'll stay here for me. Stay at the source of this Japanese internet."
"When I'm forcing a smile at those hypocritical balls, when I'm negotiating in conference rooms reeking of money, I need to know..."
She cupped Amy's face in her hands and gently wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes with her thumb.
"Somewhere in this city, there is a pair of the sharpest eyes, watching my future."
"When we've spread this network, when the whole of Tokyo is running on our network..."
"Then, you'll never have to leave me again."
"Really?" Amy looked into those deep black eyes as if she were looking into a faith.
"I never lie to you."
Satsuki smiled and gently pressed her forehead against Amy's.
"You are my technical advisor. This is a lifetime position."
"Um!"
Amy nodded vigorously.
That slight sadness was transformed into a burning motivation by the phrase "tenure".
……
The car door opened.
Amy got out of the car and stood under the streetlights at the main gate of Dongda University.
The late autumn wind swept up the fallen leaves on the ground, and blew her brand-new white coat, stained with milk tea.
"Bang."
The car door closed.
The black sedan started, its red taillights casting a streak of light in the twilight, merging into the bustling traffic of Tokyo, heading towards that glittering, decadent world of fame and fortune.
That was Satsuki's battlefield.
Amy clutched the magnetic card and half a can of warm milk tea tightly in her hand.
She didn't look back, nor did she shed another tear.
She turned around to face the massive, dark, and behemoth-like University of Tokyo Computing Center behind her.
There was no black tea there, nor were there any hugs.
But there is a path leading to Satsuki's side.
"I want to become stronger..."
She muttered to herself, biting her lip.
The streetlights cast a long shadow of her.
The girl took steps, walking deeper and deeper into the darkness.