Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: Pitching to the Mayor
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Alan clutched his pounding head as he woke up.
“Ugh, my head...”
He groaned and pressed his hand to his forehead.
When he lifted the blanket, a sweet alcoholic scent wafted out.
Ah... I was invited to dinner.
His memories came back faintly.
The garden, pork belly sizzling on the grill, kimchi pancakes, and makgeolli glasses.
The kind couple's laughter, the child's giggles, and then... a complete blank.
“You're awake?”
A soft voice came from the doorway.
Seo-ha approached with a tray holding a golden drink.
“They say this is good for hangovers. Give it a try.”
Alan smiled awkwardly and took the cup.
Gulp, gulp.
As the honey water slid down his throat, his stomach finally began to settle a bit.
“I'm truly sorry. To get drunk as a guest like this...”
Alan couldn't meet Seo-ha's eyes.
It had been since his undergrad days that he'd shown such a disheveled side to anyone.
“It's common in Korea. My parents love having guests.”
Seo-ha shook her head as if it was no big deal.
“Seo-ha! Tell the guest to come out!”
A voice called from the kitchen.
Stepping out, he saw the table laden with food.
Alan's eyes widened at the unfamiliar dishes.
Mi-young nodded toward Seo-ha as if to say, explain.
“It's called dried pollack soup. In Korea, everyone eats this the morning after drinking. I like it anytime, though.”
Not wanting to seem rude by refusing, Alan quickly took his seat.
Steam rose from the bowl.
The clear broth was enriched with beaten egg, shredded red chili, and green onions for color and flavor.
“Dig in. It's hot, so be careful.”
Alan cautiously scooped up a spoonful of the soup.
Slurp.
A hot, salty taste brushed his tongue.
But it wasn't overly stimulating. The egg's creaminess tempered the broth's saltiness, no doubt. The dried pollack flakes, full of texture, released a nutty flavor with every chew.
“Mmm, this is good. Low in oil, clean taste—no burden on the stomach.”
“Right? It's one of my favorites.”
When Seo-ha translated, Mi-young responded dryly, “He drank so much last night, even boiled stones would taste good to him.”
Seo-ha relayed it, and Alan chuckled, shoulders shaking. It reminded him of the European folktale Stone Soup.
“Hahaha! It's been ages since I had such a fun weekend.”
He'd always thought McMuffins were the ultimate hangover cure, but this Korean remedy revived him in a different way. Warmth spread through his body, cells coming alive.
Alan polished off his bowl clean.
After the remedy and some cold water, his mind sharpened.
“Alright, now to achieve the purpose of this visit?”
“Yes! Let's head upstairs.”
Alan was already speaking casually to Seo-ha before he knew it.
As he climbed the stairs, Seo-eun, who had been peeking from the second floor, scurried off with her beaver in tow.
“She's just shy.”
To the family-less Alan, Seo-eun felt like an adorable little daughter.
“That's a shame.”
It looked like getting close would have to wait for next time.
Alan suddenly noticed his drinking buddy from last night was missing.
“Where's Cheol-ho?”
“Still out cold.”
“Haha! At least I upheld a bit of American male pride.”
Seo-ha shot him a look, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Come on in.”
Seo-ha's room was predictably neat.
A bookshelf disproportionately large for the room filled one entire wall.
It was packed with diverse papers, theory books, and autobiographies of mathematicians.
In the corner stood a large board covered in unfinished calculations.
Complex symbols and curves, a zeta function matrix marked with question marks where something wasn't clicking.
On one side was the theorem on the “Self-referential Phase Variable” he'd been curious about.
“Is this the algorithm you mentioned?”
“Yes.”
Alan unconsciously stepped toward the board.
The space where lines and symbols intertwined and scattered felt like a map visualizing Seo-ha's thought process.
Alan stood there for a long while, tracing the equations on the board.
“The system feeds its own output back as input. Simply put, each signal determines its phase by referencing not just surroundings, but its own state.”
“Hmm...”
Alan crossed his arms and glared at the board.
After sleeping it off, his head was clear. To save face, he desperately followed the equations with his eyes.
“Typical feedback loops reference external variables, but this incorporates self-reference. It recognizes and corrects its own phase deviations over time, right?”
Fortunately, he wasn't off—Seo-ha nodded.
“Exactly. The network can autonomously synchronize phases without central control.
Each node records its own state and uses that data as the benchmark for the next cycle.”
Alan listened to Seo-ha's lecture as earnestly as a student back in college.
Her explanation stretched on.
By the time darkness fell outside, he had finally grasped her algorithm completely.
“Wow...”
Alan was at a loss for words.
This wasn't some painstakingly prepared thesis. The prep time must have been short.
Yet from the mere theme of signal optimization, she'd built a theory this profound.
“This isn't just traffic theory. It's a whole new paradigm combining topology, dynamics, and even cognitive systems.
Feels like peering at a signal system from 30 years in the future. Will it even be possible then?”
A system bordering on the ideal that every urban engineer dreamed of.
A fierce desire to realize it welled up in Alan's chest.
“Not my field, so I wouldn't know.
Cities repeat choices every moment. I wanted to model it around human decisions, not just traffic lights.”
“Since cars are ultimately driven by people, after all.”
Seo-ha was puzzled that Alan was so invested.
“Think it could apply to Boston?”
“Hmm...”
Alan rested his hand on his chin, deep in thought.
“Seo-ha, your theory is genius. No—'genius' doesn't even cover it. Signal optimization is a hot topic worldwide right now.
But I guarantee no country's system is as perfect as yours.”
Her face flushed at the excessive praise.
“It's still full of flaws. Right now, it's barely a concept sketch. For real implementation, we'd need to redesign from the ground up.
But if I had unrestricted access to all of Boston's data, I could craft something far more refined.”
Alan ruffled his hair with his hand.
“That's a given. You built this high-dimensional algorithm from mere data scraps. I'd hand over full authority if I could, but reality isn't that simple.”
“Is there a problem?”
“A city has as many vested interests as people. Politics, capital, power—they shift policies on a whim.
A budget approved today could vanish tomorrow.”
“What about the mayor?”
He shook his head.
“He's timid and conservative—won't cooperate. And yet his hunger for power is massive...”
Alan paused, struck by a thought.
“Seo-ha! How long until this algorithm shows results?”
“I think citizens would notice within months. Commutes would speed up.”
Alan fell into contemplation.
“...Maybe I can persuade him after all?”
Alan swept the scattered papers from the desk into his briefcase.
“Seo-ha! Mind if I borrow these materials?”
After hurriedly greeting the couple, Alan rushed home.
Late afternoon, Boston mayor's office.
The elevator doors opened, and Alan strode in carrying a heavy leather bag.
“The deputy director has no appointment with the mayor today.”
The secretary looked troubled.
“I have something to report to the mayor.”
“Put it on the agenda. We can schedule for next week.”
He snapped unusually harshly.
“Make it an informal item, then!”
Without waiting for the secretary's call, Alan marched straight to the mayor's door and opened it.
The secretary chased after him in panic, but he was already inside.
“What is it, Alan? What's the matter?”
Mayor Patrick set down his golf club mid-putt.
“You look like you have something to say, so just drop the papers and go. This is my one precious 30 minutes to breathe in the day. You're ruining it.”
Alan quietly opened his briefcase and pulled out the documents.
“Give me 10 minutes. It's extremely important.”
Patrick sighed.
“10 minutes. I'm timing it, so no complaints later.”
As if this wasn't the first time, Patrick pulled a stopwatch from his drawer and pressed it.
Beep-
“This is a signal optimization algorithm developed by MIT researcher Yoo Seo-ha.”
Seo-ha was an undergrad, but also a researcher.
“You're tormenting me again!
You know we have no budget or manpower! I just fought the city council over bus route adjustments today.”
Patrick's face flushed with real frustration, veins bulging.
“We need to do this now. At least look at the report.”
“Hmph! Underestimating me as a liberal arts guy? Probably just crammed with fancy numbers.”
“You'll see.”
The report's first page started with the conclusion.
He flipped to the next page, mesmerized.
The report featured graphs simulating the actual traffic network and curves projecting congestion indices by commute hour.
Patrick frowned.
“What kind of joke is this? Did you make it?”
“The MIT team designed it. I just vetted whether the model could run in a real city.”
“Academics don't understand reality. You really think this city will move like some graph in a paper?”
“Mayor, you think I don't know the field?”
Alan stared him down.
Overpowered, Patrick set the paper down and leaned back on the sofa.
“I'm not an idiot. Magic like this doesn't happen in the real world.”
“It can.”
“Anyone can talk big.
If it fails, you go back to research. But me? My political career ends right there.”
“It's a fully feasible theory. You're fixating on failure—what if it succeeds?”
“Tell me.”
“Patrick, how long do you plan to stay just a city mayor?”
Patrick straightened up.
“What do you mean?”
“A mayor who solves Boston's hellish traffic? You could aim for governor, senator—or higher.
Instant national fame. People will remember you as the innovative success story.”
Silence fell.
Patrick picked up the paper again and read.
“I know you're honest. So tell me straight—is this really possible?”
“With full authority, 99%.”
“Full authority?”
“Hand over budget, personnel, administration—everything for this project. If committees or council tie it up, nothing gets done. And block external pressures, of course.”
Patrick looked incredulous.
“You want me to get publicly executed in the town square?”
“I'll make it worth your while.”
Alan placed his resignation letter on the desk.
“Once I start, I can't go back to research.
Success means fame, but failure? No one hires you. A researcher who tanks a megaproject is more pathetic than a failed politician.”
Ugh.
Patrick pressed his forehead.
After agonizing, he stood.
“I need time to think.
Have a Harvard prof acquaintance—want his take. Bring the full paper, not just the report.”
“Understood.”
Alan smiled and rose.
He's almost hooked.
He's probably imagining himself as governor right now.
“Alan.”
“Yes?”
Alan turned at the door.
“Who’s the author of this paper? To mesmerize someone like you...”
Alan thought for a moment before answering.
“A mathematician MIT is grooming like treasure.
I think in 20 years, MIT will leave Harvard and Stanford in the dust—solely because Seo-ha's there.”
“That damn MIT connection...”
Patrick shook his head and gestured for him to leave.