Translator: Dreamscribe
Alan woke up clutching his head, which felt like it was about to split open.
“Ugh, my head...”
He groaned and pressed his forehead with his hand.
When he lifted the blanket, a sweet sll of alcohol wafted up.
‘Ah... I was invited for a al.’
His mory ca back faintly.
The garden, pork belly on the grill, kimchi pancakes and cups of makgeolli.
The smiling faces of the friendly couple, the child’s giggles, and then everything was a complete blank.
“You’re awake?”
A gentle voice ca from the doorway.
Yu Seo-ha approached, holding a tray with a golden drink.
“They say this helps with hangovers. Try it.”
Alan smiled awkwardly and took the cup.
Gulp, gulp.
As the honey water slid down his throat, he finally felt his stomach settle a little.
“I’m really sorry. Coming here as a guest and getting drunk like that.”
Alan felt too ashad to look at Seo-ha.
It was the first ti since his undergraduate days that he had shown such a disheveled side of himself to soone else.
“This happens often in Korea. My parents love having guests over.”
Seo-ha shook his head as if telling him not to worry.
“Seo-ha! Tell the guest to co out!”
A voice called from the kitchen.
When he stepped out, a table was set.
Alan’s eyes widened at the sight of food he had never seen before.
Mi-young gave Seo-ha a look as if to tell him to explain.
“It’s called buk-eo-guk. In Korea, people always eat this the day after drinking. I like it even without that reason though.”
Refusing food that had been prepared wasn’t polite, so Alan hurried to sit down.
Steam rose from the bowl.
Eggs had been whisked into the clear broth, and red chili and green onions were thinly sliced and added, enhancing the color and flavor.
“Please eat. Be careful, it’s hot.”
Alan carefully lifted his spoon and tasted the soup.
Slurp.
A hot, savory flavor touched the tip of his tongue.
But it wasn’t overpowering. The soft taste of the egg probably balanced the saltiness of the broth. The flaky dried pollack gave off a nutty flavor with each bite.
The scattered red chili gave a mild stimulus to his tongue dulled by alcohol, and the refreshing aroma of green onion at the end completed the taste.
"Mm, this is good. It's light on oil and has a clean taste, so it's not heavy on the stomach."
"Right? It's one of my favorite foods."
When Seo-ha translated Alan's words, Mi-young showed an indifferent reaction, saying, "After drinking that much, even boiled rocks would taste good."
When Seo-ha relayed those words, Alan shrugged his shoulders and laughed. Her words reminded him of the European folk tale (Stone Soup).
“Ha ha ha! It’s been a long ti since I had such an enjoyable weekend.”
He had thought that a McMuffin was the best hangover cure, but this Korean-style hangover al revived his body in a different way. As his body ward up, he felt as if his cells were coming alive.
Alan emptied his bowl completely.
After finishing the al and drinking a glass of cold water, he felt his mind clear up.
“Well then, it’s ti to accomplish the purpose of my visit?”
“Yes! Let’s go upstairs.”
At so point, Alan had started speaking casually to Seo-ha.
As he climbed the stairs, Yu Seo-eun, who had been secretly watching from the second floor, quickly ran away with her beaver plush.
“She’s just shy.”
Alan, who had no family of his own, found Seo-eun, who was young enough to be his daughter, adorable.
“That’s a sha.”
It seed he’d have to wait until next ti to get closer.
Alan suddenly realized the drinking buddy he made last night was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Chul-ho?”
“He hasn’t been able to get up yet.”
“Ha ha! At least I’ve sowhat preserved the pride of Arican n.”
When Seo-ha rolled his eyes, Alan cleared his throat.
“Co in.”
Seo-ha’s room was neat, just as he expected.
An oversized bookshelf filled an entire wall, disproportionate to the room’s size.
The shelves were packed with various papers, theoretical books, and autobiographies of mathematicians.
On a large board standing in the corner of the room, formulas half-calculated were written.
Complex symbols and curves, a matrix of the zeta function with question marks drawn on it, indicating sothing hadn’t been resolved.
On one side, there was a theorem written about the ‘Self-referential Phase Variable’ that he had been curious about.
“Is this the algorithm you were talking about?”
“Yes.”
Alan unconsciously stepped closer to the board.
The space where lines and symbols tangled and scattered looked like a visualized map of Seo-ha’s thought process.
Alan stood for a long while, following the formulas written on the board.
“It’s a structure where the system receives its own output as input again. Simply put, each signal in the city determines its phase not only by referencing its surroundings but also its own state.”
“Hmm...”
Alan folded his arms and stared at the board.
After sleeping, his head felt clear. To at least maintain his dignity, Alan desperately traced the equations with his eyes.
“A typical feedback loop references external variables, but this has self-reference. That ans it recognizes and adjusts its own phase deviation over ti, right?”
Fortunately, it seed he wasn’t wrong, Seo-ha nodded.
“That’s right. Even without external central control, the entire network can autonomously synchronize its phase.
Each node records its own state and uses that information as the basis for decision-making in the next cycle.”
Alan listened intently to Seo-ha’s explanation, like a student back at university.
Seo-ha’s explanation continued at length.
And by the ti it was pitch-dark outside, Alan was finally able to fully understand Seo-ha’s algorithm.
“Wow...”
Alan was montarily at a loss for words.
This was not a paper Seo-ha had deliberately set out to write. Naturally, the preparation ti must have been short. And yet, with only the the of signal optimization, he had developed a theory to this extent.
“This isn’t traffic theory, is it? It’s a completely new form that combines topology, dynamics, and even cognitive systems.
It’s like looking at the signal system thirty years in the future. Would this be possible by then?”
A system close to the ideal that any urban engineer would dream of.
A strong desire to realize this began to stir inside Alan.
“That’s not really my field, so I’m not sure.
A city makes countless choices every mont. Rather than modeling it around traffic lights, I wanted to base it on human decision-making.”
“Cars are driven by people, after all.”
Seo-ha was surprised that Alan was taking an interest in this.
“Do you think it could be applied to Boston?”
“Hmm...”
Alan placed a hand on his chin and fell into deep thought.
“Seo-ha, your theory is genius. No, it’s so brilliant it can’t even be described with such a common word. Signal optimization is a the that many countries are researching even now.
But I can guarantee that no system currently in use in any country is more perfect than yours.”
At the excessive praise, Seo-ha’s face turned red.
“There are still a lot of flaws. Right now, it’s closer to a simple conceptual diagram. To actually apply it, it would need to be redesigned from the ground up.
But if I could use all of Boston’s data without restrictions, I could develop a much more sophisticated algorithm.”
Alan clutched his head with both hands.
“That goes without saying. You created this high-level algorithm from fragnts that can’t even properly be called data. If it were up to , I’d give you full authority, but reality isn’t that simple.”
“Is there so kind of problem?”
“There are as many interests in a city as there are people. And with politics, capital, and power, policies shift from mont to mont.
A budget approved today might disappear next year.”
“What about the mayor?”
He shook his head.
“He’s a timid and conservative man, so he won’t cooperate on sothing like this. And yet, he’s terribly power-hungry...”
Alan trailed off, as if sothing had just occurred to him.
“Seo-ha! How long do you think it would take for this algorithm to show results?”
“I think within a few months, all citizens would feel the effects. The commuting ti would improve.”
Alan sank into thought.
“...Maybe it might be possible to persuade him?”
Alan swept the scattered papers on the desk neatly into his briefcase.
“Seo-ha! I’m going to borrow this material.”
After hurriedly saying goodbye to the couple, Alan rushed ho.
***
Late afternoon, Boston Mayor's Office.
When the elevator doors opened, Alan stepped out carrying a heavy leather briefcase.
"Deputy Director, you don't have an appointnt with the mayor today?"
The secretary spoke with an awkward expression.
“I have sothing to report to the Mayor.”
“Please submit it as a eting agenda. We can probably schedule sothing for next week.”
Unlike his usual self, Alan suddenly raised his voice.
"Then tell him it's an unofficial matter!"
Without even waiting for the secretary to call ahead, Alan marched forward and opened the door to the Mayor’s office.
The secretary, flustered, tried to follow him, but he was already inside.
***
“What is it, Alan? What’s going on?”
Mayor Patrick put down his golf club mid-putting practice.
"Looking at your face, it seems you have sothing to say, but just leave the docunts and go. This is the only precious 30 minutes in my day when I can breathe. And you're ruining it."
Alan quietly opened his briefcase and pulled out so docunts.
“Just give ten minutes. It’s very important.”
Patrick sighed.
“Ten minutes. I’ll be timing you, so don’t complain later.”
As if this wasn’t the first ti, Patrick pulled a stopwatch from his drawer and pressed it.
Beep-
[00 : 09 : 50]
“This is a signal optimization algorithm developed by Yu Seo-ha, a researcher at MIT.”
Seo-ha was an undergraduate student, but he was also a researcher.
“You’re harassing again!
You know full well we have no budget or manpower! I just had a fight with the city council today over bus route adjustnts.”
Judging by the vein popping on Patrick’s forehead, he wasn’t lying.
“We have to do this now. At least take a look at the report.”
“Hmph! Are you looking down on because I’m from the humanities? Let guess, it’s probably full of nothing but those fancy numbers.”
“You’ll understand when you see it.”
The first page of the report began with the conclusion.
[Traffic congestion rate in downtown Boston, 37% reduction within six months]
As if entranced, he flipped to the next page.
The report showed graphs simulating the actual traffic network and curves of projected congestion indexes by commuting hours.
Patrick furrowed his brow.
“What kind of joke is this? Did you make this yourself?”
“The MIT research team designed it. I only reviewed whether the model could actually function in a real city.”
“Academics don’t understand reality. Do you seriously believe this city will function like those graphs in a paper?”
“Mayor. Do you think I don’t know the field?”
Alan stared at the Mayor.
Intimidated by his intensity, Patrick put down the paper and leaned back into the sofa.
“I’m not a fool. That kind of magical outco doesn’t happen in real life.”
“It’s possible.”
“You can say anything with words.
If it fails, you can go back to being a researcher. But what about ? My political career would end right there.”
“This is a fully feasible theory. You’re only focusing on the risk of failure, but what do you think will happen if it succeeds?”
“Tell .”
“Patrick, how long do you plan to remain just a city mayor?”
Patrick straightened up from his chair.
“What do you an?”
“If you were the mayor who solved Boston’s hellish traffic problem, wouldn’t you be in a position to aim for governor, senator, or even higher?
You’d instantly gain nationwide fa. People would rember you as a successful innovator.”
Silence fell.
Patrick picked the paper up again and resud reading.
“I know you're an honest man. So be honest with . Is this really sothing that can work?”
“If you give full authority, it’s 99% possible.”
“Full authority?”
“You have to entrust with everything related to this project, budget, personnel, administration. If I get tied down by committee or city council approval procedures, I won’t be able to do anything. And of course, you’ll have to block any outside pressure.”
Patrick looked dumbfounded.
“Are you telling to walk into a public execution in the town square?”
“I will make sure it pays off.”
Alan pulled out his resignation letter and placed it on the desk.
“Once I start this, I won’t be able to return to research.
If it succeeds, I’ll gain fa, but if it fails, no one will hire again. A researcher who botches a major project ends up more miserable than a failed politician.”
Hmm.
Patrick rubbed his forehead with his hand.
After pondering for a while, he got up from his seat.
“I need ti to think.
I have a professor I know at Harvard, I’d like to ask for his opinion. Bring the full thesis, not just the report.”
“Understood.”
Alan smiled as he rose from his seat.
‘He’s almost convinced.’
Right now, he was probably imagining himself as the governor.
“Alan.”
“Yes?”
Alan, who was about to leave, turned around.
“What kind of person is the author of this thesis? To have soone like you so captivated…”
Alan thought for a mont before answering.
“He’s a mathematician being carefully nurtured at MIT.
I believe that in twenty years, MIT will leave schools like Harvard and Stanford far behind. And it’ll be solely because Seo-ha is there.”
“That damned MIT connection…”
Patrick shook his head and gestured for him to leave.
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