Chương 165: 62. Day-Three 2

The following afternoon, the basement was officially unsealed. Or more precisely: the basement officially became an arena where technical people beat each other with their philosophies. It started normally enough.

Harvey brought the main unit down, Evelyn arrived with her connectivity and sensor specification sheets, D handled the power line routing, Roy stood to one side with his checklist, Lan logged equipment placement, and Ash and Aida positioned themselves in the outer ring like two senior observers who had come to watch an academically significant bloodletting. I'd assumed "officially opening" would mean connecting things, setting up tables, getting the projection running—maybe some mutual insults along the way.

I was too optimistic. The actual ignition point came when Harvey plugged a multi-function adapter directly into the main control interface. Evelyn made a sound. Very soft. Very cold. A single sharp intake of breath. Not loud. But in the language of technical people, it was roughly equivalent to watching someone destroy evidence in open court.

"What are you doing?" she asked. Harvey didn't look up.

"Getting it running."

"I know you want to get it running." Evelyn stepped forward, and her voice acquired that particular dangerous precision.

"My question is why you're using this kind of low-grade mixed connection to do it." Harvey finally looked up.

"Because it's fast."

"Fast doesn't mean right."

"Right but slow isn't morally superior."

"This line is going to make your signal verification ugly."

"Ugly and functional is fine."

"You're telling a core unit that's going to be used for fleet war-gaming that ugly and functional is fine?"

"Yes."

"I disagree."

"The cable's in my hand."

"Then I'll pull it out." I was standing at the back. It took me three seconds to register: oh. It's started. Faster than I expected. Harvey held his unit like a large engineering mole defending its burrow, expression moving into displeasure.

"Evelyn, can you put down that specification-doctrine brain of yours for one minute? This is the setup phase. We're not writing a textbook."

"Because it's the setup phase, we can't establish a wrong baseline."

"Wrong?" Harvey gave a short laugh.

"You know how much front-line equipment runs on survive first, optimize later?"

"This isn't the front line. This is preparation for the front line." Evelyn came back fast and clean.

"If you're willing to accept low standards in the preparation phase, you'll just bring bigger problems with you when you board." Roy quietly stepped back half a pace. Lan, equally sensible, tightened her grip on her notebook. Jess leaned down from the top of the stairs, took one look at the scene, and her eyes lit up.

"Wow."

"Don't stand there looking like you just caught a free show," I said.

"But it is a good show." She shuffled down in her slippers and dragged Akari along with her.

"Come on, the technical civil war has started." Akari leaned against the doorframe, observed for two seconds, and delivered her assessment.

"Yeah. It'll burn."

"That sentence told us nothing," I said.

"No," she added, unhurried.

"It'll burn for a long time." On the other side of the room, the situation had escalated. Evelyn put her terminal flat on the table and projected a connection topology diagram.

"The way you've connected this, the latency values between modules will be masked. When you run simulations later, you won't be able to tell whether you're looking at a system problem or a problem with your garbage wiring." Harvey wasn't backing down. He countered with his own simplified connection layout.

"Your ideal topology takes forty-five extra minutes to recalibrate and needs two additional adapter mounts. The point is that today's objective is to get the whole framework running, not to let you write its obituary."

"You're setting the definition of running too cheap."

"You're setting the definition of correct too expensive."

"At least I'm not planning to give the main unit a malformed skeleton on day one."

"At least I'm planning to let it breathe today!" Right. Even I could hear it now, and I was half-illiterate when it came to technical matters. This had stopped being an argument about wiring methods. This was a conflict of worldviews. One side: get it running first, staying alive is what matters. The other side: wrong architecture means corpses all the way down. Put those two people in a basement with thick walls, one main unit, and sufficient power, and you got disaster literature.

Aida was standing to one side and showed absolutely no intention of intervening. She just watched, mildly. I couldn't help asking.

"You're not going to stop them?"

"Let them argue until there's actual content."

"This doesn't have content yet?"

"Still warming up." These people at the top of the hierarchy were genuinely terrifying. They watched arguments the way engineers watched stress tests. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Jess was already throwing fuel on the fire.

"Harvey, I'm rooting for you. I support all technically romantic solutions that are brutal but functional." Evelyn didn't turn around.

"Shut up."

"Wow, even your insults are well-mannered."

"Because I haven't started actually insulting you yet." Harvey laughed.

"Oh? Now I'm curious."

"Touch that control board with that cable again and you'll find out."

"You see that? She's threatening me."

"That was a preview," Akari said. I was stuck in the middle with a growing headache.

"Stop." I raised my hand.

"Can we clarify the objective first? Is today's goal runs or keeps running long-term?" Both of them turned to look at me simultaneously. For a moment I felt like I'd walked into the crossfire between two fully charged gun turrets. Harvey went first.

"Get it running today. Optimize tomorrow." Evelyn immediately followed.

"Build it right today. It runs tonight."

"Building it right takes longer."

"That's because you find correctness inconvenient."

"That's because you call inconvenience dignity."

"Compared to you calling improvisation practicality, I'll take dignity." Jess started clapping.

"This is incredible. These two should just be permanently assigned to argue-powered electricity generation."

"The basement might actually have enough power for that," Roy said. Even D was frowning now. Which meant this had moved past ordinary argument. I took a breath and decided to step in and take the risk of getting hit from both sides.

"Compromise," I said.

"No compromise," they said, simultaneously. I nearly rolled my eyes.

"Let me finish. Today we build the core framework Evelyn's way—guaranteed not to become a malformed skeleton later." I pointed at the main unit, then at Harvey.

"But the external modules and auxiliary terminals that can be tested independently, those go to Harvey with his simplified method first. Core stays clean. Peripherals come alive now." Silence in the basement for one second. Harvey frowned. Evelyn frowned harder. I moved before either of them could open fire.

"And this way, if it doesn't run tonight, both sides share the blame. Nobody gets to pass the whole thing off on the other person." Jess lost it first.

"Shimo, that solution is fucking evil."

"Thank you. I've been learning from the best." Aida finally nodded.

"Acceptable." D said: "Reasonable." Roy recorded the arrangement in his checklist with the composure of someone reading out ceasefire terms.

"Core topology follows Evelyn's specification. External test terminals open to Harvey's simplified deployment. Neither party may unilaterally interfere with the other's designated area." Lan added immediately: "Violations result in loss of equipment priority the following day." Harvey looked at Evelyn. Evelyn looked at Harvey. Two seconds of silence, and then, somehow, they both agreed. Not the kind of agreement that came from being convinced.

The kind that meant: fine, I'm noting this, and you'd better not give me an opening later. I stood between them feeling a very deep tiredness. We'd just been trying to turn on a basement, and what I'd ended up doing was closer to brokering a transit agreement between two countries at war. The finest aspect of communal living. But thanks to that technical civil war, the basement actually came to life.

When the main unit powered on and the projection began spreading across the wall—star sector framework, orbital lines, simulation interfaces rising layer by layer—the empty thick-walled basement transformed in an instant into something unhealthy in the best way, a tactical space that was deeply impractical and entirely real. Nobody spoke. Even Jess went quiet for two seconds. Harvey and Evelyn stopped arguing. Because in a moment like that, even the most stubborn people understand: oh. This thing actually works.

And once it works, it starts changing the nature of the building around it. I looked at that projection, and felt something settle quietly in my chest. The Snowwind hadn't come yet. Orion Alpha hadn't come yet. But we had already started moving in that direction. After the technical war in the basement, everyone dispersed. Aida was pulled aside by Ash to review the simulation flow. Evelyn was still cross-checking connection latency.

Maki had gone upstairs to organize tomorrow's study schedule for me—yes, my life had deteriorated to the point where someone proactively managed my study schedule. Jess had disappeared somewhere to steal food. D was outside checking parking. Roy and Lan had started inventorying what household supplies were still missing. I should have gone back upstairs too. But somehow my feet turned toward the corner of the basement where Harvey was packing up his tools. He saw me coming and went immediately on guard.

"What."

"That reaction is rude."

"Because you don't usually come find me for personal conversations." He put a wrench in the case.

"When someone like you comes looking, it means I'm about to contribute labor, brainpower, or both."

"That assessment is also rude."

"But accurate." I was starting to hate how often that phrase was appearing.

"I want to ask about a bike," I said. Harvey's hands stopped. He finally looked up properly.

"Motorcycle?"

"Yeah."

"You just got your license."

"Right. Which is why I'm asking. Can't just get the license and keep walking everywhere." He stared at me for two seconds, checking whether this was a passing impulse. Then he made a reluctant sound and went back to packing.

"Budget?"

"Nothing too high to start."

"Purpose?"

"On and off campus, errands, supply runs, occasional city trips, carrying things when needed."

"Carrying people?"

"... Depends."

"Depends means yes." Harvey reached his conclusion immediately. I wanted to argue, but when I thought about Group 144, I realized he was probably right. If I actually had a bike, Jess would be the first to shamelessly climb onto the back seat, and Maki would produce some entirely reasonable justification about how she just needed to come along for a practical errand. That thought made my head hurt more. Harvey finally closed the last case and leaned against the table.

"If you're serious about buying, skip the flashy brands. Go straight to Kushima Heavy Industries' civilian two-wheel line." I paused.

"Kushima Heavy Industries?"

"Yeah."

"That fast?"

"Let me be clear up front: no sponsorship, no personal favor, and it's not because you live next to a Kushima." He said it quickly, like he was preemptively clearing himself of a crime.

"Pure technical basis. Durable, high parts compatibility, stable balance assist, excellent low-speed weight distribution, beginner-friendly without being insulting to experienced riders." I looked at him.

"That sounded exactly like an advertisement."

"I said no sponsorship."

"You almost recited the model number."

"That's because I did my research."

"Why were you researching motorcycles?" Harvey was quiet for a second.

"... Because a vehicle is just another type of equipment."

"That's a terrible reason."

"But sufficient." I noticed he really didn't want to admit that he might, on some level, actually respect the Kushima family's industrial systems. That stubborn refusal was interesting. Very him.

"What about other brands?" I asked, deliberately. Harvey frowned immediately.

"Other brands aren't bad, but your use case is tricky because you need to balance four things: beginner-appropriate, durable, cargo-capable, low-maintenance. Stack all four and the Kushima Heavy civilian line is the most stable answer. Especially if you're going to be running between campus and the city regularly—suspension and battery management are going to matter." He caught himself mid-sentence and added: "I'll say it again. This is not a personal recommendation."

"You've said that three times today."

"Because your face looks like you're about to go tell Maki Kushima that Harvey told me to come buy from you." I stopped. Because I had, in fact, been planning to do exactly that. Harvey watched my expression and his face contorted.

"See! You were actually going to do that!"

"I just thought since her family makes them—""Don't say it was my recommendation." He lowered his voice immediately, completely serious.

"If you want to ask, ask on your own. Don't drag me into the Kushima family sales chain." I almost laughed.

"What exactly are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid. I'm maintaining technical independence."

"In plain language."

"I don't want people thinking I got something out of it."

"Did you?"

"No!"

"Then why are you so worked up?"

"Because you people spread things!" I laughed. Not loudly, but genuinely. Harvey was most interesting precisely in moments like this. He had a complete and rigorous set of technical standards, and he almost never bent his conclusions for personal reasons. But the moment anything touched the Kushima family, or Maki, or me, he immediately entered a mode of aggressive self-distancing, like a suspect who hadn't done anything wrong but had already started building his alibi.

"Alright," I said.

"Kushima Heavy Industries, civilian two-wheel line, durable, stable, low-maintenance. No sponsorship, no personal favor, entirely on the strength of your irreproachable character."

"Exactly."

"Then I'll go ask Maki." Harvey's entire face said I knew it.

"... Don't say I recommended it."

"Now I want to say it even more."

"Hoshino."

"Fine. I won't say it." I turned and headed for the stairs. My head was already working through how to bring it up. If Maki actually explained it, she probably wouldn't just mention one model—she'd hand me the entire product line, usage scenarios, subsidy options, and maintenance schedule all at once. In a way, that was more pressure than the license test had been. I'd just set foot on the first stair— Ding-dong. The doorbell. Not the electronic notification tone from the school dorms.

This building's doorbell was proper and complete, the kind that sounded like it was informing you that the normal world outside was knocking. The entire house went still, like something had touched a live wire. Footsteps upstairs stopped. The conversation in the living room cut off. Harvey looked up from the basement. I froze on the staircase. Then, a beat later, someone spoke.

"... Who is it?" And almost simultaneously, the whole house produced the same reaction.!! I turned slowly toward the entryway. The person outside pressed the doorbell a second time.