Chapter 57: I Never Expected It Actually To Be That Fred

"Professor, what I wanted to ask is about Kennedy and Nixon—who do you think will win?"

Lin Ran didn't really care about the answer; he just wanted to use it as leverage to make his subsequent persuasion of John Morgan to back Kennedy more convincing.

"Them? I don't care who becomes president. Why? Do you care so much about who sits in the White House?" Horkheimer asked, puzzled.

He was well aware of what Lin Ran was trying to accomplish, and even more conscious of the intimate relationship between aerospace and politics.

After Lin Ran roughly explained his cooperation with John Morgan and the full story behind the matter, Horkheimer advised him:

"Randolph, honestly, I really don't understand why you always want to meddle in aerospace. You are already one of the most famous mathematicians in the world.

I believe you possess comparable talent in philosophy; you could become one of the top scholars of this era.

Material wealth, fame, a sense of accomplishment, and even the higher fulfillment brought by the pursuit of truth—you lack none of these.

Why bother getting mixed up in politics?"

He continued, "At first, I did harbor the thought of getting you into NASA to see if you could fight those Nazi fellows, ensuring that without NASA's protection, none of them would meet a good end.

But that was then, and this is now. Your ability in mathematics clearly outweighs aerospace.

If you don't want to do this, I can help you reject Morgan on your end."

Horkheimer urged.

Lin Ran pointed to the sky overhead: "Professor, it's because space is right there.

You're right, I lack nothing.

Yet for me, only space can grant me the fulfillment of self-actualization. I hope that in our lifetime, we will not remain confined to this tiny planet.

Professor, the development of productive forces leads to geographical expansion, geographical expansion brings about the transformation of social structures, and social structures in turn give birth to the continuous evolution of philosophical currents. Aren't you curious about what the philosophical currents of the interstellar era will look like?

Not only am I curious about the evolution of philosophical trends in the interstellar era, but I am also curious about where humanity will lead society as a whole."

Horkheimer nodded silently, and after a moment said, "I understand. However, I still hold the same view: Nixon and Kennedy are no different.

It makes no difference which of the two takes office.

You don't need to worry about the rest. As long as your proposal is recognized in NASA's bidding process, even if Kennedy strongly opposes cooperation between NASA and General Aerospace after taking office, I will find a way to get you into NASA and secure a certain degree of leadership for you.

If Nixon wins, then you can simply rely on General Aerospace and Morgan.

So you don't need to do a thing."

Lin Ran asked, "Professor, are you really that confident?"

Horkheimer's completely hairless, bald head gleamed brightly under the sunlight. It wasn't his gaze that radiated wisdom, but his bare scalp: "The Jewish community uniformly supports Kennedy.

Over eighty-seven percent of Jewish voters cast their ballots for Kennedy in the polls.

He will grant us this courtesy.

Coupled with your own competence, plus, don't forget that the Irish-Americans likewise dislike the Germans."

Lin Ran never expected that before even making a decision, he was already hedging his bets, unable to lose no matter how he chose. For a moment, he began to look forward to the evening banquet.

"And don't forget, the topic assigned to your research is: The paradox of critical theory itself lies in the fact that when it attempts to intervene in reality through philosophy, it must bear the risk of degenerating into a new form of domination.

When reason attempts to transcend its limitations, it always carries the seeds of self-destruction.

Is there any way to enable critical theory to escape such a fate?"

Just as Lin Ran was about to leave, Professor Horkheimer's voice came from behind him. Lin Ran turned his head and met the professor's wise gaze, having the fleeting illusion that the man could peer across the river of time to witness the division, chaos, and turmoil sown by critical theory after taking root, sprouting, and flourishing in America by the year 2020.

"Understood, Professor."

...

"Is there a restaurant here too?"

John Morgan, just as he had during the day, drove his Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud II to pick up Lin Ran, pulling up in front of 38 East 37th Street in Manhattan.

After getting out of the car, Lin Ran looked left and right, yet saw no sign indicating a restaurant.

He had walked past this place several times in New York sixty years later, and he clearly remembered that the exterior walls and decoration had remained unchanged for six decades.

It still featured a limestone facade, with rustic ashlar masonry on the ground floor and smooth stonework on the upper levels. The central entrance possessed a portico supported by four Ionic columns, topped by a pediment adorned with carved reliefs, including an eagle with outstretched wings and two female statues.

Sixty years later, just as now, it received no casual guests and had no walk-in visitors.

He and Li Xiaoman had once guessed about it, with Li Xiaoman believing it might be a gathering place for a secret club.

John Morgan followed closely behind, climbing out of the car:

"Of course. The Union League Club moved here in 1901. It was designed by the master architect Whitney Warren—the same man who designed Grand Central Terminal—blending classical Greek, Roman, Renaissance, and Baroque elements in the Beaux-Arts architectural style.

The Republican Party's very first meeting in New York was held at the Union League Club. If I recall correctly, that dates back to the 1850s.

It is absolutely secret, absolutely safe, and free from any unexpected disturbances, allowing both guests and hosts to let loose to their hearts' content."

Neither Lin Ran nor John Morgan arrived too early or too late.

The earlier guests looked slightly surprised to spot a person of Asian descent at an event of this scale.

"Randolph, Randolph Lin, mathematics professor at Columbia University, my business partner."

Backed by John Morgan's introduction, coupled with the fact that Lin Ran's face frequently graced the front pages of major newspapers, these white men all appeared extremely courteous.

The older white men, attired in dark suits with neatly tied neckties and hair combed into the popular slicked-back style, were merely polite.

On the contrary, one white man whose appearance bore a striking resemblance to the future White House master of the 2020s proved rather enthusiastic. When he introduced himself, he actually turned out to be that very Fred.

Fred F.

John Morgan murmured an explanation to Lin Ran: "Just an upstart. I have no idea why Robert Finch invited him to a fundraising dinner."

Lin Ran glanced over at the white man, who waved back at him in a very friendly manner.

A knot tightened in Lin Ran's chest. If John Morgan viewed Fred as a mere upstart, how did he view him? As a useful little Asian tool?

Fortunately, he only regarded Morgan as a tool for his own ends anyway; they were just using each other.

The banquet commenced with a cocktail party, where guests holding glasses of martini or whiskey conversed in low tones against the backdrop of soft jazz music. Waiters wove through the crowd, carrying trays laden with delicate appetizers.

John Morgan had already drifted off to socialize, leaving Lin Ran somewhat isolated in the crowd, as the previously courteous older white men no longer paid him any heed.

Luckily, Fred—who was equally ignored by the others—approached him.