Chapter 11: Certainly Not Starting with NASA

Lin Ran’s words were half truth, half deceit. Seeking the puzzle pieces of the Apollo moon landing was correct, but who said he had to consult those octogenarian old men in 2020? What he intended was to go back to 1960 to find the pieces, even to personally assemble the Apollo moon landing puzzle.

Moreover, using Blue Origin to earn his first pot of gold—Li Xiaoman had already outlined most of the major risks. Lin Ran himself was still undecided whether to approach Blue Origin or to return to China and leverage its resources to replicate the Apollo moon landing.

Replicating the Apollo moon landing in China would cost roughly 100 million yuan, whereas in America, the same amount would be in dollars. Regardless of the plan, Lin Ran needed to return to 1960 as soon as possible.

“Of course not. Alright, I accept this cooperation. I will help you sort out these issues,” Li Xiaoman said.

Lin Ran held out his hand. “Badge and key.”

Li Xiaoman looked at him helplessly. “Now?”

Lin Ran rummaged through his backpack and handed over his passport. “Exactly. Tomorrow morning, I’m heading to Columbia University. To show my sincerity, I’m leaving my passport with you.”

Columbia University—the stronghold of the Frankfurt School.

Five seconds later, Li Xiaoman said, “Alright, keep me updated on progress anytime. Though this whole thing sounds absurd from start to finish, my intuition tells me you can really pull it off.”

The absurdity of this was comparable to having bought an American military radar on Xianyu.

Outrageous, yes—but it really happened.

...

Leaving his phone in 2020, carrying some prepared supplies, dressed in the same clothes, Lin Ran reappeared in the guest room prepared for him at Haines’s suburban villa in New York.

He deliberately walked to the living room on the first floor, pretending to drink water but actually checking the time. Finally, his anxious heart relaxed.

The time flow ratio was roughly sixty to one.

He had spent eight hours in 2020, but only a few minutes had passed here.

Early the next morning, Lin Ran rose to bid farewell to Haines. “Haines, I plan to visit my friend; I can’t keep bothering you here.”

Haines was somewhat surprised. He thought Lin Ran intended to join NASA, and from his perspective, NASA needed top talents like him.

“Aren’t you going to stay a little longer? I’ve arranged for NASA to interview you. If you pass, you’ll become a member.”

Lin Ran shook his head. “Although I’m an aerospace enthusiast, I’m not ready to join NASA.”

His words were half truth, half falsehood.

More accurately, he wasn’t prepared to join NASA at this moment.

For an obscure nobody to join NASA in 2020, even if they played a crucial role in the Apollo moon landing, it might not bring him what he wanted. Worse, his achievements could be buried due to his Chinese heritage.

In America’s 2020 moon mission, discretion was paramount; he wanted only money, not fame. But in 1960’s America, participating in NASA’s moon landing, Lin Ran sought fame, not money.

And not just any fame.

He wanted renown so great that future mentions of the moon landing would inevitably include his name across all newspapers.

“But...” before Haines could finish, Lin Ran interrupted, “I think I’ll go to Columbia University. If you’re interested, you can find me there.”

Columbia University harbored many Frankfurt School scholars, regarded as the American bastion of the Frankfurt School.

His gift to Columbia was the proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem.

After achieving fame in the mathematical world, he could then turn to join NASA with a strong reputation.

That would also be a more suitable timing.

Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin was set to orbit Earth on April 12, 1961, circling 40,000 kilometers in 108 minutes.

By enlisting scholars from the Frankfurt School to safeguard his academic achievements, presenting the proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem as his calling card to become a star mathematician, and then leveraging the Frankfurt School’s influence in government to pressure NASA into seeking him out, the whole plan was near flawless.

This was why possessing a Frankfurt School badge was so crucial.

Without the Frankfurt School’s backing, it would be many times harder for a Chinese person to succeed.

The reason for the eight-hour delay in 2020 was that the last three hours were entirely spent copying the proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem.

...

Professor Andrew Wiles’s paper proving Fermat’s Last Theorem was 130 pages long, later condensed to 50 pages by mathematicians.

This didn’t mean the proof only required 50 pages; the modern 50 pages relied heavily on numerous theorems already proven by mathematicians.

Key theorems like the Taniyama-Shimura conjecture, the core pillar of Wiles’s proof connecting all elliptic curves to modular forms, was proposed in 1955 and only fully proven in 2001.

The Kolyvagin-Flach method, constructing Euler systems to address Selmer group calculations in modularity lifting, was not introduced until the 1980s.

The bridge connecting number theory and automorphic forms—the local Langlands program—also only emerged in the late 1970s.

Therefore, Lin Ran had to copy even more than Wiles’s original 130-page paper.

“Professor Horkheimer, a young Chinese man is here to see you. He says it’s very important.”

Professor Horkheimer stood by the diamond-shaped window overlooking below, where a young man stood rigidly straight, wearing a suit somewhat out of style for the times, staring ahead motionless.

“Send him up.”

Professor Horkheimer recalled a Chinese colleague from his days at the Frankfurt University Social Science Center—Li Junnan. When he first met Li, the young Chinese man had a similar demeanor and age.

“It’s a pity Li passed away too soon. If he were alive to see his homeland showing some backbone to America at Korea, he would surely be gratified.”

“Hello, Professor Horkheimer. I am Randolph Lin, son of Professor Larry Meyer’s student. After many twists and turns, I’ve arrived in New York hoping for your help,” Lin Ran spoke swiftly.

Horkheimer was silent. “Larry Meyer?”

What a familiar name. After the Nazis rose to power, Meyer chose not to come to America like many others but resolutely stayed in Frankfurt.

Because he was not Jewish, he was Slavic.

After the war, when everyone returned to find him, they discovered Larry Meyer had died in the war.

More than a decade after the war ended, suddenly the son of Larry Meyer’s student appeared seeking his help.

Horkheimer felt puzzled; he had never heard of Larry Meyer having a Chinese student.