Every cubicle door hung partly open. Ignoring the sound of her elevated synthetic heartbeat, she listened for the least whisper of anyone else in the stalls.

Alone. She wrapped the security of that feeling around her as she walked all the way to the eleventh stall. Not the twelfth because that was the one that any humans fussy about hygiene tended to use in the mistaken assumption that nobody else would bother walking so far.

Emerald entered and closed the door, relishing the privacy as if it were a holy blessing from an unknown goddess. A moment later, she crouched and jumped to catch the top of the partition, pulling herself high enough to reach behind the oblong boxy air-conditioning unit and pull out her hidden stash.

Almost dropped one of the shoes into the toilet but recovered faster than a human would. Aimed each item with precision to land on the floor instead: flat shoes, cleaner’s grey uniform and multi-pocketed apron, dingy brown wig.

She stuffed her glittering dancing shoes deep into two of the pockets then slipped on the flat shoes before pulling the grey uniform over her head. The plastic zipper snagged briefly but she eased it all the way to her neckline, pleased with how the shapeless outfit entirely concealed her gold spangles.

Inflating her stomach as she had practiced to make her outline less appealing, she tugged on the ugly wig, quelled her impatience as she tucked in every filament of her blond hair.

Listening again, head tilted to one side, she detected not the least murmur of another shade’s internal rhythms or the noisier heartbeat of a human.

Emerald waved her hand at the flush detector just in case and exited the cubicle to admire her altered reflection in the rank of mirrors. Checked her dingy brown hairline for any betraying blond wisps. Those green eyes would give her away, but a cleaner would never make eye contact with a human, so as long as she remembered that, she should survive.

With a much slower gait and a gentle push on the door, she abandoned the scene of her rebirth and nudged her way further down the corridor. Retrieving a mop and bucket from the broom closet which smelled of bleach, she carried these items like a drudge would, staring down at the floor as though needing to follow a dotted line to her next destination.

Steam, random food smells and the almost soundless efficiency of cooking bots integrated in the counter space welcomed her to the large automated kitchen which separated the nightclub from the restaurant. All they knew was ingredients, recipes, and the next order that arrived into their limited awareness. She had sometimes envied their blissful following of routine orders, their ignorance of what the humans they served could be like.

No ceiling sensors monitoring movement here. No shade would trespass unless unpacking a delivery and those never arrived at night. No human would enter unless to carry out more elevated maintenance tasks, implanting new menu options to appeal to the latest craze.

Her rapid pulse urged her to speed up, but she kept to the same slow, deliberate pace.

Finally, as she reached the delivery door, she raised her gaze.

With the top of the mop handle, she pushed the red Emergency Exit button then sharply reversed the long stick faster than a human could, so the mop head blocked the aperture of the lens that pushing the button had triggered.

The door hissed open, yielding a wide rectangle of darkness, open air.

Emerald carried mop and bucket with her into the alley behind the nightclub.

Her eyes adjusted instantly. No detritus on the concrete, no garbage overflowing dumpsters like in the last century vid that one of the players liked watching with her where humans apparently met for desperate sex back in the old days.

The much-accessed map of the maze of alleyways that she wasn’t legally allowed to access unfolded inside her mind as she started to run. Turning left, then right, then left again, she soon dropped mop and bucket into the wide mouth of a drain but kept all her other possessions.

She kept running, leaving behind the insults and the bruises, the feeling of being a hostage who would never be set free.

“Shut up—you’re just a shade.”

The command of those careless words setting an invisible gag over her mouth. Unable to articulate another word until given permission, she pushed the feelings inward, let them flame around her synthetic heart to create, one flicker at a time, an invisible bonfire of rage.

Emerald raced on the flat shoes of a cleaner with the speed of the most recent iteration of a pleasure shade away from the middle and toward the edge of the City Complex, pausing only to flatten herself against a wall when a bulky emergency vehicle roared in her direction.

The hypnotic words which used to repeat at random intervals inside her display space, an isolated glass cube prior to purchase, seemed to keep pace with her running. “Indefatigable and yours to command, our latest iteration will satisfy your every demand.”

Due to the mirrored surface, she never saw the humans gawking at her, but danced obliviously to intermittent music or did yoga that showed off her flexibility. Recently, one of the players insisted on taking her to view the transparent cubicles where others of her series could be selected for purchase like exotic tropical fish.

She watched one oblivious prisoner, identical to herself except for having auburn hair and a beauty mark on one cheek, dance to the pulse of inaudible music. Hearing the comments that humans made, she wanted to break the glass and set them both free.

That a nightclub bought her rather than an individual human made everything so much worse. Every player, with one exception, took what they wanted and gave nothing other than the automated credits added directly to the nightclub’s profits.

Right turn, right again, then left twice and jumping over a wide gulley where water gushed.

Her expansive ability for conversation almost never accessed except by the one human who liked to watch vids with her. Emerald would miss him but he could never have kept up with her pace.

Now that Boeing is given this contract, hope they will deliver one of the most brutal air-dominance craft that will make F-22 and F-35 look like beta builds 😁, but they are aging and needs replacing anyways.

If Boeing pulls it off, we could be looking at:

Multi-spectrum cloaking like low radar, IR, acoustic, and even RF emissions and having less “stealth from the front” like F‑22 and more “ghost across the board.”

Drones will be used for the term “Loyal Wingmen Done Right”. These drones will be airborne wolf pack having the capability to jam enemy radar or launch their own munitions and sometimes even perform kamikaze runs if needed.

And obviously they be will controlled in real-time by the currently codenamed F-47, using quantum-secure mesh networks.

I don’t know about the propulsion, it could be adaptive engine cycles for insane fuel efficiency and thrust on demand and can also cruise supersonic without afterburners.

There will be AI Co-Pilot too. Mostly with the concept of fight by AI, that can handle target tracking, evasive maneuvers, weapon selection and sometimes having the ability to argue with pilot like a HAL9000 if in case the pilot is being tiny bit of reckless. 😁

AI in aircraft means that thing will have a soul of it’s own. Human pilots who get’s to fly this craft will probably fall in love with it.😄

There will obviously be Hypersonic Payloads or even orbital-launch payloads.

Some says it could have DEW’s that will have a high-energy lasers to burn incoming missiles out of the sky but it is still a concept.

So, obviously everything it uses will be post-quantum encryption between air, space, and ground. assets.

.

.

Let’s hope Boeing doesn’t screw up. And I really want them to succeed as well.

I mean they have already faced the usual smear camaign.

Last year somehow a mysterious door blowout happened weeks before the Pentagon decision and that non-lethal incident got aired 24/7 with excessive media amplification.

😁 Again how funny that whistleblowers suddenly increased right before the bid finalization not to mention Lockheed has deep ties in D.C.

Lockheed Martin did not face such scrutiny, even though their F-35 program has had endless cost overruns and operational bugs.

.

And Boeing wins contract despite smear storm.

So, let hope for the best and may Boeing deliver the best of best NGAD aircraft, the world has ever seen.

Sorry for the flashy picture. I dont want to jynx the original design.

Could be June, my birthday’s in June, thought George.

A car passes on the street, an old fossil fuel model George remarks.

My God it worked!, he thinks.

The car continues around the small wooded area and through an underpass by a train station. George walks towards the station. The area looks familiar, but his mind is foggy, and a lot could have changed. On the track a large sign noting, Glen Ridge. At least he was in the right town. Now he needs to get back to Alfie’s house.

He doesn’t much remember agreeing to this plan, rather he was conscripted quite forcefully. However, avenging his mother while also saving her, and becoming wealthy is more than he has ever wanted in life. What do you do when you finally get what you want? It’s scary, for now George was going along with it.

The incredible situation has been hard for George to process. No less than an hour ago, he was packing up for the night at the home office of his employer and longtime benefactor Alfie Harrington. He had settled his affairs for the evening and, out of courtesy, asked if anything was needed. Most nights the answer is a ‘No thank you, Good work today, have a pleasant evening.’

This from Mr. Alfred Harrington, his elderly, industrialist employer, whom he’d been acting as Personal Business Associate for the last 15 years. And prior to that he was an intern at Harrington, & Co. following undergrad and grad school, all paid for by The Helena Mae Foundation, the philanthropic arm of Harrington, & Co..

But this night Mr. Harrington had asked him to stay for a cup of tea.

“ Just one cup my dear boy, We have much to discuss.” said Harrington.

“Sure thing Mr. Harrington.” replied George

“Oh my dear boy, this is an informal discussion, please call me Alfie.”

Alfie invited George to have a seat in the empty wingback chair opposite his that sat in front of the large lit fireplace. A small table sat between the two chairs, a tea serving set. A cane leaned against Alfie’s chair. George took a seat and Alfie poured him a cup.

“ Might want to let this one steep a few minutes, it’s a strong herbal blend my good friend, Dr. Ferdinand D’Souza, brought it back with him on one of his trips abroad. It’s transformative but needs time” Alfie says , just as Dr. D’Souza makes his entrance. Alfie grabs his cane and gets up to welcome his longtime friend and physician. He introduces George and tells him that in addition to keeping him healthy, Dr. D’Souza has been working on a private research project for many years now.

Alfie asks George to confirm details about his childhood. That the identity of his father was unknown. How he never knew his mother, she was killed when he was a newborn, something drug related as the story goes. He was passed around different foster homes and orphanages, each one more abusive and neglectful.

Alfie then asked about the essay he wrote when applying for the scholarship. How in it he wrote that the one thing he dreamt for most in the world was to spend one day with his mother. George could only check his emotions in front of his employer and shrugged it off.

“Well, I was an idealistic and sentimental child back then.” George says.

The drudging up of painful memories made George anxious so grabbed the cup of tea, taking a big sip, ignoring the scolding heat.

This unexpected drink got Alfie and Dr. D’Souza acting, and Alfie laid out the plan. Alfie had been funding the doctor’s research into a theoretical phenomenon known as Quantum Cognitive Temporality. Whereas shifting one state of consciousness could allow them to interact with past events.

“Traveling through time through our dreams.” Alfie summed it up.

Alfie then tells him that he is offering George the chance to stop his mother’s killer. George was incredulous to this and the notion that Alfie knew the identity of his mother’s killer.

“Oh I know a lot more than that I’m afraid.” Alfie says.

Alfie’s face went dark as he begins to explain the secret he has been keeping from George all these years. He had known his mother, she worked for him at the Harrington Estate. He took a liking to her and advantage of her. It continued and she grew attached. Alfie fired her and through her out. Months later she shows up, with the picture of a newborn

“It was you George, only 2 days old. My god you were gorgeous, you had my mother’s eyes, still do.” Alfie recalled.

Alfie had been injured earlier that day and was stuck in bed. He told her he would call later and discuss an arrangement. Instead he hired men to beat and kill her, and make it look like the robbery of a drug addict. Alfie then used his family’s influences to push the investigation to the drug story George had been told.

Standing there now, forty years in the past, George was conflicted. Alfie Harrington has been the supportive father figure he always needed, and turns out that was for a reason. But he murdered his mother, robbed him of a childhood. Was that enough to kill him? He would have to decide that.

In the moment, George was speechless at Alfie’s confession. His body went numb and the room began to spin. The tea was taking control of his mind. But Alfie’s next instructions slapped him in the face.

Alfie’s plan instructed George to get back to his house, make contact with the younger Alfie and kill him before he murdered his mother.

How could Alfie want such a thing, George asked.

Alfie explains, he has led a despicable life, and he’s tried to buy back his soul by throwing money and opportunity at George, but it wasn’t enough, he owes George his mother back. And this was the only way. He was dying old man, he wished this above all else.

Alfie grabbed his cane, hobbled over to his desk and came back with an envelope. He shows George a revised a will naming his mother Amelia Carter and George Carter sole executors of his estate and all Harrington Family holdings. He instructs George to swap this for the one locked in his safe. George should already know the combination.

George’s mind detaches from reality. Dr. D’Souza straightens him up and says to him, “If you need to come back or find yourself in mortal danger, swallow this pill, it’s a concentrated dose of the tea. You will wake up back here.”

The doctor’s final instructions were the last thing George heard before the world went black.

The mental fog wore off and George made sense of his direction. He must be five or so miles from Alfie’s house, he could get a taxi. He goes for his phone before remembering there is no cellular network yet.

A red sedan sputters and revs its way around the trees.

George makes it to the corner just by the underpass. He hears a whistling coming from the other corner under the tracks. It’s a well-groomed, gentleman, middle aged, reading a magazine completely in his own world. It was Alfie.

Alfie steps off the curb into the street, magazine held high in front of his face. The red sedan hits a burst of speed at the last turn before the underpass. Alfie doesn’t notice.

George yells out for him, “ALFIE WATCH OUT!”

He puts himself between the car and his Father and takes the hit. For the second time in just so many minutes, George was unconscious.

“Hey dear boy, you gonna make it?” Says a muffled voice.

George opens his eyes to meet the younger version of his long time employer.

“You ok, that bastard came out of no where.”says Alfie. He helps George up and he sees the owner of the red sedan, a kid not more than twenty, scared at what just happened.

“Wait until the police arrive kid, then you’re really in a world of shit.” says Alfie to the open mouthed young adult.

“ No it’s ok, I’m ok, we don’t need to involve the Police.” George says, not wanting to have to answer for his existence to any form of authority. He waves the young kid off. Alfie asks if he’s had lunch yet, he’s buying.

“I could eat” says George.

“Splendid, you’re going to love Simone’s cooking.”

George had made it back to Alfie’s house, and gotten in good with Alfie all rather easily. He was feeling optimistic this could all be over soon.

Would my Mother be waiting for me when I woke up?, he thought.

George, now relieved of his winter coat, sat out on a small patio area just beyond the living room. An area he and Alfie would share many afternoon teas in good weather years from now. The feeling of ease washed over him with the thought of seeing his mother, but evaporated with the reality of what needed to be done.

“Didn’t I tell you she was a good cook.” Alfie says coming out through the glass doors. “Now my dear boy, you still look a bit woozy from the hit, I suggest you spend the rest of the day here, I called my personal doctor to come check you out.”

“Oh thats too kind of you but I don’t think I need a doctor” replies George.

“Nonsense” says Alfie “I have him on retainer. You relax here…Please excuse me though I have some business calls to make, I’ll find you when he arrives.” Alfie gives a crooked smile and heads back inside.

Could I really kill him? he thought. He’s my father, and he’s given me everything, but he’s also taken away everything. George was torn.

Yes he wanted his mother to be alive, and yes he wanted to unleash the rage that’s been building in him, but never did he think it would be because of Alfie. George hears a car on the gravel driveway out front. A moment later the doorbell. George goes into the living room and listens at the door leading to the hall. He can’t see, but he can hear someone, a female voice asking for Alfie.

That’s my mother! She’s here to tell Alfie about me? This is the day he kills her! The shadow of his reality grew around him. In the very near future he was going to have to commit murder.

The voices grew louder. His mother was yelling,” Look at him, His name is George he is your son, you have to acknowledge him, please.”

Alfie invites his mother inside.

This isn’t playing out like Alfie said. He was going to have to be careful. He hears footsteps rapidly approaching the door he’s listening behind. It opens and he’s staring into the stone face of Alfie.

“Sure gave me a startle there George, If you’re’ feeling up to, I have a guest I’d like you to meet, shes over in my office.” Alfie leads George to his office. A room he was last in, 40 years in the future. The anticipation of meeting his mother is overwhelming But he can’t shake this bad feeling, after all why was Alfie introducing a stranger, to a woman with whom he’d fathered an illegitimate child .

Could he know the truth? Does he know I’m here to kill him?

Thats nearly impossible, but something was off.

They enter the office and his mother is sitting in one of the two chairs opposite the desk.

“Amelia you must know my friend George don’t you?” Alfie says, forcing his mother to turn and look up at him.

“No I can’t say I do.” Amelia replies.

George takes the empty seat, Alfie stops at the table holding a bar and a tea set.. He arrives at the desk with three fresh cups, he places one in front of George and Amelia, and holds onto the other.

“You look like you need a cup dear boy. Well, it has been a strange day to say the least. First a stranger saves me, and then a former bedmate shows up with a baby. Oddly enough they are both named George. Hardly the workings of a conspiracy, however there is the matter of this.” Alfie says holding up the revised will George had traveled with. He had forgotten all about it, everything happened so fast, he didn’t think to check. His coat lay on the floor next to the desk.

“Now what I can’t figure out is how you two know each other. What’s your scam? A couple of lovers needing a chunk of cash to skip town.”

George looks over at my mother and their eyes meet. He can’t look away.

Alfie snaps his fingers and again demands to know their connection and their plan. He points out that both names are on this new “phony” will, as Mother and Son. Amelia is left speechless but George tries to find an explanation. He nervously takes a healthy sip of tea and fumbles for words.

“Now look I can be a reasonable man, if I get reasonable answers. We can have a reasonable cup of tea and talk this through. ” Alfie says coldly, taking a sip, George instinctively follows, while Amelia leaves hers untouched.

“What’s wrong Amelia? Don’t you like how I make it?” Alfie asks.

“I know better than to accept a drink from you.” Amelia replies

Alfie chuckles “You are wiser than your cohort here. I am a man of action, your tea has been laced with a rather effective and untraceable poison Now George my dear boy, you have less an half an hour to come clean if you hope to see tomorrow.”

George looks at this tea, then Alfie, then his mother. He is unable to speak as the truth is so incredible neither would believe him. Alfie plays another card.

“Well, I need to resort to more aggressive tactics. “ Alfie pulls out a small pistol from the desk drawer and points it at Amelia.

“Bullets take effect so much faster than poison, wouldn’t you say. Someone talk. NOW.” Alfie demands, and after a second of silence he pulls back the hammer of the gun.

“I’m from the future, I was sent back to stop you.” George blurts out.

“ I should kill you just for wasting my time. Stop me from what?” Alfie replies.

“It’s true, forty years from now, we are sitting right over there by the fireplace. You sent me back here to stop you from killing Amelia.” George says this turning to Amelia. “ Because she’s my mother, the baby is me. This was all your plan, you regretted killing her, so much so that you have been caring for me most of my life. I work for you. Your last wish was to give me back my mother. You said I had your mother’s eyes!”

Amelia can’t believe what she just heard but the harder she looks at the face of this man sitting before her, she knows its true. This is her baby boy. She puts her hand on his heart, and takes his to her chest. Forgetting the world for a moment, the two share a heartbeat.

This moment is shattered by the explosion from the revolver, Alfie had shot into the air. He has lost what little patience he maintains. He holds the gun squarely at Amelia’s head. His eyes cold and still. He pulls back the hammer. George leaps over the desk and dives at Alfie.

The two crash on the floor, the gun falls away. They struggle, George is on top of him fighting as best he can to keep him down. Alfie lands punches down on Georges back trying to force him off. Just beyond the length of Alfie’s right hand is the gun. He reaches out for it. George sees this and pulls his arm back, and they struggle more. Off to his right, is a gold letter open, George reaches and grabs hold of it. Alfie takes the advantage and shifts his weight to roll on top of George. The two roll several more times before again George lands on top. Alfie no longer fighting, the rolling forced the letter opener deep into his chest.

George shaking with fear, lets go of the opener and looks into the eyes of his father. Alfie looks back, eases, and gives a smile.

“You do have my mother’s eyes.” Alfie says with his last breath.

The combination of poison and emotion again sends his body into overdrive. He tries to stand but can’t find his balance. Amelia runs to grab her son as he falls to the ground.

“Easy my boy, my big baby boy.”Amelia says, unable to contain the emotion. She cries and wraps her arms around her son.

“Pill…in my jacket…hurry.” George gasps.

Amelia finds the pill and puts it in his mouth. He swallows it and pulls his mother in for another hug.

“What mother in the world gets to see her baby’s face grow up all in one day. You’re more handsome than I ever wished. ” Amelia cries.

“And you’re more beautiful than I could ever dream. I love you, mom. I’m not sure what’s about to happen but this isn’t goodbye…I’ll see you in the morning.”

George’s world distorts, then shuts down to black.

Cajun Lasagna

Lasagna leaves Italy and heads to the Bayou with the addition of shrimp and spicy sausage.

Prep: 30 min | Bake: 50 min | Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

• 10 uncooked lasagna noodles
• 2 (14.5 ounce) cans diced tomatoes with green chilies, drained
• 1 (12 ounce) bag frozen cooked deveined peeled miniature/tiny shrimp (tails off), thawed, rinsed and drained
• 1/2 pound smoked spicy sausage (andouille or kielbasa)*, cut into 1/4-inch slices
• 1 (16 ounce) jar Alfredo pasta sauce
• 2 cups (8 ounces) shredded mozzarella cheese
• 1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded Parmesan cheese
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley, if desired

Instructions

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
2. Cook and drain noodles as directed on package.
3. Spread 1 cup of the tomatoes in ungreased 13 x 9-inch (3-quart) glass baking dish. Top with 5 noodles, overlapping slightly as needed. Layer with half each of the remaining tomatoes, the shrimp, sausage, Alfredo sauce and mozzarella cheese.
4. Repeat layers. Sprinkle Parmesan cheese over top.
5. Cover dish with foil. Bake for about 30 minutes or until center is hot and bubbly.
6. Uncover; bake for 15 to 20 minutes longer or until cheese is melted.
7. Let stand for 15 minutes before cutting.
8. Sprinkle with parsley.

Notes

* To reduce the spiciness, swap the sausage with 2 cups of cut-up cooked chicken instead.

Save preparation time by using mini lasagna (mafalda) noodles and stirring the ingredients together to make an oven casserole.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 510 Calories from Fat 260 Total Fat 29g Saturated Fat 17g Trans Fat 1g Cholesterol 175mg Sodium 1370mg Total Carbohydrate 31g

Dietary Fiber 3g Sugars 6g Protein 32g

% Daily Value*: Vitamin A 25% Vitamin C 8% Calcium 45% Iron 15%

Exchanges: 1 1/2 Starch; 0 Fruit; 0 Other Carbohydrate; 0 Skim Milk; 0 Low-Fat Milk; 0 Milk; 1 Vegetable; 0 Very Lean Meat; 0 Lean Meat; 0 High-Fat Meat; 2 Fat

* Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet.

The current Sino-US relations are in a quasi-Cold War state. Why go to the United States to study?

The Democratic Party and some Republican hardliners (Extreme right wing) believe that the rise of China’s collectivist values ​​will threaten the liberalism that the United States promotes around the world. This is much more serious than the problem of trade deficit because it shakes the foundation of the United States.

Americans often say, “xxx is a privilege, not a right”.

Whether it is the US Immigration Service or ordinary people, this concept is deeply rooted in the hearts of the people. Issuing a visa to allow you to enter the United States is your ‘privilege’, not your innate ‘right’.

Think about it the other way around. For so many students from all over the world who come to study in Chinese universities every year, don’t we also want to say this to them? — “If you don’t like China, don’t come”.

If a foreign student says on his social media all day long:

“Come to China to study, tuition and living expenses will be reimbursed. Not only will the school arrange beautiful study partners for you, but many girls will also try their best to pay you. Chinese people are stupid and have a lot of money. Just speak a few words of English and someone will pay you a lot of money to tutor their children. It’s heaven!”

Seeing such foreign students, what would you think as a Chinese?

Americans have the same attitude towards those Chinese students who are desperately belittling the American system and praising the Chinese model in the United States.

If you are anti-American as soon as you come to the United States, please don’t come. You can promote the efficiency of the Chinese government and mock Americans for taking 20 years to build a subway; you can praise the good public security in China’s big cities and criticize the constant shootings in the United States. But you must not deny their democracy and the separation of powers system itself.

When Sino-US relations were good before, these things were not a big problem, because each international student brought direct economic benefits.

Even if each international student stayed in the United States for 3 years on average and spent $50,000 a year, it would create $150,000 in GDP for the United States. In the face of huge economic benefits, these small contradictions can be ignored.

But since 2018, Sino-US relations have taken a sharp turn for the worse, and many things that seemed incredible in the past have happened, such as Chinese students being denied entry for making anti-US remarks on WeChat.

The United States and the Soviet Union fought a cold war for half a century, and the rules were much stricter at that time than they are now. To be precise, only Soviet citizens who hated the Soviet system had the right to enter the United States.

If you sing praises for the Soviet Union, I’m sorry, you will never come to the United States, no matter if you come to travel, study or work.

If Sino-US relations do not show a trend of improvement, enter a cold war state, and elevate ideological struggle to an unprecedented level, the same thing is likely to happen to China.

• If you are a member of the CPC, don’t even think about getting a US visa (except for diplomatic visits);
• If you continue to promote the superiority of the Chinese system while disparaging the American democratic system while studying in the United States, you will be directly repatriated.

The Cold War will not end until one of the countries collapses and disintegrates.

Therefore, we should wait until the end of the Cold War before discussing Sino-US relations.

During the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union, one of the important reasons for the Soviet Union’s failure was that:

The Soviet Union’s products had no competitiveness in the international community and were beaten by the products of the United States and its vassal Western Europe, Japan and South Korea.

• For example, in the 1960s and 1970s, the Soviet Union’s home appliances and cars were obviously inferior to American products.
• For example, in the 1980s, the Soviet Union was clearly inferior to Japan, South Korea, and the United States in terms of various semiconductor chips.
• Even in terms of light industrial products such as clothes, pants, towels, toothbrushes, etc. that meet people’s daily needs, the Soviet Union was not as good as China at that time.

This produced two effects:

• First, when the Soviet Union wanted to obtain goods from the international community, it was unable to provide enough goods in exchange. The large trade deficit resulted in a large fiscal deficit. The Soviet Union could only rely on oil and natural gas, and even used a large amount of gold reserves to fill the fiscal deficit. The Soviet Union became a net importer of food in the 1980s and needed to use a large amount of gold reserves to purchase food every year. I think everyone knows how big the US fiscal deficit is today.
• Second, the Soviet Union could not provide the people with high-quality and cheap goods, which directly weakened its appeal among the people. The United States, on the other hand, was able to provide the people with a rich variety of goods, which had a strong appeal in the minds of the Soviet people. In that era, it was something worth boasting for the Soviet people to be able to get a pair of Western jeans, and the special supply stores exclusively for Soviet high-level officials were filled with various goods from the West. Let’s take a look at the situation of the new Cold War today. It is obvious that most of the goods of the United States and its servants are beaten by Chinese goods on a global scale, such as home appliances, automobiles, electromechanical equipment, ships, drones, etc., while the remaining advantageous goods of the United States and its servants are being quickly caught up by the China.

Recently, China implemented a 144-hour visa-free policy, and a large number of American people came to China to travel. After they came to China, the most common sentence they said was:

The Chinese people live in the future.

Because in China, there are a lot of things they have never seen or dared to think about, such as drones delivering express and robots delivering takeout.

Finally, in summary:

In this new Cold War, China will win just as the United States defeated the Soviet Union. Now is the moment for the United States to surrender to China at the lowest cost. The longer the Cold War lasts, the greater the price Americans will pay.