"My conclusion is that, under the circumstances you envisioned, an explosion with an intensity equivalent to about one-fifth of the Hiroshima atomic bomb is likely to occur. This is not a pessimistic inference, but the result of precise calculation." "However, the Science and Technology Agency insisted that, in terms of purity, the plutonium produced by the high-temperature furnace cannot be used as a raw material for nuclear weapons." "That's just saying that you can't make the high-end weapons that the US and the Soviet Union used when they competed. But plutonium-239 can cause a nuclear explosion, there is no doubt about it."

"India has conducted nuclear tests using plutonium extracted from atomic bomb explosions." "you're right." "Thank you. These are of great reference value to me. I may come to ask you again." I turned off the radio, unplugged the power supply, and looked at the computer screen to make sure that I had made a mistake while listening to the recording.Except for a few spellings, basically correct.The tape was recorded a few days ago when I went to the Institute of Atomic Furnaces of a certain university for an interview. The other party was the director of the institute and a professor of atomic mechanics.

I'm working on a novel about nuclear hijacking, which involves the hijacking of parts of nuclear fuel being transported from a waste processing plant.This will be a continuation of a novel I wrote about a super-helicopter falling from a high-temperature furnace full of explosives: The reason why I insist on exploring the atomic bomb explosion is that I don’t want it to be just a novel theme. While turning off the computer, the phone rang.It's Bumita from Kodansha.He is my responsible editor. He likes horse racing and karaoke, but he is computer illiterate. Whenever he hears that I want to send manuscripts by email, he is very embarrassed.

"How's it going?" Wen Tian politely tested me. "What?" I deliberately pretended to be confused.It has become a pleasure for me to make editors anxious. "I mean, script." "I'm still writing the manuscript." "Any questions?" I imagined Wentian's anxious expression. "Ah, there are a lot of problems. The more I investigate, the more troubles I have." "Then when will the manuscript be finished? According to the publication plan, it should be in June..." Wen Tian seemed to ignore my worries, he only cared about the publication date.Editors are like that.

"I try my best." "Please. Let me know if you need any help." "understood." I suddenly wanted to tease him, how would he react if I asked him to take a video camera to track the trucks transporting nuclear fuel?But this impulse is only at the level of imagination. After hanging up the phone, I got dressed and wanted to go to the library.The sky outside is gray, but it doesn't look like it's going to rain. I came to the library by bicycle.This is a white reinforced concrete building without any sentimentality at all.This central library, worthy of its name, is very spacious, but there are not many books.However, when I need to find information, it can still come in handy.

The library desk is right at the entrance, and the most popular books of this month are written on the notice board next to it.This is the so-called borrowing number ranking.Fiction is still the world of mystery novels.As a mystery writer who contributes to the mystery world, I feel very gratified.I found that there are still puzzle-solving antique works in the book list, and I can't help but mutter to myself, there are still so many people who like this kind of works. I walked past the library desk and went upstairs by the side stairs.The "Social Science Area" on the third floor is my destination today.But when passing by the literature and art books on the second floor, I suddenly wanted to take a look.

I strolled leisurely among the tall bookshelves.There is no one here except me, and I can't help but feel sad that books are getting farther and farther away from us.In the scorching heat of summer, there will probably be some people who are greedy for free air conditioning to increase traffic here, but they are just flipping through magazines.And I, if not for professional reasons, may not come to the library. I looked at the vast number of books, and my mood was hard to calm down.The reason so many books are published is because the books are not selling well.In order to ensure profits, publishing houses often adopt the policy of winning by variety.No matter how much painstaking effort a writer puts into it, his work is but a drop in the ocean for a publishing house.No matter how excellent a work is, if it is not mentioned by critics, it will be drowned in an instant.Wandering among the bookshelves is like wandering in a cemetery.Yes, this is the graveyard of books.

There are also a few of my books on the shelf.At first I wanted to check the borrowing records, but I quickly dismissed the idea.It's really boring to beat self-confidence in this kind of place. I thought the books were in pseudonym order by author's name, but it turned out otherwise.After a closer look, I found out the basis of classification - category. I decided to spend a little more time on the second floor.After I turned around a few times, I didn't even know where I was.I stopped and stared at the book next to me, my eyes widened in surprise. The names of Aoi Yuu, Kusuda Kususuke, Hamao Shiro, Moritomo Tsune and others appeared in front of him.

All of them were writers of mystery novels who were active in the early Showa era.There is also a hardcover on the shelf, presumably a reprint.As far as this library is concerned, this kind of collection is really not small. I didn't touch those books, and now I'm not interested in this kind of detective mystery novel.This kind of book still has readers only in Japan, and almost no one reads it in overseas reasoning circles that value reality. However, there was one rather rare book among them, and I decided to take note of the title.I reached into my coat pocket, only to find that there was only a ballpoint pen, and for some reason the small notebook I always carried with me was missing.I found the free matches in the cafe and decided to write the title of the book on the back of the matchbox. When I took out the matches in the box and put them on the shelf next to me, I accidentally dropped a few of them on the ground.

"The Tragedy of the Funatomi Family" by Yuo Aoi, "The Murder Case of Model Dolls" by Kusuda Kusuda, Shiro Hamao, and "Fantasy Murder Case" by Tomotomo Tsune—I seem to have heard of these works somewhere, but I still don't understand them. Saw the original for the first time.I plan to write it down, maybe it will come in handy for writing essays and the like in the future. After densely writing on the back of the matchbox, I put away the matchsticks, put the ballpoint pen back in my pocket, and started walking. Strangely, I couldn't find the stairs anyway.No matter where you go, there are tall bookshelves in front of you.These bookshelves are arranged in a staggered manner, and the line of sight is blocked everywhere, making it impossible to see directly ahead, like a maze.

That's weird, and it's not a very big library. If you mention it to others in the future, you will definitely be laughed at.It's embarrassing for a writer who writes books for a living to get lost in the book. My palms gradually oozed sweat.I have absolutely no idea where I am.Whether you turn right or left, you can't find the exit.In desperation, I thought of a way, that is, to go to the farthest bookshelf and walk along the wall.I decided to put it into practice. The place I got to, however, was a dead end lined with historical fiction.I just turned around in it.I have absolutely no idea why this is happening.Finally, I walked through the passage that suddenly appeared, only to find that I was in the corner of another bookshelf.It seems to be foreign literature, all of which are words that I can't understand. Before I knew it, I started running.Beads of sweat oozed from his forehead. What exactly happened here? I stopped and adjusted my breathing.Whichever way you think about it, it's unusual.How can there be such a big library in the world, which can make a big man run back and forth for several minutes without finding the exit?Something must be wrong. I feel strange under my feet, as if I stepped on something.I lift my foot. It's a matchstick, the pink matchhead seems to have been seen somewhere.Undoubtedly, I just dropped it.After running for a long time, I returned to the original place? Checking the bookshelves around me, my mind is getting more and more confused.Books by early Showa detective novelists were all gone, replaced by books by authors I had never met or heard of. Immediately afterwards, I discovered that not only the books, but also the bookshelves had changed.The original bookshelf was made of steel, but the one in front of me was a dark brown wooden bookshelf.In addition, the floor that was originally covered with linseed oil has also become a wooden floor, and it still exudes the nostalgic smell of paint in the corridors of the school when I was a child. "Where is this...?" I muttered to myself.There was silence, and my voice filled the room.The room was dim, the white fluorescent lamps were gone, and there were a few incandescent lamps hanging from the ceiling. Click! I followed the sound and looked to the right.Someone walks between the bookshelves, and clothes in a checkerboard pattern come into view.Saved!I am pleased with myself.Although it was a bit disgraceful, if you followed that person, you might be able to find the exit.I quickened my pace. Just as I walked to the corner of the bookshelf, the man had already turned right, and only a little back could be seen.He is recognizable as a man, wearing a checkerboard suit and carrying a cane, which is rarely seen today.I could hear a tuk-tuk sound like a cane hitting the floor. I followed the sound.The man didn't stop at all, and shuttled between the bookshelves, as if trying to get rid of me. Suddenly, the sound of the cane disappeared.Great, he finally stopped.I felt relieved and walked towards the corner where the man walked. However, there was no sign of a man anywhere.I looked around anxiously but found nothing.The man disappeared like smoke. When I was full of doubts, I was surprised to find a spiral staircase hanging from the ceiling.I didn't see it just now, but now, it suddenly appeared in my sight, as if it suddenly appeared out of nowhere. I decided to climb the stairs first.The room up the stairs is also filled with bookshelves.I never knew there was such a room in this library.Rows of old bookshelves lined with old books.I casually took out a book from the bookshelf beside me. The book was very thick, like a natural history book.It's probably in Latin, I can't read it. When I put the book back to its original place, I secretly felt someone on the right side. I turned my head and saw a fourteen or fifteen-year-old girl in a white dress facing me, standing there.