Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The cleaning room was cramped and filled with the smell of cheap disinfectant. Shen Jinghong held her breath, staring intently at the outside world through a thin gap in the blinds.

He had left fingerprints on the half-eaten chocolate in his hand, and his palms were sweating with nervousness, but he couldn't suppress the smile on his lips.

The gates were wide open.

General Groves stepped into the workshop with his gleaming military boots, and then his second foot, which was about to step out, was left hanging in mid-air.

This tough guy, who once commanded thousands of troops on the battlefield, now looked like a petrified sculpture, his eyes wide open as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.

Before him, the K-25 core plant, which should have been filled with thousands of high-precision centrifuges and filled with tremendous roar, was now so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

It was empty, deathly empty.

Not to mention the centrifuges, even the concrete bases that held the machines in place were leveled, leaving the floor as smooth as a freshly waxed dance floor.

"Robert..."

General Groves's voice was dry, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. He turned his head with difficulty to look at the "father of the atomic bomb" beside him. "This is what you told me about... operating at full capacity?"

Oppenheimer remained silent.

His signature pipe slipped from his mouth and fell to the ground with a "thud," breaking in two.

He took two steps forward, his steps unsteady like a drunkard. He reached out and groaned haphazardly in the air, as if trying to grasp those enormous things that had vanished into thin air.

"No...this is impossible..."

Oppenheimer took off his glasses, frantically wiped the lenses, and then put them back on.

All I could see was emptiness.

"Where's my K-25? Where's my enriched uranium? All those huge machines... they were just making noise nonstop here!"

General Groves's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red. He grabbed Oppenheimer by the collar, his roar echoing through the empty workshop, making Shen Jinghong's eardrums buzz.

"You're asking me? I should be asking you! Did you dismantle and repair all the equipment to rush the schedule? Or is this some new stealth coating experiment that I don't know about?"

"Repair? Invisibility?"

Oppenheimer was being choked, his face flushed red, but his anger now surpassed even that of the general. He pointed to the bare concrete beneath his feet and roared back hysterically:

"General, use your brain, which is only the size of a walnut! Who digs up the foundation while repairing equipment? Strips off the plaster from the walls? Even unplugs that damn main control cable! You're telling me, this is called repair?!"

"They eloped! They ran away with someone!"

Groves was stunned by the shout. He let go of the hand and looked at the bizarre scene. A chill ran down his spine and straight to the top of his head.

If it was stolen, there would at least be traces. There would be drag marks, cut wires, and even a single loose screw.

But there's nothing here.

It was so clean it was as if a factory had never existed here.

"Quantum mechanics...it must be quantum mechanics..."

Oppenheimer crouched on the ground, hands covering his head, his eyes unfocused. "Could it be that the gravitational waves generated by the massive centrifugal motion caused the quantum tunneling effect of macroscopic objects? Or has the spatial structure here collapsed?"

"Collapse my ass! This is an enemy attack! It's theft!"

Groves drew his pistol from his waist, gestured wildly at the air, and yelled furiously into the walkie-talkie:

"Guards! Military Police! Everyone get over here! Seal off the base! Not a single fly is allowed to escape!"

The piercing alarm instantly resounded throughout Oak Ridge.

Shen Jinghong hid in the cleaning room, looking at the chaotic scene outside, stuffed the last bite of chocolate into her mouth, and smacked her lips with lingering satisfaction.

"Quantum tunneling? Mr. Oppenheimer's imagination is indeed rich. But this has taught you a lesson; this is what is called the mysterious power of the East."

At this moment, a large group of armed military police and researchers in white coats rushed in from outside.

Some people were crying, some were screaming, and an old professor was frantically measuring things with a Geiger counter, shouting, "It's unbelievable! There's not even any residual radiation here! It wouldn't be this clean even if you brushed it with a toothbrush!"

This is the opportunity.

Shen Jinghong grabbed a dirty gray work uniform from the corner of the cleaning room and put it on, then picked up a mop.

He messed up his hair, smeared two streaks of ash on his face, took a deep breath, and suddenly pushed open the door and rushed out.

"My God! What...what's going on?"

Shen Jinghong, her face filled with terror, screamed in heavily accented English, her mop trembling in her hands, "Just now... just now I think I saw a flash of white light, and then... and then everything was gone!"

The military police, on the verge of collapse, had no time to distinguish whether a cleaner was genuine or not.

"Get out of the way! Don't block my way!"

A military policeman roughly shoved Shen Jinghong, "Go over there for inspection!"

Shen Jinghong was pushed and stumbled, blending into the group of trembling junior technicians and logistics personnel.

The scene was too chaotic.

Hundreds of people were crowded at the exit, and General Groves was yelling at people to be searched, but faced with this "theft" that had left not a single hair, they had no idea what to search for.

Looking for a centrifuge? Who can fit a centrifuge weighing several tons down their pants?

Shen Jinghong lowered her head, pretending to be scared, but her eyes were actually darting around, searching for the best escape route.

Suddenly, the old professor holding the Geiger counter pointed at the cleaning room Shen Jinghong had just come out of and shouted, "Over there! The magnetic field reaction over there is a bit abnormal!"

General Groves whirled around, pointing his gun: "Search!"

Just as everyone's attention was drawn to him, Shen Jinghong ducked down and, like a slippery eel, slid out of the workshop through the wall.

A night breeze blew in my face, carrying the scent of freedom.

The sounds of ransacking and more angry roars came from the factory behind him, but all of that was no longer relevant to him.

He glanced back at the brightly lit but now empty factory, chuckled softly, and his figure quickly disappeared into the vast night.

The dowry is ready; now it's time to see how the "groom"—the Pentagon—feels.

……

Washington, D.C., the Pentagon.

At three in the morning, the command center was still brightly lit.

On the enormous sand table, flags representing different factions were planted. The staff officers were simulating the battle situation after the upcoming Inchon Landing, and everyone appeared full of confidence.

General Wilson, holding a cup of coffee, stood in front of a huge map, his finger lightly tapping the line of the Yalu River.

"Gentlemen, the war will soon be over. What will that agricultural country in the East use to fight us? Their millet and rifles?"

The surrounding generals burst into laughter.

"Once our F-80 fighters take to the skies, their skies will no longer belong to them."

"Once our logistical supplies arrive in Busan, we can bury them in cans."

General Wilson took a sip of his coffee, a confident smile on his face: "Even in the worst-case scenario, we still have 'Little Boy's' brothers waiting for us in Oak Ridge. Truth will always be in our hands."

Before he could finish speaking...

The red secure telephone, which sat in the center of the table and almost never rang, suddenly emitted a piercing ring.

"Ring ring—!!!"

In the quiet of the early morning, the sound was sharp, like a blade scraping against glass, sending chills down one's spine.

The laughter of everyone abruptly stopped.

General Wilson's hand trembled slightly, and scalding coffee splashed onto the back of his hand, but he didn't notice.

That's the highest-level emergency hotline. It only rings in the event of a major attack on the homeland or an event of nuclear war magnitude.

He took a deep breath, put down his coffee cup, slowly reached out, and picked up the receiver.

"I am Wilson."

General Groves's trembling voice came from the other end of the phone, filled with an unprecedented fear and despair:

"Sir...we...we're lost."

"What's missing? Explain it clearly!" Wilson frowned.

"It's all gone."

Groves's voice trembled with tears. "Lockheed's production lines are gone, the Federal Reserve's vaults are empty, and just now... just now, all the centrifuges at the K-25 plant have also disappeared."

"What did you say?!"

General Wilson felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, his head buzzing, and he nearly lost his balance. "Are you drunk? What do you mean by 'disappeared'?"

"It's a physical disappearance! Gone! Even the floor tiles are gone! Sir, we might have been attacked by an alien civilization, or... that curse from the East!"

pat.

The red microphone slipped from General Wilson's hand, slammed heavily on the table, and bounced to the ground, swaying like a hanged corpse.

His face turned deathly pale instantly, his lips trembled, and his eyes were filled with unprecedented terror.

The surrounding generals exchanged bewildered glances and cautiously asked, "General, what happened? Have the Soviets attacked?"

General Wilson slowly turned around and looked at the red eastern country on the map.

At this moment, the rabbit that he had previously seen as nothing more than "millet and rifles" seemed to suddenly grow fangs and transform into a giant dragon that was awakening.

"Prepare the car..."

His voice was hoarse, as if there was a wad of cotton stuck in his throat, "Prepare the car immediately! I need to see the president!"

"The sky has fallen."