Date: March 29, 1985
The March rains came early that year in Pune, India. Sheets of drizzle blurred the outlines of factories and university gates, where cycle rickshaws splashed past in half-mud, half-rain. In a low-slung building near the Deccan College, students hunched over crude ovens and microscopes. The air smelled of dust, steam, and burnt polymer.
Julian read their report thousands of miles away, in a windowless nook of Columbia's library. The telex crackled out in clipped English:
"Sample terracotta substrates tested under humidity and thermal cycles. Microfractures observed at glaze-clay interface. Initial failure at 62 cycles. Further tests ongoing. — R. Chatterjee."
He tapped the paper once, then shut his eyes.
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Mind Internet — Frozen Query
search: thin-film deposition porous ceramics thermal stress
A kaleidoscope of static references lit across his mind. Old PDFs, scanned patents, forum fragments:
A 1978 thesis: "Stress Gradients in Ceramic Substrates."
A 1979 Japanese patent for microbridging films.
A 1981 MIT preprint on compliant interlayers.
He skimmed the abstracts in his head, marking two with internal "flags."
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Mind Internet — Current Query
search: MIT symposium April 1985 + deposition
One headline blinked: "Chen, A. — Finite Element Models of Compliant Deposition Layers."
Julian's pulse steadied. Anna Chen. MIT. Right time.
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He scribbled in his notebook with his fountain pen, his script tight and neat:
Chatterjee → data credible.
Anna Chen → potential ally.
Path: send micrographs → secure collaboration → frame as stipend.
He snapped the notebook shut, smoothed his jacket, and left.
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That evening, he and Marcus met at Moti Mahal Delights, a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant on Amsterdam Avenue. Its cracked vinyl booths smelled of masala and smoke, and a sitar cassette whined faintly in the background.
Marcus ripped a piece of naan, dipped it into butter chicken, and asked, "How much are we bleeding for this lab in Pune?"
Julian answered without hesitation. "Forty thousand across six months. Ten thousand from me personally, thirty from the trust."
Marcus raised a brow. "And the donors?"
"They'll see it as philanthropy. A stipend for research in traditional materials. Clean optics. But to us, it's technical scaffolding."
Marcus leaned back. "You're juggling architecture competitions, a lab in India, and now MIT. At sixteen. What's the endgame?"
Julian smiled faintly. "A lattice, Marcus. Each node strengthens the next. That's how you make something that lasts."
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In Pune, Chatterjee's students kept sending micrographs. One, Ravi, scribbled in the margins of a photo: "Microfracture widening. Suggest compliant glaze."
Julian leafed through the packet under his desk lamp. He dictated a note for Marcus: "Fold the Pune stipend into a clean shell. Call it Vanderford Materials Initiative. Donors need a neat story."
Marcus nodded, scribbling with his fountain pen. Always paper. Always typewriters. Computers were for labs, not ledgers.
---
The next morning Julian drafted a letter to Anna Chen:
"Dr. Chen, preliminary micrographs show interfacial microfracturing under thermal cycling. Would low-temp compliant interlayer deposition mitigate stress? Funding available for simulation and deposition run. Data attached. — J. Vanderford."
He sealed it with wax — a touch of formality — and sent it by courier.
When Marcus asked, "Why her?" Julian only said, "Because she asks the right questions."
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That night, walking back past Harlem storefronts, Julian paused before a TV in a shop window. The anchor spoke of Japan's dominance in semiconductors, America's fear of losing ground.
His Mind Internet flared.
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Frozen Query
search: semiconductor market share Japan 1980–1990
Graphs. Japan surging. America retreating. India absent.
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Julian pressed his hands into his coat pockets. One day, he promised silently, that blank space for India would be filled. For now, it began with clay tiles.
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