Thesis – Antithesis – Synthesis / Goods – Money – Goods

Ivan stood outside the door, waiting for Professor Moldor to finish consulting with the student ahead of him. His appointment was at 1:15 PM — they were supposed to have fifteen minutes for questions and discussion.

The door opened. The previous student stepped out, and the professor’s voice called:

—Next!

Ivan entered.

—Good afternoon, have a seat. So, how’s Derrida coming along?

Moldor clearly recognized him among the others. Ivan nodded, hung his jacket on the back of the chair, and sat down across from her.

—Yeah — he pulled out a notebook filled with notes and annotations — I’ve started writing bit by bit and wanted to clarify a few things first…

***

Reinhardt woke up with an unbearable pain in his lower back — he’d known this would happen the moment he lifted Alfred off the floor. But that had been an extraordinary situation.

Grimacing, he grabbed his phone and checked his messages. There was only one — from Tai Ming:
"Heimlich maneuver complete."

—"Is he joking again?"— Reinhardt shook his head in annoyance.

Tai Ming wasn’t joking. Early that morning, a gray BMW had parked right under his windows — a car he’d never seen around here before. Just as Reifenberg had warned him over the phone.

—"A 325, I think — an old one, with that boxy front end. Haven’t seen those in ages." — Tai Ming wasn’t a car expert, but he knew a thing or two about cars.

He stepped outside with a cardboard box containing precious cargo — the lilac sprout he’d dubbed "Heimlich." A courier in a mask and sunglasses emerged from the car and met him halfway. They exchanged a silent nod, and the box changed hands.

—"Really?"— Tai Ming thought —"Couldn’t come up with anything better? All that talk about special transport conditions, security escorts, props… What a kind of minister he is?"

The courier placed the box on the passenger seat, got back behind the wheel, and drove off toward the highway.

Removing her sunglasses and mask, Linda glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. Looked presentable enough. She had no idea what she was transporting or why — only where. Heidelberg. A long drive ahead. Time to step on it.

She turned on the radio and pressed the accelerator.

***

The lab had been more or less restored to order. But by morning, nothing had arrived. She and Thomas had stayed late yesterday, cleaning up the aftermath of the chaos. They’d left last and returned first. At least now the place looked decent. A few instruments hadn’t survived the "earthquake," so Akemi was filling out a reimbursement request for equipment lost due to "unforeseen circumstances."

The phone rang. She picked up and listened to the voice on the other end:

—"What do you mean, ‘unconfirmed’?"—she snapped - "It was an earthquake—what you’d call a Naturkatastrophe!"

—"...How can the cause of the tremors be ‘undetermined’?"

—"There’s been no official classification yet, so we can’t approve the damages as—"

—"Imagine if people had died,"—Thomas muttered beside her—"Then everyone really would’ve lost their minds."

—"No,"—Akemi replied, covering the receiver—"Then they’d have moved faster."

—"But they’d still have lost their minds?"

—"Understood,"—she said curtly, hanging up, and turned to Thomas:

—"Sure, they would. But do we need panicking bureaucrats?"

She checked her email notifications.

—"Did you get anything from Reifenberg? He promised a delivery today."

Thomas checked his terminal and messages:

—"No."

—"Will you call him?"

Thomas nodded and pulled out his phone.

***

Professor Moldor’s office looked exactly as expected: a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf along the left wall, crammed with books and document folders; a wide window directly opposite the entrance; and a heavy desk where the professor received visitors.

—"From this, we can draw the following conclusions:

We’re dealing with a certain difference, a différance.

This difference may be ambiguous, non-obvious —as demonstrated by the visible but inaudible distinction between différance and différence.

The German edition preserves this French wordplay untranslated. However, there’s at least one other language and translation where it’s reproduced with almost no loss of meaning. The corresponding section of the book is titled ‘Razlikae’.

The word razlikae doesn’t exist in Croatian; the correct form is razlika. Just as with différence/différance, the pair razlika/razlikae intentionally introduces a spelling ‘error’: an extra letter—*e* instead of emptiness. More importantly, this difference is visible when read but inaudible when spoken."—Moldor read aloud from the draft essay—"What led you to this conclusion?"

—"Native language knowledge, obviously."—Ivan gave her a puzzled look, pulled out his student ID, and showed it to the professor.

—"Ivan Koršić,"—she read quietly—"So you’re from Croatia?"

—"It’s my native tongue. I know what I’m talking about."—He tucked the ID back into his pocket.

***

—"So, what ‘maneuver’?"—Reinhardt called Tai Ming, sat down on a chair, and winced at the pain in his back.

—"My friend, I already told you  —you’ve invented something incredible. Something too big to keep locked away,"—Tai Ming replied.

—"Did it ever occur to you — just for a minute, as a passing thought — to ask me first? Or at least inform me before shipping it off for the whole world to see?"—Reinhardt exhaled angrily.

—"Friends shouldn’t keep secrets,"—Tai Ming said calmly.

—"Maybe you shouldn’t — but Reifenberg and I? We’re not friends! Do you even get that?"

—"Too late now. ‘Heimlich maneuver complete,’"—he repeated the line from his morning message.—"Don’t worry — your name and contributions won’t be forgotten. I’ve no interest in stealing credit."

—"Who the hell wants that kind of fame?"— Reinhardt swore under his breath.

—"I’m not here to rob you blind,"—Tai Ming continued.

—"You kept a few cuttings, didn’t you?"

—"Yeah."—Reinhardt nodded, stepped into the garden, and entered the shed.

The cutting in water and the one in a pot — both were thriving against all odds.

—"No way to test it,"— Reinhardt said —"But they look healthy."

—"Keep them safe. We’ll soon learn what they’re for."—Tai Ming hung up.

***

The sunset glare streaming through the lab windows burned her eyes.
—"What a chaotic, wasted day,"— Akemi thought. She’d been ready since morning to start working on whatever Reifenberg was sending — but now, it felt like all that anticipation had fizzled out. The day was a bust.

And right then, the long-awaited call came. She stepped outside.

—"Yes. Yes. On my way."

She slipped on her shoes and headed out the back door toward the parking lot. Akemi expected a delivery truck — but instead, there was only a beat-up old BMW.

Linda spotted the woman in a lab coat approaching and checked the photo Reifenberg had sent earlier:
—"Yeah, that’s her."—She stepped out and waved.

Linda met Akemi halfway and thrust the box into her hands without ceremony:

—"Goods from Reifenberg. No signature required."

—"Here’s the money."— Akemi pulled out the cash. Linda counted it.

—"Works for me."—She pocketed the bills, gave a curt nod, got back in the car, and roared out of the lot.

Akemi returned to the lab, clutching the box.