Chapter 591: Semiconductors and China

The next item on the agenda happened to be related to the chips mentioned earlier.

The executive in charge of the semiconductor business opened his technical report.

“As of the end of January this year, the Group’s 0.35-micron process has completed its first phase of trial production. Existing experimental equipment can basically meet the requirements for small-batch manufacturing. However, because several production lines are distributed across different regions, and the equipment models and process standards are not yet fully unified, we still need to continue improving yield rates and production costs.”

“Looking at the international market, most mainstream chips currently in large-scale commercial production still use processes around 0.6 to 0.8 microns. Some leading companies are pushing toward 0.5 microns and more advanced nodes, but it will still be some time before 0.35 microns becomes truly widespread.”

“Therefore, if we can standardize our processes within this year and give our existing production lines stable commercial production capabilities, we will have a chance to take a distinct lead in the industrialization of advanced process nodes.”

Having said that, he turned another page.

“As for 0.25 microns, we are currently able to manufacture functioning test chips, but the yield rate remains low, and there is still a considerable gap before achieving stable production.”

“Meanwhile, 0.18 microns is mainly stalled at the stage of lithography patterning experiments, and we do not yet have the capability to manufacture complete chips.”

“According to our existing R&D plan, we intend to prioritize expanding the actual production capacity of the 0.35-micron process this year, while continuing to advance engineering verification for 0.25 microns.”

After listening, Satsuki let her gaze linger on those few numbers for a moment.

0.35 microns.

What that number truly signified was something she understood far better than many people present.

If she remembered correctly, Intel wouldn’t officially release the first-generation Pentium processor until next year, 1993.

And that processor, which would later become an iconic product of the PC era, initially only used a 0.8-micron process.

It wouldn’t be until around 1995 that 0.35 microns would gradually enter Intel’s commercial production framework alongside new generations of products like the Pentium family and the Pentium Pro.

In other words, purely in terms of process node figures, Saionji had already touched upon a level roughly three years ahead of its time.

Even more staggering was 0.25 microns.

In her memory, Intel didn’t begin applying that caliber of process node to the next-generation Pentium II processors until around 1997.

Of course, Satsuki was not naive enough to believe she was already a full five years ahead of Intel.

After all, producing a working test chip in a laboratory was an entirely different matter from consistently producing hundreds of thousands of complex processors every month with stable yields and reasonable costs.

What’s more, IBM and top Japanese semiconductor companies had long been researching similar technologies.

0.25 microns wasn’t something only Saionji could accomplish.

As for 0.18 microns…

Emi and her team hadn’t even managed to produce a complete chip yet.

Nevertheless, Satsuki was still quite satisfied.

After all, how long had it been since Saionji truly entered the semiconductor manufacturing sector?

A few years ago, the Group didn’t even have its own complete chip supply chain.

Yet today, relying on the Jade Box’s computing power as well as the equipment and technical talent acquired and recruited from around the world over the years, they had gradually caught up with those semiconductor giants that had been in business for decades.

Moreover, what truly pleased her wasn’t merely the process node figures before her.

If the computational lithography system developed by Emi could continue to play its role, Saionji would not necessarily be forced to immediately purchase expensive new-generation lithography equipment every time it advanced a node, unlike other companies.

That point alone was enough to save an astonishing amount of capital.

Thinking of this, Satsuki looked at the report with a bit more anticipation.

Not bad, not bad at all. All that money poured into Odaiba certainly hadn’t gone to waste.

However, the executive in charge of the briefing clearly understood that technological leadership did not mean Saionji could instantly convert it into a commercial advantage.

“Of course, to truly translate our current process advantage into stable production capacity, we still have a few problems to resolve.”

He opened another document.

“First is that our R&D and production facilities are too dispersed. Currently, the teams responsible for lithography equipment, semiconductor materials, precision machining, and wafer inspection are scattered across different regions. Some researchers must frequently travel between several factories, and unifying equipment and experimental conditions is very difficult.”

“Especially as technical personnel recruited from overseas arrive one after another, the existing facilities are increasingly struggling to meet our research and production needs.”

“Therefore, we recommend constructing a centralized semiconductor technology R&D and manufacturing base.”

He handed a map to the secretary, which was then distributed to the attendees in turn.

“The site preliminarily surveyed is Tsukuba in Ibaraki Prefecture.”

“It already possesses a relatively mature scientific research infrastructure, and the land conditions are suitable for building wafer manufacturing facilities, as well as supporting materials research, equipment testing, and engineering experimental centers.”

“At the same time, we plan to build residential and living amenities for researchers around the base to accommodate experts and their families brought in from Europe and other regions.”

“However, according to the current plan, the new base will be built in phases. The first phase will focus primarily on R&D, process integration, and pilot production. Existing factories will continue to undertake normal trial production tasks and will not halt operations due to the construction of the new facilities.”

Satsuki looked down at it for a while.

Tsukuba Science City.

The place was indeed quite suitable.

And unlike Odaiba, there was truly enough space there to centrally plan research institutes, factories, and researcher housing together.

Saionji’s current semiconductor business was no longer just about manufacturing a few types of chips.

From materials and optical equipment to wafer manufacturing, packaging, and testing, every aspect required a large number of professionals.

If it continued to develop in a fragmented manner, management would only become harder in the future.

“Approved.”

Satsuki set down the map.

“First carry out detailed planning to thoroughly survey all requirements for land, power supply, water usage, and related supporting facilities.”

“In addition, the Jade Box and lithography research facilities in Odaiba are to be retained; there is no need to move everything over. Tsukuba will primarily undertake production process integration and R&D work that needs to be close to the factories.”

“The resettlement of overseas researchers should also follow the agreements previously reached with all parties. Do not arbitrarily alter arrangements for experts whose placements have already been finalized on the American side.”

“Understood.”

The head responded and took his seat again.

With that, today’s most crucial business agenda items were considered concluded.

Next, Endo gave a brief report on the preparatory work for the special security system.

Although the Special Security Act for Critical Private Facilities passed by the House of Representatives yesterday still had to go through follow-up legislative procedures, the Group’s security department had already begun compiling personnel training, equipment management, and facility data required for future qualification applications.

According to current arrangements, Saionji Tower, major scientific research facilities, and several key logistics hubs would be prioritized in the qualification application plan.

However, before the law formally took effect, related work remained confined to internal preparations.

The final item was China operations.

“Regarding the industrial projects in Pudong, Shanghai, we recently received a new batch of progress reports.”

Endo opened the file.

“The previously planned Waigaoqiao Industrial Park has entered its next phase, with several industrial facilities and supporting projects underway. The local government hopes we can confirm our follow-up investment arrangements for this year as soon as possible, especially regarding factory construction and the entry of new enterprises.”

“In addition, Shanghai has expressed a desire to further expand industrial cooperation with Saionji this year.”

Satsuki thought for a brief moment after hearing this.

Indeed.

It had been more than a year since she last visited Shanghai.

The land and industrial projects negotiated back then should be entering a new stage by now.

Furthermore…

She remembered that in early 1992, something quite significant was about to happen in China.

“Prepare and organize the reports from Shanghai.”

Satsuki looked up.

“I plan to go there in person in a while.”

“Understood.”

Endo nodded.

“I will notify the head of China operations and have the secretarial office arrange your itinerary.”

…

By the time the meeting ended, it was close to noon.

As Satsuki closed the final document, the discussion that had lasted for over two hours finally drew to a close.

“Let’s wrap it up here for today.”

She stood up.

“Thank you for your hard work, everyone.”

The executives in the conference room rose to their feet one after another.

However, after the meeting adjourned, not many people left right away.

After all, several plans discussed just now involved interdepartmental collaboration.

Those in charge of retail and commercial planning quickly approached Itakura to continue discussing the joint promotional campaign for this spring.

Yoichi Tsuchiya was stopped by the head of SIS, who seemingly intended to learn more details about the transit payment and clearing settlement system mentioned earlier.

As for Endo…

No sooner had he gathered his documents than someone approached him holding the roster for the transportation business preparatory team.

Satsuki glanced back, the corners of her lips curling slightly.

Everyone truly was busy.

Still, this wasn’t bad at all.

Being busy was good; the busier they were, the more it meant Saionji no longer needed her to personally direct every specific task.

The professional executives under her could already proactively seek out new opportunities in line with the Group’s overall development direction, even proposing business plans that had never been considered before.

What she needed to do was mostly just decide which matters were worth allocating resources to and which direction they should pursue.

Mm.

Looking at it this way…

She should be able to take things much easier from now on, right?

With that thought in mind, Satsuki walked out of the conference room in good spirits.

“Aah—it’s finally over.”

As she walked out, she gently rolled her somewhat sore shoulders.

“Chizuru, is there anything else scheduled for this afternoon?”

“Yes, Milady.”

Chizuru, walking beside her, checked the schedule.

“This afternoon, there are two documents that require your personal confirmation. In addition, regarding the Shanghai trip you just mentioned, the secretarial office needs to settle on a specific schedule with you.”

“Ugh…”

Satsuki’s reasonably good mood instantly dimmed a fraction.

Why did it feel like moving into the new headquarters hadn’t reduced her workload by much at all?

“However, before that, there is one more matter that needs to be reported to you.”

Chizuru drew a file from the folder she carried with her.

“This morning, the Group’s Technology Committee submitted a special evaluation report to the secretarial office, requesting that you personally decide on the subsequent course of action.”

“The Technology Committee?”

Satsuki was somewhat surprised.

Speaking of which, over the years, the research topics she had tossed into the Technical Committee had grown increasingly absurd.

Flying cars, brain-computer interfaces, artificial intelligence, autonomous robots, next-generation photolithography, as well as various advanced energy and materials research…

Some things didn’t even have a concrete implementation roadmap. She had simply thought that since she had plenty of money anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to have the people below build up technological reserves in advance, lest they find themselves lacking any foundation when the time truly came.

As for the countless routine scientific research projects under the group, it was naturally impossible for all of them to be brought to her desk.

The Technical Committee itself possessed independent review and budget allocation authority, and the vast majority of projects could be approved internally. Only those closely related to key research directions she had personally designated, or those that achieved major technological breakthroughs significant enough to influence the group’s future strategy, would be directly submitted through special channels.

And now, right after she finished her meeting, the Technical Committee had specially sent over a special evaluation report.

Could it be that something incredible had been developed again?

At this thought, Satsuki immediately grew a bit interested.

“What kind of project is it?”

“It’s about a plant.”

“…A plant?”

Satsuki was taken aback.

This answer was completely outside her expectations.

“Yes.”

Chizuru handed the file to her.

“A researcher from the Hokkaido Shakotan Biotechnology Center arrived at headquarters this morning, bringing along a special forage grass specimen and complete experimental data.”

“His name is Yamada Toshihiko.”

Satsuki blinked.

Yamada Toshihiko?

No impression whatsoever.

Still, since the Technical Committee had deliberately brought the report to her, it probably wasn’t some ordinary agricultural research result.

Chizuru continued explaining:

“Last summer, Researcher Yamada applied for the group’s Long-Term Energy Security Research Project. However, due to insufficient field data, a lack of specialists in fermentation engineering, and the absence of a formal recommendation from his affiliated institution, it was rejected by the Technical Committee at the time.”

“But he didn’t give up. He later supplemented a large amount of experimental data and resubmitted his application this January.”

“After receiving the data and samples, the Technical Committee organized raw record audits, sample composition analyses, and independent replicate trials. Preliminary results indicate that the plant he submitted indeed possesses rather abnormal saccharification performance.”

Speaking up to here, Chizuru paused briefly.

“The committee believes this research may hold extremely high commercial development value, and therefore recommends elevating it to a group strategic research project.”

Satsuki looked down at the documents in her hands.

The title of the report read:

“Feasibility Study on Fuel Ethanol from High-Digestibility Miscanthus in Cold Regions.”

Further down were several sets of specially highlighted experimental data.

Raw material code: F-47.

Candidate ramet code: SF-01.

Under mild alkali treatment conditions of around sixty degrees Celsius, using only one-tenth the amount of cellulase compared to the initial trial, every one hundred grams of dry matter was able to release 61.8 grams of fermentable sugar for downstream fermentation.

In contrast, ordinary Miscanthus under identical conditions yielded less than six grams of released sugar.

“That high?”

Satsuki instinctively stopped in her tracks.

Although she wasn’t a botanist, she could tell that the disparity between these two numbers was practically absurd.

“The Technical Committee has confirmed that no obvious flaws were found in the raw experimental data, and independent verification also observed the same anomalous performance,”

Chizuru continued.

“However, the specific reason behind this plant’s unique properties has yet to be determined, nor is there sufficient data proving it can be cultivated on a large industrial scale.”

“Particularly regarding fuel production, subsequent specialized fermentation engineering and industrial cost evaluations will be required.”

“Therefore, the committee has not approved large-scale investment for now, but instead recommends organizing a cross-disciplinary research team first to further confirm its commercial feasibility.”

“I see…”

Satsuki lowered her head again.

Biofuels.

She certainly knew about this.

In her past life, there had been plenty of research on utilizing plants to produce fuel.

Cellulosic ethanol in particular was once viewed by many as an important technology capable of reducing dependence on petroleum.

Unfortunately, its eventual development did not go as smoothly as imagined.

Expensive pretreatment, cellulase, and fermentation costs, coupled with land, transportation, and energy efficiency issues, prevented the technology from ever truly reshaping the global energy landscape.

So, when it came to biofuels, she didn’t actually harbor high expectations.

However…

Satsuki looked at that set of experimental data once more.

What if this report was genuine?

61.8 grams.

One-tenth the enzyme dosage.

And it only required mild treatment conditions of around sixty degrees Celsius.

Though she didn’t understand the specific technical intricacies, she knew that one of the hardest bottlenecks in cellulosic ethanol was how to convert the cellulose in plants into fermentable sugars at a sufficiently low cost.

If this plant could truly slash the cost of this step dramatically…

Things might turn out quite differently.

What’s more, she suddenly recalled what she had been contemplating in her office yesterday.

The current world had long begun diverging from its original historical trajectory.

Many technologies, enterprises, and institutions that had never appeared in her past life were now gradually becoming reality because of Saionji’s existence.

So why did biofuels necessarily have to follow the trajectory in her memories?

With that thought, Satsuki flipped through a few more pages of the report.

It was only when she saw the initial project details that she paused slightly.

Project Name: Germplasm Collection and Evaluation of High-Yielding Perennial Forage Grass in Cold Regions.

Affiliation: Forage Crop Research Laboratory.

Annual Budget: 3.8 million yen.

Project Lead: Yamada Toshihiko.

“3.8 million?”

Satsuki couldn’t help repeating.

This budget…

Wasn’t it a bit too meager?

Saionji’s total annual research funding across the entire organization had long reached an astronomical figure.

Just the equipment and materials consumed by those Odaiba laboratories in a single day probably cost more than this petty sum.

Yet this Researcher Yamada before her had actually developed something like this on an annual budget of merely 3.8 million yen?

And initially, it had merely been intended to find suitable cattle feed for S-Farm.

Looking at the report, Satsuki suddenly found it rather amusing.

“Where is Mr. Yamada right now?”

“He is currently waiting in the research reception area,”

Chizuru answered.

“The Technical Committee originally scheduled a follow-up interview for this afternoon, but upon learning that you were at headquarters this morning, they applied to have the Secretariat report to you first.”

“He personally also requested the opportunity to explain his research findings and the next phase’s plan to you face-to-face.”

Satsuki pondered for a moment.

“Then let’s meet him.”

“Understood.”

Chizuru nodded immediately.

But just as Satsuki was about to keep walking forward, she suddenly remembered something else.

“By the way, Chizuru.”

“Yes, Milady?”

“What about the grass he brought?”

“It is currently being looked after by staff arranged by the Technical Committee,”

Chizuru replied.

“In addition to dried specimens used for testing, Mr. Yamada specifically brought along a living ramet of SF-01.”

“A living one?”

“Yes.”

Satsuki’s eyes widened slightly.

Traveling all the way from Hokkaido to Tokyo.

Bringing years of research files.

Even going so far as to specifically bring a living plant.

This Researcher Yamada truly was earnest.

She glanced down at the report in her hands, then looked up toward the end of the corridor.

For some reason, she suddenly felt a stir of anticipation.

“Let’s go, Chizuru.”

Satsuki closed the folder.

“Let’s go meet this Mr. Yamada.”

Speaking of which, she had just spent over two hours this morning discussing major projects that each demanded investments of billions or tens of billions of yen.

Who would have thought that right after the meeting wrapped up, someone researching pasture grass would pop up?

And on top of that, it was a tiny project with an annual budget of just 3.8 million yen.

Still…

What if this grass really was as extraordinary as the report claimed?

Satsuki walked toward the elevator as she turned it over in her mind.

In any case, meeting him wouldn’t take much time.

As for what this Researcher Yamada had actually discovered…

Wouldn’t she find out once she heard it in person?