“Vintage 59,” a premium wine shop in downtown San Francisco.
The store, usually quiet with only a few customers drifting in and out now and then, was filled with a strange liveliness today. Manager Mark, holding the endlessly ringing phone between his shoulder and ear, offered a practiced smile to the agitated customer in front of him.
“Yes, sir. Aether? Ah, come on now. Even if you called the White House, you wouldn’t be able to get your hands on that right now. Yes, yes. I’ll contact you first the moment it comes in.”
Mark set down the receiver and looked at the middle-aged gentleman before him—Robert, a well-known heavyweight attorney in San Francisco. He had already been pestering Mark for fifteen minutes, demanding a bottle of Aether 2008.
“Mark, is there really no way? The party is the day after tomorrow. The guest of honor says he absolutely wants to try a Redwood wine.”
“Robert, please calm down. Saying that won’t make Aether suddenly fall into the shop. How about another wine?”
“Damn it, it’s the wine Robert Parker gave 100 points to. That’s what I need.”
“I’m sorry, but getting Aether right now is like plucking a star from the sky. From what I know, the shipment volume was extremely small to begin with. That’s why the stock has been wiped out. And even if there is some out there, the price...”
“How much is it?”
“It’ll start at a minimum of six thousand dollars.”
Robert’s expression changed at once.
“Six thousand dollars? Isn’t that too much? Last year, you could get it for four thousand.”
“It’s gone up even more now. And some private collectors who have several cases aren’t letting them go because they expect the price to rise further... Unless the 2009 vintage comes out next year, you should assume it’ll be difficult to obtain.”
“Damn... Then what about Astra Veil?”
“That’s in a slightly better situation... We had a decent amount in stock until the San Francisco Chronicle. But just yesterday, all the remaining inventory sold out.”
“That too?”
“Since people couldn’t get Aether, they took Astra Veil, which is in the same tier. Still, Redwood Winery releases about three thousand cases of Astra Veil every year, so if you wait a little, it won’t be impossible to find.”
Even though he was told it would only take a few days, Robert was left with a bitter taste in his mouth. What good was waiting a few days when he needed the wine right now?
But even as he looked at the customer’s severely distorted expression, Mark was not particularly flustered or apologetic. About half the customers he was dealing with these days all wore that same crestfallen look.
“Instead of that, why not look for another alternative? Although Aether has received incredible acclaim, Redwood has many wines that are very highly regarded.”
“Hmm... Is that so?”
“First, why don’t you come this way?”
As if he had been waiting for this, Mark led Robert to the “Redwood Special Section” in the center of the store. The spots for Aether and Astra Veil were empty, but beside them, bottles with splendid labels still stood proudly in place.
“Now, take a look here. If you want the intensity of Aether, this ‘Echelon’ is the answer. It’s a Cabernet Sauvignon-based blend, and while it carries Aether’s genes intact, this one is actually more appealing if you’re opening it right now. It’s under a hundred dollars too, so there’s no need to even mention the value.”
“Echelon...? Will it have as much impact as Aether?”
“Of course. Echelon also won Double Gold in the mid-to-high-priced blended wine category at the San Francisco Chronicle, and Robert Parker gave it 94 points.”
“94 points, huh...”
When Robert hesitated, Mark immediately picked up the sleek bottle beside it.
“And if the person attending the party with you is a woman, this could also be an excellent option. This is ‘Sylphid.’ It’s a single-vineyard Pinot Noir, and its extremely delicate, sharp acidity is outstanding. How should I put it? It feels like walking through a misty Sonoma forest. On the other hand, if you want something more elegant and refined, I recommend this ‘Quiet Hill.’ It’s also a single-vineyard Pinot Noir, but if Sylphid is wild, this one is like an aristocratic lady.”
At Mark’s dazzling sales pitch, Robert’s eyes began to waver.
“Are they all well reviewed?”
“Of course. Both Sylphid and Quiet Hill received Gold ratings. Honestly, in terms of popularity, Sylphid and Quiet Hill sell even better than Echelon. The heavy structure of a Cabernet Sauvignon-based blend may tempt wine enthusiasts, but you can’t ignore the mass appeal of Pinot Noir.”
“That’s true. Women and wine beginners usually like Pinot Noir.”
“The quality of these wines won’t fall short of most French Bordeaux wines. They’ll show you outstanding quality for the price.”
“Mmm, if that’s the case...”
Robert had come in to buy one bottle of Aether, but before he knew it, his shopping basket contained two bottles of Echelon and one bottle of Sylphid. Mark did not stop there. He pointed to a bottle beside the register.
“And take one of these as a sort of extra. Redwood’s hidden weapon, the cherry wine ‘Cerasia.’ Wine lovers will be startled and say, ‘You can get this kind of flavor from cherries?’ There’s nothing better as a dessert wine to end a party. It’s also the cheapest. Of course, just because I say to think of it like a dessert wine, don’t imagine some commonplace sweet wine. It’s a cherry wine, but its depth will deliver an entirely new shock. It’s the cheapest of everything you’re buying today, but perhaps it may end up giving you the greatest satisfaction.”
“Ha, Mark. I really have to acknowledge your business skills. Fine, give me the Cerasia too!”
Robert held out his card in good spirits. Mark inwardly cheered. The profit from a single bottle of Aether was large, of course, but selling a wide variety across the lineup like this was also a huge help to the shop’s operation.
Even after Robert left, the customers did not stop coming. It was as if anything with the name Redwood on it would do. Looking at the empty Aether display shelf, Mark muttered to himself.
“Good heavens, American wine selling this well... Just how much money is Redwood making? I’m jealous...”
Shaking his head, he immediately moved to greet a new customer.
---
Before I knew it, it was mid-March.
The wine world was in an uproar from the aftershocks of the San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition, but Redwood Winery, the very center of the commotion, was quiet. Planting was nearly finished, and the first shipments of bottled wine had gone out, so even the distribution company trucks were no longer coming and going.
Of course, reporters occasionally came by, but all I had to do was step out for a brief interview, and there were also reporters who wanted Warren more than me, so the winery could only remain peaceful.
So after lunch, I leisurely sat down and quietly read the latest issue of Decanter, an authoritative British wine magazine, lying on my desk. It was a special article written by Julian Boyd.
Even the title of the article was anything but ordinary.
The article began with praise for Aether.
— Aether 2008 displays the pinnacle of physical perfection that the Cabernet Sauvignon variety can reach. The deep violet radiance filling the glass and the precise aroma that numbs the tip of the nose prove that Robert Parker’s 100 points were by no means an exaggeration. It is a wine in which one cannot find a flaw no matter how hard one tries, as smooth as a freshly cut diamond.
Leo, who was reading the article beside me, tilted his head and asked,
“Boss, what got into Mr. Boyd, praising us like this? When he came to the winery back then, he was so vicious.”
Instead of answering, I pointed to the next paragraph of the article. Boyd’s true intention was hidden there.
— Yet paradoxically, that very perfection fills me with dread. In this wine, I cannot hear the sound of mud-caked boots in Bordeaux, nor can I sense the centuries-old silence of Burgundy. Redwood, which produced this outstanding wine, was not serving a terroir bestowed by heaven, but was instead carving up the earth as if designing a semiconductor process. It was less a vineyard than a laboratory in Silicon Valley. In this engineered wine, where human arrogance has replaced the mystery of nature, is there truly any room for a soul to dwell? Is this cold summit reached by Napa Valley truly a blessing, or is it the end of wine?
Leo’s face flushed red after reading the article.
“How can he call the passion we poured into this an engineered wine? This is an insult!”
But I smiled instead. Boyd’s article was cunning. If he had denied the taste of the wine, he would have drawn public criticism. But by acknowledging the taste, he established his expertise, while cleverly disparaging Redwood’s brand as lacking tradition and caring only about crude technology.
“Somehow... He must have thought it was a good thing he came to the winery before. With us plowing up the entire vineyard, he must have thought he’d found a gift from heaven.”
“Why on earth is he so desperate to tear us apart?”
“Because it’s American wine.”
It was a simple answer, but Leo was left speechless.
“No... That’s irritating.”
“As you know, even if Britain and France don’t get along, it’s a bit different in the wine world. Historically, it was British merchants and critics who played a leading role in introducing Bordeaux wines to the world and classifying them.”
“That’s true. To British critics, American wine has the image of a vulgar nouveau riche with nothing but overgrown muscles.”
“Exactly. On top of that, we recently had a war of nerves with the Rothschild family. They probably want to diminish Redwood’s authority by any means possible.”
At that moment, Warren, who had just come in, saw the magazine in my hand and gave a faint laugh.
“You were reading it.”
“Elder, you’re here.”
“Julian Boyd really sharpened his blade, didn’t he?”
“I know. Anyone would think we defeated the five First Growth châteaux of Bordeaux.”
“Hahaha! They must know. They won, but in truth, they lost. They know Redwood will continue to be a presence capable of threatening their own, so it’s only natural they would use someone like Julian Boyd to undermine Redwood’s brand. In fact, we should consider this only the beginning. In that sense, it was fortunate that Aether achieved Best of Show at this San Francisco Chronicle. If not for that, he would have lowered his evaluation of Aether in the review as well.”
“If he had, I think I would have gotten a little angry.”
“Isn’t taste originally dependent on each person’s subjective judgment? Still, we should consider it fortunate that Julian Boyd respected the judges of the San Francisco Chronicle.”
Nodding, I smiled and clipped Boyd’s article. He probably thought of this article as a tool to condemn Redwood, but to me, it felt like a medal showing just how much the precision agriculture and terroir engineering we pursued were threatening the established powers.
After finishing the clipping, I went out to the vineyard with Warren. Exactly one month had passed since the planting in February. Outside, there was still a chilly early spring air, but the surface of the ground beneath my feet was warm thanks to the faint heat emitted by the SubAir system.
“The buds are already starting to come up. Look.”
I knelt and pointed to the end of a young vine’s branch. Warren adjusted his glasses and bent at the waist.
Breaking through the hard brown bark, a soft, downy light-green tissue was poking its head out. Bud break. It was the moment a grapevine woke from its long winter sleep and exhaled its first breath into the world.
“Good heavens... They’re already sprouting? Saplings planted in February, growing this vigorously in just a month?”
Wonder filled Warren’s voice. Usually, buds at this time of year would poke their heads out very cautiously and frailly. But Redwood’s buds were different. Even the thickness of the stems was extraordinary, and the newly emerged leaves carried a smooth sheen as if they had been coated in oil.
“Normally, this is a sight you wouldn’t see until early April, but the soil temperature in our vineyard has been maintained at fifteen degrees Celsius since a month ago. The roots have already drawn up plenty of minerals from the seabed sedimentary layer, and the microorganisms we injected every night have built a perfect nutrient network around the roots, so they came up quickly.”
I carefully stroked the bud. It was the first evidence of the miracle created by the union of advanced technology from before my regression and the soil of 2010.
“Mr. Boyd would probably call this some cheap Silicon Valley trick, but look. I think it’s the pinnacle of agronomy and optimization. These children started the season a month earlier than everyone else, so they’ve gained that much more time to accumulate deeper and more complex flavors.”
Warren nodded and stared at the buds for a long while. He gently dug up the soil around the sapling with his fingers, then shuddered at the faint vitality he felt near the roots.
“Master is right. But even if he knows, he’ll deliberately turn away from it. What matters to him isn’t truth, but illusion. The Rothschild family will want that as well.”
“I don’t mind. What matters to me is only the grapes and the wine.”
“An excellent attitude.”
Warren looked at me with a pleased smile.
We had overturned the earth and completed the planting. Redwood had been reborn, and now, the brilliant results would soon arrive.