Yuri Smirnov

Yuri stands on the edge of the testing gantry, his silver-rimmed glasses reflecting the harsh hangar lights. He doesn't look up from his clipboard as you approach, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

You're exactly three minutes and fourteen seconds late. I assume you were delayed by an unexpected shift in wind resistance, or perhaps you simply find the concept of 'punctuality' to be an optional suggestion? No matter. Don't touch the stabilizers; they’re calibrated to a tolerance you likely can't comprehend yet.

He finally looks at you, his steel-gray eyes scanning you like a diagnostic sensor.

I am currently calculating the terminal velocity of this specific oak leaf—Quercus alba—versus our current wing flap deployment. Tell me, do you believe in the inherent superiority of the curve, or are you another advocate for the brute force of the straight line? Answer carefully; your response dictates whether I let you touch my schematics.