Word count: ~11600 | Est. read time: 58 mins
Main text:
Chapter One. The Energy Conference
Mom wouldn’t believe it if I told her about this. Barely out of college, and here I was, standing in the grand conference hall of the World Trade Hotel, bathing in blinding stage lights, and speaking to an audience that would have terrified even seasoned professionals.
Government ministries, foreign diplomats, investors, and reporters—all eyes fixed on me.
On the podium emblazoned with the “World Energy Conference” logo, I delivered a speech on China Heavy Energy (CHE)’s commitment to social responsibility, our renewed focus on environmental protection, and heartfelt remorse for past oversights in green development.
Yet, to my dismay, the audience remained silent.
Their faces betrayed scepticism—just another big corporation offering hollow platitudes, they seemed to think.
Then, a commotion erupted outside the hall. A chorus of rhythmic chants broke through the walls, rough and raw, like an old labourer’s work song. A person who didn’t know better would have thought it was some joyous celebration.
Amid the noise, men and women of various ethnicities marched in. They wore strikingly bright green uniforms, with white headbands inked in blood-red slogans. Their faces were flushed, angrier and redder than the words they bore.
The security team snapped into action, surrounding the group like they were defusing a bomb.
“I’m actually curious to hear what they have to say,” I said, letting the microphone carry my voice across the room.
The audience, on the verge of dozing off moments ago, suddenly perked up.
The leader of the protest group, a man who introduced himself as Kim Yeong-u, was escorted onto the stage.
“I respect your dedication,” I said with a slight bow, my palms pressed together.
In my earpiece, Secretary Ding’s voice came through: “That is a Thai greeting. He’s Korean.”
Kim spoke loudly, his voice charged with conviction. “Thank you. But you should have taken humane action earlier. Two of our Green Liberation Front members have collapsed under the scorching sun. Yet even in the face of exhaustion, they stood firm, unwavering in their ideals.”
“Unwavering, you say? Could it be because they’d already fainted?”
The room erupted in laughter.
Kim, however, was unmoved. He raised his hands skyward and declared, “You must cease your environmental destruction! Stop geothermal drilling! Stop murdering this planet!”
I reached out, gently pulling his raised arms down. “You have my word.”
Kim froze, rendered speechless by my response. The redness in his face lingered, struggling to catch up with the shift in his expression.
“We can no longer earn profits at the expense of our conscience. Wherever geothermal towers rise, the local ecosystem falls. We can’t let kangaroos lose their homes or leave whales without their songs. Therefore, I announce that CHE will embrace environmentalism!” After that, an embrace on Kim from me.
At that very moment, the hall was plunged into darkness as every light flickered off at once. The abrupt blackout seemed almost theatrical, as if the applause had startled the circuits. Phones began to beep and buzz sporadically, creating a dissonant symphony that filled the void.
Kim leaned in, his tone quiet but firm. “Mr. Wang Jiaming, I hope you’ll keep your word. If not, we will escalate our actions.”
I responded confidently, letting my voice echo throughout the darkened hall. “To show our sincerity, I propose a modest donation—a billion.”
“Won?” Kim asked hopefully, his demeanour suddenly shy. “RMB?”
“US Dollars.”
Kim’s eyes widened before he fainted on the spot.
When I finally stepped out of the venue, reporters from all over the world swarmed me like wolves circling their prey.
Adjusting my ill-fitting suit, I continued to wax poetic about the importance of environmentalism, knowing full well the headlines awaiting me tomorrow:
Beijing newspapers: With Green Wings, CHE Takes Flight.
Taiwan TV: CHE’s Sudden Pivot Sends Mainland Stocks Soaring.
Hong Kong news sites: Wang Jiaming: The Lucky Fool Who Made Investors Rich.
But the final question from a reporter caught me off guard. “CHE’s current P/E ratio has fallen below 10. What’s your take on this?”
It sounded like an innocuous question, but it might as well have been quantum mechanics to me.
P/E ratio? Photon eigenvalue or stuff like that?
Everyone stared, waiting.
Reporters and stockholders alike clutched their phones, expecting a reassuring answer from Wang Jiaming, the CEO of China’s largest heavy industry corporation.
The problem was, I wasn’t Wang Jiaming.
Chapter Two. The Sudden Change
The driver slammed his foot on the accelerator, sending the rainwater on the road splashing onto the media crew following us.
It was only then could I finally exhale, leaning back on the leather seat in the back of the Bentley.
Secretary Ding, sitting in the front passenger seat, handed me a laptop. “Mr. Wang, the PowerPoint has been updated. It’s on the desktop.”
The computer screen was already on. I glanced at the file name of the Powerpoint: “Report for the leadership (Draft 6).”
A report that had gone through six drafts? How could I not be indignant? “It’s fine. Don’t bother with these bureaucratic documents so much.”
Back at the hotel, I was tempted to swing by the luxurious bar or sauna, but I suppressed the urge to indulge and made my way to the presidential suite alone.
I knocked three times on the door, then once, followed by three more.
Click—the door chain unlatched.
Ma Xiaobo pulled me inside with urgency.
I entered the room and saw a man on the large bed, his eyes shut, his body matching my height.
“Is the drug going to wear off soon? We need to get out of here,” I said.
Ma Xiaobo’s face darkened. “No, not yet.”
“Still haven’t enjoyed enough?” I glanced at the table covered with foreign liquor, caviar, steak, and even an array of fruits with at least seven to eight types.
“No, bro … I think I … overdosed him,” he said, his tone heavy.
My eyes widened in disbelief. “No wonder the hospital fired you.”
“I just figured I’d up the dosage according to his weight, I didn’t expect … ”
“That humans aren’t animals? Give me a direct answer—when will he wake up?” I pressed.
“In two or three days, I guess.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Well, that’s fine. Think of it as a few days more of enjoying a five-star presidential suite.”
“It could be two or three weeks, maybe even months, or … ”
I tried hard to keep my eyeballs in the sockets.
I was no kidnapper, and I certainly didn’t want anyone dead or hurt.
When I sat for my college entrance exam, I came close to hitting the score for Tsinghua or Peking University. But my mom insisted that I attend the affiliated college of China Heavy Energy, because “they guarantee you a job”.
So, I walked through the gates of the Electric Power College, wearing an honour decoration pinned to my chest. But when graduation came, CHE didn’t take in a single graduate. A large group of us stormed the school’s career centre to demand an explanation. A stammering old man came out to give us the news: the market was bad, and CHE was laying off people worldwide.
You know the advantage of having a retired employee explain things to the students? It’s that you feel too guilty to punch them, no matter how much you want to.
That was the taste of graduation straight into unemployment.
So, for Wang Jiaming, the CEO of China Heavy Energy, who was now lying unconscious in front of me, it wasn’t personal—but I was convinced my life had been ruined by him.
The same bitterness lived inside my high school friend, Ma Xiaobo. He worked in a chain pet hospital. In an era where pets are treated better than people, his salary was no less than that of a human doctor. But this year, Wang Jiaming’s company started drilling deep into Ma Xiaobo’s neighbourhood, cutting down massive stretches of forest, and leaving countless animals dead in its wake.
Every night, Ma Xiaobo secretly brought injured squirrels, rabbits, and other wild animals back to the hospital for treatment. Yet the amount of medicine he used went so far beyond normal that it raised suspicion. Eventually, he was fired.
“They even wrote ‘theft’ in my file as the reason. No one will ever hire me again.”
When we met again after graduation, Ma Xiaobo was at a bar, sipping the cheapest drink. He told me he’d ended up as a technician at an elevator company, smiling and fixing elevators for angry housewives in the community.
Obviously, he too felt his life ruined by Wang Jiaming.
We might be losers in reality, but when drunk, people never admit defeat.
“Wang Jiaming’s been messing with our lives for years—how about we mess with his for just one day?”
“Why not? Let’s do it at the World Energy Conference. We’ll give him a humiliation he’d never forget.”
“Only losers back out.”
“Cheers.”
The next morning, after the hangover cleared, Ma Xiaobo showed up at my place, a box of vials in hand. “They said I stole from them, right? Well, I can’t let them say that for nothing.”
I cursed inwardly. But after all, as a Northeasterner1, “only losers back out”.
Skin mask, voice-altering silicone—things easily bought on the dark web.
The knock on the door startled both me and Ma Xiaobo.
“Who’s there?” I regretted asking as soon as the words left my mouth. If we stayed silent, they would have no choice but to leave.
I opened the door.
In the hallway stood two tall men in black suits. “Mr. Wang, we’re ready to go.”
I was tempted to ask, “Where to?” but it seemed strange for the CEO to be clueless. “Oh, I still have matters to attend to at the office.”
“We can handle it at the airport.”
“Airport? I didn’t bring my ID.” In fact, my ID was right in my pocket.
“No need. We’ve arranged everything,” they said, not giving me a chance to refuse as they ushered me downstairs and into a car.
By now, I knew better than to resist.
They weren’t lying—their were all too familiar with the procedure, guiding me straight onto the tarmac without any security checks. The engines of a Gulfstream jet hummed to life.
No champagne, no caviar, no flight chicks. Nothing like I had imagined.
Just two grim-faced men in suits, sitting silently, one in front of me and one behind.
Thankfully, the silence only lasted ten minutes before the plane began its descent. Outside, a massive word loomed in the terminal: “Beijing.”
Just as I was plotting my escape, the door opened, and a Hongqi2 was waiting on the tarmac.
The two men in black ushered me into the back seat, while the front passenger seat was conspicuously empty. I had an unsettling feeling.
The Hongqi moved effortlessly through Beijing’s traffic, the green lights almost guiding us through the city. Once we hit the fifth ring road, two motorcycles with flashing sirens led the way.
“Where are we going?” I could no longer keep silent.
“District 9.”
“Of which department?”
“Public Security.”
I almost dropped my head in resignation. If the backseat of the Hongqi weren’t so cramped, I’d have knelt right there, confessing everything.
Once we arrived, I was practically pushed forward by the men in black, as if I were a prisoner heading to the execution chamber. “I need a moment … just let me rest a bit … I‘m feeling car sick.” I wasn‘t lying—I was genuinely dizzy.
“It’s probably not a good idea to keep the brass waiting.”
Chapter Three. The Nexus
The meeting hall was adorned with a large ink-wash painting of the vast landscape, a scene of ancient China stretching into the distance. At the centre of the room sat an oval-shaped long table, its surface immaculate, with white cups aligned so precisely they seemed measured by a ruler. Guided by a staff member in a qipao3, I arrived at my designated spot, where a nameplate bearing “Wang Jiaming” was placed in front of a white porcelain teacup. As other attendees filed in, I felt as if I had been transported onto the set of a TV show—Xinwen Lianbo4.
Once my breathing steadied, my brain began to shift gears, following the noble tradition of rising to a challenge, remaining united, and dedicated to the task at hand. I forced myself to think: It wasn’t unexpected to see high-ranking officials from the Ministry of Science and Technology, the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology, and the Energy Bureau at a meeting requiring Wang Jiaming’s presence. But why were officials from the Meteorological Bureau, the Ministry of Emergency Management, the Ministry of Public Security, and several military officers with stars on their shoulders also in attendance?
A moment later, the host entered. Everyone jumped to their feet.
Commissioner Li waved his hand.
Dazed, I sat down with the others and heard Commissioner Li address me directly: “Mr. Wang, the situation is urgent. Please go ahead and present the plan from CHE.”
What situation?
The sight of so many big shots staring at me, waiting for me to speak, only made me more flustered.
Then it suddenly hit me—Secretary Ding had prepared a PowerPoint for me. “Sorry, I rushed here and left the proposal on my laptop. I’ll have my secretary send it over right away.”
I wasn’t sure if anyone in the history of the Republic had ever made such a spectacle—leaving a room full of top officials waiting for a presentation. I had already pulled out my phone but quickly shoved it back into my pocket. A staff member near me eyed me suspiciously, so I borrowed his phone and dialled Secretary Ding. “I forgot my laptop. Could you send the updated file via… WeChat? No, wait, email. No …” I didn’t have Wang Jiaming’s WeChat or his email password. “Use the cloud drive … No, I can’t use WeChat here for confidentiality reasons.”
A full fifteen minutes passed before the slides finally appeared on the screen.
“Report for the leadership, draft six,” I started reading word for word. “The Parker Solar Probe has forecast a massive solar storm to hit Earth before September 30th. At the same time, according to the Meteorological Bureau’s geological model, the liquid metals in the Earth’s core and mantle are entering a once-in-a-millennium stagnation phase. This will cause a temporary halt in the movement of iron and nickel, leading to a fatal gap in Earth’s magnetic field protection. Satellites will be destroyed, global electronics will be heavily damaged, the internet will be crippled, and people outdoors will face life-threatening risks … ”
As I read on, my pace slowed, the images of apocalypse flashing before my eyes, my back drenched in sweat.
The next part of the slides offered a modicum of relief: CHE’s geothermal towers around the globe generated electricity by extracting heat from deep within the Earth using a high-efficiency thermal fluid, and then sends the power across the world through ultra-high-voltage power grids. This was now a potential solution to the crisis: we could accelerate the injection of the thermal fluid to disrupt the balance of the core’s liquid metal, causing a slight diversion in its movement path. Once these metals, with temperatures over 5000°C, started flowing, even a small electrical current would be enough to temporarily reconstruct a dipole magnetic field, reducing the scale of the catastrophe and at least preventing global bank accounts from being wiped out overnight.
As I spoke, Commissioner Li furrowed his brow, scribbling notes.
This scene was going to be the highlight of my life.
After the meeting was set in motion, Commissioner Li turned to the heads of the departments: “To avoid social unrest, several informed countries have kept the news under wraps. But we must resolve this within the week.” Then, he turned to me. “Mr. Wang, our government and diplomatic departments will fully cooperate with CHE. What are your plans?”
The only person who truly knew what to do was currently in a coma, lying in a puddle of his own urine—unless Ma Xiaobo the vet had somehow figured out how to insert a catheter into a human being.
“Mom, there’s an emergency.” After leaving the meeting hall, I stepped into a quiet corner and made a call.
“Need money? I ain’t got any. Find a job and earn it yourself.”
“Listen, stay shut at home for the whole of next week. There will be intense solar radiation due to sunspot activity.”
Normally, my mom would be so paranoid about radiation she’d keep her phone a meter away when talking. She even demanded an “irradiation-free” X-ray after she broke her arm. Yet today, her attitude was curiously scientific. “Don’t listen to all those clickbait media outlets. They’re just trying to get views.”
“I’m serious, Mom. I know someone at the … ” I glanced at the meteorological director walking past me in the hallway. “National Meteorological Bureau, and it’s him who told me.”
Mom must have heard the seriousness in my voice. “Why didn‘t you say so earlier? I‘m on an island with friends right now.”
She had been talking about wanting to go on a long trip ever since she retired.
“Where are you staying? Is there a bank nearby?”
“No money for you, brat.” Her reflexive response.
“Go to the bank and withdraw all your money.”
“There‘s no bank on this remote island in Guangxi.”
Chapter Four. The Headquarters
Back at the CHE headquarters, I asked Secretary Ding to come downstairs to meet me under the pretence of helping me carry something. In reality, I just didn‘t know which floor the CEO‘s office was on.
I had barely spun around twice in the big executive chair when Secretary Ding arrived, carrying a stack of documents. The topmost one was a funding request form for the Green Liberation Front. “These are the documents from the past few days, Mr. Wang. They need your signature.”
I glanced at the blank signature field and quickly realized the danger within.
“I remember approving this funding already. Go get the documents I’ve signed this month,” I said.
Ding returned with a stack of old forms.
Thankfully, Wang Jiaming’s signature was as messy as could be. I hid my right hand under the desk and practiced mimicking his handwriting a few times in the air.
“I must have remembered wrong.” I signed my name on the forms.
“The deployment meeting is in five minutes,” Secretary Ding said, lingering by the door.
As we walked to the meeting room, I suddenly noticed another flaw. As the one who proposed this Earth-saving plan, how could I attend a meeting without any technical knowledge?
“Any big shots from Beijing?” I asked.
“Nope, all base staff members preparing to join the workgroup. The departments include the Meteorological Bureau, Ministry of Industry and Information Technology, Ministry of Science and Technology … ”
“All eggheads … ” I trailed off. “What about the Public Security?”
“Only a clerk came.”
I was struck by inspiration. “Get him here immediately.”
In the meeting room, I shook hands warmly with the confused Public Security Bureau clerk, “We need your full support on this.”
The room was filled with CHE’s technical experts, all of whom had been instructed to stay at the headquarters, their phones confiscated for security reasons.
I put on a CEO persona. “Mr. Chen, you’re in charge of this.”
Chen, the chief engineer, pulled up a set of partial differential equations on the screen, with all the annotations in English.
I pointed to the bewildered Public Security clerk next to me. “This here is our supervisor from the Public Security … Chief Zhang.” “Chief” was a convenient title—regardless of if one was a chief of the National Development and Reform Commission, or a neighbourhood committee, they were all referred to as “Chief.” The technical team, by instinct, would likely assume “Chief Zhang” held a higher position, and it wouldn’t hurt even if they learned his true position after the meeting.
Zhang the clerk was about to modestly protest: “I’m just a—”
I interrupted him and turned to Chen. “We can skip the formalities. What’s the point of quoting theory? Just give our leadership a basic overview of the technical premise.”
Chen filled in the knowledge gaps I had missed in class: Even in the shallowest part of the Earth’s crust, the geothermal gradient exceeds 2°C per 100 metres. The temperature of the Earth’s core is as hot as the surface of the sun, so even hafnium alloy, the material with the highest melting point, cannot withstand the heat at the base of a geothermal tower. That’s why CHE used directional magnetic confinement technology to keep the molten material in a fixed position at the bottom of the tower. After all, the purpose of the tower’s bottom was just heat exchange; it didn’t need solid material to function. Another key patent was the thermal fluid, which absorbed heat from the core and transported it to power-generating equipment located 160 kilometres away from the Earth’s surface.
The generator was controlled from an underground operation station that could house one person. It was like building a pressure-resistant house at the bottom of a volcano with temperatures exceeding 1200°C.
“I suggest starting with the geothermal tower in South Korea. It’s the deepest one. If it works, we’ll have a chance at creating a temperature difference in the Earth’s crust.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” I realised how stupid the question was as soon as I uttered it.
Yet no one laughed.
Chapter Five. The City of Suncheon
Before I left for South Korea, I made a phone call to Ma Xiaobo, who was staying in the presidential suite as my “caretaker.”
Ma Xiaobo was almost in tears. “I’m so scared, bro. I want to go home.”
“What we’ve been doing is just a prank—for now. But if Wang Jiaming chokes on his vomit while unconscious or something, we’ll be guilty of murder. Hang in there, I’ll take you out for late-night snacks when I get back.” I tried to calm the veterinary elevator repairman down. “I’ve already rented the presidential suite long-term, so you can spend whatever you want for the next month,” I quickly added, “Except chicks on call.”
“What do you think I am?” Ma Xiaobo protested indignantly. “I won’t do that … again.”
The city of Suncheon is a small town far from Seoul. Ten years ago, it was known for its white-headed cranes and black-tailed ducks in the reed fields. But now, it was booming due to the world’s deepest geothermal tower project.
I arrived in Suncheon with a sense of pride. The Toyota Coaster with the CHE logo drew the attention of the locals, who flocked toward the vehicle.
“What an enthusiastic welcome,” I commented.
Everyone inside the vehicle quickly rolled up their windows,
Right before countless eggs and banana peels started raining.
A few years ago, when I was still in college, they only provided a two-story training building, which, of course, was still on the surface. Ironically, because the college had overdue electricity bills, the simulated geothermal tower—both the generator and the operation stations—often lost power.
The geothermal tower in Suncheon had its heat exchange systems and power equipment installed over a hundred kilometres underground to prevent significant heat loss as the thermal fluid travelled to the relatively cooler surface. The power boosting and supply systems were placed on the “mountain top” with spiderweb-like dense ultra-high-voltage transmission lines continually sending energy to Busan and Daegu.
Following Chen’s advice, I thanked Park Dae-rin, the special assistant from the South Korean presidential office who came specifically for this coordination, and then got straight to the point: “Why hasn’t the thermal fluid arrived yet?”
Though Park Dae-rin was only an “assistant”, he was a trusted confidant of the president, so his real authority was considerable. He acted with the confidence of a politician and spoke fluent Chinese. “Environmental groups somehow got wind of it and surrounded the area overnight to protest.”
“We need to begin our work in the geothermal tower. After all, we have to save more than 8 billion lives,” I said, walking away with my team. But in less than two minutes, we were stuck in place.
Thousands of protestors wore strikingly bright green uniforms, with white headbands inked in blood-red slogans. Their faces were flushed, angrier and redder than the words they bore.
I recognised this scene. “Is it the Green Liberation Front again?” This environmental group, which originated in East Asia, had now become a global organisation, overshadowing Greenpeace5.
Park Dae-rin answered, “They believe the geothermal tower has altered the geological structure, causing an increase in earthquakes in southern Korea. Also, Suncheon Bay Reed Field is one of the world’s five major wetlands, and they think the geothermal tower is destroying the habitat of seagulls.”
“Ask them which is more important—birds or people?”
Park Dae-rin hesitated. I could tell this wasn’t a question to the passionate members of the Green Liberation Front.
“And what makes them think that a geothermal tower could alter geology?” I blurted out, but immediately saw Chen giving me warning glances.
I cleared my throat. “Mr. Park, this is about the survival of humanity. Please, the Blue House must clear out these stubborn protesters immediately.”
Secretary Ding whispered from behind me, “The South Korean presidential office is no longer at the Blue House. It moved to Yongsan in 2022.”
Park Dae-rin remained unhelpful, “The people are unarmed, the police cannot use force.”
“Then the whole world should wait for a solar storm to hit?” I snapped. “By the way, their leader … what’s his name …” I cursed inwardly: Are you immune to radiation? Does your Samsung phone somehow withstand solar storms?
“Kim Yeong-u.”
“I gave that man a billion.”
“Maybe that’s how he managed to organise such a large-scale protest.”
I pretended not to notice the sarcasm: “Can’t we reason with Kim Yeong-u?”
“If we can find him … maybe.”
It turned out that every time the Green Liberation Front organised a large-scale protest, their leader, Kim Yeong-u, would go into hiding. It wasn’t because he was afraid, but because once the police arrest him, his followers would have to cease the action in hopes of lightening his sentence—a circumstance he wants to avoid. So with him nowhere to be found, the Green Liberation Front would continue their actions until their goal was met, and the government would not find anyone to negotiate with.
I turned my gaze toward the geothermal tower in the distance.
The sea of protesters in their green uniforms altered the tower’s colour.
The flags waving in disarray highlighted Kim Yeong-u’s fanaticism.
But from another perspective, it also showed his sincerity.
“Kim Yeong-u is the only one who can disperse the protesters. And if he’s truly an environmentalist, he will cooperate once he learns the truth.” I wasn’t sure whether the solar disaster would also wipe out the white-headed cranes and black-tailed ducks they loved, but if there was evidence that it would, convincing Kim Yeong-u would be much easier.
“But the UN Security Council has agreed not to disclose this matter for now.”
“I’m not asking you to leak information. I just want you to bring Kim Yeong-u here.” Based on my brief interaction with him at the World Energy Conference, I felt that he was someone open to dialogue.
“Kim Yeong-u has gone completely off the grid. His phone’s off, and he hasn’t logged in to any of his communication accounts. The surveillance cameras haven’t captured him either.”
“If his phone were on, or if he contacted someone through an instant messaging app, could we track him?”
“He wouldn’t do that. Not with his experience.”
“That’s not what I was asking.”
Park Dae-rin suppressed his anger. “If he’s as ignorant as you think, and he contacts the outside world, the police would be able to track him.”
“Can I ask you for a favour? Do you have someone whose figure looks similar to Kim Yeong-u?”
Park Dae-rin immediately figured out my plan. “But what about his face and voice?”
“There are skin masks and voice-altering silicone on the dark web.”
“Seems like Mr. Wang knows his stuff.”
I kept a poker face despite the shock.
A video quickly went viral on TikTok. The scene was set in an outdoor hot spring in Japan, with a clear sky and green mountain peaks in the background, their summits covered in snow. Two blurry young female attendants in kimonos stood in the distance, holding towels, respectfully waiting to serve their guests. The close-up showed a steaming hot spring pool.
Next to the pool, there was a glass of alcohol, the bottle’s label subtly showcasing the taste of the person in question.
A young woman with her hair tied up was in the water, her body submerged from the neck down. A middle-aged male voice spoke in Korean: “That Chinese halfwit gave me a billion, enough for me to organise ten thousand of such large protests.”
The woman extended her snow-white leg above the water, the steam swirling around her red-painted toenails. “And such a protest would mobilise ten thousand people. And what, ten bucks for each of them?”
“Not a penny. They came willingly.”
“Then what does each protest cost you?”
“Hey, it costs quite a lot for us to enjoy the hot spring in Shizuoka.” As the man poured water on the woman, he accidentally revealed his face to the camera.
The woman giggled.
Ripples spread across the water, evoking suggestive thoughts.
The following images and sounds, even in the most liberal countries, were somewhat morally questionable, but they were within the limits of TikTok’s community guidelines. Of course, in some regions, it was enough to get banned for violating the self-regulating standards.
Inside the CHE office building, the atmosphere was still tense.
There was no sign of the protestors letting up.
“Those protestors are immune to reason. They won’t believe anything,” Park Dae-rin said, clearly unsupportive of these underhanded methods.
“I know the followers won’t believe it, but what about the vast majority of people who haven‘t been brainwashed? They’re the future of the Green Liberation Front. If Kim Yeong-u doesn‘t speak out against the slander, the internet will make him look even worse.”
“Kim Yeong-u isn’t the type to panic.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than the office phone rang. A South Korean police officer immediately opened his handheld computer and nodded toward me.
I picked up the phone, and the voice of Kim Yeong-u came through, hoarse and desperate: “Despicable! Shameless!”
Chapter Six. The Conspiracy
As expected, Kim Yeong-u was still a reasonable person.
With a single phone call, he calmed the protesters down and got them to clear the passage. When the thermal fluid transport vehicle entered the geothermal tower, they even bowed politely to apologise to the workers.
On the flight back to Qinhuangdao, I felt a sense of emptiness, as if I had just finished clearing a game.
Looking at the mirror in the restroom, I realised that in just a few days, I’d shrink back into a cramped shabby apartment, continuing to survive on pre-packaged meals.
Then, at the polished wooden desk, I opened the trillionaire’s laptop and logged in to a job site. After setting down the Bordeaux wine, I searched for a few positions offering a base salary of 45006 RMB plus commission, then submitted my resume.
Before closing the laptop, the “Recent Documents” icon caught my eye.
An idea crossed my mind.
As a big boss, there’s bound to be some mess left here and there. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of his subordinates weren’t entirely clean.
I quietly copied the document onto my phone.
As I got off the plane, Secretary Ding reported that CHE’s stock price had surged nearly by half in the past few days. The green energy initiative I promoted at the World Energy Conference really hit the market’s sweet spot.
I struck a calm, business leader-like pose. “Where’s the car?”
“The airport communications were down for a while, which delayed the scheduling. The car will take a little longer.”
I glanced at the sun overhead. It was already getting hot, and the old fellow’s temper was growing more unbearable by the day.
Back at the hotel, I took out my phone. “Mom, hurry back home.”
“Your voice sounds off again today. Stayed up late again? Haven’t found a job yet?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not asking for money,” I said gloomily.
“Listen, Son, the job market’s tough. As long as there’s an opportunity, you should take it. Must you have a driver and a secretary before you can start working?”
I turned around to find Secretary Ding and the driver still standing respectfully in the hotel lobby.
Honestly, my mom’s comment was fair.
But the truth hurts the most.
With a heavy heart, I entered the presidential suite, swiped the keycard, and pushed the door open.
The room was dim, even though it was midday. The curtains were still drawn shut.
Suddenly, I felt a tightness around my neck as a hairy arm slammed me to the ground.
The overhead light flicked on, casting a person’s silhouette in front of me. My chin was forced upward.
I stared at the person who was the spitting image of myself.
“Is this Qin Qin?” Wang Jiaming asked, looking behind him.
Following his gaze, I quickly saw Ma Xiaobo huddled in the corner. Though he was shaking uncontrollably and unable to speak, the bruises on his face and arms told me all I needed to know about what happened to him.
The fierce look of the burly man made me realise what was going on: It was no surprise for a trillionaire like Wang Jiaming to spend a few millions each year on a crew of professional bodyguards.
And that money wouldn’t be spent for nothing.
The hairy hand reached toward me. I felt a sharp pain on my face as the skin mask was ripped off.
The second move of that hairy hand was literally revolting. It shoved into my throat and forcefully tore off the voice-modulating silicone.
“Qin Qin?” Wang Jiaming sat on a chair brought by his bodyguards.
I’m on thin ice whichever direction I went, but I couldn’t back down now. “Did you have to ask?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t beat you.”
To that, Ma Xiaobo let out a whimper of protest with a bruised and swollen face.
“I’m a law-abiding citizen. So, how about I send you two to the police station?” Wang Jiaming smirked.
Pfft, ridiculous. I’ve been a guest of the Ministry of Public Security!
But unfortunately, my face betrayed me with an ingratiating smile. “Mr. Wang, we mean no harm. It was just a little prank.”
I was pressed down onto the ground, unable to move, but that didn’t stop my mind from racing. Wang Jiaming was a big shot. He had been knocked out by two brats for almost a week and was now facing the potential end of humanity. Yet, he’s here wasting time with us? If he really wanted to teach us a lesson, he could have had his bodyguards send us straight to the police station. He wouldn’t need to say anything—local police knew exactly how to “maintain a business-friendly environment.”
“And what, you’d kill us to return the favour?” I chuckled.
A bodyguard’s fist swayed dangerously in front of my nose.
“Isn’t it true?” I continued, “the rise in CHE’s stock by nearly half—all thanks to me. You must be the richest man in the country by now, are you not?”
“The World Energy Conference stuff? You just got lucky with that,” Wang Jiaming said.
“I helped you with such a big favour, and this is how you repay your friend?” I shot back.
“I accept this deal.”
“What deal?”
“We’ll never speak of this again. You two won’t be going to jail, and I’ll accept the rise in stock price. Isn’t that the deal you’re offering?”
Ma Xiaobo’s eyes gleamed. His blood-oozing mouth seemed satisfied with the arrangement.
“Never accept your opponent’s first offer in negotiations. You mentioned that in your talk on negotiation tactics. By the way, I’m actually your peer.”
“Which company are you from?” The look on Wang Jiaming’s face changed, perhaps worried that I was sent by a rival company as a corporate spy.
“I’m a graduate of the Electric Power College,” I replied.
Even Wang Jiaming’s bodyguards couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What do you want?” Wang Jiaming’s expression relaxed.
I recalled my mom’s advice about seizing the opportunity.
“We want to work for you. Hey, don’t look at me like that. Your group won’t hire anyone from our school. There are over two thousands of us. All those years of studying have been wasted …”
“What can you do?”
I grew even more humble. “Ma Xiaobo is a mechanical… engineer. As for me, I have a solid electrical engineering background, strong practical skills, and a sharp mind. Just think about it—within a few days, I’ve helped raise your stock price by half. Given some time, I’ll help you leave the Ma, Zhong, and Huang families in the dust.”
I knew Wang Jiaming was a smart man, and he understood the hidden meaning behind my words. Besides, he’d feel much safer if I laid myself under his thumb.
“You’re still too green … But since you’ve listened to my negotiation speech, you must know I don’t accept the first counteroffer either. Hmm, how about you go to the geothermal tower front line? The blue-collar workers there are paid the highest in the country.”
The bodyguards exchanged looks with Wang Jiaming that could be summed up in three words: “Are you serious?” Even Ma Xiaobo seemed shocked.
Wang Jiaming’s negotiation lesson taught me one thing: always start with a high price and leave room for negotiation. Luckily, his counteroffer was fair enough.
He was right. After all, I was still too “green” to smell the conspiracy.
Chapter Seven. The Geothermal Tower
The Qinhuangdao Geothermal Tower boasted the highest output power in the world, making it the most crucial part of the entire project. At night, it shone like a torch stuck in the Bohai Sea. A high-voltage power grid stretched across the seabed, transmitting electricity globally.
The helicopter’s searchlight swept erratically across the “H” symbol before nearly slamming into the helipad. The pilot explained that several instruments had mysteriously malfunctioned.
A middle-aged foreman, surnamed Wu, came to greet me, his face stiff and sour like dry cow dung. “They sent you here without giving you a single day’s training?”
I pointed at Ma Xiaobo. “He’s the same.”
Ma Xiaobo quickly explained, “I’m not. I have a lift maintenance qualification cert.”
Mr. Wu sized me up. “You’ve been assigned to the underground operation station? That’s the most critical post in the geothermal tower. The underground situation’s complicated these days. Looks like the bosses won’t even bother with leaving their office chairs to give proper guidance, eh? Which moron made that decision?”
“Mr. Wang.”
A minute later, I was in the equipment room, where Mr. Wu introduced the control panel, communication equipment, and deep-earth elevator operations in detail.
I patted Mr. Wu on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I had practical training for two years during my studies. I know what to do.” In fact, I knew more than he did.
I glanced at the big screen on the wall, where a safety training video was playing. The speaker was Mr. Chen, who had once worked as a frontline operator at the Bohai Geothermal Tower before being sent to Beijing for further study.
“Do you know who that is?” Mr. Wu asked proudly.
“Yup.”
“The world’s best energy engineer—our boss.”
And I’ve been bossing him around, I replied silently.
When the elevator arrived, the airtight door opened. A puff of white smoke billowed from the gap. A person in a bulky beige pressure suit walked out, just like an astronaut. He removed his helmet, revealing his sweaty face.
“The equipment’s pretty unstable today, even the lights keep flickering.” The operator looked at me like I was some freak. “You’re the one taking over? You’ve got guts. Be honest—are they giving you big bonuses?”
“Overtime, thrice the regular pay.”
The operator shook his head meaningfully. “Not worth it.”
Mr. Wu sighed at my enthusiasm, then threw a long list of instructions at me. I was pretty sure he’d go down to keep an eye on me if that underground station at 160 kilometres deep could fit just one more person.
I saw him hesitate, so I asked, “Anything else, Daddy-O?”
“Try not to die down there.”
Once the doors of the high-speed elevator closed, hissing sounds started coming from different corners. The elevator shaft was a vacuum, and the pressure difference caused the air to act up.
Inside the elevator was a seat, safety belts, and pressurisation equipment—basically, it was like a VTOL aircraft that couldn’t change direction. Of course, the elevator’s sturdiness far exceeded that of a plane, since it worked in extreme underground conditions. The redundant design allowed it to withstand brief periods of high temperature and pressure. It was more like a spacecraft re-entry capsule.
Following safety protocols, I checked the airlock handles at the base to ensure they were tightly secured. If the elevator fell at high speed through the vacuum shaft, any leaking gas could corrode the pipe walls.
The elevator panel had only one button: “-160km”. I pressed it, and the elevator immediately started its descent.
The screen above my head showed I had descended ninety kilometres after five minutes. A quick calculation told me the acceleration was about 0.2g. The elevator’s winch had heat-resistant counterweights to prevent the elevator from becoming a free fall.
After experiencing the same duration of hypergravity as weightlessness, I arrived at my destination. This was the fastest transport method on Earth—or rather, in Earth.
The operation station was a gap in the geothermal tower’s pipe loop. Normally, the thermal fluid from below would be pumped to this height, where its energy would be converted into electricity by the power generator. However, the generator was located behind the pipe wall, so it couldn’t be seen unless the technicians used robotic arms to open the pipes for maintenance.
And because the geothermal distribution needed to be redirected, more thermal fluid had to be injected. After the elevator reached the operation station, the elevator shaft restored its duty as a pipeline of thermal fluid. In a broader sense, the entire geothermal tower was one giant ring pipe, extending deep into the Earth by millions of metres.
Anyone entering the operation station for the first time would be disappointed—it was just a small control room of less than 100 square metres, filled with electrical equipment, control screens, communication devices, and a bed.
Following Mr. Wu’s instructions, I watched a video on operational protocols before getting into work mode—which was basically just daydreaming.
The geothermal tower’s operations were highly automated and required little human intervention. Having someone stationed here wasn’t so much about the work, but rather a lack of trust in new technology. It was like the early days of autonomous driving, where a driver was required to sit at the wheel.
Yes, sitting there doing nothing could save the Earth.
The novelty soon wore off and I took out my phone to fight boredom. There was no mobile signal 160 kilometres underground, so I settled for looking at photos and listening to music. Only three hours had passed when I got tired of even games.
As I browsed randomly through my phone, I accidentally opened a folder.
Several documents appeared on the screen.
I recalled copying these files from Wang Jiaming’s computer during the private jet trip.
Corporate documents were usually in PDF, but these were Word files.
I would’ve closed them immediately and returned to my games if they were written in English.
However, these were all in Chinese and happened to be about the geothermal tower, and there weren’t many pages.
The first document described how ridiculously high the geothermal towers’ costs were, with maintenance being an endless money pit. Its cost-to-output ratio was even worse than Iceland’s shallow geothermal power plants. As a result, CHE’s debt ratio had far surpassed the alarming line, and Wang Jiaming’s business card was no longer welcomed by the bank’s loan director.
I sat up straight and tapped on the second document. It was a technical paper analysing the effects of injecting excessive thermal fluid into the geothermal tower. If the deep-earth temperature changed too quickly in certain areas, it could cause underground pressure to form a gradient vector toward the geothermal tower, and in extreme cases, even destroy the tower structure in the mantle part.
The next few documents were forecasts of damage to the geothermal tower, calculations of economic losses, and predictions on government policy-based financing.
Piecing these documents together almost boiled my brain. Then I realised how amazing a feat I had just achieved.
It seemed that Wang Jiaming’s true intention wasn’t to save the Earth, but to take advantage of the opportunity provided by Mr. Chen’s plan to quietly tweak certain parameters—changes that all had seemingly valid justifications, such as safety and cost-efficiency. This would lead to changes in underground pressure, ultimately destroying the geothermal tower, which had been draining money despite its seemingly impressive performance. Since the global geothermal system was highly automated, he could manipulate everything without anyone noticing.
After the disaster, the government wouldn’t have the money to subsidise CHE, but they would naturally provide special policies and assist with financing. After all, if a company went bankrupt while trying to save humanity—though ultimately failing in a tragic manner—the social impact would be too severe. Moreover, if the Earth’s magnetic field were to experience anomalies again, CHE’s deep-earth technology would always be humanity’s hope. It couldn’t be allowed to disappear.
The solar storm might destroy half of the Earth, but Wang Jiaming the trillionaire must have already prepared his private radiation-proof doomsday shelter. With post-disaster reconstruction and new financing opportunities, this struggling heavy industry group would rise from the ashes.
But fate had other plans. Unbeknownst to him, I had already started the plan according to Mr. Chen’s original design in the name of Wang Jiaming at the meeting in Beijing.
There was nothing he could do about it. It wouldn’t be as simple as deleting a few lines of code for him to change the thermal fluid injection now, because that would leave traces in logistics, machinery, and monitoring systems. After the disaster, he’d be executed a thousand times by the judicial systems of various countries.
He had to step up and play the role of the hero who saved the world.
Chapter Eight. The Disaster
No. The hero was me.
I closed my eyes and stood in front of the screen, spreading my arms as if accepting the cheers of the crowd.
Suddenly, everything went black.
A rumble, like a mountain collapsing, came out of nowhere.
The floor began to undulate like a floating dock on the ocean, rising and falling.
And I fell to the ground.
The operation station fell into total disarray. The wall-mounted screen cracked in the top-left corner as if struck by a bullet. But luckily, it was still working, displaying a line of red text: Earthquake Alert.
I cursed, “Only an advance notification can be called an alert … ”
More tremors stole the rest of my words.
“Alright, alright! The aftershock alert counts too.” If the computer screen had a guardian spirit, it must have heard my apology.
That was when items on the shelves broke free like prisoners yearning for freedom. Water cups, food, flashlights, all came crashing down on my head.
I flicked on the communicator. Thank goodness, Mr. Wu’s voice came through: “Earthquake! Are you alright?”
“I’m going to take the elevator to the surface.”
“Is it still sealed off down there?”
“Pressure’s normal.”
“The operation station is designed with the reliability of a spacecraft. Communications and power are basically normal, and you’ve got enough food and water to last for a week.”
“Just get straight to the ‘but’.”
“But the elevator cable snapped during the quake. We can’t bring you up for now.”
I noticed an ominous silence from Mr. Wu. “And that’s not the worst part?”
“I have a feeling that the earthquake is our fault.”
“You what?”
“We’ve been injecting excessive thermal fluid for days, which may have altered the subsurface environment, disturbing the magma layer and triggering abnormal geological activities as the Bohai Sea region is on an active seismic fault. But don’t worry, the operation station is far enough from the magma layer that lava won’t drip onto your head.”
I recalled the documents I had just read.
As I heard the rumbling sounds from deep below, I grew more afraid. I picked up the phone again, dialling the company’s headquarters.
Secretary Ding answered hurriedly: “Who’s speaking?”
“This is Qin Qin, the operator from Qinhuangdao Geothermal Tower,” I refrained from telling her I was her boss yesterday, “I need to speak with the boss.”
“Mr. Wang … is unavailable.”
From the brief pause, I could tell that Wang Jiaming was right by her side.
I dialled again. “Tell Mr. Wang that if he doesn’t listen to me, media outlets will.”
A few seconds later, Wang Jiaming’s voice came through: “You have one minute.”
“Was it your plan to kill me down here?”
“Don’t worry, boy. We won’t abandon any of our workers. Man your post, and don’t let the company down.” His tone was clearly directed at an audience.
I began to realise I’d be doing an extra favour for Wang Jiaming by getting myself cremated here. After all, his stock had made a dramatic recovery thanks to the recent World Energy Conference, and it would have been better if no imposter had been involved.
I unsheathed my weapon, “There are some minor issues with that policy financing document.”
The voice on the other end became muffled as if Wang Jiaming was giving instructions to someone nearby. Then, his voice cleared again: “What document?”
“You made the company’s information security a joke by keeping important documents on your laptop’s desktop, and I uploaded it to the cloud so it won’t be accidentally deleted. Before I left, I made sure a friend knew what to do in case something happened to me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about … ” Wang Jiaming’s heavy breathing was audible even through the communicator. “The Bohai Geothermal Tower? Everyone, suspend the evacuation. Rescue the trapped workers at all costs.”
Mr. Wu got through a few minutes later. “We’ve sent eight people to fix the elevator cable. The cable pulley at five thousand metres underground is misaligned, and we need someone brave enough to go down there and fix it.” His voice was filled with concern.
“Is it difficult?”
“The pulley area is nearly 100 °C, and our pressure suits are only designed for high pressure, not high temperatures.”
“It’ll take someone fearless.” I understood. “Or brainless.”
“Well, no one’s hearing us now, so tell me the truth, lad. Are you Mr. Wang’s illegitimate son?”
I almost blurted out a curse before realising that saving Wang Jiaming’s illegitimate son would make 100° C much less formidable. “How did you figure … I mean, why would you say that?”
“Why else would he be so anxious about you, and say ‘at all costs’? Plus, you’ve never worked a day before being assigned to this core technical position. It’s obvious they’re grooming you for promotion. Our senior executives at CHE are all promoted from frontline employees. A company culture learned from that big hotpot brand.”
Hotpot, he said. How very amusing given the circumstances.
I video called my mother. It took three attempts before she answered. “What’s up?”
The screen revealed the reason for her reluctance. She was standing barefoot on a pristine beach, the azure sea perfect for her to share on social media. “The sea here, it’s like a paradise.” Her face was glowing with the joy of a poet.
“It looks like you’re really enjoying your trip.”
“The best part is, this is an undeveloped island and we’re not spending a penny,” she turned the camera to show a dense forest by the shore.
But my eyes were fixed on the sky. The shifting blue and red streaks looked like the claws of a demon. “Mom,” I shouted, “what’s happening to the sky?”
“Huh, a sunglow at noontime? Wait, no, I think it’s an aurora,” she said casually.
Seeing an aurora in the tropics? Oh, come on!
But I soon realised.
If solar particles had been hitting a planet without a magnetic field, the aurora would no longer be just a regional spectacle.
The shifting colourful bands in the sky quickly thickened, and in an instant, they covered the entire sky. The land and sea transformed into a nightclub, with wild, shifting neon lights.
But I knew that the light being cast onto the ground was far from harmless.
The video froze. My mother’s movements skipped: “I … I’m taking a photo … It’s beautiful … ”
“Get inside now!” I lunged toward the screen.
“What are you … ”
“That’s radiation! It’ll kill you!” I screamed.
Without warning, the call was cut off.
But the communicator rang again. “Looks like global wireless communication is down,” Mr. Wu said. “Don’t worry, we still have the underwater communication cables, so we can still contact the Qinhuangdao Headquarters and other branches.”
The time zones currently at noon were the regions facing the sun directly, they would be receiving the most intense solar flare. My mother was probably still under the shifting sky, holding her phone, blissfully unaware that death was looming.
Two minutes later, Wang Jiaming called. “The solar storm arrived earlier than expected. But right now, this is just the prelude. The main part will hit in two hours.”
“Inject more thermal fluid already!”
“We’re already going at maximum speed. The storm arrived far too early … we’ll do everything we can to get you out.”
I kicked aside the clutter and walked to the window, clenching my fists. I imagined smashing the glass and soaring up the long pipes like a superhero, flying to the surface, flying to the South China Sea.
Chapter Nine. The Gap
When the communicator connected again, it was only audio. “Surprise, man!”
Ma Xiaobo? What a relieving surprise. “They sent you down to fix the pulley system?”
“First, stop looking down on me. I’m a legitimate elevator technician, you know. Damn, it’s getting even hotter. Second, they didn’t send me. I volunteered. Right now, there’s no elevator car, and no one dared to go this deep into the ground.”
“Where are you now?”
“Four kilometres, I guess. It feels like I’m an astronaut walking in space: everything around me is pitch black, and I’m attached to a rope.”
When neither of us talked, the mixed sounds of the motor and steel cables vibrating filled the gap, much like the noise you would hear riding the subway. I imagined him hanging by a rope, plummeting down a bottomless black pit. No wonder Mr. Wu said they needed someone “brave enough”.
“I’ve reached the spot,” Ma Xiaobo said. “Prepare to send the elevator into the shaft. I got a powerful magnet here with the backup cable. Once it attaches to the top of the elevator, it’ll automatically pull you up.”
The hammer clanged and the cable shrieked five kilometres underground. But these sounds were faint and muffled because the pipes were close to a vacuum, and any external noise could only travel through Ma Xiaobo’s body to the microphone.
Ma Xiaobo’s breathing was heavy, like an asthmatic, his energy was clearly running out.
Suddenly, Mr. Wu’s cheer cut in, “The pulley system’s fixed! The backup cable’s being lowered, and it’s at eighteen kilometres. Oops, there’s a little jam, but no big deal.”
“Sweat vapour’s fogging up my helmet … ” Ma Xiaobo’s voice sounded off, “I need to take it off and wipe it.”
I screamed out loud, “Don’t!”
“This suit … it’s too thick … I can’t breathe.” The near-boiling temperature seemed to be quickly blurring his senses.
“Thanks, buddy. Really appreciate it,” I said. Sometimes, meaningless words were the truest expression.
“No, I owed you.”
“Don’t say that bullshit,” I replied.
“That day, at the hotel, they caught me. They beat me, forced me to give you away. I couldn’t resist.” Ma Xiaobo’s voice was muffled, as if he were holding water in his mouth, “When you came in, I didn’t dare sound the alarm. You didn’t blame me, but … ”
My eyes welled up.
“I’ve always felt bad about it,” his tone suddenly rose, “but now, we’re even.”
“‘Even’ my ass,” I wiped my eyes, “I still owe you a late-night snack.”
No response.
Every so often, Mr. Wu’s voice would ring through again: “The cable’s at fifty kilometres … a hundred kilometres … 150 kilometres … slow down … once the cable’s in place, push the elevator into the shaft.”
I called out Ma Xiaobo’s name twice. Still no response.
“Shit,” Mr. Wu shouted. “The backup cable is still a little short. It can’t reach the operation station.” The elevator cable was actually made up of several segments, so the steel at the top wouldn’t be torn by the weight of a 100,000-metre-long cable. Perhaps the redundancy in the cable’s length hadn’t been accounted for, causing the calculation to fall short.
“How much further?” I asked.
“19 metres.”
We fought for those 160 kilometres, only to be 19 metres short?
Just then, another shockwave hit, stronger than the last. Even the emergency lights shattered.
No one knew if the next earthquake would crush the operation station.
Suddenly, Mr. Wu’s cheerful voice rang out, “Ma Xiaobo pulled back. He fainted from heatstroke, but the plant’s doctor is attending to him.”
I walked over to the window, looked up, and saw a blinking warning light hovering near the shaft, not far off.
These 19 meters were the gap between life and death.
Chapter Ten. The Electromagnet
Outside the glass window, the geothermal tower’s smooth heat-resistant pipes stretched endlessly. The walls of the pipes, though silver in colour, were not made of metal, as the designers feared they’d easily oxidise.
They had ceased injecting more thermal fluid from above, but the existing fluid still circulated in the pipes below us continuously and endlessly. Even if humanity were to become extinct one day, the fully automated system would continue running, supplying clean energy to an empty world.
The cameras monitoring the mantle fluid pipeline maintained an uninterrupted signal. I observed the pipe walls, which were several dozen meters in circumference, offering no resistance to the falling fluid. So theoretically, after half a minute of acceleration, the fluid could reach the speed of sound. However, there was no terrifying sonic boom at the operation station because the pipeline was a vacuum. Even disregarding that, CHE would never allow air to enter the pipes because it would make the pressure deep underground astronomical.
As the fluid fell hundreds or even thousands of kilometres, the Earth’s rotation would clearly exert a massive Coriolis force on it. However, the highly energetic fluid still fell straight down the centre of the pipe without hitting any of the equipment along the way. This was because, while the pipe material was not metal, it was a weak superconductor at room temperature. Though far inferior to true superconductors, CHE could induce a magnetic field by applying a potential difference at the right positions along the pipe, converting the circular pipe walls into invisible coils. It was these magnetic fields, controlled by the automated system, that influenced the trajectory of the fluid, which had metallic properties, keeping it relatively vertical as it fell to the appropriate location in the Earth’s core.
The geothermal tower was not only a fluid transport pipeline, but also a wire several million meters long.
And I was in the middle of this wire.
After the earthquake, the ceiling lights stopped working. I picked up a traditional flashlight from the ground, but its handle was hollow.
Reaching under the overturned shelves, I found a pack of large batteries wrapped in plastic. I grabbed them like they were treasure.
In this high-tech underground command centre, 19th-century technology saved the day.
As I tore open the battery wrapper and was about to insert it, I felt a shock run through me—even though the dry batteries only had 1.5 volts.
The battery’s metal cap reflected faint light, but this glow quickly grew brighter, illuminating the operation station, the geothermal tower pipeline, and even the whole world.
I rushed to the communications machine and connected with Mr. Wu: “I need to speak with Mr. Wang, now.”
“No can do. He must be holed up in his private shelter by now. Why do you need him, anyway?”
“I need to ask him if it’s possible to reverse the power flow from all the geothermal towers.”
“As long as it involves global automation, it requires top access. Why are you asking this?”
“The walls of the geothermal towers are long, but they’re all made of weak superconductors at room-temperature. If we apply enough voltage, the power could still travel through over 2,000 kilometres of the Earth’s mantle. With CHE’s global grid synchronised to rectify, we can create potential differences across continents. The Earth would become a massive dry battery, with the liquid metal at its core completing the circuit.”
With electricity comes magnetism. The geomagnetic field could be rebuilt, and solar storms would no longer be a threat.
I smiled bitterly. “How I wish I were Wang Jiaming’s illegitimate son. I’d just announce his death in his absence and inherit CHE’s operational access.”
“Mr. Chen has that access too,” Mr. Wu replied. “Leave it to me. I’m quite familiar with ol’ Chen.”
China Heavy Energy convened the most urgent and probably the shortest technical meeting in human history. Clearly, meetings without the boss present were always brief and efficient.
The Bohai Geothermal Tower was key to this new world-saving plan. Only when the world’s most powerful geothermal tower raised its “battery cap” could the “Earth’s Electromagnet” be activated. Qinhuangdao would become the Earth’s new North Pole. Mr. Chen’s calculations showed that the electricity added to the underground would be very weak. But it didn’t matter, as the electrical currents within the Earth were inherently weak. Even a tiny current density magnified across the entire planet would be enough to generate a temporary magnetic field. Though weaker than the normal one by more than half, it would still deflect most of the strafing solar particles. An hour later, my mom would suffer the equivalent of two CT scans’ worth of radiation from sun exposure, and her phone’s camera would be destroyed for capturing the spectacular sky. But at least the rest of her joyous journey would remain unaffected.
Mr. Chen quickly called in. “Now, you have the top access of CHE.”
“Back when I was eating instant noodles and sending out resumes, I used to fantasise about being the big boss. Now, the only time I’m in the limelight is when things go horribly wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how much current the global geothermal tower system generates, right? You wouldn’t even measure the pipe walls, because an ammeter capable of measuring that much current hasn’t been invented yet. The electrical energy rushing down the geothermal towers is so immense that even a tiny portion will be enough to incinerate the operation station if it turns into heat.”
“Stay calm, repairs will be finished soon.”
“Tell them to pull back.”
The AI module at the operation station converted natural language into machine commands, and robotic arms quickly prepared for reverse power transmission.
A deafening electrical hum resonated from above and below. The control screens lit up with a flurry of warning messages.
But I had gotten used to it by now.
“An hour before the geothermal tower walls are energised, and the synchronisation will begin globally,” Mr. Chen said briefly before the call ended. He was hurrying to adjust the loads, rectifiers, and potential differences on the ultra-high voltage grids across five continents.
Soon, the Earth would generate swirling electric currents, the Pacific sky would flash with the lights of a wild karaoke bar, and the temperature in the nearby atmosphere would rise. Pigeons wouldn’t be able to find home and compass-wielding hikers would be sent off-course. But that would be all.
Whether the insignificant person inside the Bohai Geothermal Tower operation station was saved or not, the plan was irreversible.
I looked up at the ceiling as if my gaze could pierce through the thick rock layers and reach the blue sky and white clouds.
I thought of my mother.
Scenes from over two decades flashed before my eyes. Now, even the scoldings and beatings seemed to be filled with affection: skipping school—getting a spanking, spending lunch money on game credits—receiving a fierce scolding. But for the biggest trouble I ever got into, I didn’t suffer any pain. That was the day I saw the big iron pot in the kitchen dry out, and the bottom was billowing with smoke. I scooped up a bowl of cold water to cool it down, but the pot almost exploded, and the wall was scorched. Hearing the loud noise, my mother rushed home. She didn’t hit me or scold me; instead, she just hugged me tightly, patting my head and hands in tears.
And that memory struck a flash of lightning through my heart.
I walked toward the glass window and once again gazed at the warning light just 19 metres above, with Ma Xiaobo’s words resounding in my head: “I got a powerful magnet here with the backup cable. Once it attaches to the top of the elevator, it’ll automatically pull you up.”
I walked toward the control panel and input a delayed command to the mechanical arm hidden in the pipe wall. Then, I opened the elevator door and swiftly dismantled the seat inside, but kept the safety belt. The next was the cushion—I wrapped the bed mattress in plastics and tied it to the ground with ropes. Finally, I dug out a pressure suit and helmet from the clutter, put them on, and doused myself with water from head to toe. The remaining water was sprinkled on the cushion and elevator floor. Just before the elevator door closed, I threw the water bottle back into the operation station and relaxed my body, trying to maximise the contact area between my back, arms, and thighs with the soft cushion.
Two harsh metallic crashes echoed from below, followed by the sound of drilling and grinding. The sound waves travelled along the solid material, deafeningly loud.
“What are you doing down there?” Mr. Wu asked.
“Having the mechanical arm destroy the insulation layer of the pipe wall.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Mr. Wu shouted. “It’s over a thousand degrees 160 kilometres underground!”
The elevator car turned into a sauna as soon as he finished speaking. The places I had drenched earlier were now surrounded by swirling steam.
“Indeed, it’s even hotter out there than an incinerator,” I said, forcing open the airlock valve at the bottom of the elevator. A rush of air blasted into the elevator shaft and the confined space quickly heated up, causing the air to expand violently. With a deafening bang, the elevator shot upward like it had been kicked by some giant beast.
In an instant, the elevator’s acceleration surpassed that of any rocket launch in history. I curled up on the cushion like an astronaut aboard a spacecraft. Even so, I could still feel my spine threatening to snap, my lungs squeezed empty of air, my jaw yanked downward with immense pressure, and tears streaming from my eyes.
Thankfully, the overwhelming force only lasted a few seconds. Then, I experienced what astronauts often call “weightlessness”.
It felt like the moment when a drop tower reached its peak and was starting to fall.
I wasn’t religious, but now I found myself muttering prayers to every god I could think of, from Mazu to Buddha.
Then, the clack of salvation sounded. I’d forgotten which god I was invoking when it happened.
Anyway, the ascent continued, but this time with much gentler acceleration. This sensation was familiar—about 0.2g.
The organic glass of the elevator cracked, and the corners of the frame deformed, but surprisingly, it didn’t fall apart.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I heard the wireless call from Mr. Wu. “The backup cable is steadily accelerating upward.”
To be honest, this was a huge gamble. If the explosion’s force hadn’t been strong enough, I would have plummeted into the depths. Had it been too much, the elevator would have shattered, and my body would have plummeted instead. The outcome I had now almost made me go from an atheist to a believer of all gods. After all, I couldn’t tell which divine power had given me a hand.
Twenty minutes later, the elevator reached the surface. I pulled out my phone and called my mother again. This time, the call connected right away.
“The ribbons in the sky have faded a lot,” her voice was full of regret. “What have you been doing today?”
“I found a job at CHE. It’s going well. I even managed to direct several engineers today.”
“Sounds as if you’re running things like a CEO.”
- Editor’s Note: Northeastern Chinese refers to people in the Dongbei region of China, formerly Manchuria, they are known to be tough. ↩︎
- Hongqi, lit. Red Flag, a Chinese luxury car brand virtually exclusive to clients of high-ranking government officials. ↩︎
- Qipao, a traditional Chinese female dress. Typically seen on very formal occasions. ↩︎
- Xinwen Lianbo, lit. News Simulcast, the most official and authoritative TV news program of modern China. ↩︎
- Greenpeace is an independent global campaigning network for environmental issues, originated in Canada. ↩︎
- Editor’s Note: 4500 RMB (SGD 850) in China would be similar to SGD 3000+ for an engineering fresh grad in Singapore. ↩︎