Chapter 16 (Micromolecule 2): Rejection Reaction
August 2029, Oil Sands Nation
Governor Pierce of the Bright Nation lifted restrictions on domestic oil extraction in 2018, propelling his country to become the world’s largest oil producer—a title formerly held by the Oil Sands Nation. Although now second in oil output, the Oil Sands Nation recently discovered a staggering gold reserve beneath its deserts. Fortune seemed to favor this land: sand covered the country, gold lay beneath the sand, and oil beneath the gold.
Naturally, the Oil Sands Nation’s sovereign wealth fund became the largest equity investment fund on the planet. Its steward was Prince Halufa, just past fifty.
Michael Max’s Mars colonization plan had taken shape. As it moved into implementation, what he needed most was not bold ideas or integrated technology, but money.
Michael had long heard of Prince Halufa. He could have sought introductions through financial contacts, but his methods were always unconventional.
Irene Petkova, a close friend of Halufa and advisor to his private health team, suggested the meeting, and the prince gladly invited Michael Max to the Oil Sands Nation.
Prince Halufa was tall, with piercing eyes and a prominent nose standing proud on his resolute, elongated face. He greeted Michael with warmth and respect, embracing him and saying,
“You are the adventurer and entrepreneur I most admire, my dear friend. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Thank you for your kind words. I am equally impressed by your grand plan to build smart cities in the desert,” Michael replied, his eyes shining. He got straight to the point: “I intend to transform Mars into a second Earth. It will require immense investment, but the rewards will be substantial.”
“A second Earth? When you speak of Mars transformation, you mean people living in sealed chambers without sunlight, correct?” the prince asked.
Michael’s expression was mysterious yet unwavering. “I aim to restart Mars’s magnetic field, oceans, and oxygen-rich atmosphere. Humanity will breathe and walk freely on Mars. It will truly become a second Earth.”
The prince looked perplexed. The conversation stalled in an atmosphere of goodwill. Michael Max could not divulge Nikola Tesla’s theories or the technical principles and engineering details of the superluminal wave power station.
Michael assured the prince that everything he proposed was feasible, because he had access to a secret super energy of immense power that would dramatically shorten the time needed for Mars’s transformation.
Understanding the prince’s skepticism, Michael proposed that after the sovereign wealth fund committed a certain investment amount, his company would conduct an experiment on Saturn’s moon Enceladus to demonstrate the super energy’s power.
“Seeing is believing. I look forward to your Enceladus experiment,” Prince Halufa replied, though his concern shifted to another matter. With a hint of worry, he said, “You claim the transformation of Mars will be swift, but no matter how fast, it depends on my health.”
Michael Max stared at the prince in surprise, then glanced at Irene Petkova.
The prince’s health was a private matter, not suitable for discussion in this setting, and so the first meeting between entrepreneur and potential investor ended there.
Prince Halufa could not imagine what mysterious energy sources might exist in the world; Michael Max had no idea of the prince’s health issues.
Irene Petkova knew his condition well. As biopharmaceuticals and gene therapies advanced, many of the world’s richest began regular stem cell injections to boost vitality and prolong life.
Prince Halufa developed a rejection reaction to stem cells. Irene and the top medical team diagnosed the incompatibility between the stem cells and his blood. The effective treatment was to use small-molecule amino acid groups soluble in blood.
Proteins are formed from chains of more than fifty amino acids; chains of a few or a dozen are called small molecules (peptides). These dissolve in water and blood, playing a crucial regulatory role in gene therapies.
The medical team found that current synthetic small molecules could not effectively resolve the prince’s rejection response.
Some experts suggested that certain primitive tribes, untouched by modern medicine, retained what they called “original blood.” The natural small molecules in this blood might possess greater activity and therapeutic effect than any artificial compound.
Irene Petkova remembered a remote village on the Deccan Plateau in India, where locals still preserved “original blood”—a subject she had studied as a biology professor.
The ancient village lay on the outskirts of Gwalior, in the central state of India, nestled between the warm Ganges plain and mountain gorges.
Life was harsh, but the inhabitants enjoyed exceptional longevity. The oldest was Vanita, whom everyone respectfully called “Grandmother.”
Vanita truly was a grandmother; her grandson Bharat, like many youths, had left the mountain village for education and work in the city, becoming a programmer in a Mumbai tech company.
Years ago, Grandmother Vanita fell gravely ill and was bedridden. Irene Petkova’s research team happened to be stationed nearby.
Vanita refused modern medicine, so Irene proposed a compromise: a blood transfusion from her direct descendant.
Bharat resigned his job and returned to the village, regularly donating blood to his grandmother.
A miracle occurred. Vanita’s health steadily improved. Though walking was difficult, she regained her former vitality, sitting at her table, shuffling her cards.
Vanita’s cards were ancient Indian divination tools, and she was a renowned fortune-teller. Villagers and even city folk from afar sought her guidance.
Her eyesight continued to fail. Bharat, now home, wrote a program to replicate the card patterns and rules online.
The deck was two sets: red and black backs, each with 52 cards, four suits per set, 13 cards per suit. With these 104 cards, Grandmother Vanita performed her readings. After resigning, Bharat unexpectedly became an online fortune-teller.
Bharat was deeply attached to his grandmother. Before his first journey to the city for school, she held his hand and said,
“The city children know more than you do. They may often stump you. Let me share a secret: you can ask them a simple question and I guarantee they won’t know the answer.”
Bharat used her question often, reliably baffling the proud city kids. The question was simple:
Do you know your grandmother’s name? Do you know your grandmother’s grandmother’s name?
Vanita grew old, and Bharat knew she would eventually leave him. He decided, with his limited knowledge of artificial intelligence, to collect as much data as possible of her voice and visage, so she would “live” forever in the digital world.
Not just his grandmother—Bharat modeled all living elders and their remembered ancestors as digital relatives, naming this intelligent multimedia system “My Family Tree.”
He was modern-educated and often exchanged information with Irene. During a video call, Bharat posed Grandmother’s question to Irene. She was momentarily speechless, as if caught in a mistake, and answered,
“I know my grandmother’s name, but I don’t know my grandmother’s grandmother’s name.”
As she spoke, tears welled inexplicably in Irene’s eyes.
Impressed by Bharat’s family tree project, Irene suggested he launch a dedicated website to offer the service to more people. She said,
“Bharat, you’ve done something truly meaningful. If, after a person dies, even her grandson’s grandson forgets her name, who else could remember she ever walked this earth?”
To serve more people and build their own family trees, Bharat said it was impossible—he simply lacked the money.
Today, Bharat received a call from Irene. After connecting, she hesitated, then gathered her courage and said softly,
“Bharat, I have a special patient who needs your blood. Ethically, I don’t know if it’s right or wrong.”
Bharat replied without hesitation,
“If my blood can help someone who is ill, and I trust he must be someone you care for and are close to, how could that possibly be wrong?”
Irene was silent for a full minute, then faltered,
“My friend’s illness isn’t natural. It might stem from desire and wealth. So I wonder if using your original blood to treat him is inappropriate.”
Bharat grew silent as well. Irene, torn, said,
“I don’t know if I should have called you, or if I should ask. My patient friend also finds the family tree project meaningful and is willing to support you financially.”
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Collected verse for a seal:
Alas, the years draw to a close. — Tang, Luo Binwang
Fair complexion, hard to preserve. — Tang, Yao Kang
White dew clusters on sweet fruit. — Tang, Du Fu
As my heart’s inner elixir. — Song, Yuan Fu