Chapter 34 (Silicon-Based Survival II): Mirage over the Sea of Sand

May 2030, Capital of Country B

Sky High Media Group was the largest integrated media conglomerate in the world, holding controlling stakes in numerous newspapers, television networks, and new media platforms on the internet.

The owner of Sky High Media, Anderk, was now ninety-nine years old. He had long since withdrawn from corporate affairs and management, no longer standing at the eye of the storm as he had in the last century—exposing others, and being exposed in turn.

A few years earlier, Anderk had once again returned to the public eye, but not because of his wealth or his achievements in journalism. The news that had captured the public’s imagination and gone viral on social media was Anderk’s marriage to Irene Petkova, making her his fifth wife.

On a warm afternoon, the elderly Anderk reclined comfortably in his chair. Irene and Martha sat beside him, and the old man said to Martha,

“Martha, I’ve asked you here because I need your help with something.”

Martha and Irene were close friends. As Anderk’s ex-wife, it was Martha who had introduced Irene to Anderk, leading to their eventual union. Martha, always straightforward, half-joked as she pointed at Irene and said to Anderk,

“Are you worried Irene will get jealous? Even summoning me for work, you insist on doing it in her presence.”

The old man laughed heartily, patting Irene’s hand. “Irene would never be jealous of you. It’s just that today’s matter concerns both of you.”

Now it was Irene’s turn to look puzzled. She blurted out, “I’m not a journalist—what does any of this have to do with me?”

“I’m inviting Martha to investigate something, and the central figure is Michael Max. I know both of you are quite familiar with him,” Anderk replied.

At these words, Martha wondered: Could this legendary media mogul have also heard that Michael’s experiment might destroy Saturn’s rings? In her mind, Anderk, though retired for years, had always kept a keen eye on the latest advances in technology.

Martha knew that Anderk cared deeply about the development of space technology and the potential consequences of excessive exploitation of space industries on Earth and humanity. He was also concerned with the latest progress in artificial intelligence and genetic engineering, and the ethical dilemmas they might entail.

She also knew that these three fields happened to be Michael Max’s main areas of focus; through his various companies, he had more or less dipped his hands into all of them.

“I’ve already looked into the Saturn ring incident. I warned Michael, and his girlfriend told me he took the advice and suspended the project. Is that what you’re referring to?” Martha asked.

Anderk blinked, looking slightly surprised. “No, it’s not that. I’ve received a tip that Michael’s company may be working on a plan of unprecedented scale. I want you to look into it.”

He then turned to Irene. “You know Michael well too, but this matter is significant. I hope you can help Martha as much as possible.”

Both Martha and Irene were taken aback. Investigating Michael Max—the world’s richest man and the most admired and sought-after figure in tech? That was no small task.

Martha asked, “Can you at least tell me what the source revealed, what exactly interests you? What should I focus on?”

Anderk’s face gave nothing away. The nearly centenarian signaled for Irene to help him up. Once on his feet, he slipped into his slippers and walked alone toward the flower stand by the wall. He turned back and said slowly:

“My dear Martha, I’m old. Very little can spark my interest these days—unless it’s something truly earth-shattering.”

He took two steps toward the two women, then stopped and said, “When I was in my forties, I had gallstones. The doctor told me, ‘If it doesn’t hurt, don’t worry about it; if it does, you can have surgery.’”

He silenced their questions with a glance and continued, “So I asked the doctor, ‘If my stomach hurts, how can I tell if it’s the gallstones?’”

At last Irene found her voice. “Yes, the pain from gallstones is excruciating—nothing like a regular stomach ache.”

Martha seemed to catch his meaning. “You want to protect your informant, so you can’t tell me any details, is that it?”

“Martha, you are an exceptional investigative journalist, with a sensitivity and judgment rare even among your peers. If what Michael is doing feels like a mere stomachache, I have no interest. But if it feels like agony—then that’s the story I want you to pursue.”

Irene hesitated, unsure whether the old man was referring to Michael’s Mars terraforming plan. She knew little about it herself, and a sense of foreboding welled up inside her.

May 2030, the Desert Kingdom

Michael Max arrived in the Desert Kingdom to brief his investor, Prince Haroufa, on the steps and details of the Mars terraforming project.

After making his investment intentions clear, the Prince eagerly led Michael into a palatial hall. In the center stood an enormous sand table.

The Desert Kingdom was a classic resource-based nation, its land covered by desert, but with vast reserves of oil and gold buried beneath. Yet oil and gold would inevitably run out—sooner or later, these countries all faced the unavoidable challenge of economic transformation.

How could the Desert Kingdom transform? The land was all sand, with little arable terrain for agriculture or animal husbandry. When the oil and gold were gone, what then?

Prince Haroufa had found an answer: tourism. But not ordinary sightseeing or shopping. He aimed to use cutting-edge technology to build a wonder of the twenty-first century in the desert—a cluster of smart cities.

His grand plan was to erect skyscrapers on the endless dunes, built from advanced materials, their façades clad in nano-engineered specialty glass.

Though expensive, this glass offered thermal insulation and energy efficiency, its reflections casting dreamlike patterns of light and shadow.

The city, formed by these buildings, would appear and disappear as the angle of light changed. With their special glass curtain walls, the cities would undulate across the sand like a real-life mirage.

Smart cities were no longer new: intelligent transport systems, autonomous driving, green energy, firefighting, security—even local climate control—were all highlights of such cities.

But the Prince wanted much more. To attract tourists from all over the world, there had to be some truly dazzling, innovative features.

His trump card was robots: in his smart city clusters, all service staff—from restaurants to hotels—would be intelligent robots.

“Michael, I need a vast number of smart robots. I want your company to provide me with lifelike, indistinguishable-from-human robots that will continually amaze and astonish visitors.”

“No problem. Our robotics company produces several million units annually. I’ll assign a dedicated team to develop highly realistic, bionic robots to your specifications,” Michael replied.

Michael Max thought of his friend Masao Asatani in the Rising Nation, who had built the world’s first unmanned dam. Now, Prince Haroufa was about to create the world’s first smart city cluster without a single human service worker. Michael admired the Prince’s imagination and investment vision.

He hesitated a moment, then couldn’t resist saying, “Novelty and interactive participation are what attract tourists most. The novelty of an all-robotic smart city is undeniable, but perhaps it lacks some interactive appeal.”

“Interactive participation? Do you have any suggestions?” the Prince pressed.

Michael responded obliquely, “Have you ever played Werewolf or watched the series ‘Westworld’?”

Prince Haroufa looked bewildered.

Michael’s suggestion was to use his company’s latest consciousness upload technology: tourists could choose, for an extra fee, to upload part of their consciousness into a selected robot, temporarily creating a duplicate of themselves.

Tourists could customize their avatars to look like themselves, or choose any gender, appearance, identity, or voice they liked. These avatars could participate alone or together in various scenario-based games with friends or family.

Although consciousness upload technology was not yet mature enough to extract the full contents of the human mind, mimicking appearance, voice, and personalized gestures was a breeze—more than enough to satisfy visitors’ curiosity.

After hearing Michael’s proposal, Prince Haroufa was struck by sudden inspiration and exclaimed, “Partial consciousness upload, robot avatars, role-playing—you’re a genius! This isn’t ‘Westworld’—it’s ‘Back to the Future’!”

Film and literature were, after all, only science fiction. Michael, excited and proud, declared,

“This is what I call silicon-based living!”

—

A poem compiled from ancient verse:

The scene and the self become one.
Fleeting glory is but a dream.
Dwelling quietly amidst blue peaks,
Life itself a journey through dreams.