Chapter 1: World Heritage

Earth Year: 2043

Martian Year: 4

On the other end of the Asian continent, motivation spectrum, and chain of causality from the Svalbard Incident, a large corporate jet landed on the roof of the world at Lhasa Gonggar Airport, outside the traditional Tibetan capital. It was a gorgeous, bright morning. The ‘city of sunlight,’ one of the highest elevation cities in the world, received well over three thousand hours of relatively strong solar radiation annually. The planet as a whole received more solar energy in one hour than its inhabitants used in one year.

The man the jet carried was there to oversee the final stage of the first phase of some vital work, though only he and a select few others knew just how important it was. The plane’s cargo was loaded into an unmarked, nonautomated heavy transport truck owned by the Chinese People’s Liberation Army; they didn’t want to draw any more attention than necessary.

The driver didn’t appear to be armed. Good, the man thought.

As the truck approached Lhasa he looked out the passenger side window at the enormous red and white Potala Palace, its thousand-room structure perched dramatically above the city. Now a museum and World Heritage site, for hundreds of years it had been the home of the Dalai Lama. The man was a staunch atheist, but given the project he was presently engaged in he couldn’t help but muse upon Buddhism’s teaching of rebirth. Maybe they weren’t entirely wrong after all.

The truck wound up the road into the mountains, which towered above the palace even more drastically than it loomed over the city. Finally it arrived at the nondescript entrance to their destination; humanity had learned some hard lessons from Svalbard and the related attacks. The inside of the man-made cavern was more impressive than it needed to be for strictly functional purposes, but he had a flair for the dramatic and thought its aesthetic should reflect its significance. The laboratory and supercomputer that were to be built inside would each be among the most advanced in the world, hidden here so they could push the envelope away from its prying eyes.

The cavern was also far enough from a major metropolis to limit damage if something went terribly wrong.

Throughout this project the man had developed a newfound knowledge and interest in working with rocks. He was of course unaware of it at the moment, but this would be immensely useful down the road. And his road was long.

The truck’s cargo, an item of which fewer than a dozen existed in the world, was unloaded and installed deep in the cavern by the small team of local workers who had been hired through a series of shell companies to perform this job end to end. The Chinese government had seen an opportunity to…what was that English saying? To kill two birds with one stone. The man felt uncomfortable using it right now given the circumstances.

After they finished the installation the man sighed. He had been dreading this part but reminded himself of the bigger picture. It was as he had drilled into his children: in matters of great importance, the ends justified the means. The kind of people who built such a cavern could not be trusted to know of its existence.

He gathered the workers and gave a short speech to congratulate everyone on a job well done, ensuring them that not only did their country thank them, but possibly their species would too. And he meant it. He was legitimately glad to see the smiles and sense of fulfillment on their faces. Then he took two automatic pistols from inside his thick jacket and mowed down all present. There was nowhere to run inside the cavern. The screams and gunshots echoed eerily off the rock.

The man shook his head. Mining could be dangerous work, but at least their families would be well-compensated. Despite antibiotic-resistant plagues, trauma — accidental or intentional — had dethroned disease and was once again the leading cause of death worldwide, like it had been for much of human existence.

He sealed off the concealed entrance and drove himself back down the mountain as dusk descended. Thousands of lights were coming on across the plateau below, many created by lanterns and the burning of fossil fuels, long-dead organic matter. Solar energy, generated by nuclear fusion, preserved for millions of years. It was never created nor destroyed.

He wound through the ancient city on his way to the airport, past the sites of several recent self-immolations, adding to the hundreds that had already taken place. The man couldn’t shake the feeling that those walking the streets in maroon — almost blood-red — robes were staring at him in the dim light, condemning.

This is an excerpt from Mind Painter. You can now get the full book on Amazon here.