Chương 114: Book 4 - Chapter 7 A

The handout of the cellphones, one to each family, was a success right up until they discovered they couldn't call the few phones the island already had. Fortunately I was not the one they complained to. I invited the CEO of Telecom Kiribati to dinner at a local hotel, he had been at the brunt of their ire.

"Thank you for coming," I told him as I ushered him to a private dining room with a big table. The room was blissfully cool, a quiet, air-conditioned pocket of calm carved out of the humid evening. I watched him smooth the lapels of his suit jacket—a heavy, respectable garment that looked ill suited for the equatorial climate but necessary for a meeting of this caliber. The solid mahogany table gleamed under the soft lamp, a silent testament to the difference in our resources.

He seemed nervous as he sat at one side, while I sat opposite.

"Thank you for the invitation, Dr Cook. Rumors are swirling about how you are going to put Telecom Kiribati out of business," he said, his voice tight. I held his gaze, keeping my expression neutral, and let a calculated pause hang in the air.

"I won't lie. When it comes to balloon towers for communication, it changes everything," I finally said.

"But that doesn't mean I'm replacing the people who actually know how this country runs. I plan to buy TSKL to run the new equipment. I also don't plan to replace you with a foreigner." I considered him carefully as the tension instantly bled out of his shoulders, replaced by a deep-seated relief that was far more satisfying than winning a purely technical argument. I recognized it as the look of a man who had been expecting a foreign colonial power to displace him.

"You know the islands and the people," I continued, emphasizing those last two words.

"I'll be leaving a couple techs here, and a few more will be coming out with the next set of balloons. Once the acquisition is approved we'll connect everything together."

"That's a relief, Dr Cook," he said, the deep-seated tension finally draining from his posture. He was thankful for not being caught up in a political battle. I recognized him for what he was: a civil servant trying to keep a rudimentary network running, and exactly the type of ally I needed in the National Congress where his family held influence.

"I keep getting complaints about how the cellphones don't work with the existing phone services. I'm glad to know that a solution is coming," he said.

"Once the purchase finalizes we will use the trenching equipment I bought to run a communication cable from the balloon tower to the local phone exchange. It'll take a couple weeks but the new cable has just arrived by boat. It's waterproof and can be installed along the beach down the full length of the atoll." I looked out the window and watched the sun sparkle off the water and the intensely blue sky, visualizing the future.

In my mind the balloons sprouted like mushrooms across the Pacific from Pitcairn to New Guinea and Stewart Island to Rebun Island. This was the birth of a pan Pacific network where good and inexpensive communication drove trade.

"Good. You'll have my full support," he said as I unrolled a map on the table of the islands of Kiribati. Each island had a 400 mile circle around it. I pointed at Ocean Island.

"This blue circle is Ocean Island, and its balloon tower range. The red circle is the Tarawa tower. As you can see, these towers will form an overlapping communications network. If traffic is too high on one route, it will automatically send the phone calls between the islands along a different route."

"This is very ingenious," he said as his finger traced out various connections where green and yellow circles overlapped. He saw how each inhabited island served as a link. His finger reached Nauru which had a pink circle and he looked up in question.

"I'll be relying on you to procure the land and organize the network buildout," I told him.

"Green are critical nodes and should be installed first. Then the yellow. Once we cover Kiribati, TSKL goes international," I said pointing at the pink circle.

"Once the sale finalizes," he agreed, "I'll get it finished as quickly as possible. I'm looking forward to calling my mother at her home in Roreti."

"Feel free to move her island to the top of the list. I know I don't call my mother enough," I told him as I rolled the map back up and handed it to him.

"Now, I invited you to dinner, but we took care of business first. I've seen some interesting dishes and I'd like some help deciphering what to order. I'm hoping you'll stay?" I gestured to the air conditioned comfort of the room.

"And please feel free to remove that suit jacket. You look warm." He hesitated for only a second before the genuine relief on his face won out. He unbuttoned the heavy garment and draped it over the back of the mahogany chair. The action felt symbolic, shedding the formality and tension of the negotiation.

"Thank you, Dr Cook. You are very kind." He eased back in his seat.

"Not kind, practical. You're my ally now," I corrected gently.

"And call me, John. My assistant Matt will try to convince you to call me Boss, but I really do just prefer John."

"I will do that, John. Please call me, Tito," he said, a big smile breaking out. I grinned back. Tito wasn't the best man for the job. He was the only man for the job. His position wasn't exactly nepotism, but he didn't have the technical knowledge really needed for the position, though he did try. I was confident that the techs would work with him or around him as needed and that he wouldn't mind too much. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I picked up the menu and he smiled.

"Try the fish. It is simply prepared, but the coconut oil and fresh lime they use here is perfect."

"Perfect," I agreed.

"I'll try the fish." We ate and discussed local politics, family and the practical challenges of running cable along the atoll. It was time well spent. Two days later the approval came. With the shipping of more towers already arranged I headed back to the US. The flight back was eighteen grueling hours. I had tried to sleep through most of it but the jet lag was a heavy weight.

I sat in my San Diego home office the next morning, waiting for the call back from the State Department that I had been dreading—I had needed to tell them what the President of Kiribati asked of me. It was important but frustrating and the person I had talked to could only take a message. Matt, handed me the office phone.

"I have Mr Henderson from State on the line, Boss. He sounds very serious," Matt whispered. I picked up the receiver.

"John Cook here."

"Dr Cook, this is David Henderson from the Bureau of Consular Affairs. We understand you are moving forward with arrangements for a Kiribati consulate in San Diego. That is fine. However, the new administration is being extremely cautious about your status," he said. I groaned internally. This was going to take patience. I decided I could make it fun. It is not every day the US appoints a Special Ambassador, then forgets about him.

"We need a final commitment," he continued.

"If you claim diplomatic privilege within the United States, that will be viewed as the equivalent of renouncing your US citizenship." Henderson's voice was as stiff as a starched collar. I tapped my fingers on my desk, leaning into the formality.

"And can I still claim that privilege in every other country, or at the UN?"

"Yes, in all other nations. But not here. Your current status—which we understand was granted in a highly irregular manner in 1986—is currently under Presidential review. Simply put, we cannot have the world believing you are acting as an American diplomat while representing Kiribati." I rolled my eyes, glad it was a phone call.

'I know!' I agreed internally. But Ieremia was so nice about it, I couldn't just turn him down to his face. I gave a sigh of feigned disappointment.

"I'm certainly not going to renounce my US citizenship. I am almost thirteen, you know. I will soon be old enough that the President can use me as an Ambassador without violating child labor laws. I wouldn't want to lose my only chance at a normal job." Henderson paused. The resulting silence on the line was beautiful.

"I… see. Well, your diplomatic privilege outside the United States remains valid for the time being. I'm sure His Excellency the Beretitenti can find someone else to run the San Diego consulate."

"I'm sure he can. But I still want to provide a facility. I will simply buy an apartment building in San Diego, near the University. The lower floors will be the government offices, and the upper floors will provide residence and homes for the students that General Atomics will be giving scholarships to. That arrangement is acceptable, correct? No privilege is being claimed."

"That is acceptable," he conceded, the defeat clear in his voice.

"And remember, a consulate does not possess the same extraterritorial rights that an embassy does."

"I understand," I agreed. He seemed relieved I was being reasonable.

"Now, let's go over briefly everyone else you have citizenship with."

"Only Kiribati is new, I was gifted dual citizenship with France and Sweden after Euro Motors was established."

"Good. No one we are likely to be at war with anytime soon." I couldn't help the small, private smile that touched my lips. They saw the world only in terms of allies and enemies. I saw only the route this call would take, leading me to the oval office. The conversation had only cost me time I could have been binging on chocolate ice cream in the vain hope it would make the jet lag fade faster. With that settled, I next had to have a meeting with the NRC, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.

Dr Dean joined me, as he knew everyone in the industry. He was a brilliant nuclear physicist but even better at navigating the bureaucratic maze of the NRC. We met them in a stark, windowless room in Bethesda.

"We want to finish off the reactor builds at Satsop expanding the facility by 7500 megawatts," I told the panel.

"And we are also filing an application for a second, identical 5000 megawatt reactor on Ocean Island." The lead official blinked slowly, pulling on his reading glasses.

"Dr Cook, is that Satsop request for WNP-3 or WNP-5?"

"Both. We are utilizing WNP-3 for the new Intrinsically Safe Pebble-Bed Reactor—the ISPBR—and we are also prepared to begin construction on a second unit, WNP-5, designed for 5000 megawatts. We are also requesting a short-term alteration to the Balance of Plant on WNP-3 to test a prototype high-capacity synthesis unit using waste heat." The official lowered his glasses.

"The ISPBR, using the thorium fuel cycle and diamond-coated pebbles? That's what you're proposing?" The complexity registered on his face. Dr Dean added, "Yes, the ISPBR at Satsop currently has a 2, 000 megawatt output and uses only half of the space available at WNP-3. We hope to fully utilize the full structure by upgrading the existing ISPBR to match a new 2, 500 megawatt ISPBR to achieve a full 5, 000 megawatts. This would be 2, 500 megawatts from WNP-3A and the same from a new WNP-3B.

For WNP-5 we will install dual 2, 500 megawatt ISPBRs from the start, installing both an A and B reactor, achieving a 5, 000 megawatt rating."

"What was the original design specification for WNP-3 and WNP-5?" he asked.

"A combined 2, 480 Megawatts," Dr Dean responded.

"ISPBR is that much more efficient?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer.

"We will examine the issue and get back to you," the official said, making a slow, deliberate note. He paused, looking at the second application.

"Ocean Island? How many people live there?"

"It's up to about 350 permanent residents," I told them.

"That's outrageous. What do 350 people need 5, 000 megawatts for?" I gave my slight smile.

"Large-scale ammonia synthesis and industrial fertilizer production. Kiribati has limited land resources, but we plan to export fertilizer across the Pacific. I own the island completely and have full authority to build whatever I want there." I said, even knowing his response. At least it would get the ball rolling at the IAEA. Someday Ocean Island would need that much power for its population.

"Let's see about the Satsop plant first, then we will consider what the IAEA says about Ocean Island," the official replied, essentially dismissing my Pacific plan with polite bureaucratic stalling. I left the NRC office not happy but not surprised. Every month the NRC wasted was a month closer to the perfect pivot point. Everything was working on a deadline.