Chương 142: Book 4 - Chapter 18

I was freshly powdered and ready for the camera. I was using the same Circle 11 team that had handled the ISPBR startup in 1988. They were once again happy for the holiday overtime and remembered the big tip I'd given them as well. The atmosphere in the media center at Satsop was electric. Rows of monitors lined the back wall, all of them tuned to the same crisp American Wireless feed.

A huddle of reporters from CNN, BBC and the major networks stood in uncharacteristic silence, their eyes locked on the 27-inch screens where the President of the United States came to stand behind the podium in the East Room. He hadn't given them much time, but when the order went out for a national broadcast, they had scrambled. I stood twenty feet away in a temporary studio bay, bathed in the cool white glow of the stage lights. A large window to my side framed the entrance to the park outside the building.

I checked the glass vial in my pocket one last time. On the monitors, President Bush looked into the lens with a steady, paternal gaze.

"Good afternoon," the President began, his voice echoing through the Satsop room.

"And Happy New Year. As we stand at the threshold of a new decade, it is often a time for reflection. But today, I have asked for this time to look forward. Throughout our history, the American spirit has been defined by a refusal to accept the impossible. Today, we are witnessing the fruit of that spirit. I have spent the last year in consultation with a young man who has already changed the world once. He is about to do it again. It is my distinct honor to introduce a true national asset, and a friend.

Here to explain a new dawn for American energy is Doctor John Cook." The President stepped back, and the feed cut. Every head in the room snapped toward me. The cynical, bored expressions of the 'slow news day' crews vanished instantly, replaced by a frantic, wide-eyed anticipation. They had expected a dry report on nuclear safety or a debt liquidation update. The President's tone had told them they were standing at the center of a seismic shift.

The silence was total, save for the distant, deep-frequency hum of the WNP-3 turbines. Then, the red light on my primary camera flickered to life. I stepped forward into the center of the frame.

"Thank you, Mr President," I said, my voice calm and resonant.

"For those of you who do not know me, I am Doctor John Cook. I am here today to interrupt your lives for a moment on this first day of a new decade. We stand today in the final ten years of the second millennium. It is a transition point. And I am here to tell you that it is a magnificent time to be alive." I paused, looking past the lens and into the soul of the country.

"A few years ago, I invented a water filter. It rescued Kiev from radioactive ruin and has since brought clean water to millions. At the end of 1988, at this very location, my team and I brought you the ISPBR—a safe nuclear reactor to power our homes and light our cities. But today, I want to show you that the atom can produce something more than just a current in a wire. It can produce freedom." I reached into my pocket and slowly pulled out the glass vial.

I held it so the studio lights turned the liquid into a glowing, golden torch.

"Today, for the first time in human history, this facility has produced one hundred thousand gallons of gasoline. It did not come from a hole in the earth. It did not come from a tanker across the oceans. It came from the very air you and I are breathing right now. We have taken the heat of the atom to convert atmospheric carbon and river water into a synthetic fuel. I call it SynGas."

"SynGas runs in your car exactly like the fuel you buy today, but it burns with a clean conscience. It is the end of the era of toxic skies and the beginning of a cycle that heals as it powers. And while one hundred thousand gallons is a small start, the future is arriving at a gallop. Our expansion here at Satsop will be online this spring. It won't produce just electricity. It will produce 20 million gallons of SynGas every single day. That is triple the consumption of the entire state of Washington.

By the end of 1990, we will double that again." I lowered the vial and leaned toward the camera, my voice dropping to a resonant, intimate tone.

"If you are a chemist, you are wondering how we solved a thermodynamics puzzle once thought impossible. If you are a driver, you only care about the result. Starting this evening, SynGas will be delivered to local ampm and ARCO stations. It will be on sale for roughly half the price of the gasoline you bought yesterday." I pointed to the window, where a line of heavily buffed and shiny tanker trucks were freshly lined up.

They blew their horns together at a silent signal, the deep resonant sound vibrating everything in the room.

"They are here to deliver the future," I said as the blast faded, even the reporters seemed to be holding their breath.

"But this is not just about a single plant in the Pacific Northwest. To the south, President Bush has negotiated a historic water pipeline treaty with Mexico. We are going to harness the relentless heat of the Arizona sun. We are building five thermal-solar SynGas plants. The first two will start construction this year, each capable of producing fifty million gallons a day.

We are going to use the Sun to power our cars and we are going to do it by recycling the carbon dioxide that has built up in our atmosphere for two centuries. We are literally turning the waste of the past into the energy of the future.

"For too long, we have been told that our resources are finite. We have been told to settle for less, to pay more and to fear the empty tank. Those days are over. The 1990s will not be a decade of limits. They will be a decade of abundance. We are not just surviving the future—we are creating it.

"As I said before, it is a magnificent time to be alive! Now, I will take your questions." The air in the room was thick with the excitement of an international story. The silence that followed was momentary as the clamor began to ask the first question. I gestured toward a woman in the front row who had already clicked her pen and was leaning forward with a look of intense focus.

"I am Allison Jennings with KSTW. Dr Cook, you have described a process that essentially pulls fuel out of thin air," she said, leaning forward as if trying to see through the glass vial in my hand.

"For those of us who are increasingly concerned with the environmental impact of industrial expansion, what exactly are the byproducts of this conversion? Are there any hidden waste products or chemical runoff Grays Harbor should be worried about when producing SynGas?"

"SynGas is using the same chemical principle as a tree," I told her, smiling warmly to quell her nervousness at being surrounded by much bigger networks. She'd done a great job on my makeup, giving her the first question was an easy payback.

"Like a growing tree, the byproducts are pure oxygen. To give you a comparison, producing one hundred thousand gallons of SynGas releases about the same amount of oxygen as a twenty thousand acre forest."

"What is the equivalent in trees once the new plant comes online in April?" she followed up quickly, her pen hovering over her notepad as she calculated the scale.

"The expansion will be the equivalent of four million acres of forest," I answered, watching the numbers land on the faces of the reporters.

"That is four hundred million trees making fresh air for the planet every single day while we make the fuel to move it." She sat back, looking slightly stunned by the math, noting one less local objection to lumberjacks cutting down forests. But there was no vacuum of silence. A man from the middle of the pack, already standing took the next question.

"I am Peter Arnett with CNN. Dr Cook, you are standing in front of a nuclear facility that has been the subject of intense public debate for years," he said, his voice carrying the gravelly rasp of a man used to shouting over the idling props of a C-130 on a jungle airstrip.

"You mentioned using the heat of the atom for this process. My question is simple but vital for the American public: Is SynGas radioactive? Is there any risk of contamination for the families who will be pumping this into their cars tonight?"

"No it is not radioactive," I said.

"It is produced using heat that is transferred outside the reactor. Only the interior of the reactor is radioactive, and even that is safely contained inside the diamond pebbles of the ISPBR." I gestured toward a reporter standing near the side aisle who was practically vibrating with a question about the chemistry.

"I am David Shukman with the BBC. Dr Cook," he said, his British accent crisp as he checked a technical diagram on his clipboard.

"Following up on the safety of the plant itself, why does this new reactor specifically use thorium instead of the standard uranium we see in traditional plants? If you are planning a global rollout, we need to understand why this element is the cornerstone of your new economy."

"The cornerstone is the solar plants. ISPBR is the solution for the places in the world, like coastal Washington or Britain that don't have the sun to power the process. Thorium is more abundant and cheaper than uranium, safer to use and has minimal waste. Long term radioactive waste from thorium is measured in decades, while with uranium it is measured in tens of thousands of years. Finally, thorium is unsuitable for use in atomic weapons which eliminates the risk of clandestine nuclear proliferation."

I pointed to a woman in a sharp navy blazer who had her hand raised before I had even finished my sentence.

"I am Rita Beamish with the Associated Press. Dr Cook," she said, her eyes sharp and skeptical.

"You mentioned that SynGas is a drop-in replacement, but history is full of alternative fuels that required expensive engine overhauls or ruined fuel lines. Can you be absolutely specific for the American consumer? Will my car or the trucks parked outside this building need any modifications to run SynGas? And what does this do to our fuel efficiency?" I looked at Rita and gave a small nod. This was the hurdle everyone had to clear before they believed the miracle.

"The reason gasoline is toxic, Rita, is because crude oil is essentially a chemical soup of whatever decayed in the ground a hundred million years ago. It contains heavy aromatics like benzene, which is a known carcinogen, and toluene, which is a neurotoxin. To make it run in your engine, traditional refineries have to add detergents and anti-knock agents that further pollute our groundwater.

"SynGas is made, not refined. Using carbon from the atmosphere and hydrogen from water, we only include the molecules that provide energy. We leave out the sulfur that causes acid rain. We leave out the benzene. We leave out the xylenes that irritate your lungs. It is the first truly clean hydrocarbon fuel in history." I let that sink in for a moment. The room was so quiet I could hear the hum of the cooling fans in the press cameras that continued to flash.

"To answer your first question directly," I continued, "you could pump SynGas into a 1965 Mustang or a brand new Kenworth truck today and it would run flawlessly. In fact, because it is so pure, it will actually help clean the carbon deposits off your valves. You are getting the high-octane performance of a premium leaded fuel without the lead or the poison." The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. A murmur went through the room as the reporters scribbled down the words.

I could see them mentally drafting the headlines for the evening news. I scanned the crowd and pointed to a man in a gray suit who had been waiting for an opening.

"I am Marcus de Baun with World Business Network. Dr Cook, you said it is roughly half the cost of gasoline anywhere else in the country," he said, his gaze fixed on my face as if looking for a flinch.

"Now, we have been looking at your acquisition of ARCO and the massive debt you took on to make it happen. My question is about the bottom line. How much profit can you possibly make on that amount? Is this a sustainable business model, or are you just burning through what is left of your capital to make a big splash on New Year's Day?" I gave him a big grin, and a thumbs up.

"Leave it to WBN to ask the hard questions, even I am not safe from them," I complimented.

"General Atomics owns and runs the Satsop plant. They have signed a contract to sell, at a profit, SynGas to ARCO for 25 cents per gallon. I believe ARCO plans to sell that in turn, for 50 cents a gallon after delivering it to their stations. The profit from both will pay off the remaining debts I have before the year is over." Marcus scribbled the numbers down so hard his pencil lead snapped. He looked up at me with a mix of awe and calculation.

The idea of a vertically integrated energy company that could produce its own product for a quarter and sell it for double while still undercutting the entire global market was a financial supernova. Before he could ask a follow up, I pointed to a man in the third row who was holding a microphone with another local news flag. I am Ken Schram with KOMO 4 News in Seattle. Dr Cook, we are all looking at those trucks outside and the ampm stations you mentioned," he said, gesturing toward the window with his microphone.

"But as a local, I have to ask: How many gas stations will this pilot plant actually serve starting today? And for the people watching at home right now, which specific stations are going to get the first deliveries of the future?"

"Approximately 10 to 15 local ARCO locations will be the first recipients. When the second reactor comes online ARCO will expand transport to every station within a reasonable distance, and I will start selling it to other gas companies as well, I expect that will cover all of Washington, Oregon, Northern California and Idaho. Possibly British Columbia also." I nodded toward a reporter who had been trying to jump in for the last three rounds, a look of skepticism etched across his face.

I am Robert Bazell with NBC Nightly News. Dr Cook, you are a brilliant man," he said, adjusting his glasses and looking at me with the weary patience of a science teacher.

"But what you are describing seems to defy the laws of economics as much as the laws of physics. Why hasn't this ever been done before? If it is this simple to pull gasoline out of the air using heat and water, why are we only hearing about it now, on the first day of 1990?"

"What a wonderful question!" I complimented.

"From the moment I understood what the ingredients of gasoline were, I wondered why we were not doing just that. There are three key technologies involved, graphene felt water filtration, a new groundbreaking catalyst and a newly developed CO2 absorbing plastic that releases the CO2 taken from the atmosphere when it becomes wet. What you see here today is the product of myself and the brilliant engineers at General Atomics."

Robert Bazell nodded as he finished his notes, though his expression remained that of a man trying to reconcile a lifetime of scientific reporting with a sudden new reality. I scanned the room and saw a reporter from an international wire service holding a microphone toward me.

"I am Silvia Poggioli with NPR. Dr Cook," she said, her voice melodic but firm.

"Is this an American monopoly? For the international community, specifically for nations in Europe that have historically been dependent on foreign oil imports, will they also share in the economic benefits of this technology?"

"If they choose to do so, yes. I'm happy to announce that I have come to an agreement with President Mitterrand of France. The first international ISPBR SynGas plant built by General Atomics will break ground there later this year. 20 million gallons of SynGas will completely replace their need for gasoline imports. They will only be the first." I nodded as Silvia Poggioli finished her notes, her expression reflecting the seismic shift this would bring to the European Community and the Mediterranean.

The room was a sea of raised hands now, and I pointed to a man in the back who was wearing a heavy winter coat and holding a microphone with the CBS logo.

"I am Wyatt Andrews with CBS News. Dr Cook, you spoke about the environmental benefits," he said, huddling deeper into his heavy winter coat.

"But as a follow-up to the BBC's question, you mentioned using solar power in Arizona for your expansion. Why bother with the complexity of solar SynGas plants when you already have these powerful reactors? And more importantly, does this technology mean we are looking at an end to the risk of oil spills like we saw with the Exxon Valdez?"

"That is a vital point, Wyatt," I said.

"Global local production. Making fuel exactly where it is needed—right next to the cities and ports that use it—reduces the need for massive tanker ships and the risk of devastating oil spills. For those countries that want to rely on imports, solar-thermal fuel production can be ideally situated in the places that already provide their oil to the world. Best of all the Sun doesn't bill for its use, driving down costs even further."

As Wyatt Andrews sat down, nodding at the mention of the Exxon Valdez, a reporter from the front row jumped in before I could even point to him. He was a familiar face on evening television, known for his aggressive and direct style.

"I am Sam Donaldson with ABC News. Dr Cook, let us be blunt," he barked, his eyebrows working with the intensity that had made him the terror of the White House press room.

"You are thirteen years old. You have just stood here and essentially fired the entire OPEC cartel and the Seven Sisters of the oil industry in one afternoon. You have the President of the United States acting as your opening act. My question is the one everyone in Washington and every world capital is going to be asking tomorrow morning: When are you running for President?" I laughed at the seriousness of the question.

"Sam, legally I have to wait till I am thirty-five. The soonest I could do that would be the 2012 race. But, before you laugh at that too much, recognize I have to survive that long. I realize that I have thrown a gauntlet at the wealthy powers of this world. That is why I'm going to give you a commitment right now. Other than Satsop, which is where I will be working to further improve the process, I will sell off the production of every single plant that General Atomics builds."

There was a commotion across the room as they considered that promise.

"The plant owners can decide what they want to charge for something that they can make for pennies a gallon. I will ask for a royalty on production, but that is where my interest ends. What if cartels or monopolies form that unreasonably raise prices?" I asked, then answered.

"I'll just build more plants. It took all my wealth to get to this point. My goal is cheap, clean burning fuel across the globe and an immediate reduction in pollution and greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide." A wave of frantic whispering broke out among the press corps. The idea that a thirteen-year-old was not just disrupting the global energy market, but actively planning to decentralize it by selling the means of production, was a story even bigger than the fuel itself.

The camera flashes intensified, the strobe-like effect reflecting off the glass vial I still held. I pointed to a reporter near the back who was struggling to be heard over the rising noise.

"I am Lesley Stahl with CBS News. Dr Cook," she said, her voice dropping into the serious, investigative register she used for her long-form profiles.

"You just mentioned selling these plants to avoid becoming a monopoly yourself. But let us talk about the 'wealthy powers' you mentioned. You have just rendered trillions of dollars of oil reserves in the Middle East and the North Sea essentially worthless. The geopolitical implications are staggering. Are you concerned that by releasing this technology today, you have not just started an energy revolution, but potentially a global economic collapse or even a war?

How does a teenager navigate the target you just painted on your own back?"

"I am very concerned about the target on my back. But, that value won't disappear overnight. It will take decades for a complete global roll-out of the technology. For the economy here in the US, I have been working closely with the Bush administration hammering out a plan that will increase the cost of SynGas to around a dollar a gallon. That keeps the oil companies competitive as we build out plants across the country.

It also gives the government funds to pay down the national debt without breaking the promise of no new taxes. So enjoy 50 cent gas while it lasts, by the time the full production starts this spring that loophole will likely be closed." Lesley Stahl leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she processed the idea of a thirteen-year-old helping the President navigate a national debt crisis. The room was a hive of activity, reporters whispering 'loophole' and 'national debt' into their recorders.

I pointed to a man in a rumpled suit who had been waiting patiently near the side exit.

"I am Thomas Friedman with the New York Times. Dr Cook, you are essentially proposing a managed demolition of the old energy world," he said, scribbling a final note before looking up, "to prevent the very collapse Ms Stahl mentioned. But my question is about the science you are giving away. You mentioned a special catalyst and a CO2 absorbing plastic. Are these patents being held by you personally, or are they being released to the public domain?

If you want to avoid a monopoly, will you allow other scientists and nations to replicate your 'tree in a bottle' without having to go through you or General Atomics?"

"These are my personal patents and trade secrets. They are why I will have a production royalty of 25 cents per gallon. I will be following the lead of the White House as we expand production around the globe. Stabilizing the world energy economy continues to be the focus of the White House. This has been a highly secretive project that has been carefully managed by all involved. I will auction off the first five solar plants to help recover the investment I have made in this technology.

The rest will be priced on a case-by-case basis. We have estimates of what a solar plant will cost, but we won't know for sure until we build it. Internationally my patents offer 20 years of protection." Thomas Friedman scribbled the words '25 cent royalty' and circled them three times. The financial scale of that royalty on a global level was almost incomprehensible. I scanned the room for one final question and pointed to a reporter from a major financial wire service.

"I am Myron Kandel with CNN Business. Dr Cook," he said, his tone professional and measured.

"You have painted a picture of a world where energy is as common as the air we breathe. But you are standing in a facility that was once a symbol of nuclear waste and trillion dollar deficits. For the investors and the average workers whose livelihoods depend on the current energy sector, what is your message to them tonight? Is there a place for the old oil companies in your new world or are you truly signaling the end of an era?"

"That is like asking, is there a place for clean water and healthy people. Of course there is. Can you imagine the prime real estate sitting under those coastal refineries? California, Texas, Louisiana, Washington, Mississippi, New Jersey, Delaware to name a few. Not only there, but the surrounding towns and cities are going to skyrocket in value when the constant flames and choking smoke come to a permanent end.

Oil will still be needed for other industrial processes, but demand will drop significantly over the next decade. It is a magnificent time to be alive." Myron Kandel finished his notes with a slow nod, realizing that the value wasn't disappearing—it was simply shifting from the fuel itself to the land and the health of the people. The room was a hurricane of activity now, with photographers standing on chairs to get a final shot of the boy who had just dismantled the twentieth century.

I looked at the cameras, my face calm and resolute.

"I want to thank you all for coming. We have informational handouts at the door for the press that include the list of initial ARCO and ampm stations, as well as a more detailed technical brief on the ISPBR cycle for your science editors. Happy New Year, and welcome to the decade of abundance." I stepped back from the podium as the reporters erupted into a frenzy of shouted questions and camera flashes. The red light on the primary camera blinked out. I was no longer a person to them.

I had become a historical event. I moved through a back exit, surrounded by security. Three helicopters were prepared to whisk me away, each going in a different direction. I was directed to the one that had Max, he was hissing in complaint. He was still not a fan of helicopters. The morning rain had stopped and sun had broken through the clouds as we lifted. It felt wrong that it was only slightly after noon. Jack was in the helicopter with me, and handed me a Dr Pepper from a bright red ampm labeled ice chest.

I adjusted my headset and took a long drink. I was thirsty, and I needed to pee.

"How long?" I asked him.

"Ten minutes to the alternate plane," he said.

"Good. I need the bathroom. How was it? Do you think people will understand?" He pointed out the window where I saw a shiny ARCO truck already moving down highway 101 on its way to a fuel station.

"Reports in Olympia say that people are already parked at the local ARCO and ampm stations waiting for the first tankers to arrive," he said with a grin.

"Then they get it," I said and took another drink to soothe my parched throat.

"Are there chips?"