Chapter 179 Countdown Begins
9:55 AM.
The atmosphere in the control room was so thick it felt like it could drip water.
Lin Mo sat before the main console, the red button in front of him. His finger hovered three centimeters above the button, not touching it, just suspended there.
On the screen, all parameters were fluctuating within the normal range. Magnet 5.3 Tesla, First Wall 1800 degrees, Divertor cooling normal, Tritium Cycle stable, plasma position error less than 0.3 millimeters.
Chen Xueming stood behind him, hands tightly clenched into fists, knuckles white. His eyes were fixed on the curve on the screen—it was a real-time simulation of the plasma state, currently still a straight line, but in a few minutes, it would transform into a shape humanity had never seen before.
Li Xiao sat to the side, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, ready to input emergency commands at any moment. Her breathing was light, so light it was almost inaudible, but the frequency of her chest rising and falling betrayed her nervousness.
Zhao Gang stood at the door like an iron tower, motionless. A walkie-talkie was clipped to his waist, but it was silent at this moment, like everyone else, waiting for that very moment.
Fang Lin stood in the corner, clutching a tablet in her hand, which displayed the real-time feed from the observation group—twenty-three international experts, all in the observation area five hundred meters away, staring at the big screen, waiting.
No one spoke.
Only the low hum of equipment running, like the heartbeat of some giant creature.
9:58 AM.
Lin Mo's gaze swept over every number on the screen. Magnet, First Wall, Divertor, vacuum, cooling, Tritium Cycle, Diagnostic System—all subsystems were giving him the same answer: everything is normal.
But his heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of his chest.
He took a deep breath and gently closed his eyes.
Three seconds later, he opened them again.
9:59 AM.
On the wall clock, the second hand ticked away.
Everyone's gaze followed that second hand.
59 seconds.
58 seconds.
57 seconds.
9:59:30 AM.
The broadcast in the control room rang out with the automatic countdown electronic voice:
"Ignition sequence entering the final thirty seconds. All personnel confirm status."
Chen Xueming was the first to speak, his voice hoarse but clear:
"Magnet System normal."
"First Wall normal." Another voice followed.
"Divertor normal."
"Vacuum system normal."
"Cooling System normal."
"Tritium Cycle normal."
"Diagnostic System normal."
Li Xiao said last, her voice trembling slightly but firm:
"Digital Twin System normal. All predictive models indicate—ignition success rate 99.7%."
9:59:50 AM.
Lin Mo's finger rested gently on the red button.
Meanwhile, in the observation area five hundred meters away.
Twenty-three international experts sat on the temporarily erected viewing platform, with a huge screen in front of them, synchronously displaying the scene in the control room.
Smith sat in the front row, leaning forward, hands clasped, resting on his knees. His eyes were locked on Lin Mo on the screen, staring at the young man who was about to press the button.
Beside him, a French expert whispered something in French. Smith did not respond, only shook his head slightly.
Behind them, the sound of shutters in the press area rose and fell, but everyone consciously lowered their voices, fearing to disturb that ticking second hand.
Beijing, in a certain residential building.
Wang Zhenguo sat in front of the television, clutching the yellowed photograph tightly—it was a group photo of the members of the eastern star project from thirty years ago. Some of the people in the photo had passed away, others had long since changed careers, leaving only him to guard that dream.
On the television screen, the countdown was underway.
10 seconds.
9 seconds.
8 seconds.
Wang Zhenguo's eyes began to heat up.
He remembered that night of failure years ago, the silence of everyone when they disbanded, and sitting alone in the laboratory for the whole night.
He also remembered that afternoon when he first met Lin Mo, the young man standing before him, his eyes full of light. He said, "Teacher, I want to work on Nuclear Fusion."
Seven years.
Seven years.
7 seconds.
6 seconds.
5 seconds.
Wang Zhenguo's lips trembled slightly. He whispered:
"Old friends, do you see this?"
4 seconds.
In the control room, Lin Mo's breathing stopped.
His eyes stared at the screen, but he saw nothing. Only one thought in his mind—
He had waited seven years for this moment.
3 seconds.
Chen Xueming's fists clenched tighter, his nails almost piercing into his flesh. His lips were pressed into a line, his whole body like a statue.
2 seconds.
Li Xiao held her breath.
Her hand hovered over the keyboard, but her fingers were so stiff she could barely move. She remembered when she first came to the base, knowing nothing, and it was Lin Mo who taught her bit by bit. She remembered those nights staying up late watching data, the suggestion she made when Chen Xueming broke down, and the words Lin Mo said: "You stand by my side."
1 second.
Zhao Gang was motionless.
His eyes were fixed on Lin Mo's back, that thin but firm back. He remembered his disdain when he first met Lin Mo, the perils they experienced together afterward, and Lin Mo saying, "When you stand by my side, I feel at ease."
0 seconds.
The electronic voice rang out:
"Ignition."
Lin Mo pressed the red button.
In an instant, all the screens flashed simultaneously.
Inside the tokamak-3, plasma reaching hundreds of millions of degrees was ignited instantly. That fireball, which humanity had never created before, slowly took shape under the confinement of the magnetic field.
On the screen, the curve that had been waited on for seven years finally began to rise.
Chen Xueming's tears gushed out instantly.
Li Xiao covered her mouth to stop herself from crying out loud.
Zhao Gang stood in place, motionless, but his shoulders were trembling slightly.
Fang Lin put down the tablet, closed her eyes, and let out a long breath.
In the observation area, the twenty-three international experts stood up simultaneously, staring at the big screen, no one speaking.
In the press area, the sound of shutters rang out in unison, and camera flashes lit up the entire Gobi Desert.
Beijing, in the residential building.
Wang Zhenguo looked at the rising curve on the television screen, and tears finally welled up in his old eyes.
He loosened his grip on the photo he had been clutching for half an hour, gently stroking the blurry faces on it.
"It's done..." his voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, "It's done..."
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the sunny world outside.
Thirty years.
He had finally waited for this day.
In the control room.
Lin Mo stared at the screen, watching that curve cross one threshold after another.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
Ten seconds.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
A line of green text popped up on the screen:
"Plasma stable combustion. Ignition successful."
In the control room, there was silence for three seconds.
Then, earth-shattering cheers erupted.
Chen Xueming grabbed Lin Mo in a hug, the two of them crying and laughing. Li Xiao rushed over, and the three of them hugged together. Zhao Gang rushed in from the door, the four grown men huddled together, crying like children.
Fang Lin stood outside the crowd, laughing, and as she laughed, tears also fell.
On the screen, the Artificial Sun was burning steadily, illuminating the entire Gobi Desert.
It also illuminated the entire world.