392: Ignition of the third artificial sun

In Hefei this April, the spring rain had just ceased. Science Island was surrounded by the Dongpu Reservoir; the plane trees on the island had just sprouted new leaves, and the air was filled with the scent of earth and vegetation. In the center of the island, the building housing the "Suihuang" nuclear fusion experimental device stood silently like a gray monolith. Inside the building, over a hundred scientists in the control hall held their breath, their eyes locked onto the large screen.

It was one of the most complex devices in human history—a hybrid of a Tokamak and a Stellarator. On the large screen, a cross-section of the device pulsed in real-time. In the center was a mass of plasma constrained by magnetic fields, its temperature approaching that of the Sun's core. Within the toroidal vacuum chamber, the nuclei of hydrogen isotopes were colliding, fusing, and releasing energy at a rate of hundreds of millions of times per second. Every second, tiny fusion reactions occurred. But today, they were going to turn these tiny reactions into a continuous torrent of energy.

Chief Engineer Zhao Mingyuan stood before the main console. He was fifty-five years old with graying hair, and his fingers trembled slightly. He had worked in the field of nuclear fusion for thirty years, from EAST to HL-2M, from the "Artificial Sun" to "Suihuang"; every step had been like walking on the edge of a blade. He took a deep breath, his voice raspy but steady: "Magnetic field stable. Plasma current at 1.2 megaamperes. Heating power at 150 megawatts. Temperature—200 million degrees Celsius."

He paused and glanced at Chen Jianping beside him. The President of Star Energy nodded slightly. Zhao Mingyuan pressed a button: "Start Neutral Beam Injection. Target—Q-value of 1.5."

At 10:15 AM, the data began to jump. On the large screen, the Q-value figures jumped from 0.8 to 1.0, then 1.2, 1.5, 1.6, 1.7—and finally froze at 1.8.

Zhao Mingyuan's voice was trembling: "Q-value of 1.8. Output energy is 180 megawatts, input energy is 100 megawatts. Net gain of 80 megawatts." He took off his glasses and wiped the corners of his eyes. "For the first time in history, humanity has obtained net energy from nuclear fusion."

The control hall fell silent for three seconds. Then, it boiled over. Some people held their heads and wept, some laughed toward the heavens, some collapsed into their chairs, and others screamed at the ceiling. A young engineer behind Zhao Mingyuan knelt directly on the ground, covering his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking violently. Zhao Mingyuan turned to watch this scene, and tears finally began to flow down his face.

He spoke into the microphone, his voice as raspy as sandpaper on sheet metal: "The key to infinite clean energy is in our hands."

At 11:00 AM, Chen Jianping stood in the center of the control hall, facing the global live broadcast cameras. On the large screen behind him, the plasma image of the "Suihuang" device was still pulsing—it was a mass of purple-white flame bound by magnetic fields, like a sealed star. "Today, 'Suihuang' achieved a Q-value of 1.8 and sustained discharge for 120 seconds. This is a milestone in human nuclear fusion research."

The parameters were displayed on the large screen:

"Suihuang" Nuclear Fusion Device

Design: Tokamak + Stellarator Hybrid

Magnetic Field Strength: 12 Tesla (240,000 times Earth's magnetic field)

Plasma Temperature: 200 Million Degrees Celsius (13 times the Sun's core)

Q-value: 1.8 (Net Energy Gain)

Sustained Discharge: 120 Seconds

Next Goal: Q-value > 5, Sustained Discharge > 1,000 Seconds

Chen Jianping spoke one last time, his voice calm but each word carrying immense weight: "The era of fusion has begun."

At 1:00 PM that day, at the New York Mercantile Exchange, the opening bell for oil futures had just finished ringing when the numbers began to dive. 15 percent, 20 percent, 25 percent, 30 percent—and it froze at 30 percent.

It was the largest single-day drop in history. Traders screamed at their screens; some held their heads, some cursed, and some collapsed into their chairs. A broker who had traded oil for thirty years murmured, "I saw the 1973 oil crisis, I saw the 2008 financial crisis, but I've never seen a scene like this. Thirty percentage points, gone in one day." The CNBC anchor's voice was trembling: "Oil futures have plummeted by 30 percent! This is the biggest earthquake in the energy market since the 1973 oil crisis."

In Vienna, inside the OPEC headquarters building, the atmosphere in the emergency meeting room was as somber as a funeral. Saudi Energy Minister Abdulaziz sat at one end of the long table, his face pale. On the documents before him, the trend line of oil futures looked like a vertically falling knife.

"Today, oil fell by 30 percent. If Star's nuclear fusion becomes commercialized, oil prices will drop to single digits." His voice was raspy as his gaze swept over the oil ministers of the various countries present. "What do we do?"

Silence. At the long table, the Iranian oil minister lowered his head, the Venezuelan oil minister placed his crossed hands on the table, and the UAE oil minister stared at the ceiling. No one spoke.

Then the Iranian oil minister stood up, his voice calm but heavy: "Transformation. We have no choice but to transform. The oil era is over."

That evening, in the Riyadh Palace. In Prince Fahd's office, the night view of Riyadh outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was brightly lit, but there was no light on the prince's face. On the screen before him were the oil futures trend chart and the replay of the Star nuclear fusion press conference. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

The phone rang once and was answered. Su Chen's voice came from ten thousand miles away, as calm as if he were talking about the weather: "Fahd."

Fahd gave a bitter smile, his voice exhausted: "Mr. Su, oil futures have dropped 30 percent. OPEC is holding a meeting to study the situation, but no one knows what to do."

Su Chen was silent for a second: "Fahd, the oil era is over."

Fahd closed his eyes. He knew it, of course. Saudi Aramco's market value had evaporated by 500 billion dollars today. 500 billion—equivalent to three years of Saudi Arabia's fiscal revenue. He knew this was only the beginning. If Star's nuclear fusion became commercialized, oil prices would drop to ten dollars a barrel, five dollars, or even lower. When that time came, what would Saudi Arabia do? What would the Middle East do?

He opened his eyes: "Saudi Arabia needs to transform. Star needs capital. Shall we cooperate?"

Su Chen smiled: "Welcome. Bring your capital with you."

On April 12th, in Seattle. The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation headquarters sat on the shores of Lake Washington, a low-profile glass building, but today the entrance was packed with satellite broadcast trucks. Bill Gates stood on the stage, with Star's silver logo and the foundation's emblem behind him. The sixty-five-year-old Microsoft founder's hair was completely white, but his eyes were brighter than ever.

"Today, the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation announces an investment of 10 billion dollars to co-build the 'Fusion Medicine' project with Star."

The large screen lit up:

Fusion Medicine Project

Technology: Using fusion neutrons to produce medical isotopes

Application: Cancer diagnosis, cancer treatment, medical imaging

Goal: Reduce the price of medical isotopes by 90%, benefiting the global impoverished population

Gates' voice was calm but powerful: "Fusion's first application isn't power generation. It's saving lives." He paused. "Do you know? Nearly ten million people die from cancer globally every year. Most of them are in developing countries. They have the need for diagnosis, but not the conditions for it. Because medical isotopes are too expensive—a single PET-CT scan costs 3,000 dollars in the US and 5,000 dollars in Africa. Why is it so expensive? Because isotopes are produced in nuclear reactors, and there are only a few dozen reactors worldwide, most of which are about to be decommissioned."

He pointed to the large screen behind him: "Fusion neutrons can produce isotopes. It's safer, more efficient, and cheaper than reactors. With 10 billion dollars, we will build ten fusion neutron sources. One for every major city. By then, the price of a PET-CT scan will drop from 3,000 dollars to 300 dollars, or even 30 dollars."

The audience erupted in thunderous applause. No one noticed that a family member of a cancer patient sitting in the third row was already in tears.

That afternoon, in Shenzhen. Su Chen stood before his office window; the surface of Shenzhen Bay shimmered in the sunlight. On the screen in front of him, Bill Gates' face was smiling.

"Bill, thank you. 10 billion dollars will change the fates of many people."

Gates shook his head: "Su, this isn't charity. This is an investment. An investment in the future of humanity. Think about it, if everyone in the world could access cheap cancer diagnosis and treatment, how big would that market be? Not hundreds of billions, but trillions. But more importantly—how many lives will it save?"

Su Chen nodded: "Fusion medicine is only the beginning. In the future, fusion can desalinate seawater to turn deserts into oases; it can drive spaceships to lead humanity into deep space; it can light up cities so that every village has electricity."

Gates smiled: "So, I am investing in Star's future."

That night, the global media headlines were all about the "Artificial Sun." Time Magazine urgently pulled its planned cover and replaced it with a photo of the plasma in the center of the "Suihuang" device, with the title "The Fusion Age." The Economist's cover featured a small sun burning in a palm, with the title "Infinite Energy, Infinite Possibilities."

Twitter's comment section exploded. "Oil fell by 30 percent! The gas I couldn't afford is finally going to be cheap?" "200 million degrees Celsius, 13 times the Sun's core. Humanity can already build a sun." "Bill Gates investing 10 billion in medicine, this is true charity. Not just donating money, but solving problems." "Fusion power, fusion medicine, fusion spaceships. Star is going to change everything."

Late that night, on Science Island in Hefei. The lights in the experimental building were still on. Zhao Mingyuan sat before the console, staring at the real-time data of the "Suihuang" device on the screen. The plasma had already been extinguished, but the device was still cooling down. He remembered thirty years ago, when he first entered the field, his mentor said to him: "Nuclear fusion is the ultimate dream of human energy, but it will always be fifty years away." Today, he proved his mentor was wrong. Not fifty years, but thirty.

He picked up a pen and wrote the final line in the experimental log: "April 10, 2022. Humanity has obtained net energy from nuclear fusion. On this day, energy changed forever."

Outside the window, the plane trees on Science Island rustled in the night wind. On the surface of the Dongpu Reservoir, the reflection of the moonlight swayed gently. 380,000 kilometers away, the six astronauts at the "Guanghan Palace" moon base were using fusion energy for power. That artificial sun had already lit up humanity's first home on the moon. And the next stop is Mars.