Chapter 7

The Netherlands

The massive, nose-loading cargo plane Yuchen piloted was one of the few capable of carrying the vital components of an extreme ultraviolet lithography machine.

EUV machines were required to manufacture the highest-quality microchips necessary to build the only computers capable of handling artificial general intelligence (AGI) software.

Yuchen’s country, China, was hell-bent on acquiring the world’s first fully functional AGI computer ahead of any other nation, especially the United States.

Acquiring as many EUV units as possible was vital to this effort.

The only company in the world that made these types of photolithography units was ASML, a Dutch firm.

It was easier to find a heart donor than to acquire one of their high-demand machines.

The United States, unable to fairly compete against Yuchen’s homeland in the AGI race, recently pressured the Dutch government to embargo ASML exports to China.

The tech company had little choice but to comply with American demands.

No matter, Yuchen reminded himself with a smile.

His government had found a willing work-around.

A large German firm, with chip-manufacturing plants around the world, was one of ASML’s top customers.

The Germans were eager to purchase the latest unit for their manufacturing plant in Seoul, South Korea—all in compliance with the Chinese embargo.

But as it turned out, that German firm also manufactured in China.

In fact, a controlling share of stock was secretly owned by an organ of the Chinese Communist Party.

The Chinese government was more than happy to pay the Germans more than the retail price of the machines, and to put a few well-placed euros into the right pockets of company officers and any export officials connected to the shipment.

After all, it was the Americans who were paying for it in the end.

Each year China was flush with hundreds of billions of trade surplus dollars with the United States.

Not only were the American capitalists willing to sell China the rope to hang them with, they handed them the cash to buy it.

Besides, Europe and China had a long history of trade during the Cold War.

Many of China’s most advanced military machines that would be deployed in a war against the United States were powered by German and French turbines and electronics.

The ASML units were simply another rung in that long and profitable ladder.

Once Yuchen’s plane landed in Seoul, the ASML components would be reported as having been unloaded while his plane was refueled.

It would then take off again with the precious cargo and the heavily armed security team guarding the shipment.

Yuchen’s final destination was a restricted airfield near Beijing, where the carefully packaged, climate-controlled modular crates would be loaded into specialized vehicles and transported to the Zhongguancun Science Park, China’s own Silicon Valley, for expert assembly.

Captain Yuchen’s flight plan from Amsterdam to Seoul tracked north toward Poland, over Scandinavia, and across Siberia and the southern reaches of the Arctic Circle.

The “great circle” route was by far the shortest one, saving thousands of kilometers, not to mention time and fuel.

The Americans and other Western governments were forbidden to fly over Russian territory, but China was one of the founding members of the brICS alliance, a loose counterweight to American economic might in the world.

The money and energy spent in acquiring the ASML units were a wise investment. If China acquired AGI before the Americans, the nation would cement its place in history as the most important economic superpower for the rest of the twenty-first century and for many centuries beyond.

Captain Yuchen noted his position on the plane’s BDS—China’s version of GPS—confirming they were on course over the frozen wasteland of Siberia.

The starry night’s thick cloud cover meant he could see nothing below him, but Yuchen’s vivid imagination pictured an icy alien surface racing beneath them where human life was impossible.

He glanced at the small photo taped to his console.

The picture of his wife and their ten-year-old daughter was his lucky charm.

His daughter’s birthday was tomorrow and he had picked up a delicate diamond pendant for her while he was in Amsterdam.

He couldn’t wait to see the wide-eyed delight in her eyes when he gave it to her.

Yuchen checked the rest of the instruments, including radar. Everything was green and good to go.

“You have control,” Yuchen told his first officer.

“I have control,” the man said with a smile. “About time.”

This would be the man’s last flight in the copilot’s seat. Next time he’d captain his own plane on Yuchen’s strong recommendation. He was a good friend and a great pilot. There’s no one Yuchen trusted more on the yoke than him.

Yuchen pulled off his headset and slid down into his seat, shutting his eyes for a short nap before dinner was served.

Yuchen dreamed of his daughter running and laughing in the park, pulling a long-tailed kite that flew high in the sky, touching the very clouds.

The air cargo captain had never felt such peace before, not even in a dream. He wanted to stay there forever.

But shrieking alarms slapped him awake.

“Captain!” his first officer shouted.

Yuchen bolted upright and scanned the console. The digital readouts flashed crazily as if hit by a power surge.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!”

“Calm down. I have the stick,” Yuchen said as he took control of the aircraft. But something was wrong. The yoke fought against his powerful hands. “Systems check!”

The first officer’s face was bathed in sweat. His eyes and fingers ran over every gauge and switch.

“What have you found?” Yuchen demanded.

“Nothing—I don’t understand.”

Suddenly, the yoke jerked in Yuchen’s hands, the flight controls beneath his feet gave way, and the engines roared into full throttle.

“Help me,” Yuchen said. The first officer snatched his yoke, but it was too late.

The plane rolled over one hundred eighty degrees, its nose pointed at the ground.

Cups, pens, hats, manuals—everything tumbled through the cabin like in a clothes dryer.

He heard the muffled cries of the security guards in the holds below.

The seat belt restraints cut into Yuchen’s torso as the blood drained from his face. His copilot’s fingers punched the radio controls to call in an emergency, but it was dead.

The altimeter was shot, but there was no doubt in Yuchen’s mind they were only seconds away from impact. He glanced at the picture of his daughter.

He found no peace.

But he kept his eyes fixed on her until his plane crashed into the ice in a fiery explosion.

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