Some may think that I now strove to correct Sokolov’s equations, to fix his proof. I fear I have to disappoint those people.

In my reckoning, the incorrectly named Sokolov’s third proof had become utterly irrelevant. I had invalidated it, and any further work put into it would be wasted.

No, instead I decided to briefly look into what Seeberger was saying on the topic, but generally, the best I could do was to explain how fusactors worked.

Of course, I had Warden work on the equations. On a low priority, mind you, but still, she was working on it. Just to satisfy my mild curiosity. To be fair, I only let her do it because she had such an insane amount of computing power mostly sitting idle that it did cost her nothing.

My excursion into Seeberger yielded no measurable results either. Mostly because I refused another deep dive into it for something like that. Yes, I know, sooner or later, I would do the deep dive, just to satisfy my curiosity. But for the time being, I was fine with not knowing the answer to that riddle.

Way more interesting was which strange quantum field from the Kobashigawa coils did such delightful impossibilities to physics. And yes, I did start working on it. Only for a little bit though. I had used up my capacity for quantum insanity for the week.

No, the rest of the weekend, I spent mostly relaxing. I had, finally, some sort of breakthrough with the violin. At least in VR, it no longer sounded as if I was pushing a frozen cat through a circular saw.

That does not mean it sounded anywhere even near to good. But it had reached a point where I could, with some goodwill, identify the melody I was trying to play.

Nibbles was, of course, very demanding of my company. Not that I objected. Not that she minded that I was putting the first specifications for the lab in Colorado together. Multitasking at its finest, yay. I could play with my cat and still think about what I needed.

In a way, Nate had been right. Putting the lab into deep space would have been better. To some extent. I needed a sufficiently strong gravity field to use grav pinch for the proton-proton chain. Which ruled out virtually all asteroids.

I also did not want to use any small body with any inhabitants. Which ruled out the rest. Not that it was all that easy to get a fusactor running on one of the dwarf planets.

I could, more like should, and in the end most likely would set up another lab inside one of the inner moons of Jupiter.

The thing was that it would take a couple of months to modify a ship for remote control, and then another couple of months just for that ship to reach Jupiter. And that was with a ship that was already built. Having one built for my needs would take half a year more at least.

So yes, for the more dangerous experiments, I would use that, but for the more environmentally friendly ones, Cheyenne Mountain would do fabulously.

Not that that would stop me from buying and modifying a ship. Far from it. The immense cost of an interplanetary freighter was unimportant.

The question was do I buy a new one, built exactly to my specifications, or do I accept a used one that I only needed to modify, but which would be less functional for it?

It should have been a tough decision, just from what I have described so far. But it wasn’t really.

A purpose-built ship would not only take significantly longer to get, but it would also add to the price tag quite a bit. Even if I got a new out-of-the-yard standard design, it would cost at most ⅔ of what a special build would cost.

Yes, the cost for the modification would get added to that, but that mostly consisted of integrating Q-links into the control system and building a couple of NADAs. For the rest, a few algae tanks would serve well enough to create the food concentrate for the Eitri and Brokkr, as well as the Einherjar that I wanted to include.

The rest was mostly just tools and materials.

That meant that a special design was at best marginally better than a standard freighter.

And that did not even take the possibility of getting a used ship into account.

I started to look into one of them, but honestly, it was a tedious task, way more suited for a computer than for me. Which made me delegate it to Warden.

Instead, I opened up the plans of Cheyenne Mountain and began to plan the new lab there. All the antiquated computer systems had to go, naturally. Along with all the virtually prehistoric technology supporting it.

Fortunately, much of that could be easily recycled with a big molecular forge and a NADA. Sure, some of the material was of questionable use, but at worst I could form it into ingots and store it. The joint was big enough after all.

The antediluvian reactor had to go as well. I mean, come on, a fission reactor? I understand that big fusion reactors were expensive and took a long time to build before the war, and Cheyenne Mountain had already lost virtually all of its strategic worth by then, but that is no reason to let a fission pile fester alone for decades.

It would need some serious heavy containers to safely remove that piece of refuse and chuck it into the sun, but that was just a bit of money. Nothing more.

The core of the new lab was, again, a big NADA, with the obligatory molecular forge. The rest I would mostly build in situ.

Monday, I took a glance at the observation report on Blumenthal, and much to my disgust, there was nothing to report here.

Did he even try to work as a fixer just to maintain the façade? Whatever. I had come to the conclusion that the powers that were simply did not care if he was pretending to be a fixer pretending to be an art dealer, or not. I could not explain his utter lack of fixer activities otherwise, as he struck me as too smart to make such an obvious mistake.

At least that left me a lot more time for the new lab.

Tuesday, the 15th was the weekly meeting for the Enki C-suite. I had decided to be there in person this time. I had to get out of the house for a bit.

It was nice to simply chat with the others for a bit before the meeting, and walk through the research annex, looking at what the minions were doing.

The big thing they were working on was some sort of tunneling machine. An all-in-one system that used a disruptor to disintegrate the ground in front of it, tractor beams to stabilize the ground surrounding the new hole, other tractor beams to suck off the disintegrated monoatomic material that previously filled the new hole, and a combination of a molecular forge, carbon extruder, and NADA to build a seamless pipe.

Powered by a small S&P Regulator fusactor, if it was fed a consistent stream of material for the pipe, this thing could apparently dig two to three kilometers of tunnels per day.

I had no clue what we needed such a thing for, but it was certainly impressive.

Then came the meeting.

The profits were still rising. Not substantially since last week, but a bit. By now, we were selling $1.75 billion in Q-links per day.

All other numbers had only marginally gone up. Not enough to seriously impact the bottom line.

After the income issue had come and gone, without much fanfare compared to last week, Jessi cleared her throat.

“I just wanted you to know that Mark Holt has been accepted as the first test for the new cyberware. We have designed it in a way that he… essentially can swap bodies. Just disconnect the head and put it on the other body.

We have created a mostly humanlike body for everyday living for him. Some of his biological parts, those that he is unwilling to part with, will be integrated into that body.

We will reconstruct the head, with the skull being made out of carbon composite armor for protection, and the whole rest made out of cyberware. Only his brain will remain biological there.

The second body will be essentially an enlarged variant of an Einherjar. A bit stronger, a bit tougher, still as fast.”

Tiffany gasped.

“That is… so radical. And he has agreed to that?”

Jessi chuckled.

“He proposed that. He is giddy with the thought of becoming the first fully-fledged combat cyborg since the Great War. To be honest, we would have preferred to do something a bit less radical for our first real test, but there should be no great risk.”

Well, at least Mark was getting what he wanted. I bet he would challenge Kate to some arm wrestling when he was done.

It was then time to come to what to do with the money. For a moment, nobody said much, each looking at the others, before Maggie shrugged.

“Fine, I’ll start. I propose that we buy and refurbish the subway system. Not just for Queens, though here is where we will gain the most out of it, but for the whole of NYC. Right now, it is in shambles. From what I learned, it was already sub-par before the war, but after it has been left to rot.

But we need something like that for our workforce. Right now, they use private cars and a shuttle bus service we provide, but that is a clutch. It works for now, but with the state the roads here in Queens are in, we are close to the limit that we can sustain.

Rebuilding the subway would let us use mass transit, to get the workers cheaply and safely to and from work.”

Maynard nodded enthusiastically.

“I already have my people work on a machine that can rebuild the tunnels quickly. Or build completely new ones. After the tunnels are built, we only have to integrate beamed energy and then use basic grav lev trains to run along.”

Oh, that was why they had the tunnel machine. Thinking about it, I could probably use something like that for Cheyenne Mountain.

“I might get one of those machines for myself.”

That made Maynard frown.

“Uh, why?”

“I need to rebuild an old US military installation in Colorado. Cheyenne Mountain. It has been a tad neglected for the last 150, 160 years or so.”

“That only begs the question, why do you need to rebuild this Cheyne Mountain? And how do you rebuild a mountain anyway?”

I had to chuckle at Michael’s question.

“It is called Cheyenne Mountain. It was one of the early nuclear command and control bunkers in the 20th century. It had become obsolete even before the war, which is why it survived.

And I need to rebuild it because I need a remote-controlled lab preferably in a location where no humans are around. With a large amount of mass surrounding it.

Cheyenne Mountain fits that description quite well.”

“That is nice, dear, but why do you need a remote-controlled lab? Don’t we have enough of them here already?”

I sighed.

“I need to look into fusactors. I don’t know if you are aware that for some reason fusactors produce way less fast-moving neutrons than they should. Well, I guess Maynard is aware.

That has something to do with how the Kobashigawa coils work. This is a characteristic that the new grav coils lack. As it is now, the new coils are unsuited for fusactors.”

Marcel frowned.

“But… we don’t make fusactors. Why is it our problem if the manufacturers of them have problems?”

Alena sighed.

“Think, Marcel. Right now, how many manufacturers do buy their grav coils from us?”

“Uh, none?”

“Exactly, because they apparently don’t work. Now, if Vivian makes them work, with some other coils or devices added, what do you think will the fusactor builders do?”

“I get it, they will buy the grav coils and whatever they need from us. But we are already at the limit of what we can produce. Hell, we are beyond that limit.”

James shook his head.

“Yeah, you are right. For now. But we are gaining ground. Rapidly. As Alena told us last week, we estimate that it will take us six months to reach the point where we can satisfy the ongoing Q-link demand. It will take another two, maybe three months, and we will have reached the point where we will be able to satisfy all the demand for what we are producing now.

Then we will need to either slow down or find new markets to penetrate. Do we then want to wait for Vivian to draw another rabbit out of her hat, or do we support her putting the rabbit in the hat now?”

After a few seconds of indecision, Marcel shrugged.

“OK. You are right.”

Michael then rapped onto the table.

“Back to the topic. What do we do with the money?”

Kenneth raised a hand.

“I had an idea. It might be a long shot, but it could be something worthwhile.”

He made a pause to take a sip of his coffee.

“How about we buy Manhattan and clean it up? Demolish the ruins, recycle the materials, and build a couple of Arcologies?”

Most of us just looked at him in confusion, and Eli voiced what we probably all were thinking.

“Uh, yeah, we could, but why should we? All of the inhabitants of NYC could fit comfortably in one of the other boroughs. There is nothing in Manhattan except ruins and scrap.”

Kenneth just shrugged.

“Yeah, for now. But think about it, what if Vivian’s nanobot project against the infertility works as we all think it will? We will experience a population explosion beyond anything ever seen. The people are so hungry for children that we can expect each couple to have half a dozen, maybe more.

In one, maybe two generations, what we have now in living space won’t be enough. And even with modern technology, building an Arcology will take time. Cleaning up the ruins will take time.

We can be like everybody else and in 15 years begin to scramble to build new living spaces. Badly designed living spaces that cost more than they should, just to stem the tide, or we can take a look into the crystal ball and decide to be proactive and build something with real value.”

After another few moments, while we all thought about it, Alena was the first to speak.

“Well, at least right now, Manhattan should be cheap as fuck. And with molecular foundries and replicators, we can use virtually everything that is already there.”

After some additional discussion, Michael nodded.

“We will look into it. Eli, can you contact the mayor and ask what the island will cost? James, Kenneth, can you look into what we need to clean up the mess over there? Maggie, can you try to find some architects and engineers to design the Arcologies?”

They all nodded at their order.

Finally, Marcel asked into the round.

“One other question. I have been asked when Enki will get its IPO. So, I am asking you, when will we go public?”

Michael made a deep sorrowful sigh.

“Never.”

That made Marcel recoil.

“What do you mean never? We are sitting on a gold mine here. Why not grab as much money as we can get?”

Michael shook his head.

“Never means never. We will not, not ever, become publicly traded.”

Marcel shook his head in confusion, and I could see that most of the others were a bit perplexed as well.

“But… why not? I thought this was the usual way things worked.”

Michael sighed again and shook his head.

“Yes, it is how it usually works. And the usual result is the archetypical ‘evil’ corporation. Did you know that legally, corporations are required to put the interests of any shareholder, regardless of how minor the holdings are, above any other concerns?

It is virtually impossible to find a group of shareholders with not a single one putting their own money over such ‘inconsequential’ things as the environment, employment benefits, living wages, or reputation.

In reality, if even one of you would argue that the charity is a waste of money and should be stopped, or that we should fire the employees and go fully automatic, we would be legally required to do so.

Well, at least until we pulled the forced buyout clause, which is in all of your contracts for that very reason.”

Wait, what buyout clause?

Before I could ask that question, Marcel answered Michael.

“Yeah, the forced buyout is a bit much. I mean, what if Vivian gets simply annoyed by one of us?”

I could only stare at Marcel for a moment, before slowly moving my gaze to Michael.

“What is he talking about? What buyout clause are you talking about?”

That made Michael snort.

“As I said, the surest way for a corporation to become evil is if one of the shareholders becomes greedy. And with so many shareholders being some faceless, soulless financial organization, that is almost always the case.

Dad and I decided early on that we had to find a way to prevent that. For that, we put into the bylaws that with at least 75% of the votes, the owners can force any minority owner to sell their shares. As well as the other shareholders having the right of first refusal.”

“One moment. I have 80% of the votes. Does that mean that if I decide I don’t want to have, say you, being an owner anymore, I can simply force you to sell?

That is not fair.”

He sighed.

“Yes, it is not fair. But it is necessary. And as I know you, unless somebody seriously fucks up, you won’t pull that option. But if one of us decides that getting more money personally is more important than any other goals we have, like helping the people…

And just tries to force us to fuck everybody else over like all the other big corporations do, then we want the possibility of removing that person.”

“But my contract says nothing about a forced buyout.”

“Of course not. Let’s be honest, if you decide to fuck all of humanity over, it is a done deal. Most of the patents are held by you personally. Nope, we have to trust that you will stay the sweet and caring person that you are.”

Whelp, talk about pressure.