Honestly, I couldn't care less about the entertainment scene or movie, so I left everything to William Wang. Fortunately, Royston Tan came back to us, agreeing to at last include a single scene that would display the environmental damage that building the dam caused. Not just one scene. Apparently, he planned to do many landscape shots that would showcase the environmental damage without blatantly talking about it.
A picture was worth a thousand words, and sometimes a silent scenery had more impact that characters talking about it in an unnatural manner.
"He even thanked you for reminding him of the necessity of showing the environmental impact of building the dam," William added. I nodded and chuckled.
"Actually, I think he's more grateful that I'm willing to support his project and even show keen interest in it. It will serve his anti-dam agenda further."
"Anti-dam agenda?" William repeated incredulously.
I rolled my eyes. Wasn't Royston Tan's agenda obvious? He clearly held unfavorable views toward the building of the Three Gorges Dam. Otherwise why would he film about the dislocation of the poor displaced villagers, how they lost their homes and all that melodrama about longing for a distant past? Furthermore, his delighted reply and fervent agreement to include sceneries of environmental damage proved my suspicions right. Royston Tan clearly didn't approve of the building of the dam, to the point he was determined to film its detrimental impact not just upon the environment but also the people living by the river.
I had to admire him for it. I wondered if his film would be censored or outright banned by the authorities. Undoubtedly the government's attitude toward media and censorship had relaxed greatly over the last century, especially since they were unable to block so many websites and information in the Internet, so they just gave up for now.
"Well, I hope his film gets produced," I said optimistically. "We'll sponsor it, and even if the government censors it, we'll make sure to export it overseas. I'm sure the Cannes Film Festival would love to showcase it."
"I didn't know you knew about the Cannes Film Festival." William was staring at me in shock. I glared at him.
"Dude, you do realize that I'm a highly educated individual, right? Even if I only read sci-fi novels, that doesn't mean I know absolutely nothing about the art scene. I'm just not interested in most of it, that's all."
"Yeah, yeah." William didn't seem convinced. I rolled my eyes and decided not to bicker with him. I had more important things to do.
Rising from my desk and switching off my computer, which had been projecting several blue-tint holographic screens that featured revolving schematics of warp engine and Alcubierre drive prototypes, I waved at my vice-president before exiting the office.
"I'm heading to the antimatter production facility," I told him. "Take care of things here."
"Understood." William saw me off with a mock salute before returning his full attention to his desk. Like me, he had his computer projecting several holographic windows in the air in front of him, but unlike mine, they were all emails, messages and communiques.
There was even a single window that was dedicated to social media. No, William wasn't posting on social media during work. He was monitoring our public image or something like that. Honestly, I thought it was absolutely unnecessary, but William insisted. Apparently our public image on social media was far too important because negative press or malicious rumors could affect our profits or cause our stocks to plummet.
Don't ask me how. I had no fucking idea. That was the stupid cliché and a myth that most CEO novels spun, but it didn't work like that in real life. Reality was a lot more complex than that.
*
Brad Biao and Alan Shou remained as my bodyguards, even after the assassins were eliminated and whatever foreign intelligence agency had stopped interfering with the nation's affairs. They patiently waited right next to my Toyota, ready to escort me to wherever I went. I couldn't help but roll my eyes despite understanding the necessity of being protected.
Even though I currently didn't have to worry about enemies, the present scenario might change in the future. New rivals would appear, and foreign spies might be inserted into the country once more. Even if they didn't plan on assassinating me this time, it was likely that they would kidnap me and blackmail me into working for them.
My skills and knowledge were in high demand, after all.
Unfortunately, those technical skills and knowledge were of no use to me right now. Despite racking my brain, I was still unable to increase the rate of antimatter production. Even though we continued to manufacture more antimatter, the speed of which it was produced proceeded at a snail's pace. It would be many years before we could accumulate enough antimatter for use in our faster than light travel experiments.
On the other hand, thanks to my energy shield technology, we were able to produce a canister that could contain antimatter without exploding. Since contact between matter and antimatter would result in a volatile explosion, then we just had to make sure that the antimatter wouldn't come into contact with any atom of matter.
To achieve that, I created a canister capable of producing magnetic fields (similar to those generated by my energy shield generators) to contain the antimatter. Since magnetic fields and energy shields weren't matter, antimatter wouldn't react with them. I had essentially provided the solution to the problem with one of my existing inventions.
It was kind of funny, now that I thought about it. Military technology had always led to technological breakthroughs in other sectors. The Internet was one of the best examples – originally started by the military during the Cold War to connect computers through a wide area network, it now permeated everyday life. Another example was the microwave oven, which began as military experiments to create electromagnetic waves. Jet engines, duct tape, superglue, canned food and even medical breakthroughs such as antibiotics, blood banks and transfusions and injectors.
One of the most groundbreaking military technologies led to the development of the space program, where rockets were converted for use to launching men into outer space. Honestly, despite the horrors and tragedies of war, it was undeniable that global technology would also improve by leaps and bounds in its aftermath. Not that I would ever advocate waging war just to achieve technological breakthroughs, but much of what we had today benefited from military research.
In a way, that was my eventual goal. The end goal was never to achieve military dominance. Sure, I did dream of creating giant robots and turning my childhood sci-fi fantasies into reality, but my intention was to convert them for civilian use eventually. The naval battleships I had developed? Eventually they would become gigantic spacecraft, carrying colonists to far-flung systems throughout the galaxy so that humanity could expand their territory onto other planets.
The war walkers? Armored suits designed to allow colonists to survive in any hostile exoplanet environment.
And now I was finally developing the space technology required for us to explore the stars within a practical timeframe. Yeah, I had big dreams. Sue me.
Of course, I wasn't a god or Mary Sue protagonist capable of everything. Unfortunately, my project had hit a snag because of the limited amounts of antimatter we could produce.
"We did build the antimatter plant according to your specifications," one of the top scientists was explaining to me. "We're using particle accelerators to produce antimatter, but these only generate miniscule amounts of antimatter, nowhere near the amount needed to build the Alcubierre drive that you want us to work on."
And without the antimatter as a source of energy, we wouldn't be able to power the Alcubierre drive, which required tremendous amounts of energy. Yikes. This was terrible. Five hundred kilograms of antimatter was the bare minimum, but we were only producing a few nanograms everyday. At this rate, it would take several millennia to accumulate the required amount.
"What about CERN?" I asked. "If I'm not mistaken, they have advanced antiproton decelerators that reduces the velocity of antiprotons to about 10% the speed of light so that we will be able to capture them for research on antimatter."
"Yeah, we have been collaborating with them," a nuclear physicist confirmed. "But just as we suspected, they still haven't developed a proper antimatter producing plant yet. Like us, they can only produce a few nanograms a day."
That wasn't good. CERN was the international Organization for Nuclear Research based in the western continent, best known for operating the biggest particle physics laboratory in the world. If I recalled, the laboratory was located in Country SWL. They usually provided particle accelerators and other infrastructure required for high-energy physics research, which was how antimatter was produced in the first place.
They were our best chance of learning antimatter production from, so the news came as a blow to my hopes. Then again, many of the nuclear and particle physicists I had hired for my faster than light space travel project were formerly CERN employees, top scientists and researchers with decades of experience in particle research. If anyone would be able to figure something out, it would be them.
On the other hand, it also meant that if they weren't able to come up with an answer, then nobody would. But I would rather not dwell on such pessimism and instead focus on the ingenuity of mankind to conquer everything through science.
"All right. Keep researching on a way to generate more antimatter. Create new particle accelerators if necessary. I'll focus on the antimatter containers." I offered them an encouraging smile. "I'll be counting on you."
Then I left. I personally took charge of the antimatter containment fields because this was my area. I was the inventor of energy shield generators, after all. On the other hand, I realized how way out of depth I was regarding quantum physics and antimatter.
I had realized my limits and what I couldn't do.
But that was all right. That was the whole reason why I hired such a large team of scientists and researchers in the first place. What one man couldn't do, many men and women working together could probably achieve. Myths of science had always featured lone scientists or inventors (such as Thomas Edison), hailing them as geniuses who stood out from the rest. What they failed to mention was the legions of assistants who helped them achieve their goals.
I was determined not to repeat that mistake. Everyone was going to share credit for this when we succeeded. This, I vowed.