The Maestro's Gambit
It is basic economic common sense that lowering interest rates causes prices of major investment assets—stocks, housing, and the like—to rise. This occurs because the volume of capital circulating in the market increases, a phenomenon typically described as an expansion of liquidity. With more money flooding the system, the value of currency itself declines, prompting massive inflows into stocks, real estate, and other assets as investors seek to preserve wealth. While the actual mechanisms are far more intricate, the net result is clear: rate cuts reliably drive stock prices higher. For that reason, the Federal Reserve’s decision amounted to a bucket of cold water thrown over Yoo Jae-won’s carefully prepared three-billion-dollar put options.
“So he still thinks nineties-era tactics will work today?”
Alan Greenspan’s philosophy as Fed Chairman could be summed up in a single sentence: he would do whatever it took, in any amount, to revive the economy. That mindset made low interest rates and deregulation his favorite tools. In 1987—eighteen years earlier—Greenspan had been appointed Chairman and immediately earned acclaim by steering the markets through the crash. He stood at the center of the roaring nineties boom and was christened the “Maestro” of the economy. Yet the dot-com bubble’s collapse at the turn of the millennium had tarnished his reputation, and now, nearing the end of his career, his sole remaining ambition was to restore that lost glory. Restoring his honor meant reclaiming the title of economic maestro.
When every indicator had gone haywire after the dot-com bust, he had nearly given up in despair. But the mobile revolution led by ID Group had ignited a second dot-com rally, and the improbable repayment of the Qing Dynasty bonds had ushered in an extraordinary boom across the United States. Stock prices had risen steadily for more than three years. The housing market had followed suit. Employment remained stable; each new jobs report showed fewer unemployed workers and fewer new claims for unemployment benefits. Companies were so desperate for talent that some could not expand, while others teetered on the edge of profitable bankruptcy. The institution responsible for spotting such overheating and taking preemptive action was the Federal Reserve. Instead, the Fed had poured fuel on the fire by cutting rates.
Its previous move had been to hold rates steady for nearly three quarters, apparently believing that freeze alone constituted sufficient restraint. In the most cynical reading, one could imagine Greenspan had deliberately undercut Yoo Jae-won. News of the put-option purchases had begun circulating the previous evening; opposing them with a rate cut would have been a convenient way to push back. “No,” Yoo Jae-won decided, “that’s reading too much into it.” The Fed’s rate-setting process was never decided in a single day. Commissioners arrived with their own data, debated fiercely, and voted. While the Chairman’s voice carried the greatest weight and his personal bias inevitably colored the outcome, there was no need to leap to conspiracy theories about a plot to destroy Yoo Jae-won. Besides, the stock market changed by the hour. Even a regressor like Yoo Jae-won could not predict what the market would look like a year from now.
“We’ll know who was right next year at this time.”
So he would simply wait and see whose judgment proved correct. Upon returning to San Francisco, Yoo Jae-won showed no sign of slowing down. After resting only a single day at home, he flew straight to ID Westinghouse in Pittsburgh to launch the thorium-reactor project won from North Korea.
“The candidate sites for Geumgang Units 1 and 2 will be Nampo and Sariwon.”
North Korea’s existing light-water reactors had been built along the east coast, forcing electricity to travel long distances over mountainous terrain to reach Pyongyang. South Korea was famous for its rugged topography, but North Korea’s was even more extreme. The one advantage was that acquiring land for transmission towers encountered zero resistance; when the Party ordered residents to relocate, they moved. The same approach would apply to the thorium reactors. Although siting them on the east coast posed no technical problems, transmission efficiency and geopolitical considerations made the western coastal plain south of Pyongyang—specifically Nampo and Sariwon—the preferred locations. Those areas were flat and densely populated. Even though thorium reactors offered vastly superior safety compared with conventional plants, it was still preferable to keep large populations at a distance. Once again the Party solved the issue with a simple relocation order. ID Westinghouse agreed to build replacement housing for those displaced, rather than leaving the matter to blunt administrative fiat.
“As soon as the geological survey team confirms stable sites, we can begin foundation work immediately.”
The head of thorium-reactor construction responded at once. He had previously overseen conventional nuclear projects and had been laterally transferred—without a promotion—after ID Group acquired Westinghouse. His enthusiasm, however, was undiminished. Although only North Korea had ordered thorium reactors so far, he understood their enormous potential better than anyone. Once orders began arriving one after another, conventional reactors would have no future. Until a superior technology emerged, the next several decades would be consumed by nonstop construction. Only months earlier, under Westinghouse, he had worried about layoffs; now he was buried in work.
“Thomas, I’m putting you in charge of the entire project.”
“Yes, Mr. Chairman!”
For the still-young construction chief, the reversal was almost dizzying. Six months ago he had lain awake worrying about mortgage payments on the house he had bought with a loan. Now he could comfortably cover his children’s college tuition and still give them generous allowances. For his family’s sake, spending a few months in North Korea was nothing. Moreover, the hazard pay for North Korean assignments far exceeded the actual risk, making the posting highly coveted.
“Assuming no major issues arise at any stage, we should be able to begin commercial operation early the year after next.”
Thomas raised his voice, knowing how much Yoo Jae-won valued speed.
“Don’t sacrifice safety for speed.”
“Of course not.”
Thorium reactors were simpler to build than conventional plants, yet the possibility of the unexpected still existed. Yoo Jae-won wanted no corners cut.
“How is the reactor operating system coming along? Is development on schedule?”
“Thanks to our collaboration with ID Technology, every milestone is being met.”
Yoo Jae-won’s attention shifted to the control software. Building the hardware was only half the battle; stable, secure software was essential. The system had to regulate reactor output, trigger safety mechanisms in emergencies, and defend against external attacks. ID Westinghouse already possessed considerable software expertise from its days as a conventional nuclear supplier. Although the thorium design differed radically from older reactors, the company’s experience in monitoring and interpreting reactor parameters remained invaluable. The legacy operating programs, however, were outdated. Pairing them with ID Technology’s advanced IT capabilities produced remarkable synergy.
The core control software was built on the enterprise edition of Android OS, configured as a standalone system with no external connections. An assistant program linked to AI Gold would support human operators, instantly detecting errors in judgment and offering corrective advice. Because Gold was a machine-learning AI, it was the ideal choice for this role. Although Gold itself required constant connection to the main servers, the actual reactor-control systems were kept completely isolated. Even if a hacker breached the reactor network, it would be impossible to force the plant into an unsafe state.
The completed operating system would be validated at the 2 GW reactor in the Mojave Desert. The same software would be installed in the North Korean plants. Many observers would have viewed an ID Group-only package with suspicion, but the addition of Westinghouse’s nuclear pedigree quickly dispelled doubts. North Korea, too, placed considerable trust in the Westinghouse name.
“Where is the next stop?”
“Detroit.”
After wrapping up instructions on the thorium-reactor project in Pittsburgh, Yoo Jae-won’s next destination was Detroit.
“Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick has arranged a welcome ceremony and groundbreaking event. Afterward you have meetings with the president of Lightning Bolt and the heads of major component suppliers.”
Yoo Jae-won nodded at Kim Dae-seok’s briefing. While the thorium reactors had sent ripples through the energy sector, Lightning Bolt’s electric vehicles were generating global shockwaves. Self-driving cars that had existed only on television two years earlier were now approaching the point where ordinary consumers could purchase and drive upgraded versions. The automobile industry was also a foundational sector for any nation. A single vehicle contained tens of thousands of parts. Although electric drivetrains dramatically reduced complexity, the industry still required an enormous supply chain. In addition, advanced battery and IT technologies—previously unnecessary—had to be integrated, turning the vehicles into far more sophisticated products.
“How many reservations do we have so far?”
The information could have been retrieved from an iWorks notebook, an Android smartphone, or AI Gold, but Yoo Jae-won asked Kim Dae-seok directly. Multiple taps were required on the devices, and while Gold excelled at conversation and routine tasks, it still fell short in specialized domains.
“Total reservations crossed six hundred thousand early this month and are now approaching six hundred thirty thousand. We’re receiving roughly five thousand new orders every day. The recent passage of the electric-vehicle support act and the resulting government subsidies have given reservations a significant boost.”
Kim Dae-seok delivered the latest figures without hesitation. There had been a time when he had viewed the arrival of AI Gold with considerable wariness, fearing it would diminish his own role. Yet Gold’s capabilities had proven less extraordinary than anticipated. Moreover, Yoo Jae-won himself could use Gold’s assistance, and Kim had discovered that leveraging the AI actually amplified his effectiveness as chief of staff. The anxiety had faded.
The subsidy amounted to five thousand dollars. In other words, any American willing to buy a Neuro could do so for only twenty thousand dollars. Had George W. Bush still been president, such a policy would have been unthinkable; he had shown little interest in the Kyoto Protocol or carbon-emission limits. Al Gore, by contrast, had been deeply concerned about environmental issues since the early nineties. That passion had not diminished after he entered the White House. He spoke directly about various environmental problems and crafted federal-level responses. The carbon-emission standards for automobiles and the electric-vehicle subsidies were among those measures. Although the standards were milder than Europe’s Euro 5 requirements, heavy-emitting diesel vehicles now faced additional taxes, while electric vehicles received a five-thousand-dollar incentive. The subsidy was not limited to Lightning Bolt vehicles; several American electric-car companies existed, and legacy automakers were also developing electric models. Because Lightning Bolt was currently the only company ready for mass production, however, accusations of favoritism occasionally surfaced from ID Group’s opponents.
“Current orders stand at 6,207 Superfast units, 220,000 Vulcan units, and 400,000 Neuro units. We have also committed to producing five hundred Universe minibuses.”
The numbers were staggering. They dwarfed anything Tesla had achieved in the original timeline. Tesla had not exceeded one hundred thousand vehicles per quarter until ten years after its first deliveries, and its initial order book had contained only about four hundred vehicles. Lightning Bolt’s scale was in an entirely different league. The company had begun preparing for mass production of electric vehicles in the nineties; its starting point had been fundamentally different from Tesla’s. With such concrete figures in hand, no one could doubt Lightning Bolt’s prospects. Local governments were therefore engaged in a ferocious competition to attract the massive new factory. Even Detroit officials had not expected to win. Many had warned that the city—already deeply scarred by urban decay—would come to regret the choice once the announcement was made. That Detroit had nevertheless secured the project made the mayor’s and city council’s full turnout for Yoo Jae-won’s visit entirely natural.