The SURA Project
The final assignment Frederick had given during the golden time was a new round of oil exploration. The spectacular success of the Irkutsk oil field survey would go down as one of the greatest achievements in Chevron’s history, yet Frederick still wanted more. Yoo Jae-won possessed more than enough capability to satisfy that level of ambition. The only delay had come from the subprime financial crisis erupting a year earlier than expected, which postponed the full-scale launch of the new exploration venture. Even so, Yoo Jae-won had more than enough resources to recover from a delay of that magnitude.
Inside the Memory Palace of his mind lay a meticulously detailed resource map worth hundreds of trillions of won—perhaps even measured in the quadrillions. All he had to do was feed the coordinates from that map into a digital chart and mark the spots where oil would gush forth. And it was not only oil. The map also contained precise locations for new mines rich in diamonds, uranium, plutonium, gold, and silver. Actually mining those sites would trigger events of unimaginable scale, but it was realistically impossible. No matter how much of a once-in-a-century genius Yoo Jae-won was, if oil and diamonds began pouring out wherever he pointed, no one would simply attribute it to skill. The backlash would be too severe to risk. That was why he needed an event that could conceal the fact he already possessed accurate survey data. His trip to Russia existed precisely for that purpose.
Vladimir Putin. Having won re-election in the 2004 presidential race and now in his second term, Putin had become Russia’s new tsar. Succeeding Boris Yeltsin, he had single-handedly revived a Russia still reeling from the failures of reform and opening. A strong Russia! Most Russians still longed for the Soviet era, and Putin struck that chord perfectly. After the Soviet collapse, the new oligarchs who had rapidly grown rich on privatized state assets were reined in with an iron hand. In a country still unfamiliar with capitalism, these oligarchs had made their fortunes through monopolies, collusion, and other market-distorting practices. Putin delivered a clear warning by forcing corporate breakups, arresting executives, and levying astronomical fines. The chastened oligarchs lowered their heads and cooperated. Naturally, Putin redistributed the reclaimed authority and assets to his own supporters. Transneft, currently working with Chevron on the ESPO Pipeline, was one such beneficiary.
Putin, who would remain Russia’s president for another twenty years, was not merely a tsar in name—he had literally founded a new dynasty. He had built an overwhelmingly powerful base of support and enjoyed near-universal popularity among Russians. Among the oligarchs who had aligned themselves well with him was Roman Abramovich, a man with a slight connection to Yoo Jae-won. Abramovich owned Chelsea FC of the English Premier League. After Yoo Jae-won acquired Manchester United, the value of Premier League clubs had risen sharply. It was only natural. Through Time Warner Nextcom and NBC, Yoo Jae-won dominated the North American media landscape. He also controlled cable channels with significant market share in Korea and operated a global streaming service accessible anywhere in the world. Premier League matches were broadcast through these channels. Although Americans traditionally preferred American football, the rapidly growing Hispanic population from Latin America had boosted soccer’s popularity to the point where it challenged the major sports. The EPL’s global appeal soared, and the popularity of its clubs rose in tandem.
Roman Abramovich had acquired Chelsea FC in 2003, right after Yoo Jae-won, purely as a hobby. Yet as the league globalized, Chelsea’s value more than doubled within a few years. His personal fortune was estimated to have jumped from five trillion to ten trillion won. Even more striking was the fact that Abramovich, owner of Chelsea, ranked near the bottom among the new oligarchs who had risen under Putin. It spoke volumes about the sheer scale of Putin’s economic inner circle.
Coldly speaking, however, Russia’s current resurgence was driven by rapidly rising oil prices. Digging deeper, it stemmed from the subprime crisis. Although Yoo Jae-won had used AI Gold to prevent the mortgage market from collapsing, the financial crisis was still unfolding. To contain it, the United States and other advanced nations were aggressively pursuing quantitative easing—essentially printing money to flood the markets and avert collapse. The excess liquidity sought investment outlets. With interest rates at rock bottom and cash losing value by the day, money flowed into assets with clear value: the stock market on one side and natural resources on the other. Among natural resources, oil had the most sophisticated trading system. As capital poured into the oil market, prices surged. Just before the subprime crisis, a barrel traded in the high sixties. Now it hovered in the high nineties—a fifty-percent jump in a short time.
In Russia’s industrial structure, natural resource exports carried enormous weight. After costs, a barrel priced in the high thirties already generated handsome profits. At ninety dollars, it was like money raining from the sky. Buoyed by the oil boom, Putin’s Russia could lavish money on populist programs and still have plenty left over. His popularity soared to the heavens. Consequently, the number of people seeking meetings with him was immense. Even leaders of major nations had to wait a long time for an audience. There was only one exception: Yoo Jae-won.
“Welcome.”
“Thank you for receiving me.”
Putin greeted Yoo Jae-won as though meeting an old friend of many decades. In truth, their relationship did stretch back to the early 1990s. ID Group had entered Russia well before the country declared moratorium. ID High Tech’s Moscow research institute remained active and had grown considerably larger. It specialized in internet security; much of the security source code for the PC and mobile Android operating systems had originated there. ID Group’s investment in Russia itself was also massive. Dozens of ID flagship stores had opened, and investments continued in various Russian projects. Everyone knew that Chevron’s investments were deeply connected to Yoo Jae-won as well. Direct meetings with Putin, however, were rare. Yoo Jae-won’s primary spheres of activity were the United States and Korea, so face-to-face encounters only occurred on special occasions. When they did meet, the reaction was always intense.
Putin’s face broke into a wide smile as he embraced Yoo Jae-won. Even his closest aides, standing nearby, had rarely seen such an expression.
“I prepared this for you.”
Putin personally escorted Yoo Jae-won to the reception room of the guesthouse, where a lavish tea spread had already been laid out—a pre-dinner tea time.
“I heard you pulled off quite a coup during the financial crisis. Even our finance minister said that without you, a major fire would have broken out. I was hoping the blaze would burn brightly so I could enjoy the spectacle, but I never expected you to play the role of elite firefighter.”
“It was Gold who performed, not me.”
“Haha, but you’re the one who created that AI, aren’t you? Still, it would have been more entertaining if the crisis had grown larger. A pity.”
Putin spoke as though watching a fire across the river with mild amusement. Yoo Jae-won gave a wry smile. Even in front of him, Putin remained true to himself—never missing a chance to posture.
The highly developed modern capitalist system was tightly interconnected beyond national borders. The financial crisis had spread across the globe in real time. Russia’s 2006 GDP figures were not yet out, but they would almost certainly approach zero. While surging oil prices heavily influenced Russia due to its reliance on exports, the rest of its industrial sectors were so weak that negative growth was widespread. Had events continued as they had in his previous life, even Russia would not have escaped unscathed. Putin could only reveal such inner thoughts to someone he trusted as much as Yoo Jae-won. He would never speak this way to just anyone.
When the black tea in their cups was half gone, Putin broached the main subject.
“By the way, I hear you’ve cooked up something interesting again.”
“Yes. It was only possible thanks to Russia’s and President Putin’s cooperation.”
“Still, how did you learn about the SURA Project? Even I only received a report after digging through the Academy of Sciences archives.”
“I happen to have a strong interest in that sort of thing.”
The SURA Project was the core reason for this Russian visit. Located near the small village of Vasil-sursk, roughly one hundred kilometers east of Nizhny Novgorod, it was a large-scale experimental facility originally built for ionospheric research. When the United States began its HAARP ionospheric program, the Soviet Union had constructed SURA as a countermeasure. It worked by radiating large-scale electromagnetic waves into the ionosphere, capturing the returning signals, and analyzing the data to understand the ionosphere’s shape and properties.
There were many conspiracy theories about HAARP—claims it could trigger earthquakes, droughts, floods, and blackouts. In reality, the facility’s function was focused on ionospheric research. As science advanced, however, additional applications were discovered, including geological surveying. By using the ionosphere as a reflector, researchers could irradiate vast areas with electromagnetic waves. Collecting the waves that penetrated underground layers and returned allowed for much easier mapping of geological structures. This required well-prepared electromagnetic collection systems and enormous computing power to process the data—both of which Yoo Jae-won already possessed. All he needed to do was insert a few coordinates known only to him, like MSG sprinkled into a dish, and turn a high-probability lottery ticket into a guaranteed winner.
“We reopened that ancient facility based solely on your word, Chairman Yoo. I hope you understand how much expectation we’re placing on it.”
“Of course. Success is one hundred percent guaranteed.”
That was why Yoo Jae-won had given a one-hundred-percent assurance. And this was not all. On a broader scale, this operation was not fundamentally different from the Dokkaebi Computer incident in the past—only the scale of the stage was incomparably larger. While the increased scale brought greater pressure, it also offered advantages. Because the stage was so vast, there were additional elements he could weave in. Earthquake prediction, for one.
The electromagnetic waves emitted during this reactivation of SURA would cover not only the Korean Peninsula but all of East Asia. Since they were activating the facility anyway, they had expanded the detection range to maximize its utility. Through this, Yoo Jae-won planned to achieve North Korea’s oil field development, the prediction of the Sichuan earthquake, and even the Great East Japan Earthquake—all in one stroke. Geological experts would clamor for verification, but even they had never encountered such a massive data storm. Moreover, the geological survey algorithm Yoo Jae-won possessed was genuine. Any experts who might doubt his prophet-like earthquake predictions and attempt re-verification would be left without objections. Given that their equipment was vastly inferior to ID Group’s, their verification would likely only conclude long after the events occurred. The results, however, would be identical, so no one would raise suspicions that Yoo Jae-won was communicating with aliens.
After a long and cordial conversation with Putin, Yoo Jae-won traveled the next day to Vasil-sursk, where the SURA Project facility was located. A small number of Russian researchers who had remained to manage and operate SURA, former T&U Research personnel now belonging to Chevron’s Future Strategy Research Institute, and ID Group’s security team were all waiting for him after completing the final preparations.
“All right, let’s begin!”
Having arrived by private jet, Yoo Jae-won pressed the activation button of SURA the moment the welcoming ceremony ended. The button was large, bright red, and irresistibly tempting—anyone who saw it would feel an urge to press it. Long unused, it felt stiff, but Yoo Jae-won’s arm strength, honed by daily hard training, proved stronger. With a click, the button sank fully in, followed by a resonant hum as the massive equipment began to come alive.