How I Built a Power Company in South America (3)
Perfect Solar's solar panels were going up at a blistering pace. At this rate, six months—no, five—would be more than enough to put Libertad's power crisis to rest.
Which left only one problem.
If you want the factories running, you need someone to run them.
Namely, finding someone to take the helm of the state-owned enterprise that would oversee and operate the nation's entire electrical grid: San Marcos Electric Power Corporation, or SMEPC.
Eugene propped his chin on his hand and sank into thought.
Where the hell do I even find someone like that...
It was that important a hire.
Picking from the existing Ministry of Industry bureaucrats is out of the question.
Absolutely not. Why was the power supply a disaster in the first place? Because the people who'd been managing it all this time didn't have the ability. They were ignorant about electricity, and they had zero experience running a company. Look at Korea—the whole reason they created a public corporation called KEPCO and listed it on the stock exchange was to instill professional expertise.
If it runs at a loss, the treasury empties. If the treasury empties, the country collapses... and then my retirement goes up in smoke.
Eugene's goal was crystal clear. SMEPC wouldn't merely be a power supplier. It would be run at maximum efficiency and become a pillar of the nation. Which meant there was only one kind of person he needed: an expert so obsessed with efficiency that he wouldn't tolerate a single watt of waste—someone who would wring a profit out of sheer stinginess.
But there's no way a talent like that exists in this barren wasteland.
Which is why Eugene, clutching at straws, paid a visit to San Marcos Comprehensive University.
"Welcome, Your Excellency! What brings you all the way out to this humble place?"
At the president's appearance, William Aveiro, Dean of the College of Engineering, who had been waiting, hurried over to greet Eugene.
"Oh, come now, Professor. You should've stayed put. No need to come all the way out here."
Eugene smiled warmly and took the old professor's hand.
"Haha, with Your Excellency coming, how could I possibly sit still?"
After exchanging greetings, the two men walked side by side toward the dean's office.
"Y-Your Excellency?!"
"His Excellency looked at me!"
"Ahh..."
Students who spotted Eugene gasped and came crowding in.
"Stand back!"
The bodyguards rushed to hold the students at bay, but Eugene raised a hand to stop them.
"It's fine. These are the future of our San Marcos, aren't they?"
"B-but..."
"They're not carrying guns. They're carrying books. What's there to be afraid of? If anything, this is the perfect chance to give them some encouragement."
Eugene smiled and gestured the students over. The ones who'd been hanging back surged forward like a dam bursting.
"Y-Your Excellency! I respect you so much!"
"Please, just one autograph in my book! I'll pass it down as a family heirloom!"
"I-I'd like one on my back, please!"
A male student held out a thick engineering textbook and a marker with trembling hands. Tears of emotion already welled in his eyes.
"What's your name?"
"M-Miguel, sir! Third-year Civil Engineering!"
"It's truly reassuring to know that talented young people like you, Miguel, are studying so hard."
A smooth flourish of the pen. Eugene scrawled a handsome signature across the book cover and handed it back. Miguel clutched the book to his chest and broke down sobbing.
"Hic... Thank you! I'll take this book to my grave! I'll have it buried with me in my coffin!"
"Wait, didn't you just say you'd pass it down as a family heirloom..."
Eugene was momentarily flustered, but looking at the student bawling his eyes out, he shut his mouth.
"Your Excellency! M-me too! Please, just one handshake!"
This time a female student thrust out her hand. The moment Eugene took it, she let out a scream and collapsed to the floor.
"Kyaaah! Oh my god! I can feel His Excellency's body heat!"
She, too, was sobbing as she spoke.
"I'm never washing this hand for the rest of my life!"
"No, you really ought to wash your hands..."
And just like that, the hallway transformed into a frenzied fan meet-and-greet. In their eyes, Eugene was no mere president. He was a living god who had delivered them from a country that had been hell on earth, and who had gifted them the chance at an education.
When the hour struck, William soothed the students.
"All right, all right, everyone settle down and get to class. You'll be late. I'll invite His Excellency back another time if the opportunity arises."
Thanks to William managing, at last, to calm the students, Eugene finally made it to the dean's office.
Click.
Only after the door closed did Eugene secretly let out a sigh of relief.
Whew. That wasn't easy either.
Watching this, Dean William smiled with satisfaction as he brought out tea.
"The students' respect for Your Excellency appears to be quite extraordinary."
"I haven't even taken proper care of them, and they welcome me like this. It's embarrassing."
"Haven't taken care of them? You built this university for them. You even made tuition free."
Eugene smiled faintly and sat down on the sofa. Professor William asked him:
"By the way, you said you wanted some advice?"
"Yes."
"Please, go ahead. If there's anything I can do to help, I'll do whatever I can."
Eugene's gaze grew serious.
"A state-owned electric power company will be established soon. I was wondering if you might recommend an expert who could serve as its president."
"How interesting. Typically, when one thinks of a state-owned enterprise president, a professional manager comes to mind first."
"It's not that I haven't considered that. But given that we currently have no technical capability whatsoever, I believe the inaugural president should be a specialist rather than a businessman."
"In that case, a few people do come to mind."
"Among them, I want a miser."
"A... miser, you say?"
"Yes. Someone so obsessed with numbers and efficiency that they treat electricity like gold."
At Eugene's peculiar request, Professor William pondered for a moment, then slapped his knee as something occurred to him.
"...There is one person."
"Who?"
"A fellow named Christian Silva."
"Christian?"
Eugene tilted his head. Christian was a Portuguese-style name. If William was specifically recommending him, he was almost certainly a San Marcos immigrant.
"Is he of San Marcos origin, by any chance?"
"That's right. He's my former student, a first-generation immigrant from San Marcos. He went to the United States as a child and earned his doctorate in electrical engineering from MIT."
The credentials were beyond reproach. And as a first-generation immigrant, he was halfway a citizen already—even better.
"Where is he now?"
"He's working as CTO—Chief Technology Officer—at PG&E in the United States. However..."
Professor William cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.
"His personality is a bit... how shall I put it. Lacking in social skills, perhaps. He hasn't got a shred of flexibility, and he's so obsessed with efficiency that his reputation within the company is rock bottom. I hear that's made a contract renewal rather unlikely."
The moment Eugene heard that, a smile spread across his face. This was exactly the kind of talent he'd been looking for.
"Professor, could I get that student's contact information? I'd like to personally and courteously invite him here."
"Pardon? Ah, yes... That's no trouble at all."
Professor William tilted his head. He couldn't understand why the president would personally go fetch such an eccentric, but he wrote down the contact information and handed it over anyway.
A few days later, the reception room of the Presidential Palace.
In his early fifties, with disheveled hair and thick horn-rimmed glasses—a textbook nerd of an engineer—Christian Silva perched on the very edge of the sofa, trembling like a leaf.
Upon receiving an offer from the San Marcos government to become the inaugural president of the state-owned electric power company, Christian had immediately submitted his resignation. He'd had no attachment to the company anyway, and he knew perfectly well that a conglomerate like PG&E didn't particularly need him.
And so he'd chased his dream back to San Marcos—only to regret it the moment he stepped off the plane.
Armed soldiers lining the streets. The president's face carved into a mountainside overlooking the capital of Libertad, reminiscent of Mount Rushmore. Giant photographs of the president hanging everywhere. And tanks and anti-aircraft guns standing guard at the Presidential Palace.
This is even worse than what I'd heard...
It was a dictator's world, through and through.
This isn't going to work. I should decline politely and go back.
Terrified, Christian sat waiting in a chair outside the presidential office, frantically calculating how to refuse and flee back to America. That was when it happened.
"Your Excellency, the Civil Service Competency Evaluation results are in."
"Ah, already?"
A draft had blown the door slightly open, and voices drifted out from inside. Christian's gaze naturally drifted inward, and Eugene came into view. He was scanning the documents Isabella had handed him with a faintly displeased expression.
"More failing scores than I expected. To think this many people still haven't gotten their act together. How disappointing."
"It seems that raising the exam's difficulty produced rather more failures than anticipated. How shall we proceed? Send them to the farm, as last time?"
"I suppose we should. We can't let the standard collapse. People drawing a government paycheck have no business being idle."
"Understood. I shall have the transport vehicles prepared immediately."
Isabella bowed crisply and left.
It was an everyday conversation in San Marcos, but Christian felt as though his heart might stop.
Th-they're sending people to a collective farm just for failing a test?!
For someone who'd been living in the land of the free, the conversation was far too extreme. His face went white as a sheet.
A bloody purge that sent even incompetent civil servants to the camps without mercy. Then what about a mere civilian like himself, if he refused the president's offer?
The moment I refuse, I'll be loaded onto a truck headed for the collective farm...!
He wanted to believe they wouldn't go that far with someone who held American citizenship. But you never knew. Framing someone for a crime they didn't commit and throwing them in prison—that was what dictators did. Look at North Korea. Hadn't they locked up Americans for years on espionage charges?
Christian's jaw began to tremble.
And then, having finished reviewing the documents, Eugene stepped out through the open door. He wore a warm, friendly smile, as if greeting an old friend.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. You must be Dr. Christian Silva?"
"Y-yes, sir! Christian Silva, sir!"
Christian shot to his feet on reflex and snapped to attention.
"Please, come in and make yourself comfortable. I've heard a great deal about you from Professor William. He says that when it comes to power efficiency, you're an expert without equal."
"Y-you're far too kind. I'm just a technician trying to earn a living."
"Humble, too. Isabella, could I trouble you for a cup of coffee?"
Looking at Eugene's satisfied smile, Christian understood.
...There's no escaping this.
Today, he was going to get hired—whether he wanted the job or not.