Freedom TM

combustion.”
    On his confused look, she moved the pointer. “Here …” The dot touched on a series of virtual buildings around the base of the virtual tower. “These CR5 units will use solar power to chemically reenergize carbon dioxide into carbon monoxide and oxygen. It’s done by heating cobalt ferrite rings with a solar furnace. At high temperature the rings release oxygen. When they’re rotated back into the presence of carbon dioxide, the cobalt ferrite snatches oxygen from the CO 2 as it cools, leaving behind carbon
monoxide
—which, when we combine it with our hydrogen source, can be used to synthesize liquid hydrocarbon fuels such as methanol. Methanol is portable energy that’s easy to work with, transport, and store. The hydrocarbons can also produce polymers for plastics and other products. Likewise, it sequesters carbon out of the atmosphere—making it carbon negative. It just requires energy, Sergeant—and solar energy is something my people have plenty of.”
    Sebeck was speechless.
    “What did you think we were building out here, a casino?”
    “But what you’re describing—creating water and pulling liquid fuel out of the air—”
    “The sun is what made life on Earth possible to begin with. Oil is just ancient solar energy stored in hydrocarbons. The CR5 technology was developed nearby in Sandia National Labs. It stands for‘Counter Rotating Ring Receiver Reactor Recuperators.’ The details are available to anyone on the darknet, if you’re really interested.”
    He was still shaking his head. “Then why isn’t this being done
everywhere
?”
    She turned off her D-Space layer and the lofty tower and virtual buildings disappeared. “Many things are possible, Sergeant, but not economically feasible. Of course, that all depends on how you calculate costs. Darknet communities factor in loss of economic independence as a cost. They factor in the cost of forcibly defending distant energy resources. They also factor in lack of sustainability and disposal of pollutants. That more than balances the equation. With this facility we’ll use solar energy as the foundation of a long-term, sustainable, energy-positive holon. And that’s the goal.”
    “A
holon
.”
    “Holons are the geographic structure of the darknet. Any dark-net community lies at the center of an economic radius of one hundred miles for its key inputs and outputs—food, energy, health care, and building materials. Balancing inputs and outputs within that circle is the goal. A local economy that’s as self-sufficient as possible while still being part of a cultural whole—a holon—thus creating a resilient civilization that has no central points of failure. And which through its very structure promotes democracy. That’s what we’re doing here, Sergeant.”
    They were coming up on the tower now. Scores of workers were scurrying over scaffolding while cranes lifted loads to upper levels.
    Sebeck hardly knew what to say. It was as though he’d been transported to a different century. He was embarrassed to admit he
had
been half expecting to find a casino out here. He spent the remainder of the ride just staring at the construction under way.
    A few minutes later they approached the face of the towering rock he’d seen from afar. Set into the cliffs were what looked liketwenty-first-century cliff dwellings, with warm lights and tall glass windows. There were several dozen electric vehicles parked at the base of the rock, around a broad door that bore only a D-Space sign: TWO-RIVERS HALL . People of many races were walking in and out of the doorway, all with D-Space call-outs and all apparently busy. Too busy to note the arrival of a first-level newb—even with a quest icon.
    Riley pulled the van up to the door. “We’ll get you settled in a room, Sergeant, and tomorrow we’ll start your training on the sha-manic interface.” She got out of the van, and then turned around to lean through the window. “Oh, and welcome to Enchanted Mesa Spa and Resort.”

Chapter 7: // Shamanic Interface
    Sebeck sat in the Mesa dining hall reading the local paper when he felt the table bump. He lowered his paper to see Laney Price sitting across from him with a tray loaded down with scrambled eggs, bacon, pastries, and pancakes. Price wore a crisp black T-shirt bearing the slogan “I’m undermining civilization. Ask me how” in bold white letters. He was already digging into his breakfast.
    Sebeck folded the paper, and