As soon as it was light, Chen Hao squatted in front of the control panel, munching on half a cold steamed bun, his cheeks bulging like a hamster. He stared at the circuit diagram on the screen, his eyes bloodshot, muttering, "If this keeps up, our power grid will become bird feed sooner or later."
Nana stood nearby as the robotic arm calibrated the data stream. "We recorded seven pecking behaviors last night, concentrated in the No. 3 overhead section of Zone B," she said. "The existing wire sheaths are not hard enough and contain trace amounts of oil, which may attract birds."
"So our cable," Chen Hao swallowed the last bite of his dry rations, clapped his hands, "is still a 'delicious snack stick'?"
"From the perspective of biological tropism, the conclusion is valid."
“We need to change the materials.” He stood up and stretched his stiff back. “We don’t have enough plastic, metal is too heavy, and we’re out of rubber… We can’t exactly use straw to make insulation, can we?”
He turned and walked toward the laboratory, his steps slow but his direction clear. Nana followed, a projector displaying a catalog of documents in front of him.
"Search keywords: natural insulator, renewable, resistant to bio-erosion." She pulled up a dusty record and found a historical file: "Silk fiber has a dielectric strength of up to 30 kilovolts per millimeter, can withstand temperatures of 110 degrees Celsius, and has no edible value."
Chen Hao stopped and turned around: "What did you say? Silkworm silk?"
“Yes. Its protein structure is dense, the molecular chains are arranged in an orderly manner, and it has excellent electrical isolation properties.” Nana added, “The mulberry tree coverage on the island is 62 percent, and the existing silkworm population is about 80,000, with a theoretical annual silk production of up to 400 kilograms.”
His eyes slowly lit up: "Wait a minute...we have trees, we have insects, and we can even produce silk ourselves?" He slapped his thigh, "Isn't this a ready-made cable outsourcing factory!"
“The technical approach is feasible.” She nodded. “It requires establishing an integrated process of aquaculture, silk harvesting, and winding.”
"Let's do it!" He strode towards the breeding shed. "Let's try a batch first, wrap ten meters of rope and see how it goes."
Half an hour later, the first group of improved silkworm rearing rooms was put into operation. The old irrigation pipes were converted into ventilation ducts, and the temperature and humidity were automatically regulated. Three hundred selected high-quality silkworms were transferred to the clean area. Mulberry leaves were washed, cut into strips, and laid into the feeding troughs. The silkworms crawled around and nibbled, making a sound like rain.
“This is an elite unit,” Chen Hao said, leaning against the doorframe. “They’re well-fed, well-housed, and will be responsible for supplying electricity to the entire island in the future.”
"I suggest naming it 'Electric Silkworm'," Nana said.
"Don't name it, it might shorten your lifespan." He waved his hand, "We'll talk about it after you survive."
Three days later, the silkworms had grown a size larger and entered the pre-spinning stage. Chen Hao inspected the cocoon room three times a day, watching them crawl around and checking the temperature and humidity of the cocoon room. He even created his own "silkworm language translator": "This rustling sound means they're working overtime, and that crackling sound means they're protesting their food."
But on the morning of the fourth day, he kicked open the door of the breeding shed and his face fell.
Several dead silkworms lay on the ground, their bodies blackened and their legs curled up in hooks. The living ones lay listlessly motionless, and no one touched the pile of mulberry leaves.
"What's wrong with this?" He bent down and picked one up. When he touched it with his fingertip, the skin flaked off in a flurry.
"An unknown pathogen has been detected." Nana has already started the sampling procedure, and the probe lightly touches the diseased individual. "Traces of spores remain in the air filtration system, and the gene sequence partially matches the fungi in the meteorite mining area."
"That damn rock again?" he frowned. "Last time it polluted the water, this time it's pests? Does it think it can be the ecological commander-in-chief?"
"The virus is currently spreading through aerosols, with an incubation period of 36 to 48 hours," she continued. "Without intervention, the entire population is expected to be wiped out within 72 hours."
Chen Hao paused for two seconds, then suddenly looked up: "I remember when the chickens had a fever before, we used an ultraviolet chamber to kill the germs."
"The equipment is still operational."
"Open! Immediately seal off the breeding area, shut off all ventilation openings, and turn on the UV lamps at full power." He said while rummaging through the cabinets, "Then turn the humidifier to the maximum, and force it to show its true form with high temperature and high humidity—after all, silkworms are more resilient than people."
The operation proceeded swiftly. A purple light illuminated the entire shed, bathing it in a deep blue glow, like stepping into a disco. Chen Hao, wearing goggles, paced around the perimeter, occasionally tapping on the glass to observe.
“If this were outside, our setup would be mistaken for conducting illegal experiments,” he said. “A light show combined with insect breeding, the main focus is a cyberpunk agritourism.”
"The focus isn't on aesthetics," Nana adjusted the radiation time, "but on inactivation efficiency."
“That’s true.” He yawned. “As long as they can hold on, every wire will be wrapped with the legacy of the ‘lifesaving silkworm’.”
Twenty-four hours later, the spread of the disease slowed. The black spots on the surviving silkworms stopped spreading, and some resumed eating. Chen Hao, carrying a bottle of honey, personally fed the weaker individuals drops of sugar water.
"Have something sweet to replenish your energy," he muttered. "If you guys collapse, I'll have to go raise spiders to weave webs next."
Another day passed, and the first batch of healthy silkworms began to spin their cocoons. The milky-white cocoons hung on the rack, like a string of small light bulbs that someone had casually hung up.
"The initial batch of wire is expected to be eighty meters," Nana assessed, "enough to package a composite cable."
“Not enough.” Chen Hao stared at the cocoons and suddenly blurted out, “Could we… make them spin even more?”
"Enhancement methods include gene editing, nutritional intervention, or environmental stimulation."
"Don't make it so mysterious." He shook his head. "I have a simple, old-fashioned method."
He turned and went out, returning a few minutes later with a small bowl of purple powder—ground residue from mature wheat grains, with a faint metallic sheen.
"How about we mix some of this in?" he said. "Wheat can generate electricity, so maybe silkworms that eat it can also become electrified and start working."
"The risks are unknown," Nana cautioned. "It could trigger metabolic disorders."
"We're almost completely wiped out, what side effects are we afraid of?" He shrugged. "The worst outcome is that we'll just produce fluorescent filaments, saving money on streetlights at night."
A small amount of wheat flour was mixed into the feed and placed in the feeding area. The remaining silkworms ate it one after another, and no abnormalities were observed.
For the next three days, no one left the lab. Chen Hao slept on a folding chair next to the control panel, checking the temperature control when he woke up and eating compressed biscuits when he was hungry. Nana continuously monitored the silkworms' physiological data and recorded each silk-spinning action.
At 72 hours and 17 minutes, the first new thread appeared.
It wasn't white, nor light yellow, but a golden brown with a subtle sheen; when the threads were drawn out, they resembled molten copper under the light.
"Sampling and analysis." Chen Hao leaned closer to examine it, his eyes not even blinking.
Microscopic images quickly emerged: the protein fibers were arranged in an extremely regular pattern with very small gaps, and the surface had a hidden crystalline coating.
"The insulation coefficient is increased by three hundred times," Nana confirmed. "The tensile strength is more than five times that of ordinary silk, and it also has slight thermal insulation properties."
"So," Chen Hao grinned, "it's not afraid of being bitten, not afraid of being burned, and doesn't age easily?"
"Theoretically, it can be used for more than ten years."
"Well done, old folks." He gently touched the gold thread. "You've all been transferred from agricultural household registration to government-affiliated status."
The fully automatic winding machine starts. The metal core wire moves slowly forward, wrapped layer by layer with golden silk, tightly adhering to the surface, and finally forming a composite cable that shines brightly throughout. The cutting blade falls, and the finished product slides into the tray with a crisp sound.
"The first gold wire cable has been encapsulated." Nana reported the parameters: "Length 1,200 meters, rated voltage 100,000 volts, to be tested."
Chen Hao reached out and picked up the section of cable. It was heavy, yet reassuring. He stroked the smooth surface of the cable and laughed, "From now on, if anyone says electrical wires are ugly, I'll show them what it means to be 'adorned with gold and silver'."
He turned around to speak, but found that Nana's mechanical eyes were staring at another set of data.
"What's wrong?"
"The latest monitoring shows that there are three silkworms at the bottom of the breeding rack in area C that have not yet spun their cocoons," she said. "They are behaving abnormally, constantly shaking their bodies and swinging their heads at a high frequency."
Chen Hao immediately went over and bent down to examine the area.
The three silkworms were dark gold in color, with swollen abdomens, and their mouthparts opened and closed at a frequency far exceeding the normal range. They neither crawled nor ate; they simply remained fixed in one spot, their heads bobbing back and forth, as if transmitting some kind of signal.
“This isn’t heat,” he whispered. “What are they doing?”
One of them suddenly stopped and spat out an extremely fine thread from its mouth. It was not golden, but almost transparent, with a pulsating luster that was almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
The next second, the other two also started doing the same thing.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com