Chen Hao casually placed the unfinished drink on the side of the spaceship's porthole. The liquid sloshed around, leaving a crooked mark on the glass. He rubbed his neck; the summit badge with the words "Ecological Pioneer" was still stuck on his collar, looking like some kind of expired certificate of honor.
"Can we take a nap first?" he said to Nana. "I dreamt that I was planting wheat on a platform, and the audience was full of businessmen holding forks, wanting to sample the wheat."
“Okay.” Nana stood at the hatch, her mechanical eyes scanning his blood pressure and heart rate. “But the main control room on the desolate planet just sent a level three alarm: energy reserves have fallen below the safety line, and the backup power has automatically switched twice.”
Chen Hao paused for a moment. "Didn't we just add three sets of photovoltaic arrays?"
“The addition of new agricultural implement production lines and the expansion of the ecological monitoring network have led to a surge in load.” Nana pulled up the data stream projector. “Over the past 72 hours, the average power consumption has exceeded the threshold by 18%. If the current pace continues, we will enter power rationing mode in 48 hours.”
He sighed, pulled a pair of wrinkled work shoes from under his seat and put them on. "Fine, I can't sleep anyway—as soon as I close my eyes, I see people using our technology to bomb other planets."
When the spaceship landed on the base's helipad, the wind was fierce. Sand swirled and lashed against the metal hull, crackling loudly. Chen Hao had barely opened the door when he was blown off balance, the badge in his hand flying directly into a haystack.
"Don't pick it up," Nana said. "It doesn't belong here."
“I know,” he said, patting his trouser leg. “But I was just thinking about whether to nail it to the warehouse wall as decoration.”
The lights in the control room were one degree dimmer than usual. Red and yellow alert boxes flashed on the screen, and the power dispatch image resembled a suffocating electrocardiogram, fluctuating wildly.
Chen Hao plopped down in the command chair, which creaked as if protesting that he had gained another five pounds. He pulled up the energy log and examined each entry, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
“The photovoltaic array is working normally, the geothermal well output is stable, and the battery packs are in good health… The problem isn’t on the supply side,” he murmured. “It’s just that the demand is too high.”
Nana nodded: "After the smart farm implements were delivered in batches, the requests for remote debugging surged. Each set of equipment uploads an average of 300 megabytes of data and receives 200 megabytes of command packets every day. The communication base stations are running at full power, and the cooling system is running non-stop."
"So, we saved a planet, only to have it dragged down by our own customers using the internet?" Chen Hao grinned. "Wouldn't you call that a side effect of technological success?"
“The analogy is appropriate,” Nana replied.
He leaned back in his chair, stared at the ceiling for a while, and suddenly asked, "It's so windy outside, have you ever thought about getting some wind power?"
The cursor on the control panel paused for 0.3 seconds.
“The local average annual wind speed is 19 meters per second, with gusts reaching 37 meters per second.” Nana quickly pulled up the meteorological data. “The theoretical power generation potential is 1.2 kilowatt-hours per square meter of wind turbine swept area. If a set of 10-meter vertical axis wind turbines is built, it is expected to supplement the power by about 450 kilowatt-hours per day, which is enough to cover the basic load of the communication module.”
"Wait a minute." Chen Hao held up one finger. "You mean 'vertical axis'? One of those things that looks like a blender?"
"It has a simple structure, strong wind resistance, and is suitable for non-professional maintenance environments." Nana projected a simplified model, "It does not require a yaw system, has a low start-up wind speed, and can be deployed in complex terrain."
Chen Hao stared at the rotating miniature model for a long time, then suddenly laughed: "Okay, let's be electricity bill collectors too."
"I suggest prioritizing the cleanup of the old warehouse in the west area." Nana turned off the projector. "Some discarded brackets and bearings may meet the standards for reuse."
"Well, more manual labor." He stood up, leaning on the handrail, and casually pulled a deformed baseball cap from the cabinet and put it on his head. "After all this high-tech stuff, why do we end up rummaging through garbage dumps?"
“Technological innovation often begins with a lack of resources.” Nana followed him out of the control room. “Historical data shows that 70% of major breakthroughs stem from material substitution or structural simplification.”
"Can't you just say 'Boss, you've worked hard'?" Chen Hao muttered.
The warehouse door was half rusted shut, and he had to kick it twice to barely pry it open. Inside, it was piled high with scraps accumulated over the years: broken guide rails, scrapped sensor arrays, several old irrigation pumps with their motors removed, and a half-sack of fertilizer left over from who-knows-when, the bag torn and the powder hardened into lumps.
When the flashlight beam shone in, dust particles danced wildly within the beam.
“It’s like a tech graveyard.” Chen Hao coughed. “Shouldn’t we put up a monument? Write ‘Three failed projects and a bunch of dreams are buried here.’”
"I suggest locating the metal components first." Nana activated the infrared scanning mode, a glint of light flashing in her pupils. "Target area: under the third shelf on the north side, there are signs of high-strength alloy pipes."
He bent down and crawled inside, bumping his head against a loose beam, which dropped a handful of dust. After groping around for a while, he pulled out a bent aluminum pipe and found two rusty universal joints next to it.
"Can this be used?" He picked it up and shook it.
“Rust removal is needed, but the structural integrity is still acceptable.” Nana took the inspection. “It can be used as a candidate material for the blade support arm.”
They then found six uncut carbon steel rods of varying lengths, but with diameters matching the design estimates, under a pile of abandoned greenhouse frames.
"What about the generator?" Chen Hao wiped his sweat. "We can't expect the windmill to generate electricity on its own."
“The old drone repair area contains three permanent magnet synchronous motors,” Nana pointed to the southeast corner. “They were once used for high-altitude inspection models, with a power matching degree of 76%.”
"76% is acceptable." He grinned. "It's not like we're building a spacecraft, as long as the lights work, it's fine."
The most troublesome thing was the copper wire. After searching through all three storage boxes, they couldn't find an insulated cable long enough, until Nana scanned the chicken coop roof—where the windbreak netting had been temporarily reinforced with scrap wire.
"Let's tear it down." Chen Hao looked up. "Anyway, no chickens want to fly away these days."
He climbed the ladder, cut the binding straps, and began to lower the copper wires one loop at a time. However, the last bundle got stuck, and with a strong pull, the entire windbreak net collapsed, wrapping half of his body in its wake.
"Help...help!" he thrashed about in the net. "Am I going to turn into roast chicken?"
Nana walked over and precisely cut the tangled point. "The probability is less than 0.3%. But your current posture does resemble that of poultry waiting to be slaughtered."
"Thanks, master of lame jokes." He struggled to get out and shook off the bits of grass from his body.
The two moved the collected materials to the open space in the courtyard, piling them into a crooked little mountain. Aluminum pipes, steel poles, bearings, motors, copper wires, and a solar charging panel that someone had left there, with cracks at the edges.
Chen Hao sat on the steps, panting, looking at the pile of junk, and suddenly laughed out loud.
"Doesn't this resemble the first time we built a greenhouse?" he said. "Back then, we didn't even have screws; we just used wire to tighten them for three days."
“87.3% similarity.” Nana stood to the side. “The difference is that last time it was about survival. This time, it’s about living a little longer.”
"That's quite philosophical." He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "But speaking of which, can you really make a windmill that generates electricity with all this stuff?"
“Efficiency cannot be guaranteed,” she said calmly, “but structural integrity and basic functionality can be ensured.”
"That's fine then." He stood up, patted his pants, and said, "At worst, a gust of wind will blow the whole device apart and send it flying into the sky. That would still be fulfilling my dream of flying."
Nana did not respond, but squatted down and began to count the materials, her mechanical fingers quickly moving the position of each metal part.
Chen Hao took out his phone, took a picture, and sent it to the internal group with the caption: "New energy project launched, crowdfunding for naming, the one with the most likes will be selected."
Within a minute, more than a dozen replies popped up.
"How about calling it 'Wind Fury No. 1'?"
"Not as good as 'Lungs of the Wilderness'?"
"It is suggested to name it 'Boss Weight Loss Assistance Device'."
He was scrolling through the comments with a smile when Nana suddenly looked up.
“A new anomaly has been detected,” she said. “Voltage fluctuations in the geothermal well circuits in the eastern area have intensified, and if this continues to worsen, it may trigger a cascading protection mechanism.”
Chen Hao's smile froze for a moment.
“So we’re not just short of electricity now,” he said in a low voice, “the entire energy network is struggling.”
He walked up to the pile of materials, picked up a steel rod, and drew three lines on the ground.
“Then let’s get started quickly,” he said. “First, make one that can rotate, then make one that can generate electricity, and finally make one that will stop the system from alarming every day.”
Nana stood up, a preliminary layout sketch already formed in her hand.
“Step 1: Assemble the stand,” she said. “You will need to help fix the angle of the base.”
Chen Hao rolled up his sleeves, revealing an old burn scar on his forearm.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s see if we can make the wind blow a future.”
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