The Man Who Bought The Apocalypse

Chapter 4: Khanh

"Move, move, move!" the lead officer shouted, but he wasn't looking at Radit anymore. He was staring at the doorway where a man in a charcoal-gray suit stood, flanked by four men who looked like they were carved out of granite.

"You're in the wrong room, Detective," the suited man said calmly.

"Who the hell are you? This is a restricted crime scene!"

"I'm the reason his bail is already processed and his file is being flagged as a clerical error. Radit Atmodjo is coming with us."

Radit didn't wait to be asked. He grabbed the empty metallic folder and walked right past the shell-shocked police. "Took you long enough. My apartment is a mess, by the way."

"We’ll buy you a new one," the man said as they reached the armored SUV outside. "But the boss wants to know—"

"He wants the Malindo algorithm. He gets it when I get my engineer," Radit snapped, slamming the door. "University of Indonesia. Engineering building. Drive like the world is ending, because it is."

Ten minutes later, the SUV screeched to a halt on the campus curb. Radit lunged out before the guards could open the door. He didn't care about the suited guy or the police. He looked at his watch.

"Twenty minutes until Khanh’s presentation. Come on, come on!"

He sprinted through the hallway, his lungs screaming. He burst into the equipment storage room next to the main auditorium. A student was standing there, frantically tightening a bolt on a miniature scale model of a dam.

"Khanh!" Radit wheezed, doubling over. "Don't... don't screw that bolt too tight. The tension’s too high."

The student looked up. He was lean, with square glasses and a look of pure, unadulterated stress. "Who are you? Are you the tech delivery guy? My replacement wrench is late!"

"Look at me, Khanh," Radit said, standing up straight. Seeing him alive—not a shriveled corpse in the ruins of Menteng—made Radit’s throat tighten.

"I’m looking at you! You look like you fell off a truck! Where are the high-torque calipers?"

"Forget the calipers. Your turbine logic is flawed. You’re using a static pivot, but you need a variable pitch for the low-flow cycles."

Khanh’s jaw dropped. "How did you... I haven't even opened the schematics yet."

"I know exactly what you’re building. You've been working on this for three years. It’s your graduation project. But in ten minutes, you’re going to walk into that auditorium and a judge named Professor Salim is going to tell you it’s ‘neat but impractical.’"

"Salim? How do you know my judges?" Khanh stepped back, his eyes darting to the door. "Are you a stalker? Security!"

"Security is outside and they're heavily armed! Listen to me!" Radit threw a heavy, black bag onto the table. It landed with a metallic clank that silenced the room.

"What is that?" Khanh asked.

"Everything you need to humiliate Salim and win a grant you’re never going to use." Radit unzipped the bag. Inside were aerospace-grade tools and a roll of blueprints printed on waterproof synthetic paper. "This isn't for a dam. This is for a subterranean atmospheric recycler."

Khanh peeked inside. "Wait... this is titanium? These tools cost more than my tuition!"

"They’re yours. But you’re not presenting that toy dam."

"I have nine minutes, you lunatic! My whole career depends on this presentation!"

"Your career ends with you designing office parks if you follow their path," Radit said, grabbing Khanh by the shoulders. "I have a plot of land in Central Java. I have an aquifer bigger than a lake. I need the guy who builds the impossible."

"I don't know you! I’m going to be an engineer, not a well-digger for a crazy person!"

"Open the blueprints, Khanh. Second page. Look at the flow valve."

Khanh sneered, but his curiosity won. He unrolled the paper. His eyes scanned the lines. His sneer vanished. Then his face went pale. "This... the math is impossible. You’re using a triple-redundancy heat sink? In 2014? This material doesn't exist."

"It does in my head. And I’ll show you how to make it."

The auditorium door opened. "Student number 042, Khanh Nguyen? You’re up."

Khanh looked at his model, then at the blueprint. "I can't. This is too much. I'll get disqualified."

"Do you want to be safe and poor, or do you want to build the heart of a civilization?"

Khanh snatched the blueprints. "If I get arrested, I'm telling them it was your idea."

"Go!" Radit followed him into the auditorium.

The room was cold. Three judges sat in high-backed chairs. In the center stood Professor Salim, a man who smelled of cigarettes and superiority.

"Start your presentation, Mr. Nguyen," Salim said without looking up from his coffee.

Khanh didn't pull out his model. He slammed the blueprints onto the projector table. "I’m pivoting. The dam is garbage. Look at the turbine delta instead."

"Excuse me?" Salim looked up, eyes narrowed. "You're changing your thesis on the floor?"

"Look at the specs, Salim!" Khanh barked, his voice gaining a sudden, frantic edge. "If you input these variables into the fluid dynamics model, the energy return is three hundred percent over current standards."

The other judges leaned forward. "That’s impossible," one whispered. "The second law of thermodynamics—"

"The second law is satisfied by the geothermal compensation!" Khanh pointed to a specific corner of the blueprint Radit had scribbled on. "The recycler doesn't fight gravity, it harvests the pressure differentials!"

"This is insane," Salim muttered, standing up. "Where did you get this research? This isn't undergraduate work. This is stolen."

"It’s not stolen! It’s... it’s pre-industrial!" Khanh shouted, glancing at Radit in the shadows.

"I’m ending this now," Salim said, reaching for his gavel. "You’re disqualified for academic dishonesty."

Radit stepped into the light. "The blueprints aren't the problem, Professor. The problem is your imagination."

"Who are you? Sit down!"

"I’m the guy who’s hiring him," Radit said, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Khanh, we’re done here. Pack the bag."

"I have to answer their questions!" Khanh protested, though his hands were already rolling the blueprints.

"They don't have questions. They have egos. They’ll spend five years trying to prove you wrong while I’m giving you five months to build the first prototype."

"You really mean it?" Khanh whispered as they backed toward the exit. "This... this is real?"

"The tools are real. The aquifer is real. The drought is coming, Khanh. And after the drought comes the fire."

They burst through the double doors, leaving the stunned auditorium in silence. Outside, the armored SUV was still idling.

"Okay, look," Khanh said, stopping near the fountain. "I’m impressed. The blueprints are a masterpiece. But I can't drop out. My family... we have a mortgage in Bandung. My sister is starting high school. I need the degree to get the bonus."

"How much?" Radit asked, pulling out his phone.

"How much what?"

"The mortgage. The school fees. The total debt."

"I don't know, maybe five hundred million total? It’s not something you just—"

"Bank account number," Radit interrupted.

"What? No, I’m not—"

"Give me the number or I’m letting that suit guy decide your future instead."

Khanh stammered out his ID number, his hands shaking. "I'm telling you, it’s not that simple. You can't just fix a life in a hallway—"

Radit’s thumb moved across the screen in a blur. He tapped the 'confirm' button with a heavy finality.

Transfer Initiated: IDR 750,000,000.

"There. I added an extra two hundred and fifty million for a relocation fund for your parents. Tell them they need to move further inland by 2018."

Khanh’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't move. He stared at Radit like he was seeing a ghost. "You're kidding. You’re totally kidding."

"Check it."

Khanh slowly pulled his phone out. His screen glowed in the afternoon sun. He swiped the notification.

He stayed frozen for ten seconds. Then his legs literally gave out, and he had to sit on the edge of the fountain.

"Seven hundred... and fifty..."

"That’s one year of your life," Radit said, looming over him. "One year, full-time. No university, no Salim, no distractions. You come with me to Plot 44-B tonight."

Khanh looked up, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Are you... are you a terrorist? Is this drug money? Am I going to be executed?"

"I’m the guy trying to save your life. Do we have a deal?"

Suddenly, the charcoal-suit man walked over, his face like a thundercloud. "Radit. We have a problem. The boss just saw the Malindo crash."

"And?"

"He says the police were tipped off by someone inside the Ministry. Someone who knew you'd short the stock. They're not looking for you for fraud anymore."

"Then why are they looking for me?" Radit asked.

The suit leaned in close. "They think you have the blueprints for the government’s secret bunker. The same blueprints you just handed to that college kid."

Radit looked at the bag in Khanh's lap. He looked at the black SUVs circling the block.

"They’re early," Radit whispered.

"Who’s early?" Khanh asked, clutching the bag.

"The people who kill everyone in 2024," Radit said, grabbing Khanh’s arm. "Run!"

A siren wailed, closer than the last time, and three non-police vehicles jumped the curb, heading straight for them.