Tech Giants: Starting from Bankrupt Companies

398: The third era that can’t be caught up withIt was December in Washington, and Christmas decorations already lined the streets around the White House, but the atmosphere in the press briefing room was colder than the biting wind outside. The President stood at the podium, a blue backdrop for the ”National Space-Based Computing Strategy” behind him, his expression as solemn as if he were announcing a defeat in war. The document before him was only two pages long, but every word felt as heavy as lead.

“The United States announces that ’Space-Based Computing’ is now a national strategy. Congress has made an emergency appropriation of one hundred billion dollars.”

The reporters below were in an uproar. One hundred billion—this was the largest single investment in technology by the United States since the Apollo program. A reporter from The New York Times was the first to stand up, his question cutting like a knife: “Mr. President, Xingchen’s Nebula 2.0 has already deployed two thousand servers. Can one hundred billion dollars even catch up?”

The President fell silent for three seconds. In those three seconds, he recalled what he had seen during his visit to Silicon Valley three months ago—an engineer at a startup had used the computing power of Nebula 2.0 to complete a chip design in three days that would have normally taken six months. That kind of fluidity, that efficiency, and that crushing advantage made him feel despair for the first time. He cleared his throat, his voice raspy: “We will do our best.”

That morning, Su Chen sat at his computer in his office, looking at the news on his phone. Lin Wan pushed open the door and entered, holding a tablet displaying a screenshot of the White House press conference. “President Su, the US has allocated a hundred billion to chase after us.”

Su Chen smiled, a look of composure that saw through to the end in his expression. “A hundred billion? They won’t catch up; our technology is more than ten years ahead of theirs.”

He turned, walked to his desk, and took a sip from his teacup. “Issue a statement. Keep it simple.”

At twelve o’clock noon, Xingchen’s official account posted a tweet with a rendering of ’Nebula 3.0’—ten thousand servers arranged in an array in low Earth orbit, with laser communication links forming a silver web: “The Nebula 3.0 project is officially launched. Ten thousand servers in orbit with a total computing power of 20,000 EFLOPS. Deployment in 2024.”

Netizens instantly exploded. “The US just announced a hundred billion, and Xingchen releases Nebula 3.0. That slap in the face came fast.” “Ten thousand servers, 20,000 EFLOPS. How can the US catch up?” “They can’t catch up; they’ll never catch up.”

That afternoon, the Twitter trending topic ’#Nebula 3.0’ surged to number one globally. Comments from netizens poured in like a tide. “The US allocates a hundred billion, Xingchen releases Nebula 3.0. This response is so Xingchen.” “Ten thousand servers, computing power multiplied by ten again. The US is chasing a ghost.” “They can’t catch up; they’ll never catch up.”

December 25th, Shenzhen. In the briefing hall of Xingchen Headquarters, the Christmas decorations hadn’t even been taken down yet, but everyone’s attention was on the large screen. Chu Tianming stood in the center of the stage, with a real-time computing power map of Nebula 2.0 behind him—two thousand quintillion floating-point operations per second, distributed across an orbit of five hundred and fifty kilometers, like an invisible city.

“Today, the computing power of Nebula 2.0 is fully open. Any enterprise, any university, or any scientific research institution in the world can apply to use it.”

The large screen lit up:

Nebula 2.0 Computing Power Open Plan

Total Computing Power: 2,000 EFLOPS

Open Ratio: 50% (1,000 EFLOPS)

Application Method: Free application, allocated based on need

Priority Fields: Drug development, climate prediction, materials science, fundamental physics

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience. Three thousand people stood to applaud, including those reporters who were still questioning ’computing power monopolies’ yesterday. Chu Tianming continued, his voice calm but every word carrying immense weight: “Computing power is not a luxury; it is infrastructure. Just like electricity, just like water. Everyone should be able to afford it.”

That day, scientists around the world went wild. On Twitter, one tweet after another bloomed like fireworks. “Xingchen has opened up its computing power! My drug molecule simulation, which used to take three months, now takes three hours.” “Climate models that used to have a ten-kilometer resolution are now at one kilometer. Xingchen saved the Earth.” “New material calculations used to require a thousand trials; now AI predicts it directly. Materials science is about to take off.”

On December 26th, the cover of Nature magazine was a breathtaking image—the Earth surrounded by points of computing light, from the equator to the poles, from the oceans to the deserts, every corner illuminated. The cover title: ’The Era of Computing Power Equality.’ Subtitle: ’Xingchen opens Nebula 2.0 computing power; global scientific research enters a new era.’

The editor-in-chief of Nature wrote in the editorial: “This is the largest public good in the history of science. Larger than the internet, larger than the Genome Project. Because computing power is the foundation of all science. Without it, drug development relies on trial and error, climate prediction relies on guesswork, and materials science relies on luck. With computing power, everything can be simulated, predicted, and optimized. What Xingchen has opened up is not just computing power, but possibility.”

Su Chen looked at the cover of Nature, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. Lin Wan stood beside him and saw it too.

“Computing Power Equality,” she said. “That’s a well-chosen name.”

Su Chen nodded. “A computing power monopoly is a disaster for human civilization. If only the wealthy can use computing power, then science becomes a game for the rich. That’s not what we want.”

He paused and looked out the window. “What we want is for doctors in Africa to be able to use AI to diagnose malaria, for farmers in Indonesia to use climate models to predict the dry season, and for materials scientists in Brazil to design new molecules on a computer. That is the true meaning of computing power.”

December 30th, Hawthorne, California. In the briefing hall of SpaceX Headquarters, Musk stood on stage with a rendering of ’Starshield’ satellites behind him—five hundred satellites arranged in an array in low Earth orbit, each only half the size of a Nebula server. His face looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes deeper than usual, but a trace of a bitter smile still hung on his lips.

“SpaceX announces the official launch of the ’Starshield’ plan. We will launch five hundred computing satellites to provide space-based computing support for the United States.”

A reporter raised their hand, their voice somewhat sharp: “Mr. Musk, for five hundred satellites, what is the total computing power?”

Musk was silent for a second, his gaze falling on the distant ceiling. “Approximately two hundred EFLOPS.”

The reporter pressed further: “Nebula 2.0 is two thousand EFLOPS. Starshield is only one-tenth?”

Musk gave a bitter smile, one that held a rare sense of fatigue. “We did our best.”

That morning, at The Pentagon, Secretary of Defense Austin stood on stage with the American flag and the Space Force flag behind him. His voice was loud but hollow: “The United States fully supports the ’Starshield’ plan. This is America’s first step in space-based computing.”

A reporter asked: “First step? Xingchen is already running a marathon.”

Austin fell silent.

That afternoon, the Twitter trending topic ’#StarshieldPlan’ surged to number one globally. Netizens’ comments were as sharp as a scalpel. “Five hundred satellites, 200 EFLOPS. Nebula 2.0 is 2,000 EFLOPS. One-tenth.” “Musk said ’We did our best.’ That really stings.” “The US just announced a hundred billion, and Xingchen released Nebula 3.0. The US announces Starshield, and its performance is only one-tenth. How can this war be fought?” “They can’t catch up; they’ll never catch up.”

That evening in Shenzhen, Su Chen stood by his office window, looking at the night view of Shenzhen Bay. Lin Wan entered with a tablet in hand. “SpaceX has released Starshield. Five hundred satellites, 200 EFLOPS.”

Su Chen laughed. “Two hundred EFLOPS? That’s one-tenth of our Nebula 2.0.”

He paused and looked out the window. The moon was hanging just above the sea. Five hundred and fifty kilometers away, two thousand Nebula 2.0 servers were silently operating in the vacuum. Thirty-six thousand kilometers away, the Heavenly Punishment satellite was cruising in orbit. Three hundred and eighty thousand kilometers away, the astronauts at the Guanghan Palace base were using lunar soil bricks to expand their living quarters.

“They did their best,” Su Chen said softly, “but we haven’t even given our all yet.”

Outside, the surface of Shenzhen Bay shimmered with silver light under the moon, and the distant Hong Kong skyline was brilliantly lit. That grey planet was waiting for humanity’s next footprint, while the two thousand points of light in space were weaving a computing web that covered the entire Earth. Next year, this web would grow to ten thousand points of light, multiplying by ten again. Meanwhile, the United States was still bickering over the launch permit for its first computing satellite.

Su Chen turned and said to Lin Wan, “Inform Chu Tianming to move the deployment of Nebula 3.0 forward to next June.”

Lin Wan was stunned for a moment. “Can we make it?”

Su Chen smiled. “We can. Because we have the technical strength, we must win.”