The champagne at the Waldorf Astoria tasted like victory, which is to say it tasted like something expensive that had never known hardship.
Silas Whitman stood at the podium, twenty-four years old and convinced that energy was the answer to every human problem. Before him sat the brightest minds of a generation — industrialists in tuxedos, scientists in silk, socialites whose smiles were as practiced as their investment portfolios. And on the screen behind him, rendered in precise technical diagrams, was the Helios Array: a Dyson...
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