2022 English translation from the 2018 Russian original text
"Ah, the vicious tongues, they are more frightful than a pistol shot!”
- A.S.Griboyedov "Woe from Wit"
"The sleep of reason produces monsters" - Spanish proverb
Dr. Wen Durago arrived at his new workplace on the morning of August 1st in a good mood. He was anticipating the new stage of his engineering career and close to forgetting a previous challenging work experience. The company was ambitiously called Newton Limitless and was developing a brand-new technology to make ethyl alcohol from blue-green algae. In nature, these unicellular organisms engage in the process of absorbing carbon dioxide from the air and, using solar energy, turning it into oxygen and other substances vital for their activity. The process is of course photosynthesis and Wen knew it since childhood, and that most importantly, it requires the green enzyme - Chlorophyll which is present in these algae and in most plants. Humans and animals do not have it, and thus we are not capable of the process. Therefore, healthy algae are green and people are not.
Newton Limitless was founded by molecular biology specialists - MIT graduate Dr. Cherry, and his mentor, Professor Carrie. The scientists asked themselves: “What if we make the algae produce ethanol? The possibilities of genetic engineering are practically unlimited. Algae cells naturally make different sugars and it takes only one metabolic step to transform sugar to alcohol, and then what on earth prevents us from changing the genetic code and forcing algae metabolism a little further? Let them work for the benefit of mankind!”
Several years of dedicated work in Prof. Carrie’s lab resulted in roaring success: genes were inserted into the algae’s DNA and the unicellular creature started producing alcohol, and specifically, ethyl alcohol. Not much was produced but enough for analysis and obtaining a patent. Then came time for commercialization: the startup was founded, venture capitalists invested money, and the story started to unfold onto the next level.
Entering a spacious lobby of a modern two-story building, Wen introduced himself to a pretty secretary and asked to notify his new chief, the director of the engineering department, René Durant, of his arrival.
- Unfortunately, René just flew out to Grobbs, but you’re allowed in. Please go to the second floor, room 207 is your office, and Kevin will meet you there and explain everything. - The office turned out to be a small cubical among many others: an L-shaped table, an armchair, a shelf and a hook. There was no one nearby and Wen curiously looked at the remaining artifacts from the previous cube owner: a couple of triangular pennants pinned to the walls with an image of a pink piglet with angel wings growing from his back.
- Welcome to Newton Dr. Durago, - he heard behind him. It was Kevin Smith - a man in his 30s, senior engineer of the development group. After greeting Wen, he rushed to explain:
- These pennants are awarded for important achievements that our directorate hands out at quarterly meetings to distinguished employees. The piglets are due to our company's slogan "And pigs can fly!", you know the song? - Wen did not know and Kevin continued, - This is our CEO’s idea, in the sense that for Newton Limitless there are no obstacles, we never retreat here, and pigs will fly when necessary.
Wen nodded quietly with understanding while remembering an old saying from his childhood in the Soviet Union: "Water flows in the Kuban’ River where the Bolsheviks command."
Kevin started to explain the gist of the job: Liz and I will introduce you to the case. We are in a bit of a rush: our major sponsor - the car manufacturing company, Gaudi, asked us to send them a 2-liter sample of our bio-organic alcohol. Given that the timeline is only 6 weeks, René urgently flew to the pilot plant located in Grobbs, Texas. Wen thought about his job interview with the Senior Vice President of technology, Dr. Philip SanAntonio, who enthusiastically shared Newton Limitless’ plans: “Next fall we are launching our first commercial plant in Texas, we will manufacture 80-thousand-tons of alcohol per year, and this is only the ‘test of the pen!’” SanAntonio continued broadcasting, “then 400-thousand-ton plants in Arizona and New Mexico are on the way and, in parallel, we are building similar bio-ethanol plants in Colombia and South Africa. Practically the entire global fuel ethanol market will be in Newton’s hands. We already opened a subsidiary in Amsterdam that will deal exclusively with the sale of finished products. So, the amount of work for you, my dear Durago, is limitless - we critically need experienced engineers like you”.
Liz then appeared, an elegant woman with curly black hair down to the waist, first glimpses of gray, and a double surname of Blanco-Schwartz. She looked very concerned, and Wen did not have time to squeeze in his question wondering what’s the problem in sending Gaudi a 2-liter sample of ethanol? After all, the startup has already existed for 8 years. Ma ba’aya? (What's the problem?)
- I just got a call from René, - Liz said, - he asked to send three engineers to Grobbs, and urgently. I'll probably fly, you, if you can, Kevin, and Zheng Zhu. - Kevin, the freshly-new father of 3-month-old twins, did not mind.
After this state of urgency was established, they finally moved onto to introducing Wen to the technology and describing Newton’s process that got the codename ‘Fuel from the sun’. Specifically, first a nutrient-rich medium is prepared for the cells – the substrate, then genetically modified bacteria (algae) are charged in a small amount, which is called inoculation. This aqueous biomass is propelled by pump through transparent plastic tubes looking like a very long inflatable mattress, which naturally lies on the ground and is illuminated by the sun. The carbon dioxide gas is injected, and the process takes off. For 2-3 days cells grow quietly, that is, multiply by division, and when their concentration reaches the desired value, a special substance is introduced into the system, which kind of switches algae to the alcohol production mode. Now all energy of photosynthesis goes to alcohol, which cells secrete through their membranes into the aqueous substrate. A few methods exist to extract the alcohol from the biomass, concentrate it and turn into fuel. There are still all sorts of details, but more on that later. The reader needs a break from this biotechnology talk, and Wen, along with some young engineers, left for lunch.
***
On the way to the cafeteria, Wen innocently asked Kevin about the currently achieved alcohol concentration in the biomass. Upon getting the answer he made a simple calculation in his mind - if everything else goes right and the separation technology works, then, just to start talking about commercializing the process, Newton’s team needs to increase cell productivity by about 10 thousand times! The company’s ultimate goal is to compete in price with synthetic alcohol (sorry - made from oil) that is sold on the world market at 40-50 cents per liter. For those who do not know, "organic alcohol" from corn costs its producers $ 2-3 per liter, and the difference is compensated by the state from collected taxes. Many readers probably saw the yellow inscription at gas stations: "Gasoline contains up to 10% ethanol” that leaves them indifferent.
Meanwhile, it is necessary to rejoice in the fact that it is only 10%, otherwise, gasoline would cost much more, and your engine would work worse. For example, driving on pure alcohol requires about twice as much fuel by volume compared to gasoline due to lower calorific value. Expensive? – Come on! What on Earth wouldn’t you sacrifice for the sake of the mantra: "Green energy, sustainability and renewable resources!"
Wen did not have the heart to upset Kevin and Liz with his mental arithmetic. At lunch Liz honestly informed him that no alcohol from the algae biomass had yet been isolated at Newton apart from 200 grams of foul-smelling murky liquid. Thus, making two liters with a 99.5% purity as requested by Gaudi, did not seem simple at all. In fact, Wen was hired to improve or develop a method of separating alcohol from the biomass.
Later Wen walked into the technology lab which was now partly under his management. He met his only two employees, the young engineers Zvi and Sayed. They toured him through the very well-equipped lab packed with glassware, various controllers and few analytical instruments. The former head of the laboratory resigned a month ago and now the guys were working independently on a project of obtaining diesel fuel, also from algae but different strain. The process was complicated: ten recovery stages, and so far, after having processed about 200 liters of biomass, they got only one gram of this biodiesel.
Wen immediately liked the guys, both knowledgeable and diligent. Zvi was slightly overweight, always positive and obsessed with buying all kinds of equipment and materials from catalogs, often without having a clear idea what for and if it was needed. On the contrary, Sayed was incredibly slim, did not understand jokes and was interested only in analytics. He monopolized all the analytical work, and personally carried all the samples to the analytical laboratory, where he was much interested in a young technician named Sarah.
Back in the cubicle, Wen was packing up and about to go home, but decided to check his email before going. Embedded in all sorts of announcements and invitations to various safety trainings, he found a letter from his chief René, demanding him to fly out to the Grobbs pilot plant as soon as possible. Tickets were available only for Wednesday (it was now Monday) and you had to connect through Houston and then fly to Grobbs on one of the only two flights a day.
At home during dinner, Wen’s lovely wife hopefully asked about his first day and the new company. Wen was tempted to say ‘Oops, I did it again,’ but decided to stay positive and enthusiastically claimed, while trying to make himself believe it, that everything looks just fine: the company is not entirely kosher, but the tasks seem noble while challenging. Anyway, Olga got it and sighed.
***
At the airport, Wen was called out by an elderly Asian man who vaguely seemed familiar:
- Hello, Mister Dju-ra-gou, I'm Zheng Zhu from Newton, we are on the same flight to Grobbs. - Wen remembered that name mentioned by Liz, who left with Kevin to Grobbs the day before. Zheng came to America from Taiwan 40 years ago to study engineering, worked many years for a large chemical company, did not make a career and was critical about startups… but he did know what to say and who to say it to. After asking Wen his seat number, Zheng without a doubt switched his ticket and ended up in the next chair. They had five hours of flight and after the traditional questions to Russian emigrants about Gorbachev and Putin, Zheng turned the conversation to Newton Limitless and biotechnology in general.
- How do you like so far? Isn't it very dynamic? - Wen felt sarcasm, but for now decided not to play along and replied that yes, company eventually grows, and the progress is fast.
- You don’t know what happened yesterday at the pilot?
- No, I didn't get any emails, but what is that?
- And you won't get them, - Zheng said with a grin, - we don't have a stupid habit to have such things documented. What happened yesterday at Grobbs is that the entire adsorption unit that was supposed to catch alcohol from the air after stripping – burned down to ashes! According to rumors, in attempt to desorb the ethanol, the column filled with activated carbon was heated to 200 degrees C. After that, it did not cool down for a long time and for five-six hours was blown with cold nitrogen. The nitrogen ran out, and then Rene, apparently without having a second thought, ordered to blow compressed air through the column. No one dared to object the Director of Technology, and as soon as the air reached the hot carbon, a fire began. It was so strong that the stainless-steel body of the adsorber melted and partially burned, and there is no need to mention what happened to the plastic connecting pipes. A mistake came out. Firefighters arrived but there was nothing to extinguish. “It seems I have a good manager”, Wen thought.
- And where was the Head of safety?
- I don't know, - said Zheng, - we will come, and you can ask.
The flight attendant brought them water and microscopic biscuits. Wen pretended to read a newspaper, but Zheng excitedly wanted to talk to a fresh set of ears.
- Tell me Wen, what is your experience in molecular biology?
- Very limited, - our hero answered with slight bewilderment, - I was hired as a specialist in separation, especially alcohol from aqueous solutions ..., - and without finishing the phrase, he realized that he just opened a Pandora's box. He also remembered the beginning of the famous Yuz Aleshkovsky's novel "Nikolai Nikolaevich": "Listen to me. I know it won't be boring. And if you get bored, then you are an asshole and have no clue what molecular biology is about..." There was nothing left but to listen to Dr. Zhu and it was far from boring.
- Then I will tell you a little about the biological side of our Newtonian business, which, I must say, is haunted by all sorts of surprises and unpleasant discoveries that inhibit successful commercialization. For example, recently our scientists learned that there is such a thing as day and night. - In what sense? They have not read the book of Genesis?
- Yes, in the most direct way: experiments on genetic modification of cells were carried out in special incubator thermostats, which were illuminated by artificial light lamps continuously for 3-4 days. But when we moved on to pilot installations, it turned out that the sun does not always shine and it is dark at night, thanks G-d. At night cells do not receive photons and do not grow, moreover, they exhale previously accumulated carbon dioxide (so-called respiration process) and the amount of alcohol drops even lower. It also turned out that at night it is usually colder than during the day and additional energy is needed to maintain the temperature of the substrate-medium not to drop below 30 degrees. And this extra heating is very unhealthy for the economics of the future process, as for us - engineers, dear Wen, should be clear.
- Well, none of the biologists knew that? - They knew but the VP of commercialization decided to conduct experiments with round-the-clock lighting, and later adjust the results - otherwise the pace of development would have slowed down and Newton theoretically would not be able to build its first plant in Arizona on time. We have ambitious plans, Duragou. That VP was later fired and no one said anything about light and darkness until a pilot installation was built…
The plane landed at Houston and they continued to the Grobbs flight gates. Here, to a mutual frustration, Zhu failed to get a seat next to Wen. They arrived to Grobbs late and it turned out that they also booked different hotels. Wen did not know that all Newtonians were staying at the Green Mile Inn (on liberal grounds of course) and drove his rental car to the Hilton.
***
Newton’s pilot plant had to be ten miles away, and it was in the middle of a vast rocky desert overgrown with some stunted thorns. In some places you could see the balls of a car-sized tumbleweed. Although it was only seven in the morning, the heat was already sensible - 30 degrees C. The pilot plant was housed in a long one-story building, and the bioreactor itself "laid” next to it: 16 one-and-a-half-inch diameter and 50-meter-long tubes through which a bright green liquid circulated with gas bubbles. Inside the building they found about a dozen Newtonians and Kevin introduced Wen to the staff. A group of five biologists was headed by a gray-haired man in his 50s, Dr. Martin Stone, the others were engineers, but director Rene was absent. Wen's appearance apparently had interrupted a discussion, which soon continued.
- Antibiotics will be brought only after lunch, - said young biologist Jake addressing Stone. The latter replied in a cheerful tone:
- Okay, then just give them two kilograms, and at 8 pm another one.
Wen thought that probably someone got sick, and Martin meant two milligrams, or maybe he was joking. Then Liz Blanco called him and together they went through the side door to the backyard. On a four meters high platform made of metal profiles, was sitting director Durant and cutting a plastic pipe with a handsaw.
- Welcome to Grobbs, Duragou, - shouted Rene, - Could you give me a file out of that bucket. While Wen was figuring out what bucket, Liz threw a file that Rene nattily caught.
- We have to build a new adsorber by the evening, or there will be no time to make these f…ing two liters for Gaudi. - Liz began to explain that yesterday the former installation has burned down for an unknown reason, but Wen already knew about it from Zheng. For another twenty minutes they were standing below and supplying Rene with some nuts and bolts, then it got so hot that they all decided to take a break and stay a little in the conditioned air. At the doorway they met a thin elderly Chinese man who, seeing the director, tried to escape, but did not have time.
- Wen, please meet our lead engineer Yuan, - Rene thundered, - who doesn't know where he's leading us. Unfortunately, we ought to work together, Duragou! Yesterday this guy said that adsorber wouldn't work! He, you see, allegedly has modeled the process! You know, David used to say that our engineers only pretend to be scientists. He’s damn right! - Everyone laughed, including Yuan.
- Hope you Wen, will deal with the stripping while I finish this adsorber, and in the morning we will start ethanol recovery - biology has just prepared four tons of biomass to process. The titer is slightly less than one, but it should be enough. And you, Yuan, are going back to Boston tomorrow, we don't need pessimists here. - Who’s David? - asked Wen, introducing himself and shaking hands with the Chinese.
- Our president and CEO, Mr. David Davidian. Do you want to see my calculations?
- Sure, let's go. Did I understand correctly that the titer of one means 1 gram per liter and, thus, 4 tons of biomass contain 4 kilograms of ethanol? Yuan confirmed and crouched down to the computer, to display a file with calculations.
- You might see, the concentration of ethanol from the stripper is so small that the maximal capacity of our adsorber is only 15 grams, and then we need to desorb the alcohol by heating activated carbon for several hours.
- I suppose that nothing was extracted yesterday before the fire.
- Well, yes, that's why they have heated up the adsorber so high," Yuan confirmed. For about ten minutes Wen double-checked the calculations. Yuan was tensely silent.
- I don't see any mistake and agree that adsorption is not the best solution here, - Wen finally said,- And I will tell Rene, that there is practically no hope relying on a new adsorber even if rebuilt promptly. But if the adsorber is not suitable for capturing alcohol, then what else can be done? What about condensation at low temperatures?
Yuan revived: - Yes, Dr. Durago, I have thought about it and even made a draft calculation. Unfortunately, for the cooling we have only city water available with a temperature of 10 degrees, which means that we will lose about 40 percent of the product.
- Yeah, it's too much of a loss and unacceptable, - Wen replied, - there are only four kilos of ethanol in the entire biomass, and then we will not be able to meet the Gaudi’s order. Could I ask you to calculate what should be the condensation temperature in order to lose no more than 10%?
15 minutes later, he had his answer: plus 5 degrees.
***
Wen went outside to talk to Rene. He found out that the new adsorber is half ready, but the director himself is gone. Back in the building, Wen met Kevin, Liz, Zheng and the young engineer Aaron, who was also a member of Durant's group. It turned out that Rene left to Grobbs for some spare parts and will be back in an hour. Wen told them about Yuan’s calculations and the cooling problem. In addition, a special refrigerator was needed to condense alcohol from the air mixture. The first to react was Kevin: Rene would be against it, but we do have a cooler purchased for the second line of the bioreactor. But there is no chiller for low temperatures at the plant. Suddenly, Aaron entered the conversation: - There is a small oil company Shelly in Grobbs, which rents out various equipment. I believe, I saw a suitable chiller in their storage room.
Rene arrived. Out of a large jeep jumped senior biochemist Rachel, with whom Rene developed a whirlwind romance against the background of a two-liter alcohol hysteria. Six months later they married and soon Rachel left Newton.
- How is it going, Durago? I have all the missing parts and I think adsorber will be ready by the evening.
-Rene, I checked the calculations of Yuan, and it looks like efficiency of the adsorber will be insufficient…
- Oh, so you are already singing in tune, - Rene viciously interrupted him, but not seeing the usual support in the eyes of the rest of the engineers, he pulled himself together.
- Go ahead...
- We think that the only feasible method of capturing alcohol in this situation would be low-temperature condensation. We found a suitable heat exchanger, and Aaron can rent a chiller from Shelly for a week. - In a rage, Rene silently turned and ran out of the room.
- He probably rushed to call SanAntonio to complain," Kevin said grimly, - nothing good will happen.
However, he was wrong. Rene came back 15 minutes later and suddenly said in a rather calm tone:
- Well, Wen, let’s try cooling. Aaron, take the truck and go for the chiller, and we'll install the cooler right now.
* * *
No one ever mentioned the unfinished adsorber again. When Aaron arrived, it was already dark, and everyone went to the local casino for dinner. It was noisy. Wen found himself at the table next to director of biology Martin Stone and decided to ask him about antibiotics.
- I wonder, did anyone at the plant get sick? Whom were you going to give antibiotics to in the morning? Martin flinched slightly, but replied with a smile:
- Well, Wen… you're ours now and I can tell you, but consider this info confidential, that is, do not spread this topic.
- Of course, - intrigued Wen reacted while planning to mention this later in his memoir.
- As I see it, Duragou, you are not a biologist, so I'll ask if you know what is bioburden?
- No, tell me, - Wen confessed.
- Fine, by bioburden we mean a complex of negative consequences for our fermentation, caused by the penetration of foreign microorganisms into our substrate - an environment for the cell growth and alcohol formation. Hundreds of different bacteria are present naturally in the air, and if sterility is compromised and they penetrate our bioreactor, for example, through a loose connection of pipes. Inside the reactor these intruders can grow very quickly and at the same time they are eating all the alcohol already produced and sometimes devour even our genetically modified algae cells. Compris? - “Good Belgian beer is served in this hole, indeed”, Wen thought and nodded his head:
- And how do you deal with this bioburden? Is it possible to achieve an absolute sterility of the process?
- Yes, in theory it is, - Martin answered after a pause. The pause was necessary to chew another piece of partridge stuffed with mushrooms and provolone cheese. - But it is your engineering job to achieve this. In the meantime, we are forced to use antibiotics to fight these “wild” bacteria in rather large quantities: 2-3 kilograms of levomycetin per batch, as you heard in the morning. And this stuff, my Russian friend, is not cheap: about 50 thousand grand.
- 43 thousand, - corrected him Kevin, listening to the conversation. – By the way, tomorrow our consultant on sterile bioprocessing, Professor Paul Lamb, arrives. - But how does it work? - Wen asked puzzledly, - how that the antibiotic will not kill our algae as well?" - Good question, Durakow, if I pronounce your name correctly. - The thing is, we're molecular biologists and what we do, we change the genome of our algae so that they can produce alcohol. At the same time, we add a couple of extra genes, so-called markers, which make our cells immune to some classes of antibiotics. That is, they are resistant to levomycetin, when all other bacteria are not. Everything is thought out, nothing left to chance, n'est pas?! - Great solution, - Wen whispered, chewing the information received and the perfectly cooked sea bass, miraculously delivered to the Texas steppes in the freshest condition. There was a brief pause in conversation, and under the influence of the second, and might be the third glass of dark Leffe, Wen decided to make a joke.
- Talking about chances and randomness, ladies and gentlemen, I remembered an anecdote from the soviet times, if you don’t mind? - Everybody looked at him with interest. - The boy gets on the bus and asks the bus controller for two tickets. - Why do you need two tickets, son? - Just in case, Sir, incidentally I might lose one ticket. Controller thinks for a while and asked: - What if you lose both tickets? - Well, then I still have a monthly travel card. There was an awkward pause, then unexpectedly Zheng laughed (Yuan did not go to dinner). Wen realized that the joke failed, and when someone asked: "Did the boy was an idiot?" he swore for life not to tell jokes in America.
***
Very early in the morning, when it was still not too hot, Wen, Aaron and Kevin began building the unit for condensing alcohol from a steam-air mixture: they dragged a heavy plate-and-frame heat exchanger from the warehouse and connected it with pipes to a stripper and a chiller. Closer to lunch time, sad news came from biologists: some nasty bird has sat on the bioreactor and pecked a hole in one of the plastic tubes. The green liquid gushed into the sky making a jet of three meters high, and the pumps had to be turned off. The hole was promptly sealed, but under the scorching sun the biomass quickly heated and the algae died. It did not make sense to initiate a new batch, since fermentation step takes ten days and there would be no time to recover ethanol for Gaudi. Martin announced the news to the engineers: - I'm very sorry guys but make your best to extract alcohol from our previous fermentations. Four tons of biomass are at your service. And, à revoir, all biologists return to the Boston Office.
- Well, Martin, I just spoke to SanAntonio and he asks your group to stay for a few more days: we'll need help. - It was Durant.
Martin with a sour smile spread his hands: - Who will refuse the vice-president, of course we can stay...
The engineers really needed help. The battle for alcohol entered a new phase: stripping of alcohol from the biomass by air has already begun. Two-hundred-liter drums were dragged one by one onto a special platform and a small pump pushed green biomass along the tube to the top of a three-meter-high stripper column. Compressed air was injected into the column from below, alcohol was stripped from biomass and condensed in a cooler at plus 5 degrees C (as Yuan calculated) and dripped into plastic canisters. Following thermodynamics, a lot of water was distilled and condensed with alcohol too, so that the concentration of ethanol in the product was only 10 grams per liter, which would seem small, but still 10 times more than in biomass after fermentation.
Distillation of one drum takes about two hours. There are 22 drums and, since the efficiency of stripping is very low, each drum must be reprocessed four times. Newtonians had fought for every gram!
To keep the stripping process going they split into groups of four people each and worked around the clock in three shifts. Durago got into the group with Rene, Aaron and Rachel. The men rolled the drums and the lady ran with condensate samples to the analytical laboratory to check alcohol concentration. Surprisingly, the condenser worked well and Rene somewhat calmed down. He no longer mocked the Russian-Chinese mafia who bought engineering degrees and even started to tell Wen about his trip to Colombia with upper management, where Newton Limitless Ltd. was going to build another bioethanol plant for 15 million tons a year.
- From Caracas we flew by a large plane to Medellín (where the notorious narco-cartel of the same name runs its business), and from there by minibus we drove 400 miles through the jungle on the Caribbean coast. We were accompanied by two well-armed guards.
- Why would you build the plant in such a dangerous place, - Wen asked in the most serious tone he could. - Very simple: first, the sun almost always shines there, and second, there is a huge cement plant right there at the Columbia’s Caribbean coast, which emits a gigantic amount of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. This carbon dioxide is required for our photosynthetic process and Newton will receive it for free, since we save the planet from overheating. Everything is thought out, Durago. Nothing is left to chance. We already signed a Treaty of Intent with our Colombian comrades. - "Good intents paved the road to hell” - Wen thought but refrained from joking. Aaron rolled up another drum and all three dragged it to the platform.
***
Coming back from his night shift a little later than usual, or rather closer to lunch, Wen immediately felt everyone's excitement: all employees seemed busy with something. No one paid him attention and only all-knowing Zhu stopped and remarked amicably:
- If you sleep so long, you can miss an important visit.
- And who's expected, Zheng?
- Mr. Bambais himself from Russia
- Who? - Wen did not believe his ears, - Anatoly Bambais, but what he has...
- The most direct: he is our main investor and member of the Board of Directors. He is coming to Grobbs with an audit - inspection visit, unscheduled, on a short note. Our President David is about to arrive soon here to welcome the dear guest. People are busy cleaning up the territory, traces of fire, while biologists led by Martin are trying to launch a bioreactor.
- But the cells will not have time to grow?
- Sure thing, but there are few kilograms of cell concentrate left in the refrigerator after centrifugation. It is now being diluted with water and pumped into the reactor. You can be sure, it will be green.
- Okay, - Wen whispered and went to the lab to see the nightly stripping results. On the way, he met Rene who informed him that the morning flight from Houston to Grobbs had been canceled and it looks like Bambais and the Newtonian leadership headed by CEO Davidian were stuck in Houston and would not arrive until 5 pm.
- Let's continue stripping, Wen. Today for lunch we have pizza ordered from Grobbs - in honoring the visit. - And he went on to roll the barrels.
At about four o’clock the engine noise became audible and a long black limousine rolled up to the factory building. Eight men warmly dressed out of the weather jumped out and headed for the office. Wen immediately recognized the red-headed Bambais - former prime minister, and currently general manager of RosEnBud – the state holding called Russian Future Energies. Next to him was an intelligent-looking young man with a leather briefcase, apparently his assistant, and six strong short-haired guys in black suits providing security. Wen couldn't see any weapons. The director of the pilot plant, Jim Lauterbach, came out to meet Bambais and introduced himself and Martin Stone - director of biology.
- Let's see the factory and what do you have, - said Bambais in good English with a slight accent. - Yes, quickly, we have only 40 minutes. - Jim hushed up: - I am very sorry, Mr. Bambais, but our president David should arrive from minute to minute. He asked me to wait for him and he will show you everything himself. Please...
- No time, show yourself.
- But I can't, David asked to wait.
- Consider that you no longer work here, - Bambais took a glazed look at Martin Stone, - You show. - Martin has already made his choice: president did not ask him for anything. He bypassed stunned Jim and made a welcoming gesture.
- Sure, Mr. Bambais, please follow me.
There was not really too much to show and the inspection of the pilot was over in 15 minutes. Apparently, a reactor with greenish liquid running through the tubes did not impress the guest. Passing Wen, Bambais stopped and asked in Russian: - Long time here? What’s your name? - Two weeks, Wen Durago. - Can you tell me where is the alcohol here, if any?
- There are samples in the laboratory, I can...
– No need, don’t make me laugh. Next time I am coming, full barrels should be anywhere, and the f…ing plant must work. – The last sentence he added in English and a little louder.
The team loaded back into the limousine and drove away. At the plant perimeter gate they met a car that brought Newton’s president Davidian, but the Russians did not stop. As it turns out, after the cancellation of the Grobbs flight in Houston, Davidian rushed to book a charter plane, intending to invite the honorable guest. Meanwhile, Bambais rented a limo and he and his henchmen had covered 500 miles to Grobbs in five hours. It took about the same time for Newtonian president to arrange a charter. Jim was fired.
***
The next morning, Wen called Zvi and Sayed, emailed them a drawing diagram and asked to start assembling the special laboratory distillation column. Zvi got a blank check to order any missing parts, everything already approved. It will not be boring, indeed.
Consultant on bioburden Paul Lamb arrived to Grobbs in the morning. For about an hour, accompanied by pilot engineers, he inspected the bioreactor and auxiliary equipment. Later, everyone, except for the ethanol air stripping duty shift, gathered to listen to his recommendations in a small conference room. Lamb enthusiastically started his presentation: he was incredibly excited about the company, the disruptive idea of making bioethanol by algae using photosynthesis, people’s creativity and ingenuity and the bioreactor’s pioneering construction. Then he advised to replace a couple of taps and gaskets and, without waiting for lunch, left to the airport.
A week later, he sent an invoice for $4500 and a report of 45 pages containing multiple photos, where he convincingly explained that in terms of sterility, everything was done wrong. Albeit it’s not important, because there's nothing you can do anyway. Yes, there are special sanitary devices designed for the bio and pharma industry: taps, valves, temperature and pressure sensors that allow to conduct processes in a sterile fashion and do not let the airborne microorganisms in, but they are way too expensive. If the target product of Newton Limitless would not be the ethyl alcohol available on market at merely 50 cents per kilogram but rather a cure for cancer worth a $1000 per gram, then you might justify the investment in such equipment. In addition, the replacement of all valves and pumps theoretically can be done on a pilot scale only, but for the Newton’s giant photosynthetic plants, sterile equipment of such size does not exist.
As one can guess, Phil SanAntonio did not like this report too much and refrained from sharing Lamb’s conclusions with his bosses – pessimists are not welcomed at Newton. Lamb's consulting services were never requested in future. The bill was paid.
* * * After two days of a round o’clock three-shift stripper running, all employees somehow adapted to the arduous work. If at the beginning three people were putting a full drum on the scales, now Wen managed to do it alone and without much strain: just tilt the drum and roll and push. Night shifts were especially appreciated by people, and sometimes played by lot. During the day heat reached 45 degrees: any objects left in the sun caused burns being touched, so that all indispensable tools: hammers, keys, files, screwdrivers were kept in buckets of water. Stripping progressed according to the plan: in a separate room, plastic canisters containing blue solution of one percent alcohol gradually accumulated. The blue coloration was caused by addition of copper sulfate - a disinfectant chemical poisonous to all airborne bacteria preventing them from “eating” the bioethanol.
As it was already mentioned, the stripping of one drum takes two hours, and if nothing goes wrong, you could sit down and talk. Rene and Aaron had left for a tea break, and Wen stayed on duty with the gorgeous biologist Rachel.
- Could I ask you Rachel what were you working on in Newton under the guidance of Dr. Stone, until being drafted to Grobbs?
- Of course, - the girl replied, - we were fighting with alcohol poisoning.
- Really? - Wen couldn't conceal surprised expression.
- Yes, you know, this is a big problem: as soon as the alcohol content in the biomass increases to a certain level, aka 2-3 grams per liter, the productivity of algae cells drops sharply, and with a titer of 5, they already die.
Somehow no one in the company thought that alcohol has bactericidal properties, especially it is used in biolabs to sterilizes equipment, thus, genetically modified cells are forced to produce their own lethal poison.
- But on the other hand, we know that typical wine yeast cells “feel good” up to 14% of alcohol, - demonstrated his erudition Wen, - that’s how wine is fermented.
- Yes, but yeast are completely different microorganisms from algae, - answered Rachel, - they feed on sugar or oil, not carbon dioxide, and are incapable of photosynthesis.
- Interesting, - Wen thought, - Liz has shown me specifications of the Newton's first plant, where the working concentration of ethanol was set at 60 grams per liter, and now Rachel says that 5 is already fatal for algae… Might be a good question to Professor Carrie about this “little” inconsistency.
- And how do biologists approach this issue? – Wen had already learnt that the word “problem” is politically incorrect, and rather “issue” or “challenge” should be used.
- We tried genetic engineering methods, but what we need is a gene providing resistance to alcohol, and it is yet to be found. – Wen definitely possessed such gene in his genome and immediately wanted to sacrifice himself for the sake of science, but while he was thinking in what form to offer his services, Rachel continued:
- So, we decided to tame them [algae]: inoculate cells into a substrate that contains some amount of alcohol in advance, let's say two grams per liter, and if the cells grow, then this strain is more resistant than others or can adapt. Then multiply the cells and try a higher concentration of alcohol.
- Well, and how the learning process is progressing?
- Not really so far, - Rachel admitted ingenuously, - at a titer of 4-5, some algae still survive, but at 8, it's over. But Martin says we just need to do more experiments, and we don't have enough thermostats.
- Is Rene aware of this challenge?
- I think so, but we're not talking about it. Rachel took another sample of condensate and left to the lab for analysis while Wen replaced an empty barrel with a full one. Rene appeared in a good mood: SanAntonio just let him know that information about the air stripping success in Grobbs has reached the very head David and he was very pleased with René and his team. In addition, the Newtonian biotechnology got a keen interest from Kazakhstan: some business folks are ready to build there a plant for 25 million tons of alcohol, Colombia could relax.
- Have you ever heard of such a country Durago?
- Yes, of course, I have been there once. If you want my two pennies: in winter it could be very cold there and bioreactor might be covered with snow for three months.
- Once again, pessimists have no place in Newton, Wen, - Rene apparently joked, or maybe not. - By the way, you can go back to Boston tomorrow and start with your guys to distill what we've done so far. Send our blue solutions to Boston by FedEx - it will come in two days. Here we will cope without you.
- Sure, - Wen replied, and went to the office to book tickets and to call his wife, as well as to Sayed and Zvi. ***
On a small plane from Grobbs, Wen Durago met several Newtonians also returning from the pilot plant, and during a transfer at Houston airport they all went for lunch. There were Zheng, Martin and a small, puny man named Prue - lead mechanical engineer whom Wen hardly met in Grobbs, except at the meeting with consultant Paul Lamb. It seemed that Prue and Martin were long-time acquaintances and had worked somewhere together before Newton Limitless. Wen listened to their conversation. Prue’s group was responsible for the design of solar reactors, that is, polyethylene tubes, through which biomass circulated. Prue was a physicist by training and came to biotechnology from a company engaged in the production of solar panels.
- Simple back of the envelope calculation shows, - he told Martin, - that the efficiency of using solar energy in our bioreactors does not exceed two percent, and the rest is either reflected from the walls, or dissipated, or goes to heat the substrate, which can be good in the morning hours, but completely superfluous in the afternoon, when it is hot.
- Let's listen, what does physics advise about this? - Martin replied jokingly.
- Physics show that most of the radiation of the solar spectrum penetrates the aquatic environment no more than 3-5 millimeters deep, so our tubes must be much thinner than the current ones: not 35, but 10-15 millimeters in diameter. Obviously, to accommodate the same volume of substrate, reactor having such thin tubes must occupy ten times the area. And even if the land is relatively cheap, then the energy cost for biomass circulation-pumping goes up dramatically. In addition, the cost of producing reactor’s tubes increase sharply: it is necessary to consume two to three times more polyethylene.
- And how do algae live in the ocean," Wen interfered, - because it is quite deep there?
- In the ocean there is continuous mixing: waves, wind, heat fluxes, and only cells placed in the uppermost layer of water receive photons with sufficient energy for photosynthesis. The ocean’s photosynthetic productivity is even 10 to 100 times smaller than ours, but it is big, - said Prue. - And in addition, I must note that liquid in smaller tubes heats up faster and it will be more difficult to cool - tubes should be shorter.
Everyone had to be silenced because of the announcement on the airport speakers about the flight to Boston being delayed by two hours.
- I saw the basic economic calculations of the Colombian plant where the cost of the bioreactor should be in the range of 1-2 dollars per square meter. - said Zheng. Martin and Prue exchanged glances and looked around.
- Recently, we signed a contract to manufacture tubular reactors for our pilot with PolyNature at the rate of $90 per square meter. – answered him Prue. - Their product quality is poor: only two layers of polypropylene and the glue is unreliable. We talked to another company that presented three-layered samples, but they are asking $240, and Newton has so far refused. - "Yeah, the technology of the future," Wen thought and committed the Orwellian mind crime.
As it turned out, Durago had also committed a face crime at the same time: his cheek muscles failed and expressed a puzzled grin. Martin Stone, staring at him, mockingly asked:
- It appears that you don’t like something, my Russian friend. Don't see a clear prospect of how to reduce costs to one dollar out of ninety? I think, it was your president Khrushchev who famously said: "We're going to bridge the gap in two big leaps". And we, Americans, say that pigs can fly above the abyss without problems. You just need to believe, my dear Wen. Our leadership used to get rid of doubters chick-chuck! - Stone snapped his fingers and sipped his beer.
- My faith is not an issue, Martin, I believed in communism and in water channels on Mars, I also believe that you – microbiologists and geneticists will be able to increase the cells productivity a thousand times, do it without antibiotics and nurture the cells resistant to alcohol. - Stone stopped smiling and it was not clear how the conversation would have gone further, but then Prue intervened:
- Let us leave the reasoning about faith. We are all scientists and should solve problems by scientific methods, then the dream and the reality will come closer, won't it Zheng?
- What do you want from a simple thermodynamic engineer? - Zhu responded in a conciliatory tone, - we, engineers, as David says, have such a weak relationship with science. If your beloved cells, Martin, would be happy with the temperature of the environment: 20 degrees at night, 30 during the day, my job is done. If vice-president SanAntonio says that the costs of cooling are too high, then we will make them low. Nobody here have any doubts about overall success. Chinese wisdom says: “In every crisis, there is opportunity”.
- Martin winced like a toothache: - Come on Zheng, who do you take us for?
- Zheng, so you did the calculation of energy needs for Colombian plant? - Wen asked.
- Yeah, preliminary...
- So how does it look?
- Good news: the climate there is tropical, and the nights are warm, thus we don’t need to heat the biomass in reactors in the nighttime. But during the day it is hot, and it will be necessary to build refrigeration units for cooling, not a cheap pleasure.
- I've seen your report, - Prue remarked, - $140 per kilo of alcohol is way too much, but tolerable to begin with.
- Tolerable is a good word, - gently supported Zheng, - only in the first version of the report it was $1400. Phil said that it should be a mistake and that he would not tell such number to David. It was necessary to adjust, and we assumed that the cost of electricity in Colombia would be 10 times less than in the US.
- That is, they corrected “the error” and dropped one zero, - as if for himself Wen summed up. Nothing is off limits in Newton.
Waiter brought the bill, Martin paid with a corporate card and all four rolled their small suitcases to the boarding gate. Wen noticed that each suitcase had a distinctive ribbon attached to the handle: Zheng’s was green, Martin’s - blue, Prue had it pink, and Wen's wife has tied the white: just in case, not to be confused with someone else's.
***
Just before departure, Wen checked his email. Zvi reported that the first column is almost ready, but they lack the reflux divider, which will be in on Monday morning. Another letter was from Kevin Smith from Grobbs: he wrote that immediately after Wen's departure, the rented chiller went out of order, or rather broke up into pieces from old age, and everyone is busy looking for a new one. It seems that stripping is delayed, but part of the finished product will be shipped to Boston tomorrow.
Wen spent most of Friday in the lab: even with all the energy and desire, Zvi and Sayed assembled the distillation unit incorrectly and it had to be redone. When the heater was turned on for the first time, a high-pressure hose burst, and hot oil spread through the laboratory. Zvi immediately decided to change all old hoses for new ones and ordered 150 meters, although only 7-8 were needed.
***
On Monday morning, as they were about to start a trial distillation run, Wen was summoned to management. In the VP’s office gathered SanAntonio, Martin, Rene, who had just come back from Grobbs, and a tall man of about 65, who was introduced to Wen as Professor Carrie of MIT and one of the Newton's founders and board member.
- How do you like here so far, Duragou? - Carrie asked.
- Wonderful team, noble goal, but a lot of work and it's good.
- Exactly! How was your first visit to Grobbs?
- Everything is going...- Wen began, but was interrupted by SanAntonio:
- Durago has already proposed a major improvement in the ethanol stripping process, hasn't he Rene?
- Yes, in a way," René squeezed out.
- Fine, - Carrie continued without looking at René, - but what about Gaudi’s order? There are 2 weeks left, can we keep the promise?
- My people...- René began but was again shut by San Antonio:
- Please, professor asked Durago.
- We should be on time if everything goes as planned, but we will need to build two more distillation rigs and more people to work on them – my group of three will not be able to run all rigs 24/7.
- Phil and Rene, I hope you understand the importance of our relationship with Gaudi? - asked Carrie. Just at that moment the president's secretary Jane entered the cabinet.
- David asks Phil and Martin to come in, our partners from Colombia just arrived. - Wen thought he had already seen this girl on the cover of the Women's Health magazine when he was standing in line at the pharmacy for medicine but kept this information for himself. As the meeting ended, Wen invited Rene to the lab to see the rig. The guys were finishing the installation of the reflux divider. The column looked beautiful: all the glass parts were connected with blue and green retainers, the yellow wires of the thermocouples neatly winded from the sensors to controller boxes, glowing with bright red indicators. Above the column was a large cardboard plate with the inscription "ROSA".
- What is this? - Rene asked.
- I just named the rig, in honor of my mother, - Zvi replied embarrassedly, - Rosa that's her name. - Wen and Rene looked at each other, but no one dared to object. - It's OK, - Rene muttered, - Wen, let me know how the trial run goes. - And for some unclear reason he went towards the microbiology lab where Rachel worked.
***
Next day in the morning everything was ready. In the lower part of the column Sayed poured four liters of water, added forty grams of absolute alcohol and turned on the heater. In a half hour, the liquid began to boil, and vapors climbed up the glass column. Then they reached the cooler, condensed back into the liquid and this liquid began to flow down the column. On its way there was a special device - called reflux divider that diverted part of the liquid out. This was the product of distillation, in which the concentration of alcohol was ten times greater than in the original solution. Zvi checked the concentration with a refractometer - 10.3%, as expected. - "The process has begun", - Wen remembered Gorbachev’s saying, but there was nobody to share with. After 4 hours, the trial distillation ended and 400 milliliters of solution were collected as product, in which 38 of the original 40 grams of ethanol were determined - an excellent yield. The guys were happy.
Rene came in. He and Wen quickly figured out that to process 300 liters of 1% solution obtained in Grobbs, they need to carry out 75 such distillations. Considering the loading time and preparation of the device, it will take 15 days of non-stop work and Gaudi’s timeline would not be met.
They decided to build two more similar distillation rigs and here Zvi's resourcefulness came in handy: almost all parts were already available. Sayed was asked to distill the real stuff from Grobbs, and Wen and Zvi were building new columns. In three days, everything was ready, and the rigs were given the names "Mary" (after Wen's grandmother) and "Sarah" - at the request of Sayed. More people were needed to maintain, or rather monitor the installations. A lot of engineers were still in Grobbs, so they sent out a corporate e-note inviting everyone to help. About two dozen responded, more than needed, mostly young biologists, but also some senior people, including VP Carrie himself. They worked day and night, in three shifts, one person per installation, and Wen, Zvi and Sayed provided trainings and eliminated problems. Glass reactors cracked twice, five fragile reflux dividers broke, but there was no serious material loss nor accidents. Many saw the distillation process for the first time, and it was exciting.
In about a week, all ethanol solutions from the Grobbs pilot plant were processed and about 20 liters of 10-12% alcohol concentrate were obtained. In industry, such a solution is called "beer" and, strictly speaking, ethanol distillation begins with the “beer”: this concentration is routinely obtained by yeast fermentation of corn or sugar. Wen had recorded the results of 76 individual distillations and calculated overall material balance: total content of pure alcohol was 2.5 liters: they literally fought for every drop. Rene sent the victorious report to SanAntonio, and the volunteers were dismissed.
***
There were 6 days left to the deadline. Wen and his boys have slightly re-configured "Mary" and "Rosa" and carried out five more distillations. Now the product contained 80% of ethanol. Wen dismissed Zvi and Sayed to take a nap, and performed the last distillation alone, bringing the alcohol content to 95%. It was good but not enough: the requirement for fuel-grade ethanol is 99.5%: that is true, no more than half a percent of water. Further distillation was impossible: at 95% ethanol and water form an azeotrope – inseparable by distillation mixture and for the final purification from water you need another method.
How to remove this residual water? It is done with the help of so-called molecular sieves - small ceramic beads the size of a pinhead. Inside these beads the tiny pores exist into which water molecules can enter, but alcohol molecules cannot, because they are slightly larger. Molecular sieves work in reverse to regular screens: the small molecules (water) are retained, and the large ones (ethanol) pass around.
Molecular sieves were poured into a glass tube and a 95% alcohol solution was pumped through. After several tests, it turned out that drying works: 99 and a half per cent. It was necessary to pump slowly, and it took another two days to process all material: Zvi worked during the day, and Sayed at night, Wen practically lived in the lab. Zvi measured the final ethanol volume and, “oh shit!”, they are shy of two liters by barely 250 milliliters. It turned out that the sieves are not ideal separators and together with water absorbed quite a lot of alcohol.
Used molecular sieves were placed into a special flask and heated. The alcohol evaporated, and the water remained on the beads. The vapors were condensed, collected and added to the product. Hooray - 2.1 liters! Sayed took a small sample and brought it to Sarah for analysis, clearly without a queue. Purity was good but unexpectedly, there were two unknown peaks on the spectrum – rather small, but who knows what Gaudi could say about it.
René, SanAntonio and Carrie came to the analytical laboratory. What to do about these peaks? Next morning two liters should be sent to Gaudi. Suddenly, Carrie asked, what does it smell like here? Everyone sniffed: A disgusting odor came from the sample bottle. Wen opened a 2-liter bottle with pure ethanol - alas, the same thing: it does not smell alcohol, but like some nasty crap.
The bosses took turns to come to sniff: really, it stunk, and eventually, it was some chemical produced by bacteria, which (product) survived all the operations of extraction and concentrated in the resulting alcohol. Probably one of the peaks on the chromatogram related to this impurity. There is nothing to do, with a sour look said SanAntonio: - Send it to Gaudi as is, - he turned and left accompanied by Rene.
Wen stopped near the coffee machine, all cups in the sink were dirty, black residue at the bottom. “…black, …stinks, ...grains, …smelly…” he thought. Suddenly, a picture from the deep childhood surfaced his mind: “His Grandpa Moses distills moonshine at home, and then passes it through activated charcoal so that it does not stink of fusel oils.
- You know, guys, we can try to clean these impurities with activated charcoal. – he said absently. Nobody objected, charcoal was poured into a bottle of alcohol and left for four hours. Then the coal was filtered out, and Sayed carried the sample to the lab: it was 10 p.m., but Sarah remained on duty. Half an hour later she brought a chromatogram to the lab: no peaks guys – a victory! The last test was organoleptic: Wen sniffed the bottle and thought "it's ethanol" – the real, so familiar, smell of ethyl alcohol.
They measured the volume: 2008 ! (2 liters and 8 milliliters). His hands trembling, Zvi poured the product into four half-liter bottles with already printed labels: ", Newton Limitless Ltd., FUEL FROM THE SUN (c), Bioethanol fuel grade, batch 0906" and locked them in a safe box. A curtain dropped.
***
Next morning pleasantly excited managers gathered in the office of SanAntonio. Everyone was happy: the job is done. Our great leader Davidian was right: you just have to want strongly, and the pigs will fly... Suddenly, Zvi appeared with the question, where to send this alcohol? It turned out that no one had known Gaudi’s postal address, but they found the phone number and Rene volunteered to call to Gaudi’s project manager. After half an hour he returned with a sour look, gave Wen a piece of paper with the address and murmured:
- Actually folks, they told me that Gaudi needed only half a liter of ethanol for analysis... There was a long pause. In the end, SanAntonio squeezed out:
- Fuck... Well, send them just one bottle.
* * * A month passed. Wen and his guys were busy extracting diesel fuel from algae, and no one else remembered about ethanol. Once Zheng mentioned to Wen that he heard the CFO saying these “Two liters” cost Newton about $ 3.5 million! Technology of the future, indeed.
A week later, Wen accidentally met Professor Carrie in the hallway and decided to ask if there were any results from Gaudi. Carrie was surprised:
- How you do not know, their analytical service reported that in all aspects our alcohol exceeded all fuel-grade standards. - After that Gaudi transferred to the Newton's account another $ 12 million. Carrie was going to move further, but something stirred in his soul, and he said:
- Please, come to my office. - In the room he pulled out a drawer and got out a small white box. - It is yours, Durago, thank you, we highly appreciate your contribution to our cause.
Back In his cubicle, Wen opened the box. Inside there was a black computer wireless mouse in a form of the fifth model of Gaudi’s sedan...
* * *
Newton Limitless has survived for another two years and applied for bankruptcy protection. The algae did not get used to its own alcohol and continued to die, the bioburden problem could not be solved without antibiotics, the plastic tubes routinely burst and even with the most "optimistic” calculations, the cost of bioethanol made from free Sun light and waste CO2 could not drop below $80 per liter. Mr. Bambais quietly resigned from the Board of Directors. Employees were laid off in several purges, the Grobbs plant equipment was sold for pennies, and the company's management has already engaged in a new biotechnological scam. Wen keeps at home a triangular pennant with a pink winged pig and the inscription "MEGA-NEWTON. Fuel from the Sun". Gaudi’s mouse-sedan was defective and ended in a trash can.
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