A month had passed since my arrival in China, and each day I woke up in the luxurious apartment the government had made available to me in central Beijing, I was amazed at the meticulous efficiency with which the Chinese turned visions into reality. It wasn't just the speed of construction that impressed me—though it was truly spectacular—but the attention to detail, the way every aspect of the project was carefully orchestrated like an architectural symphony.
My morning routine had become a near-sacred ritual. At six in the morning, I would stand in front of the glass wall that dominated the entire western expanse of my apartment, a cup of steaming oolong tea in hand—a courtesy I had come to appreciate deeply over the past thirty days—and activate the real-time monitoring system that connected me directly to the construction cameras at the future Academy site.
"REVEAL THE CONSTRUCTION"I muttered, and instantly my vision expanded through multiple simultaneous perspectives. It was like having dozens of eyes spread across the construction site, each capturing a different aspect of the phenomenal progress I witnessed daily.
Out of nowhere, a city had sprung up. I am not exaggerating when I use that word—a veritable city was springing up on Chinese soil at a speed that defied all precedent in the history of civil engineering. The chosen site, a two-hundred-square-mile area in Jiangsu province, about an hour's flight from Beijing, had been transformed from rice fields into a complex that rivaled the world's largest universities.
The first thing that caught my eye each morning was the central building—the Pavilion of Transcendence, as the Chinese architects had named it. A thirty-story structure that combined elements of traditional Chinese architecture with cutting-edge technology, its curved dragon-shaped roofs were interlaced with solar panels that looked like golden scales in the rising sunlight. The main building would house the most advanced classrooms, interdimensional research labs that were still being developed to my exact specifications, and the central auditorium where I would lecture to the Primal Circle.
Around the central pavilion, twelve smaller—but no less impressive—buildings were being erected, each dedicated to one of the clans that had established it. The Golden Dragon Building was already showing its distinctive features: golden facades that changed in intensity according to the position of the sun, traditional Chinese medicinal gardens planted on the terraces, and rooms specializing in energy healing with quartz crystals embedded in the walls.
The Crimson Phoenix Building, meanwhile, was being built with color-changing materials—a technological innovation that Chinese engineers had developed specifically for this project. The exterior walls could alternate between shades of deep red and vibrant orange, symbolizing the flames of personal transformation.
But what fascinated me most was watching the workers. Even through the cameras, I could feel the collective energy, the almost militaristic determination with which each person performed their job. It wasn't just a job for them—they were taking part in building something that would change the world. There was pride in every movement, precision in every gesture.
That particular morning, as I watched a team of welders working on the steel frame of the Heavenly Eagle Building, my phone rang. The name on the screen made me smile: "General Chen Wei"—my direct contact with the Chinese military high command and one of the most insightful people I had met in decades.
"Dr. Thorne," his voice came through the speakerphone in that distinctly educated accent that characterized the Chinese elite, "I hope you are appreciating the progress of our builders."
"General Chen," I replied, momentarily turning off my expanded vision, "this is absolutely extraordinary. The speed is impressive, but the quality... you are exceeding all my expectations."
"Ah, but you haven't seen anything yet," he laughed, a sound he had learned to interpret as an indication that something interesting was about to happen. "In fact, I'm calling to inform you that the time has come for a personal visit to the site. The Central Committee has approved your request, and we have a surprise in store."
My interest was instantly piqued. "What kind of surprise?"
"I'd rather you find out in person. Can you be ready in an hour? We'll send a helicopter to pick you up."
An hour later, I was being whisked across the skies of China in a state-of-the-art military helicopter, watching the landscape gradually transform from urban to rural until I finally spotted the Academy's construction site on the horizon. Even though I had been following the progress daily on camera, seeing the construction in person was a completely different story.
The scale of it was monumentally impressive. From above, it looked like a giant mandala etched into the earth, with the Pavilion of Transcendence at its exact center and the twelve clan buildings arranged in a perfect circle around it. But there were also smaller structures that I hadn't noticed in the camera feeds: student dormitories that splayed out in precise geometric patterns, a sports complex that included swimming pools, courts, and even a circular arena that reminded me vaguely of a Roman coliseum.
The helicopter landed on a specially constructed platform near the median, and the moment I stepped onto Chinese soil, I felt a different energy. It wasn't just the vibration of construction machinery or the buzz of hundreds of workers—there was something deeper, as if the earth itself was vibrating in tune with the project that was being born there.
"Dr. Thorne!" The female voice that greeted me spoke in perfect English, but with a delicately modulated Chinese accent. I turned to see a woman who appeared to be in her thirties, wearing an impeccably tailored navy suit, her dark hair pulled back in an elegant bun, and her eyes conveying a sharp intelligence combined with a respectful but confident posture.
"I am Xian Limei," she introduced herself with a brief but sincere bow, "your personal assistant appointed by the State Council. It is a great honor to work with you."
For a moment, I was genuinely surprised. No one had mentioned a personal assistant, although in retrospect it made perfect sense that the Chinese government would want someone they trusted close to me during this crucial time.
"Miss Xian," I replied, giving her a slight nod in return, "the pleasure is all mine. I must confess I did not expect..."
"Oh, but it was specifically requested by Premier Xi himself," she interrupted with a smile that managed to be both professional and genuinely warm. "He considered it essential that you have someone dedicated solely to facilitating your stay and ensuring that every aspect of the project ran smoothly."
She gestured toward an electric vehicle waiting near the helicopter—a model I didn't recognize, probably another Chinese technological development. "If I may, I'd like to give you a full tour of the facility. There's a lot of detail that cameras can't capture properly."
As we walked to the vehicle, I noticed that Xian was carrying a tablet and a small device that looked like an advanced version of a simultaneous translator. His efficiency was evident in every move—from the way he opened the car door for me to the way he activated the in-car navigation system with precise gestures.
"Dr. Thorne," she began as the vehicle silently moved toward the main complex, "I have prepared a detailed itinerary for today, but I want to emphasize that your schedule is completely flexible. My role is to adapt to your needs, not impose structures."
I watched her profile as she spoke, noting the concentration with which she monitored both the tablet and the environment around us. There was something impressive about the way she could maintain multiple focuses simultaneously—a skill I recognized as essential for anyone working on highly complex projects.
"Can I ask about your background?" I inquired, genuinely curious.
"Of course," she replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I graduated from Peking University with a degree in International Relations, specializing in Science Diplomacy. I later completed a Master's in Public Administration at the Harvard Kennedy School, and worked for five years at the Ministry of Science and Technology before being selected for this position."
Impressive. The Chinese government had clearly not chosen just anyone for this role. Xian Limei was clearly part of the Chinese intellectual elite, someone with international academic credentials and specific government experience.
"And as for the project itself," I continued, "what is your understanding of the Academy's goals?"
She paused for a few seconds before answering, and I could tell she was carefully formulating her response. "Officially, I understand that you are establishing a revolutionary educational institution that will utilize unconventional methods to develop advanced human potential. Unofficially..." she hesitated again, "I have the impression that it is something significantly deeper and more far-reaching."
I smiled. The woman was perceptive.
"What kind of access do you have to confidential project information?"
"Classification Level 7," she replied without hesitation. "That means I have access to virtually all construction-related documents, budgets, schedules, and diplomatic correspondence. However," she looked at me directly, "I do not have access to details about... your specific capabilities, Dr. Thorne. That remains a classification level that is beyond my clearance."
Interesting. The Chinese government was being careful about how much they allowed even their own trusted officials to know about the deeper implications of what was happening.
By this time, we had reached the main gate of the under-construction complex. It was an impressive structure in itself—two white marble pillars fifty feet tall, each engraved with Chinese characters that I couldn't read but which exuded a sense of historical significance.
"What do the inscriptions mean?" I asked.
Xian smiled with evident pride. "The pillar on the left says: 'Where ancient knowledge meets the infinite future.' The pillar on the right: 'For the elevation of humanity, for the glory of China.'"
We passed through the gates and I was immediately confronted with the true magnitude of the project. Being physically present was completely different from watching through cameras. The sound was deafening – hundreds of machines operating simultaneously, the steady drumbeat of hammering, the hum of electric welding, the roar of bulldozers moving tons of earth.
But there was also an almost choreographic organization to all this apparent chaos. Each group of workers moved with a specific purpose, each machine operated in synchrony with the others, as if the entire construction were a single organic entity growing from the ground.
"How many workers are involved in the project?" I asked, impressed.
"We currently have 12,847 people working eight-hour shifts, operating 24 hours a day," Xian replied, consulting his tablet. "This includes 3,200 specialized engineers, 5,500 construction workers, 2,100 advanced systems technicians, 1,800 landscapers and gardening specialists, and 247 quality supervisors."
These are impressive numbers, but what really caught my attention was the specificity of the information. Xian knew these details by heart, suggesting a level of involvement with the project that went far beyond that of a typical administrative assistant.
We stopped near the Pavilion of Transcendence, and I could finally appreciate the sheer magnitude of the main structure. It was thirty stories tall, but the traditional Chinese architecture made it seem to grow organically from the earth, like a mountain carved by divine craftsmen. The curved, dragon-shaped roofs weren't just decorative—I could tell that each curve had been designed to channel energy in a specific way, though I couldn't pinpoint exactly how without closer inspection.
"Dr. Thorne," Xian said softly, "is there anything specific you would like to inspect first?"
I pondered for a moment. There were so many aspects of the project that I wanted to examine personally, but one in particular had captured my curiosity during the morning observations.
"I would like to see the rooms of the Primal Circle," I decided. "I am particularly interested in verifying that the technical specifications I provided are being implemented correctly."
Xian waved and gestured for me to follow her. We walked to the main entrance of the Pavilion, passing through a temporary security system that included scanners of multiple types—retina, fingerprint, and what appeared to be real-time DNA analysis.
"Impressive security for a construction site," I commented.
"General Chen Wei's personal orders," she explained. "Considering the strategic importance of the project, we cannot allow any risk of industrial espionage or sabotage."
The elevator that took us to the 29th floor was silent and incredibly fast. When the doors opened, I was confronted with a hallway that looked like something out of a science fiction movie. The walls were covered in a material I couldn't immediately identify – it looked like metal, but it reflected light differently, creating a sense of infinite depth.
"The walls are made of a special alloy developed by our metallurgists specifically for this project," Xian explained, noticing my interest. "It contains elements that, according to their specifications, should facilitate the... energy conductivity necessary for the activities of the Primal Circle."
We walked down the hallway until we reached a pair of double doors that opened automatically as we approached. What I saw on the other side left me genuinely speechless.
It was a circular room approximately fifty meters in diameter, with a vaulted ceiling that stretched three stories high. Twelve workstations were positioned in a perfect circle, each equipped with technology that I had specified myself but that I had never seen physically constructed with such precision.
Each station included a throne-like chair—constructed of the same material as the walls, but shaped to perfectly hug the human body. Above each chair hung crystals that I had specified for psychic energy amplification. In the center of the room was a raised circular platform where I would conduct more advanced instruction.
But what struck me most were the details that I hadn't specified, but that the Chinese engineers had added on their own initiative. Golden circuits embedded in the floor formed intricate geometric patterns that connected all the stations to the central platform. The ceiling was covered in a representation of the cosmos—traditional Chinese constellations combined with modern star maps, creating a visual effect that was simultaneously ancient and futuristic.
"Dr. Thorne," Xian said in a low voice, as if he were in a temple, "the engineers took the liberty of incorporating elements of traditional Chinese cosmology into the design. We hope you approve."
I walked slowly to the center of the room, feeling the energy of the space. There was something special here—not just in the architecture, but in the atmosphere itself. The air felt denser, charged with potential.
"REVEALS ENERGY", I muttered softly, activating my expanded perception.
Immediately, the room transformed before my eyes. Lines of energy flowed through the golden circuits on the floor, creating a complex network that converged on the central platform where I stood. The suspended crystals pulsed with a subtle but powerful light. The entire space was designed to amplify and focus energy in ways I had never experienced before.
"Extraordinary," I muttered, more to myself than to Xian. "Absolutely extraordinary."
"Do you approve, then?" she asked, and I could detect a note of anxiety in her voice.
"More than I approve," I replied, deactivating my energy vision. "You didn't just follow my specifications—you improved on them in ways I hadn't even considered."
The smile of relief and pride that lit up Xian's face was genuinely touching. It was clear that the success of the project was personally important to her, not just a professional matter.
"There is more to show," she said, regaining her professional composure. "Each clan's individual rooms have unique features that I believe will interest you."
We spent the next three hours exploring each of the clan buildings. Each one had been designed with an attention to detail that bordered on the obsessive. The Golden Dragon Building included indoor medicinal gardens with plants from all over China, some of which I hadn't known existed. The Jade Serpent Building had a library that was already filling with ancient texts—original manuscripts on philosophy, traditional medicine, and even a few tomes that seemed to deal with esoteric practices.
The Mystic Raven Building intrigued me the most. It was clearly the most mysterious of the twelve, with rooms that seemed specifically designed for practices I had yet to teach anyone. There were sensory isolation chambers, mirrors positioned at mathematically precise angles, and even what appeared to be a sophisticated version of a ritual circle.
"How did you guys know how to design this?" I asked Xian, gesturing to a room that seemed designed specifically for working with parallel dimensions.
"We had consultants," she replied carefully. "Experts in... traditional Chinese practices that have been preserved for millennia but rarely discussed openly."
Interesting. The Chinese government had clearly done its own research into esoteric aspects of reality, probably long before I appeared on the scene.
When we finally returned to the vehicle, the sun was already setting, casting long golden shadows over the entire complex. The visual effect was spectacular – the entire building seemed to shine as if it were made of pure gold.
"Dr. Thorne," Xian said as we headed back to the helicopter pad, "if I may ask a personal question... how does it feel to see your vision become physical reality?"
It was a profound question, and it deserved an equally profound answer.
"You know, Xian," I began, watching the complex recede as we moved, "my entire academic career, I've worked with theories. Equations, hypotheses, mathematical models. Even after I discovered my... special abilities, much of what I do remains in the realm of the abstract."
I paused, searching for the right words.
"But this," I gestured toward the building, "this is tangible. Concrete. It's the first time in my life that I can point to something in the physical world and say, 'This exists because I designed it.' It's... deeply humbling and exhilarating at the same time."
Xian remained silent for a few moments, clearly pondering my words.
"There is a Chinese expression," she said finally, "that perhaps captures what you are feeling: '千里之行,始于足下' – A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. You have not merely taken the first step, Dr. Thorne. You are creating an entirely new path."
We arrived at the helicopter pad as the sun touched the horizon, painting the entire sky in shades of orange and red. As we waited for the pilot to finalize preparations for the return flight, I took one last look at the complex.
"Xian," he said finally, "I have a question for you."
"Of course, Dr. Thorne."
"Do you truly understand what we are building here? Not just officially, but... your own personal conclusions?"
She looked me straight in the eyes, and for a moment, her professional mask fell completely.
"Honestly? I believe we are building the future of humanity," she said with an intensity that surprised me. "I don't know exactly how you do what you do, and I may never know. But I have seen enough evidence to understand that this project transcends anything our species has ever attempted before."
She paused, looking toward the complex.
"My generation grew up believing that China would become the next global superpower through economic and military might. But what you are offering... this is literal evolution. An opportunity to elevate our entire species to a higher level of existence."
I smiled. Xian Limei wasn't just a capable assistant—she was a visionary in her own right.
"And that doesn't scare you?" I asked.
"It terrifies me," she admitted with a smile that mixed fear and excitement. "But it also excites me in a way I never thought possible. How many people in human history have had the opportunity to participate in something truly transformative?"
The helicopter took off, lifting us over the complex once more. As we gained altitude, I could see the entire project illuminated by night work lights—thousands of light points that would continue to operate through the night, building the future while the world slept.
"Dr. Thorne," Xian said through the communications headset, "there is something I need to inform you of. Premier Xi has requested a private meeting tomorrow morning. He has some... concerns he would like to discuss with you in person."
I looked at her, noticing a subtle tension in her expression.
"What kind of worries?"
"Regarding the international response to the Academy's announcement," she replied carefully. "It appears that some countries are... questioning certain aspects of the project."
I sighed. It was inevitable that international politics would become more complicated as the project gained visibility. But it had come too far to let geopolitical concerns delay the schedule.
"Okay," I replied. "Schedule the meeting. It's time to address these issues head on."
As we flew back to Beijing, I watched the city lights come into view and reflected on everything I had witnessed that day. The Academy for Human Transcendence was no longer just an idea or a plan—it was becoming a physical reality that would soon house the first steps in the directed evolution of our species.
And Xian Limei, I realized, would be a valuable ally in the challenges that lay ahead. Intelligent, dedicated, and with an instinctive understanding of the magnitude of what we were building, she represented the best of the next generation—those who would inherit the world I was creating.
The future had never seemed so close...or so full of extraordinary possibilities.