The private VIP conference chamber of the 100,000-Foot Summit Lounge was an acoustic sanctuary of thick glass, brushed titanium, and polished mountain cedar.
Through the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows, the entire continent lay unfurled thirty kilometers below—a brilliant panorama of turquoise seas, dark emerald mountain ranges, and shimmering river valleys curving away toward the black rim of the planet. Above the ceiling hung the craggy, scarred silhouette of the five-hundred-thousand-ton nickel-iron asteroid, illuminated by gentle exterior floodlights, while in the middle distance, thirty captured mile-long Void Dreadnoughts floated in a silent, orderly orbital ring, their orange safety beacons blinking in slow, peaceful unison.
Seated around an eighty-foot circular conference table carved from a single slab of thousand-year petrified cedar were five of the most powerful sovereign rulers in mortal history.
Emperor Yan Ming of Great Yan, dressed in his nine-clawed golden dragon robes; Emperor Bai Tian of the Western White Tiger Empire, clad in silver battle-plate; Empress Ling Yue of the Southern Jade-Lotus Dynasty, draped in flowing celestial silk; Khan Wu Lie of the Northern Snow-Mountain Steppes, wearing heavy white-fox furs; And High Chancellor Zhao of the Central Plains Confederation, holding an ancient bronze seal of state.
For three thousand years, their five realms had waged ceaseless, genocidal wars. They had burned millions of acres of farmland, slaughtered entire generations of sword cultivators, and bled their treasuries dry in bitter territorial disputes over copper mines, coal veins, and mountain passes.
Yet today, sitting one hundred thousand feet above the dirt they had fought over for centuries, sipping warm Stratospheric Cloud Oolong from porcelain teacups, they looked down upon their empires and saw the profound, humiliating pettiness of their past ambitions.
From low orbit, there were no imperial borders.
There was only a single, fragile blue marble spinning in an infinite sea of stars, illuminated by the radiant, rose-gold figure-eight infinity loop of Austin’s twin binary stars.
"It is... so small," Empress Ling Yue whispered, her trembling hand resting on the rim of her teacup. "The Southern Jade Continent... three hundred generations of my ancestors bled to expand its border by forty leagues to the east. Yet from the throne of heaven, that border is not even the width of a stray eyelash."
"And look at the mountain passes," Emperor Bai Tian muttered, his battle-hardened jaw tight with bitter realization. "We sacrificed two hundred thousand armored cavalry to seize the Crimson Gorge. From up here, the entire gorge looks like a crack in a garden flagstone."
"Silence, my fellow sovereigns," Emperor Yan Ming murmured solemnly, his eyes fixed on the heavy double airlock doors at the far end of the room. "The Master of the Foundation approaches."
The pneumatic sliding doors parted with a soft hiss of equalized air.
Austin stepped into the conference chamber.
He was wearing his clean denim work pants, his modular leather tool harness with its polished brass buckles, and a crisp white collared shirt under his open canvas utility vest. Under his left arm was his heavy aluminum clipboard, loaded with a fifty-two-page triplicate document, and in his right hand he carried an electric kettle of hot water to top off the tea cups.
Beside him walked Li Xiaoyao, Sunset Peak’s Chief Guest Experience Officer, holding a leather satchel containing five brass ink pots and five rubber approval stamps.
Austin set the kettle onto a trivet, pulled out the heavy oak chair at the head of the circular table, and sat down with a weary, relaxed sigh. He placed the aluminum clipboard on the cedar table with a solid *clack*.
"Morning, folks," Austin said, his voice flat, monotonous, and completely devoid of diplomatic grandeur. "Sorry to keep you waiting. We had to torque down a few loose flange bolts on the passenger elevator hoist line on the way up."
The five emperors immediately snapped upright, their spines stiff, their hands clasped over their bellies in deep, respectful submission.
"The Master’s labor is the bedrock of the world," Emperor Yan Ming stated with utmost gravity. "We are honored beyond measure to breathe the air of your stratospheric hall."
"Right. Thanks," Austin muttered, clicking his ballpoint pen. "Let’s get right to business. You’ve all had thirty days to review the preliminary drafts of the Continental Electrical Code and Interconnection Agreement. Your engineers have inspected the thirty rectenna stations, and your municipal grids have been running on our fifteen-exawatt broadcast beam for three weeks without a brownout."
He flipped the top page of the clipboard, revealing Section 1.
"The purpose of today’s summit is simple: we are standardizing the continental power grid. If you want Sunset Peak to continue beaming exawatts of wireless energy into your imperial territories, your governments must agree to three mandatory technical covenants."
The five rulers leaned forward, their breath held.
"Covenant Number One," Austin began, tapping the document with his yellow grease pencil. "The Universal Frequency Standard. From this day forward, every single generator, inverter, motor, and transformer across all five empires shall operate strictly at sixty point zero zero Hertz, pure sine wave. No fifty-hertz European nonsense, no erratic mechanical governors, and absolutely no unmetered spiritual qi injections to boost line frequency. If your grid frequency drifts more than zero point zero five Hertz from sixty, our automated substation breakers will trip, and your province goes dark until you recalibrate."
Emperor Bai Tian bowed deeply. "The Covenant of the Sixty-Hertz Harmonic Dao! It shall be inscribed on the granite gateposts of every western city! Zero wheels shall turn at sixty-one Hertz!"
"Good," Austin continued, flipping to Section 2. "Covenant Number Two: Grounding and Bonding. Under Article Two Hundred and Fifty of our master standard, every municipal substation, palace distribution panel, and industrial workshop must be bonded to earth using solid copper grounding rods driven at least eight feet into bedrock. Furthermore, all wet locations—including public bathhouses, commercial kitchens, alchemical washrooms, and imperial brewing vats—must be equipped with Ground Fault Circuit Interrupters rated to trip within twenty-five milliseconds at five milliamperes of leakage current."
Empress Ling Yue raised a delicate, trembling hand. "Master Chu... may this humble sovereign inquire: is the Ground Fault Circuit Interrupter a sacred talisman designed to ward off the ancient Water-Fiend demons from possessing the imperial washing tubs?"
Austin blinked behind his Shade-14 goggles, letting out a slow, tired breath.
"It’s not a talisman, Empress. It’s a differential current transformer. It monitors the current flowing out on the hot wire and returning on the neutral wire. If five milliamps goes missing—because someone dropped a hair dryer into the tub or touched a live copper terminal with wet feet—the sensor trips the internal spring and cuts power in twenty-five milliseconds before their heart enters ventricular fibrillation. It prevents electrocutions. No demons required."
Empress Ling Yue’s eyes filled with tears of profound enlightenment. "To preserve the beating heart of the humble bather... to measure the current of life down to the five-milliampere threshold... truly, the Great Contractor’s compassion encompasses even the smallest droplet of water!"
Austin rubbed his temples. "Just install the GFCI outlets, Empress. They're thirty vouchers each at Xiaoyao’s store."
"Ten thousand shall be installed in my palace tomorrow!" she swore fervently.
"And finally, Covenant Number Three," Austin said, turning to Section 3. "Tariffs and Settlement. Power is no longer billed in ancestral gold, silver ingots, or raw spirit stones. All commercial, municipal, and industrial energy consumption shall be metered in kilowatt-hours and settled weekly in *Sunset Peak Dungeon Vouchers* at the fixed wholesale rate of zero point zero four vouchers per kWh. Furthermore, peak-hour demand between five PM and nine PM carries a fifteen percent surcharge to discourage frivolous decorative garden lighting."
High Chancellor Zhao nodded vigorously, already scribbling calculations in his ledger. "A fixed rate! No inflation! No imperial currency debasement! The entire commerce of the five continents shall be anchored to the exawatt reserve of Sunset Peak!"
Austin turned the clipboard toward the center of the table, offering a golden fountain pen to the monarchs.
"If you agree to the Sixty-Hertz standard, the grounding codes, the GFCI mandates, and the voucher tariffs, sign on lines one through five."
Emperor Yan Ming took the pen first, his hand steady as he signed his imperial title and pressed his thousand-year jade seal onto the vellum.
Bai Tian, Ling Yue, Wu Lie, and Zhao followed in rapid succession.
Five imperial signatures. Five sovereign seals of state.
Centuries of bloody warfare, border skirmishes, and territorial slaughter were brought to an absolute, permanent end—not by the edge of an immortal sword, but by a 52-page electrical safety code and a standard 60-Hertz sine-wave interconnection agreement.
Li Xiaoyao stepped forward with a large rubber stamp, pressed it into an ink pad, and slammed it down onto the treaty with a satisfying, resonant *THUMP*.
`APPROVED & CERTIFIED: SUNSET PEAK MUNICIPAL AUTHORITY` `GRID CODE: CODE-COMPLIANT / ZERO DEFECTS`
"Congratulations," Austin said, taking the signed manifest back and clicking his ballpoint pen. "You are now officially grid-interconnected. Xiaoyao will provide each of you with five hundred copies of the National Electrical Code to distribute to your regional building inspectors."
The five rulers stood up and bowed deeply from the waist, their hands pressed together in eternal, unbroken loyalty to the master of the sky.
"We shall enforce the Sixty-Hertz Covenant until the heavens crumble!" Emperor Yan Ming pledged.
Austin nodded, stood up, and picked up his five-foot titanium pipe wrench from the corner.
"Good. Don't let your contractors use cheap aluminum wiring on the three-phase feeders. That stuff corrodes."
With a final nod, Austin turned and walked out of the conference room, stepping through the airlock and back out onto the open summit catwalk of the 100,000-foot Skyway.
The afternoon sun was beginning to dip toward the western curvature of the world, painting the clouds below in breathtaking hues of gold, crimson, and lavender.
Austin leaned against the outer railing, breathing in the cold, pure oxygen of his life-support system.
The Skyway was finished. The grid was energized. The five empires were unified.
And high above in the silent void, the twin stars of his dantian hummed in their eternal, unbroken Roche lobe loop, waiting for the next grand construction project to begin.