102. A professional mechanical operator specializing in clearing drains

Harry described Dr. Otto as a nuclear energy specialist, but that was hardly the full picture. Dr. Otto was not only an expert in nuclear energy; his accomplishments extended deeply into mechanical engineering and artificial intelligence as well. In some sense, he could be considered a low-budget, unattractive version of Tony Stark—at least in the films. In the comics, it was said that Doctor Octopus could easily outmatch Iron Man in various ways.

Harry had invited Suye to discuss investing in Doctor Octopus’s new project: nuclear fusion technology, using the isotope tritium to unleash tremendous energy. This was the fabled artificial sun technology, with a projected power output of ten billion watts. According to Harry, if the project succeeded, Dr. Otto might even win a Nobel Prize.

But Suye was not optimistic about the venture. He wasn’t sure exactly where the problem lay, but in the end, Dr. Otto sacrificed his wife and still failed, producing nothing but a bomb. Unlike the reactors from Stark Industries, which exploded harmlessly skyward, Otto’s device, if it detonated, would spell disaster for all of New York. Conducting such a dangerous experiment in the heart of the city was not only reckless—it was absurd. Suye had no intention of moving to another city, nor did he wish to be blown to smithereens in the middle of the night while enjoying his life.

So, after Harry’s introduction, Suye’s first words were, “Dr. Otto, have you considered relocating your laboratory? Perhaps to Washington—it’s only a few hundred kilometers away, not too far."

In the film, had Spider-Man not unplugged the reactor in time, Otto’s artificial sun would have exploded on its first attempt, denying him any chance to become a villain. If the experiment were conducted in Washington instead—well, as the saying goes, as long as no one gets hurt, it’s all good.

Dr. Otto had no objection to Suye’s suggestion. As long as he received funding, he would go anywhere—even to the Dragon Nation if need be. Harry, however, had concerns. He pulled Suye aside and said in a low voice, “Suye, if we move to Washington, our company won’t be able to supervise the project properly. It would also make it difficult for us to observe the experiments up close.”

Suye nearly cursed. Conducting such a high-risk experiment with virtually no safety measures, and inviting crowds to watch—was this not inviting disaster? Why not use remote controls in some secluded mountain area instead of gathering everyone nearby for a death wish?

“This is your project, I’m only offering advice. Ultimately, the decision is yours. But I do have one small request.” Suye lowered his voice, “When the experiment starts, make sure to let me know ahead of time.”

“Are you coming along to observe?” Harry asked, excitement in his voice.

Suye shook his head, “No, I’ll be traveling—as far away as possible.”

“……”

Harry hesitated. Suye was more knowledgeable in these matters, and his advice was generally more accurate. Even though Suye was just a high school graduate, Harry had never seen him as an ordinary one—after all, he was Spider-Man.

“Maybe we shouldn’t invest in this project,” Harry said awkwardly, regret tinging his tone.

This was the first investment Harry would lead since taking charge of the Osborn Group, and abandoning it so quickly felt unsatisfying. Seeing his reluctance, Suye patted his arm. “Don’t lose heart. Since we’re here, let’s take a look around.”

Dr. Otto, oblivious to Harry’s near withdrawal, was happily tinkering with his equipment. Suye led Harry around, and soon they discovered a device in the corner, about as tall as a person and covered with cloth.

“Dr. Otto, what’s under here? May we see it?”

“Of course,” Dr. Otto replied with a smile, hurried over, and pulled off the cloth, revealing a device brimming with technological flair but oddly shaped—a metal ring about twenty centimeters wide, studded with four metal eels.

It looked as though four metal eels were entwined—a peculiar contraption, yet it was Dr. Otto’s famous mechanical tentacles. Constructed with special mechanical structures and equipped with optical, acoustic, and pressure sensors, controlled by artificial intelligence, it could perform feats beyond human capability.

These four tentacles could withstand high temperatures and magnetic fields, extend or retract, move with the ferocity of a dragon spitting fire, or remain as placid as a turtle sipping water.

“This is a mechanical arm I designed specifically for the artificial sun project…” Dr. Otto launched into a technical explanation, and when he finished, Suye patted Harry’s arm.

“This is impressive. If you want to invest in Dr. Otto, I suggest you back this.”

Mechanical arms shouldn’t be limited to their original purpose, Suye thought, envisioning countless other uses. A smaller version could unclog sewer pipes—four at once, or two sewage lines and two drainpipes. It was potent and logical. With different models for sale, the market potential was huge.

Unclogging pipes was just the simplest application. These arms had great prospects in precision manufacturing and medical fields. As for concerns about AI controlling humans, external power sources or networks could handle that—or simply downgrade the program, making it less intelligent, as long as it was profitable.

Hearing Suye’s words, Harry began to seriously consider the feasibility of marketing the mechanical arm. Dr. Otto, on the other hand, looked anxious. He hadn’t heard the tale of selling the box instead of the pearls, but sensed the same frustration—the investors were now interested in the tools he’d made for the artificial sun, rather than the project itself.

“My mechanical arm isn’t meant for commercial development,” Dr. Otto said with a frown, eager to return to the artificial sun topic.

“I’m willing to relocate to Washington. I’ll handle the equipment transport and setup. You only need to provide funding and tritium for the experiment.”

Suye smiled, “Relocating the lab doesn’t affect our development of the mechanical arm—these are separate matters.”

“Besides, consider this: if the mechanical arm sells well, you can earn enough through patent licensing to fund the artificial sun project yourself. At that point, the glory and the results will be yours alone, Dr. Octavius.”

“You’ll not only be a Nobel laureate, but also chairman of Octavius Enterprises, standing at the pinnacle of both science and business.”

“You’ll never have to worry about funding, materials, or appeasing investors. You’ll be free to pursue any research you want—your life, your choices.”

“Isn’t that a little exciting?”

Dr. Otto’s lips twitched. “You’re not wrong, but…”

“There’s no ‘but’!” Suye threw an arm around Dr. Otto’s shoulder. “Your wife is no longer young. Surely you don’t want her to spend her remaining days trapped in your lab, do you?”

“The world is vast—don’t you want to see it? If you don’t, perhaps your wife does. Or would you rather she explore it with someone else?”

“She would never!” Dr. Otto interjected firmly.

Suye nodded, “You see, you know she wouldn’t. Such a wonderful partner—do you really want her to devote herself to your experiments and career, without any reward?”

Dr. Otto’s expression sagged. “But if the artificial sun succeeds, I could…”

“As I said, investing in the artificial sun now is charity from capitalists. Cooperating on the mechanical arm is you earning your own money.” Suye suddenly raised his voice.

“So, will you accept the capitalists’ charity to fulfill your selfish dream, or use your talents to climb to the top, slap the capitalists in the face, and realize your shared dream with your wife?”

“She’s watching you right now!”

Dr. Otto turned to look at his wife, Rosalie—a kind, well-educated, dignified middle-aged woman. Yet he still clung to his last bit of stubbornness.

“The artificial sun is the latest clean energy. The sooner it’s realized, the sooner humanity benefits.”

Suye shrugged, “The mechanical arm is also high-tech. Used in research and medicine, it benefits humanity just as much.”

After a long pause, Dr. Otto finally nodded. “Very well, you’ve convinced me, Mr. Suye.”

“No,” Suye shook his head, “It wasn’t me—it was your wife.”

They both laughed, and Harry, standing nearby, finally relaxed. Truly, inviting Suye to discuss the project had been a wise decision. The dangerous project was off the table, replaced by a safe and profitable one—perfect.

With the matter settled, the Osborn Group and the independent Octavius Laboratory quickly began their collaboration. Funding would soon be provided, and Dr. Otto would temporarily set aside the artificial sun to focus on refining the mechanical arms.

According to Suye’s vision, Dr. Otto would first need to develop a standalone AI program to control the mechanical arms, separate from the arms themselves. This way, there’d be no need for control chips in the arms, eliminating the risk of malfunction and loss of control.

Next, a simplified version with fewer functions would be developed, tailored for various industries.

Suye would send an alternate identity to oversee the process, as stipulated in the contract: the Osborn Group would assign personnel to supervise the AI development and participate in technical research.

Now that Dr. Otto viewed the mechanical arm as a money-making tool—preparation for the artificial sun—he had few reservations about sharing the technology.