Heat Chips

Discarded chips that radiate heat and power change the world

The salvage yard stretched endlessly under a merciless sun, a graveyard of rusted machines and shattered dreams. Lila, Marcus, and Jiro, weathered scavengers in threadbare coveralls, combed through the debris, their hands scarred from years of prying scraps for survival.
"Got something," Jiro grunted, heaving aside a corroded panel. Beneath it lay a pile of glossy black circuit boards, their surfaces warm and faintly humming. Lila knelt, brushing one with her fingers. It pulsed with energy, untouched by the yard’s decay.
"These are live," she said, brow furrowed. "No power source, no corrosion. How?"
Marcus, ever wary, glanced around. "Could be trouble. Maybe we ditch 'em."
Jiro was already stacking them. "No chance. These are our ticket out. Let’s get 'em to Renn."
They hauled the boards to Renn’s workshop, a chaotic den of tools and half-built gadgets. Renn, a wiry tinkerer with perpetually smudged goggles, nearly dropped his wrench when he saw the haul. He clamped a multimeter onto one board, and its readings spiked.
"Holy—each chip’s pumping out just shy of 1500 watts," he said. "No input, just raw power. And these micro-Stirling engines? They’re converting the chip’s heat to electricity, keeping it stable."
Lila leaned closer. "What’s making that kind of energy?"
Renn shook his head, already dissecting a board. "Dunno, but it’s genius. The chip’s a self-sustaining core, and the Stirling system’s just there to manage the heat. I need time."
Weeks passed as Renn tore through the boards, sketching feverishly. The scavengers kept him supplied, sensing a breakthrough. One night, he summoned them, his eyes wild with revelation.
"I figured it out," he said, pointing to a sprawling blueprint. "The chip’s some kind of exotic energy core. I can’t replicate its internals, but I can build the chip itself—thousands of 'em. Picture a rocket, NERVA-inspired, but air-breathing. We cycle air through the cores to stop 'em from melting, then, at launch, open the floodgates. The air superheats into plasma, and a magnetic drive thrusts against it. In space, we switch to a non-oxidizing material—say, argon pellets—vaporized into plasma. It’ll carry 50 tons to orbit and glide back, air-breathing again on return."
Marcus frowned. "You’re talking a starship. Out here?"
"Exactly," Renn said. "We mass-produce the chips, build a magnetic drive, and we’re free."
The scavengers exchanged looks. They’d scraped by too long to pass this up. They bartered every scrap they had, trading salvage for rare materials and tools. Renn set up a makeshift foundry, reverse-engineering the chips’ outer design while preserving their mysterious cores. Soon, thousands of chips gleamed in crates, each a miniature sun tethered by air-cooling rigs to prevent catastrophic meltdown.
In a hidden canyon, they built the Starlance, a 35-meter spear of a ship, its hull lined with air intakes and magnetic coils. The core housed a dense array of chips, air cycling constantly through microchannels to keep them stable. A reserve of argon pellets—non-oxidizing and easily ionized—sat ready for space.
Launch day dawned. The crew loaded 50 tons of salvaged tech into the cargo bay, their stake in a new future. Renn took the helm, Lila manned systems, and Marcus and Jiro braced in their seats. The Starlance hummed, its chips’ energy barely contained by the roaring air pumps.
"Ready?" Renn called.
Lila nodded. "Do it."
Renn flipped a switch, and the air restrictions vanished. A torrent of atmosphere surged through the core, superheating as thousands of chips blazed. The air turned to plasma, a searing violet stream channeled by magnetic fields. The drive kicked in, thrusting against the outgoing plasma with a deafening roar. The Starlance leapt skyward, pinning the crew to their seats as the ground vanished below.
It tore through the atmosphere, intakes gulping air to feed the plasma stream. At the troposphere’s edge, Renn triggered the argon feed. Pellets vaporized in the core, sustaining the plasma as the magnetic drive propelled them into orbit. Stars bloomed in the viewport, and Jiro whooped, weightless.
"We’re in," Lila said, grinning. "50 tons, just like you promised."
Reentry was seamless. The Starlance dipped back into atmosphere, intakes reopening to breathe air and slow its descent. It landed in the canyon, kicking up dust where it began, its hull barely scorched.
Renn patted the console. "This is our key to the stars. Thousands of chips, plasma drive, air or argon—it’s unstoppable."
The crew gazed upward, no longer bound to the salvage yard. The Starlance stood ready, its chips pulsing, a gateway to worlds beyond.