Mego Reveers: The Founder Of Ares Dynamics

(A Biographical Short, Circa 2110, Earth)

Introduction

To write of Mego Reevers in this year, 2110, is to navigate a minefield of competing histories. Here on Earth, he is becoming a figure of intense academic fascination, a complex symbol of the last century’s turbulent transition. But sixty million kilometres away, on the red dust of Mars, his name is already spoken with the unquestioning reverence reserved for a founding deity. Ares Dynamics, the corporate empire he forged, casts long and powerful lights across the inner solar system. Its firm, governmental grip on the Martian colonies is a testament to the enduring power of his singular, and to some, uncompromising vision.

The challenge for any biographer, then, is to dissect the man from the competing myths that are already taking root. This is not a hagiography, nor is it a simple condemnation. From the vantage point of a world now looking toward the more measured, technical developments on the Moon for its future hopes, our perspective on Reevers must be one of cautious, objective study. We must seek to understand the architect of Martian ambition not as his fervent Martian adherents see him, nor as his bitterest Earth-bound enemies remember him, but as a product of his time - a mirror that reflected both the brightest hopes and the deepest, most dangerous disillusionments of the 21st century.

Chapter 1: South of Africa - A Legacy of Entitlement (1973 - 1990)

Mego Reevers’ story begins not with a struggle, but with an inheritance. Born in 1973 in Johannesburg, South Africa, he was the son of a Canadian mother, Daniela Reevers, and a father whose name was synonymous with the vast mineral wealth of the region. He was born into a world of profound privilege, a world built on the extraction of gold from the earth and insulated by the stark societal inequalities of the time. This was the crucible that forged his ego. While it would be an oversimplification to apply overt political labels, the environment was one of an unspoken legacy, an ingrained sense of entitlement and an assumed superiority that often accompanies such beginnings.

From this vantage point, the world was not a place to be navigated, but a system to be mastered. His early aptitude for technology became the first proof of this worldview. While still a youth, he created and sold a video game, making a small fortune that was, for him, less about the money and more about the validation. He had designed a world with rules, and he had won at his own game. This narrative of the “genius child of the 21st century” took root early, celebrated in the nascent tech journals of the era.

Later accounts, some apocryphal, suggest that even this early triumph was a carefully managed perception. Rumours persist that in his later teenage years, he would pay other, more skilled young gamers to compete under his name, securing records and accolades by proxy. Whether true or not, the story fits a pattern. It hints at a mind that was less interested in the painstaking work of technical mastery and more in the architecture of victory itself.

This chapter of his life frames him as a prodigy, a brilliant mind poised to make his mark on the world. But looking back from the more complex vantage point of our new century, one can already see the foundations of the man to come: a deep-seated belief that systems were designed for him to win, a perception that his will was a force of nature, and the first hints that the narrative of success was always more important than the authenticity of the achievement itself.

Chapter 2: The Rubies in the Settle Bag (1990 - 2000)

Mego Reevers’ arrival in North America marked his transition from a privileged youth to a figure of legitimate intellectual standing. His academic path, culminating in dual bachelor’s degrees in economics and physics from Harvard, solidified his public image as a formidable mind. He was no longer just the son of a goldmine owner; he was a certified genius, equipped with the language of both capital and the cosmos.

It was with this intellectual currency that he entered the burgeoning world of software. He co-founded two companies that would become legends in the annals of early digital commerce: ZapZapStores and, later, the revolutionary payment system, BayPay. These ventures are often cited as the “rubies” of his early career - dazzling, brilliant successes that showcased his visionary talent. The historical record, however, presents a more nuanced and complicated picture. While both companies achieved monumental success, Reevers himself did not remain to enjoy it. In both cases, his tenure ended abruptly. The official narrative, which he himself cultivated, was that he was “driven out” by less ambitious partners, a trailblazer too fast for his own team.

This period gave birth to his famous “fast failure to success” mantra, a philosophy he would champion for the rest of his life. He framed these departures not as personal defeats, but as necessary, strategic pivots - the shedding of a chrysalis that had grown too small. A closer examination, however, reveals a pattern not of strategic agility, but of a profound inability to collaborate. In his own accounts, and in those of his early hagiographers, the successes of these companies were his alone. The failures were always the fault into the next step of success. There is no record of him ever acknowledging a personal mistake or a flawed judgment. He was, in his own mythology, the sole architect of every victory.

After losing a considerable fortune in the collapse of his second venture, he did not remain in Silicon Valley to rebuild. Instead, he vanished into what can only be described as a self-imposed exile. For three years, he operated out of Russia, a period of his life that remains shrouded in opacity. What is clear is that he emerged from this wilderness not humbled, but re-forged. The experience seemed to have burned away any lingering pretence of collaboration. He returned to the West with a singular, unshakeable focus: he would never again be in a position where he did not have absolute control.

He carried the rubies of his early fame in a “settle bag,” a term he reportedly used himself. It was a bag heavy not just with his achievements, but with the unexamined baggage of his failures - a weight of blame projected onto others, which would inform every decision he made from that point forward.

Chapter 3: Red Dreams, Wet Dreams (2000 - 2020)

Emerging from his Russian sojourn, Mego Reevers re-entered the public consciousness not with a whisper, but with a roar. He had a new gospel to preach, and a world increasingly anxious about climate change was primed for a saviour. The acquisitions of “Ares Dynamics” in 2001, an innovative rocketry firm, and “The Electro Initiative” in 2003, which he immediately rebranded as “Electro Dynamics”, were the twin pillars of his new public platform.

For the better part of two decades, Reevers became the world’s most prominent and compelling “green-evangelist.” He stood on stages, a figure of immense charisma, and spoke a language of hope to a populace starved of it. He advocated passionately for solar and wind farms, for a sustainable energy grid, for an electric-powered future. He was a visionary, a prophet of a cleaner, better world, and his growing fortune was seen not as a product of greed, but as the engine of salvation. He was, for a time, the most popular man on the planet.

His masterstroke was to weave this green narrative into a grander, more audacious vision. He didn’t just want to save the Earth; he wanted to transcend it. His public speeches became rallying cries for what he termed the “Green Mars Project.” The ultimate solution to Earth’s ecological woes, he argued, was not merely to fix our home, but to secure a second one. The goal was to “make humanity multi-planetary.”

This was Reevers at his most seductive. He sold the public a beautiful, heroic dream: a vision of verdant, terraformed Martian landscapes, a new cradle for humanity, powered by the clean technologies he was developing on Earth. He drew in millions of followers, from hopeful idealists to hard-nosed engineers, all united by this seemingly altruistic vision of a future beyond Earth’s struggles. Mars was no longer a barren rock; it was a symbol of renewal, of a second chance.

In retrospect, the fault lines beneath the polished, green façade were already visible. He spoke of saving the Earth, but his gaze was fixed on the sky. The dual obsessions of his life, which he once candidly referred to in an unguarded interview as his “red dreams and wet dreams,” defined this era. The “Red Dreams” were for Mars—for the glory of conquest, for a legacy written in crimson dust. The “Wet Dreams” were for the Earth he claimed to be saving, a planet whose vast resources and, more importantly, whose adoration were the necessary fuel for his true, self-aggrandizing ambition. He was building a platform of environmentalism on Earth to fund the industrial base required for his Martian ambitions.

This period laid the groundwork for the profound schizophrenic split that would later define him. He preached a public gospel of green advocacy while privately consolidating corporate power with a ruthlessness that was anything but gentle. He was using the language of environmentalism as a stepping stone, a popular and convenient narrative to build the industrial base he would need for the only project that ever truly mattered: leaving his own, indelible footprint on the surface of another world.

Chapter 4: The Critical Path (2020 - 2026)

The fragile, global optimism of the late 2010s shattered against the hard reality of the 21st century’s third decade. Around 2021, it became undeniable that humanity would fail to meet the 1.5°C climate goal outlined in the first Paris Accord. The dream of a gentle, managed transition was over. Rising sea levels and unprecedented weather events were no longer future threats; they were the present. This stark failure acted as a profound catalyst, not just for the planet, but for the public persona of Mego Reevers.

For two decades, he had been the high priest of green hope. Now, observing the world’s collective despair, he committed what many of his contemporaries viewed as an act of calculated self-betrayal. The “green-evangelist” persona was shed like a snake’s skin. In its place emerged a hardened, cynical, and ruthlessly pragmatic ideologue. He did not merely change his mind; he executed a complete and stunning reversal.

He began to champion fossil fuels and nuclear power, the very industries he had built his reputation fighting against. He framed this pivot not as a failure of his previous ideals, but as a pragmatic response to the failure of global idealism itself. He aligned himself with a burgeoning conservative and isolationist movement, a political force that would later coalesce into the right-wing RAGE paradigm. He became one of its most powerful and prominent supporters, arguing that “soft” green solutions had failed and only the hard power of carbon and the atom could now secure humanity’s future.

His foray into American politics in 2025, while never resulting in an elected office, gave him a formidable platform for this new, disruptive engagement. It also, for the first time, turned the full, harsh glare of public scrutiny onto his immense personal wealth and his increasingly erratic personality. The bargain the public had made with him - tolerating his fortune in exchange for his green vision - was now broken.

Critics and journalists began to dissect his every move. His confidence was re-diagnosed as egomania; his charisma, as calculated manipulation. His dramatic “flip-flopping” on energy was analysed not as an evolution of thought, but as a ruthless pursuit of a new, more powerful base of admiration. The profound schizophrenic split at his core became impossible to ignore. Even as he stood on political stages demanding deregulation for oil and gas, his own company, Electric Dynamics, continued to profit immensely from the very “green” technologies he now publicly scorned. He had discovered a convenient contradiction: he could reap the financial rewards of one ideology while harvesting the political power of its opposite. He was no longer a visionary; he was an opportunist, and the world was finally beginning to see it.

Chapter 5: The Art of the Rival (2026 - 2040)

Just as Mego Reevers was leaving his public political identity, a technological force emerged that threatened to make his entire worldviews obsolete. The advent of Instantaneous Translocation Technology (ITT) and the meteoric rise of Darius Voss’s StellarLink represented a fundamental paradigm shift. As the “Airpocalypse” unfolded, grounding fleets and dismantling a century of transportation logistics, Reevers found the perfect foil for his new era: a rival.

StellarLink became his singular obsession. This chapter of his life was defined by a relentless public campaign against ITT. In interviews, on political stages, and through his newly acquired social media platform, “Social Dynamics,” he waged a war of narrative. He framed Amara Varna’s discovery as a dangerous, energy-guzzling “parlour trick,” a reckless experiment that threatened the stability of the planet. He positioned himself as the voice of reason, the champion of proven, “real” engineering against Voss’s speculative, insecure technology.

An examination of the records from this period reveals a profound and stunning hypocrisy in his position. Blaming StellarLink’s energy consumption became, as one commentator noted, Reevers’s favourite “hobby.” Yet, at the same time, his own corporate empire was a voracious consumer of power. His “AI Dynamics” venture and the massive, ever-expanding data centres required to run “Social Dynamics” were contributing significantly to the very energy crisis he decried. The most telling detail, discovered only through later financial analysis, was his continued, covert investment in green energy firms - the very technology he now publicly scorned. He was, in effect, profiting from the solution while publicly fanning the flames of the problem.

This was the art of diversion perfected. His relentless focus on StellarLink’s faults was a masterful strategy to shift public attention away from his own contradictions. He skill-fully reframed his deep-seated business fear of a superior, competing technology as a profound ideological concern for humanity’s safety.

This period also saw him aggressively cultivate his own mythos. Early biographies, many of which were published with his tacit approval prior to 2023, lionized him as the undisputed “overlord of rocketry.” He was the sole genius, the visionary pushing humanity to Mars. He was the saviour of “free speech”. He was the engineer of the uprising AI computing. Now, faced with a technology that made his massive rockets seem slow and inefficient, he doubled down on this narrative, presenting himself as the last bastion of true, heroic space exploration against an intangible, almost magical, threat. He was not just building rockets; he was defending an entire philosophy of human endeavour, a philosophy in which he, naturally, was the central hero.

Chapter 6: A Figure on the Board (2048)

The year 2048 delivered what Mego Reevers perceived as his crowning victory. After years of his relentless public crusade against ITT, legal and political pressure - fuelled heavily by the scathing public critiques of Amara Varna herself - finally culminated in StellarLink losing its exclusive patent on the ITT-drive for rocket propulsion.

His response was immediate and intensely personal. Through a global “Social Dynamics” broadcast, he declared it a victory for “common sense and real engineering,” but his words were laced with a venom aimed squarely at his two great nemeses. He painted it as the day the “so-called ‘conscience’ of physics,” Varna, had inadvertently handed him the win. He gloated about the defeat of StellarLink, but saved his most pointed barbs for its “weak, stepped-down” former CEO.

For Reevers, Darius Voss was an maddening enigma. He could not comprehend how a man who had willingly walked away from the throne of the world’s most powerful company could still command such influence and, in many circles, quiet respect. This envy bordered on obsession. He saw Voss not as a retired philanthropist, but as a phantom king still pulling the strings, a rival who had refused to be properly defeated.

In his victory speech, Reevers framed the patent loss as the ultimate humiliation for the “Voss-Varna machine.” It was, he proclaimed, a vindication of the tangible, heroic power of “real rocketry” over their unstable “parlour tricks.” His speech was a masterpiece of self-aggrandizement, casting himself as the David who had finally felled the twin-headed Goliath.

For a brief moment, it appeared he had won. The narrative seemed to be his.

However, from the detached perspective of history, one can see the profound and tragic irony of his celebration. He had won a battle, but in doing so, had completely failed to understand the nature of the war. He believed he had crippled his rivals. In reality, he had merely uncaged the technology. Soon Ares Dynamics did the first, slow steps to adopt this technology.

The loss of the patent, far from hindering ITT, acted as an accelerant. Freed from StellarLink’s monopoly, a dozen smaller, more agile companies leapt into the fray, innovating on the core technology in ways StellarLink had not. The space around Earth suddenly buzzed with a new generation of cheaper, more efficient ITT-assisted launch vehicles. The very “real rocketry” that Mego championed was rendered more antiquated with each passing month.

He was, in that moment, like a chess player who, after sacrificing a pawn to take a knight, stands up and declares victory, utterly unaware that his opponent has transformed the entire board into a completely different game. His personal mantra of “fast failure to success” had always been a shield, a mechanism to reframe any setback as a strategic choice. It had never allowed him to acknowledge a fundamental miscalculation. He saw himself as the ultimate cause of every success, the master strategist moving the pieces. He could not comprehend that he had become just a figure on the board, a powerful but predictable piece in a game whose rules were now being written by others.

Chapter 7: “To Mars!” - The Last Act of Selling Hope (2048-2051)

The world he had tried to shape was slipping from his grasp. His political influence was waning, his rivals were thriving, and even his own company, Ares Dynamics, was now reluctantly beginning to incorporate the very ITT-drive technology he had so long scorned. Faced with this new reality, Mego Reevers did not adapt; he retreated. He turned his back on the complexities of Earth and poured his remaining energy, his immense fortune, and his formidable will into his first, purest, and most consuming obsession: Mars.

His world shrank to the size of Spacecity, the sprawling, self-contained company town he had built on an old air force base near Corpus Christi. It was less a city and more a monument to his shared ambitions. Here, the vision was law. It was the basic fundamentally blueprint for the colonies he planned to establish on Mars, a model society where every aspect of life was contributing and optimized for the singular final goal.

In this final phase of his life, Mego Reevers transformed from a global industrialist into something more akin to a patriarch of a new society. He commanded absolute, unquestioning loyalty from the thousands of workers and engineers who lived within the settlement’s walls. They were not just employees; they were disciples, true believers in his messianic vision of a Martian salvation. He was their patriarch, their prophet, the man who held the keys to their future on another world.

Looking at the records from this period, is struck by the visible contrast between this grand public vision and the chaotic reality of his private life. While he was architecting a new future for humanity, his own personal world was an abyss of dysfunction. The records show four marriages, seventeen children (only eight of whom were legally acknowledged), and a web of bitter, estranged relationships. Persistent, disturbing rumours from this time - never proven, but never fully dispelled - hinted at even darker family dynamics, including the unsettling and unresolved question of whether his youngest “sister” was, in fact, his daughter.

He was a man who could design a multi-planetary society but could not maintain a functional family. He envisioned a new humanity but left a trail of broken human relationships in his wake.

To the outside world, he sold this final, obsessive act as the ultimate story of hope. To his followers, he was the misunderstood visionary, the “poor boy who just wants to go to Mars,” a carefully manufactured victim narrative that stood in absurd opposition to his immense wealth and power. He was not selling a technology or a colony; he was selling himself. He was selling his last, desperate dream of a new world, a clean slate, a Red Planet where the complexities of Earth, and of his own life, could be left behind forever.

Chapter 8: The Toll (2051)

For a man who dreamed of dying on another world, Mego Reevers’ end was brutally, poetically terrestrial. In 2051, not far from the gates of his self-contained kingdom of Spacecity, his autonomous car malfunctioned, veering off the road and striking a concrete barrier. It was the impact that killed him. Then, in a final, grim flourish of irony, the advanced battery pack - a product of his own “Electric Dynamics” brand - caught fire.

It was a fiery, uncontrolled demise that perfectly encapsulated the man’s core contradiction. He died by the very “green” technology his company perfected and from which he continued to profit, even as his public political persona championed the hard power of fossil fuels and nuclear energy. He was consumed by the fire of one ideology while being driven by the machinery of its opposite. It was the ultimate, fatal expression of the worldviews that had defined his life: a man who could hold two opposing truths as long as both served his singular, unshakeable faith in himself.

The great prophet of Mars never left Earth. It is a line etched on the unofficial tombstone of his legacy, a final, bitterly tragic footnote to a life of cosmic ambition.

The true toll of his life, however, cannot be measured by his own death, but by the legacy he successfully exported. In this, his final act was not a failure. He succeeded in his most important goal: he imprinted the culture of Spacecity onto the nascent Martian colonies. The social model he designed - with its clear demarcation between the engineering and leadership castes and the broader workforce, all unified by a shared, singular mission - was not just a blueprint; it became the very operating system for a new world.

His self-perception as the “main cause, the only one root of all successes” is thus validated in a way that continues to unfold. He is, undeniably, the root of what Mars is becoming. Historians on Earth watch the development of Martian society with great interest, noting the remarkable productivity and order that his structured approach has engendered. They also note, in quiet academic papers, the potential for societal friction inherent in any system with such well-defined social strata, though it is, of course, far too early to predict any long-term outcomes. The full consequences of his exported societal philosophy are a story that will be told by future generations of Martians.

The biographical works published in the years immediately following his death tend to focus overwhelmingly on his undisputed technological achievements and early entrepreneurial successes, while touching only lightly upon the more controversial aspects of his political engagements and leadership style. While he was alive, he was a figure to be publicly challenged. In death, his creation, Ares Dynamics, grew into a formidable political and social powerhouse, its influence stretching across the inner solar system. Meanwhile contemporary authors often focus on his undeniable technological achievements, treading carefully around the more controversial aspects of his leadership style.

Mego Reevers remains, therefore, a profoundly complex figure. He was a pioneer who built industries and dreamed of new worlds. His vision is now taking root millions of kilometres from here. But as his ghost drives the red canyons of Mars, it serves as a quiet reminder to us on Earth that the ideas we export to the stars will grow in ways we can never fully anticipate.

Chapter 9: The Voices from the Void (Post-2051)

To capture the legacy of Mego Reevers is to assemble a portrait from shattered pieces of a mirror, each reflecting a different truth. In the years immediately following his death, his memory was not a single, settled thing, but a collection of powerful, competing narratives, each shaped by the perspective of the teller.

The Inner Circle: A View from the Abyss.

Perhaps the most direct, and certainly the most scathing, perspective comes from his fourth and final wife, offered in a legally sealed deposition that was only made public a decade after his death. Her words require no commentary:

“He used the excuse of ‘autism’ to satisfy his egomaniacal character by tempting people to pamper his soul with admiration. That’s why he changed his mind and lifestyle so often, from a golden-gamer-boy, to the young entrepreneur legend, to bankrupt immigrant in Russia, the green-energy advocate and car-builder, the super-success rocket builder, genius AI-inventor… everything he told before, flip-flopping to gain conservative admiration as the MAGA MEGA MEGO overlord, just in the end to be ‘the poor boy who wants to go to Mars.’ He had many opportunities to do so. He was mentally corrupt down to the bones. Nothing what was achieved, he did on his own. He was constantly buying companies, losing or selling them, abusing the people who worked for him to worship him as the leader. So were his love-engagements and the tragic relationships with his children.”

The Martian Perspective: A Hymn to the Founder

From the burgeoning colonies on Mars, circa 2110, the voice is one of unwavering, almost filial devotion. The hardships of the early settlements are framed as necessary sacrifices, and Mego Reevers is remembered as the patriarch who made them possible. A common educational text from that era reads:

“Overlord Reevers was a man who saw the future when others saw only obstacles. He gifted us this world. While Earth stagnated in its debates, he acted. His singular vision, his unshakeable will, laid the very foundation of our prosperous society. He was the father of Mars, and his ideals guide us still, ensuring our strength and our survival among the stars.”

The Earth Perspective: An Academic Puzzle

Here on Earth, removed from the immediacy of both the cult of personality and the family scars, the tone is more academic and ambivalent. Mego is seen as a fascinating but ultimately troubling figure, a symbol of 21st-century excess. A leading historian at New York University (NYU) wrote in 2108:

“Reevers represents a fundamental paradox of his era: a man of immense innovative energy whose ideological compass seemed to spin according to the prevailing political winds. We must grapple with the fact that his undeniable contributions to early spaceflight and digital infrastructure were often inseparable from a deeply divisive and contradictory public persona. He remains a cautionary tale of unchecked ambition.”

The Lunar Perspective: A Polite Critique

From the pragmatic, tech-savvy society on the Moon, the view is perhaps the most balanced. The Lunars, whose entire culture was built on the hard realities of resource scarcity and the elegant efficiency required for survival, offered a polite but deeply critical assessment. In a widely-circulated semi-public log from 2109, a senior engineer at Lunar United noted:

“We respect the ambition. The results of his early ventures are undeniable. However, his methods, from an engineering standpoint, often appeared to favour brute force over elegant solutions. His rocketry, while powerful, was ultimately a less efficient path compared to the emerging ITT-assisted frameworks. Furthermore, his leadership style appears to have been… unsustainable for long-term collaboration. We also note his public critiques of StellarLink’s energy consumption as a significant hypocrisy, given that his own AI and data-centric ambitions were projected to require a comparable power budget. It is a complex legacy.”

Curator’s Reflection (OCN Archives, 3024)

From the vantage point of a millennium, the disparate voices resolve into a clearer, if still complex, picture. Mego Reevers was a catalyst, a man whose immense ego and ambition were perfectly suited to the turbulent, transitional era in which he lived. While his personal flaws were profound, his single-minded obsession with Mars did, in fact, make humanity a multi-planetary species. But his legacy is a poisoned one. The authoritarian, hierarchical society he exported to Mars was not a foundation for a stable future, but the fertile soil for the Martian Revolution. The grievances he sowed grew into a rebellion that would ultimately give birth to the Asterion Collective, the very societal model that would come to define a more equitable human future. In a final, perfect irony, Mego Reevers, the ultimate tyrant, inadvertently created the conditions for his own antithesis.