The Emperor's Tomb

Five thousand years ago coastal dwellers boiled seawater to produce salt. But as they settled farther and farther inland, salt, critical as a food supplement and preservative, essential to their survival, became hard to find, and transporting it hundreds or thousands of kilometers proved daunting. Another source would have to be found, and the discovery of brine aquifers—places where groundwater seeped from below, loaded with salinity—solved the problem.

The first recorded discovery came during the time of the First Emperor, not far from where Tang now sat. At first wells were shallow, dug by hand, but deeper exploration led to the invention of drilling.

The first bits were forged of heavy iron, the pipe and rig from bamboo. One or more men would stand on a wooden plank, designed like a seesaw, which lifted the bit a meter or so off the ground. Once dropped, it pulverized the ground rock. Centimeter by centimeter, that process would be repeated. Historians later theorized that the idea had come from the practice of pounding rice into flour.

The technique eventually became highly sophisticated, and working solutions to many of the problems still common to drilling—cave-ins, lost tools, deviated wells, the removal of debris—were perfected. Wells to 100 meters became common in Qin Shi’s time. No comparable technology existed anywhere else in the world until more than 2,000 years later. By 1100 CE, wells to 400 meters were routine, and while American drillers barely managed 500 meters in the 19th century, Chinese drillers explored below 1,000 meters.

Those first innovators, who sank wells searching for salt brine, also discovered something else.

An odorless emission, highly combustible.

Natural gas.

They learned that it could be burned, producing a clean, hot energy source that dissolved the brine and revealed the salt.

And they also found oil.

A sludgy material—fatty and sticky, like the juice of meat

, one observer noted—that bubbled up from deeper wells. At first the greenish black ooze was a mystery, but they soon learned that it, too, could be burned, producing a long-lasting, bright flame. It also could make the axles of their wagons turn faster. Oil became the substance of emperors, powering the lamps of their palaces and illuminating their tombs—even providing a fiery weapon used to devastate an enemy.

Tang marveled at the accomplishments.

In the process of inventing the mechanics of drilling, he knew they also had discovered the best places to bore, creating the science of geology. They became skilled at spotting salt frostings on surface rocks and detecting the pungent smell of hidden brine. They learned that yellow sandstone would yield brine high in ferric chloride, while black sandstone led to wells loaded with hydrogen sulfide. Of course, they were ignorant as to the chemical compositions, but they determined how to effectively recognize and use those compounds.

His ministry had studied in detail the history of Chinese brine drilling. There was even a museum in Zigong that told the story to the masses. Incredibly, over the past two millennia, nearly 130,000 wells had been drilled, a few hundred of those during the time of the First Emperor.

One in particular had been sunk about a quarter kilometer away.

“How do you know this?” he demanded of Jin Zhao

.

The irritating geochemist had refused to cooperate, so he’d finally ordered Zhao’s arrest.

“Minister, I know nothing. It’s all theory.”

He’d heard that explanation before. “It’s more than theory. Tell me.”

But his prisoner refused.

He motioned and the soldier standing a few feet away advanced on Zhao, yanking him from the chair and pounding him twice in the stomach. He heard the breath leave the older man. Zhao dropped to his knees, arms wrapping his gut

.

A slight nod from him signaled that two blows were enough.

Zhao struggled to breathe.

“It will only get worse,” he said. “Tell me.”

Zhao calmed himself. “Don’t hit me anymore. Please. No more.”

“Tell me what I want to know.”