远大可持续建筑的创始人，董事长，张跃，绝不是一个谦逊的人。一个谦逊的人不会在他位于中国湖南省的工厂区内建造一座古典宫殿和一座130英尺高的仿埃及金字塔。一个谦逊的人，也不会将远大集团的核心产业从生产工业空调单元转向为建筑摩天大楼。一个谦逊的人更不会以前无古人的速度来建造这些摩天大楼。
2011年末，远大集团在15天时间内竖起了一作30层的高楼，现在，它打算运用类似的方法竖起目前世界上最高的大厦，在七个月内。或许你已经对张跃神奇的建筑方式有所了解：在2012年的元旦，远大集团发布了一段关于建造这座30层大楼的延时视频。这段视频迅速的引起了轰动。画面上，建筑工人像昆虫一样忙忙碌碌。在画面的一角有一个时钟标示着时间。在短短的360小时内，一座328英尺高的大楼--T30--在湖南省湘江边的一块空地上拔地而起。在视频的结尾，镜头俯拍大楼的顶部，远大集团的商标出现在镜头中，一个小写的b外面包着一个圈，类似于@的一个符号。
看上去，张跃他自己也像是在延时视频中生活一样。他几乎无时无刻被远大的员工围着，他们穿着相同的扣子衬衫（公司办公人员的制服），他们都拿着文件需要张跃来审阅或者签署。在我进入他办公室的时候，他一边在他的办公椅上不停旋转，一边不停的向属下发号施令。当他终于准备好开始采访时，他是突然地停止旋转，看都没看我一眼就叫到，“开始！”。
远大可持续建筑的发展步伐就是由这个男人全权掌控的。远大城，看上去毫无规划可言的总部，就完全是张跃一个人的杰作。雇员对他的称呼不是“董事长”，也不是“我们的董事长”，而是“我的董事长”。要成为远大的一份子，必须要能熟记由张跃起草的生活守则，其中包括节约能源，刷牙，生孩子。所有未来的员工都必须在两天时间内跑7.5英里。员工在远大城的餐厅内可以免费用餐，但如果被人抓到浪费粮食，虽然不会被罚款，但会被公开羞辱。
目前为止，远大已经在中国建造了16座建筑，还有一座在坎昆。这些建筑都是在距离远大城一小时车程的湖南工厂里被焊接成组件。从那里，这些预装好了各种管道（为水电和其他设施预留）的模块被运输到建筑工地，然后再像乐高积木一样组装起来。远大集团的这项技术也被授权给印度，巴西，俄罗斯的合作伙伴。集团要出售的是世界上第一座标准化的摩天大楼，通过这个产品，张跃希望将远大集团发展为可持续建筑工业里的麦当劳。
“传统的建筑过程是混乱的，”他说，“我们把建筑搬进了工厂。”根据张跃的观点，他的大楼将会解决许多建筑业中现有的问题。建造这样的大楼将更安全，更迅捷，也更便宜。同时，建筑过程中消耗的能量以及二氧化碳排放量也会降低。当我问起他是什么原因让他决定开一家建筑公司时，他纠正我说，“这不是一家建筑公司，这是一场结构上的革命。”
当问及他的生活故事时，张跃极力的表达这些都不值得一提。（“这篇访谈不应该超过两页，”他说）他转而将他的成功归功于他的创造力和他作为外行人对技术的看法。上世纪80年代，张跃还是一名学习艺术的学生。但到了1988年，在两位伙伴的帮助下，其中一位是他的弟弟（刚毕业的工程师），张跃离开了艺术世界创办了远大。公司最初的业务是生产无压锅炉。虽然他还是坚持这段故事并不有趣，但远大集团的副总裁Juliet Jiang却很乐意向我谈谈那段时间的故事。“他从锅炉生产上得到了第一桶金，”她说，“他可以继续做这个生意，但我的董事长他看到了无电空调的需求。”中国的经济扩张已经超越了国家电网所能提供的最大电力支持，她解释说。电力短缺是一个问题。由天然气驱动的工业级空调系统将帮助企业降低电力需求，减少直出，还能更好的控制污染排放。
张跃生产的空调系统是巨大的。这种被称为“微制冷”的系统重达6吨。最大的更是有3500吨重，可以替5百万平方英尺的空间提供制冷。远大所采用的技术，叫做吸收制冷，其实并不新鲜。传统空调采用电力将制冷剂从气体压缩为液体，然后再从液体变回气体，这样不停的循环达到制冷效果。无电空调则是使用天然气或者其他热源将一种特殊的液体（通常是一种锂的溴化物）变成蒸汽，当蒸汽冷凝时，对周围的空气进行制冷。今天，远大集团的无电空调远销全球70多个国家，为一些这个星球上最大的建筑和机场提供制冷服务。这些空调系统都会在远大城的控制中心得到监控，当一个在巴西运行的空调系统出现故障，在这里，湖南的远大城，会响起警报。
20年来，张跃的空调生意越做越大。但一系列的事件却让他萌生了变意。第一件事是，张跃成为了一名环保主义者，他说这样的环保意识实际上从10年，12年前就已经开始萌芽了。第二件事是，2008年中国四川遭受的那场灾难性的7.9级地震。地震中，许多豆腐渣建筑倒塌，大约87000丧生。那次事件之后，张跃开始关注起建筑设计的问题。最开始，她说，他试图说服开发商翻新已有的大楼，使得他们更加稳固，更有持续性。“大家都呲之以鼻。”他说。因此，张跃开始组建自己的工程师团队--根据Jiang提供的数据，有300名这样的工程师，同时开始研究如何建造价格低廉又环保的建筑，而且还能抵挡地震。
这项研究开始后半年，张跃放弃了传统建筑方法。他对建造每一个新建筑而雇佣的设计师，专家所需的开销感到沮丧。最后，他得出的结论是：降低建筑开销的最好方法就是将大楼移进工厂里建造。作为大规模空调系统的生产商，张跃最清楚工厂模式的流程。但是为了创造一座工厂化的摩天大楼，远大需要放弃每一个座摩天大楼都是特殊设计的这一原则。整个承重结构必须是不同的。为了降低大楼的整体重量，地板中得使用更少的混凝土，这又反过来使得大楼减少对钢结构的依赖。T30就是这样的生产理念产出的样品，大楼的90%是在厂房中建造的。对此，张跃表示，这个百分比在未来的建筑中只会变得更高，他认为，越多的部件在工厂中建造，建筑作业就会变得更加安全，也更少浪费。
这样的理论在西方可持续建筑界开始慢慢被接受。在西方，预制模块化的大楼正在变得流行起来。在纽约，一座32层的模块化大楼，世界上最高的此类建筑，将在布鲁克林的巴克莱中心舞台边上出现（尽管工会的争论也许会让它以更传统的方法来建造）。两座完全模块化的建筑已经在伦敦郊区矗立。模块化大楼（以预先建造的模块形式运送到工地）和预制高楼（和远大正在做的接近），比起传统建筑都在更加安全，监管起来更加方便，浪费的也更少。
但是在西方，模块化和预制大楼大部分都是低层的。远大是目前唯一一家，也可能后无来者，将这些建筑方法运动到摩天大楼上的。对于张跃来说，这项工程对环境问题上的改善就值得付出。根据远大提供的数据，一座传统的摩天大楼会产生3000吨的建筑垃圾，而远大的摩天大楼将只产生25吨。传统的大楼建筑工地需要5000吨的水，而远大的大楼连一滴水都不需要。
和西方那些讲究的模块化建筑相比，张跃的摩天大楼最起码在美观上无法给人留下深刻印象。在参观T30的时候，带领我的向导对着一件缩放模型比划着说，“看上去不太好看吧。”为了给酒店大厅留出足够宽敞空间，在大楼的底部必须附加上一个诡异的金字塔型结构。在大楼内部，走廊窄得让人觉得不舒服，爬中央楼梯有像爬体育场露天看台的楼梯一样。
话又说回来，中国建造的大部分公寓楼都差不多丑。远大建筑的最大买点，说起来有些不可思议，是质量。在中国，建筑标准千差万别，建筑商又经常使用便宜不可靠的混凝土。远大的方法则提供了少见的一致性。它使用的材料都是统一可靠的。建筑工人很难在边边角角上揩油，因为这么做的话会使得有一些建筑模块无法被安装，就像你组装宜家的桌子一样。而且使用远大的方案，获取一致性的成本很低：T30的每平方米的造价只有1000美元，相比起来，中国传统的商业高层建筑每平方米需要1400美元。
整个建筑过程也更加的安全。Jiang告诉我，在建造头20座远大楼时，“连手指甲都没坏一个”。电梯系统，包括底座，轨道，机械室，这些都可以在工厂中组装好，消失技术人员在安装电梯时从30楼高的电梯井中摔下的安全隐患。同时，远大采购了轿厢成品直接用吊车安装进电梯井，而不是先买回来轿厢组件之后再组装。在将来，电梯制造商准备将电梯门也预装好，彻底消除工人摔落的可能性。
可以说，Jiang的主要任务是将远大楼向世界推广，而她的老板，张跃关注的则是公司最古怪的计划——J220，一座工厂建造的220层巨型建筑，世界上最高的建筑。我们很难说这项1600万平方英尺的计划是不是只是一个公关噱头。目前，张跃的确从建造现在世界最高楼迪拜塔的团队中招募了一些工程师，同时，远大也已经将“天空之城”（J220的昵称）的两座大型模型做好了。按照计划，今年11月将在湖南某地开始打地基。如果一切顺利，整座高楼将在2013年3月完成。总体上来看，整个建造时间预计将耗时7个月，包括工厂预制阶段和工地组建阶段。当然，这一切都是基于这个项目将会被执行：当我在T30参观时，向导给其中一个模型插上了电，模型上的装饰灯开始闪烁，他告诉我“我的董事长说，我们要吸引眼球，我们要让世界震惊。”
其实，如果远大建造的都是30层的大楼，用15天的时间，1000美元每平方米的造价，极少的浪费，极低的工人风险，同时大楼还能抵挡9级地震，这样的结果就已经足够让这个世界震惊了。
Zhang Yue, founder and chairman of Broad Sustainable Building, is not a particularly humble man. A humble man would not have erected, on his firm’s corporate campus in the Chinese province of Hunan, a classical palace and a 130-foot replica of an Egyptian pyramid. A humble man, for that matter, would not have redirected Broad from its core business—manufacturing industrial air-conditioning units—to invent a new method of building skyscrapers. And a humble man certainly wouldn’t be putting up those skyscrapers at a pace never achieved in history.
In late 2011, Broad built a 30-story building in 15 days; now it intends to use similar methods to erect the world’s tallest building in just seven months. Perhaps you’re already familiar with Zhang’s handiwork: On New Year’s Day 2012, Broad released a time-lapse video of its 30-story achievement that quickly went viral: construction workers buzzing around like gnats while a clock in the corner of the screen marks the time. In just 360 hours, a 328-foot-tall tower called the T30 rises from an empty site to overlook Hunan’s Xiang River. At the end of the video, the camera spirals around the building overhead as the Broad logo appears on the screen: a lowercase b that wraps around itself in an imitation of the @ symbol.
In person, Zhang himself seems to move at an impossible time-lapse clip. He’s almost always surrounded by Broad employees, all wearing identical white button-front shirts (the uniform for the corporate office) and all offering papers for him to review or sign. When I arrive, he’s issuing a steady barrage of instructions while spinning himself around in his office chair. When he’s finally ready to start the interview, he abruptly stops spinning and, without looking at me, barks out, “Begin!”
The pace of Broad Sustainable Building’s development is driven entirely by this one man. Broad Town, the sprawling headquarters, is completely Zhang’s creation. Employees call him not “the chairman” or “our chairman” but “my chairman.” To become an employee of Broad, you must recite a life manual penned by Zhang, guidelines that include tips on saving energy, brushing your teeth, and having children. All prospective employees must be able, over a two-day period, to run 7.5 miles. You can eat for free at Broad Town cafeterias unless someone catches you wasting food, at which point you’re not merely fined but publicly shamed.
Broad employees (here lining up for a morning briefing) have to memorize the chairman's advice on everything from brushing teeth to having kids.
So far, Broad has built 16 structures in China, plus another in Cancun. They are fabricated in sections at two factories in Hunan, roughly an hour’s drive from Broad Town. From there the modules—complete with preinstalled ducts and plumbing for electricity, water, and other infrastructure—are shipped to the site and assembled like Legos. The company is in the process of franchising this technology to partners in India, Brazil, and Russia. What it’s selling is the world’s first standardized skyscraper, and with it, Zhang aims to turn Broad into the McDonald’s of the sustainable building industry.
“Traditional construction is chaotic,” he says. “We took construction and moved it into the factory.” According to Zhang, his buildings will help solve the many problems of the construction industry. They will be safer, quicker, and cheaper to build. And they will have low energy consumption and CO2 emissions. When I ask Zhang why he decided to start a construction company, he corrects me. “It’s not a construction company,” he says. “It’s a structural revolution.”
Pipes and ducts are threaded through each floor module while it's still in the factory. The client's choice of flooring is also preinstalled on top.
Asked about his life story, Zhang avers that it’s too boring to discuss. (“This whole article shouldn’t be more than two pages,” he says.) But he goes on to attribute his success to his creativity and to his outsider perspective on technology. He started out as an art student in the 1980s, but in 1988, with the help of two partners, including his brother (an engineer by training), Zhang left the art world to found Broad. The company started out as a maker of nonpressurized boilers. While Zhang again insists that the story isn’t interesting enough to talk about, Broad’s senior vice president, a smiley woman named Juliet Jiang who sports a bowl haircut just too long to stay out of her eyes, is happy to fill in the gaps. “He made his fortune on boilers,” she says. “He could have kept doing this business, but my chairman, he saw the need for nonelectric air-conditioning.” China’s economy was expanding past the capacity of the nation’s electricity grid, she explains. Power shortages were a problem. Industrial air-conditioning units fueled by natural gas could help companies ease their electricity load, reduce costs, and enjoy more reliable climate control in the bargain.
The AC units that Zhang still manufactures are gigantic, barge-sized affairs. The so-called micro chillers weigh 6 tons; the largest is 3,500 tons and can cool 5 million square feet. The technology Broad employs, called absorption cooling, is an old one. Instead of using electricity to compress a refrigerant from a gas to a liquid and back again, nonelectric air conditioners use natural gas or another source of heat to turn a special liquid (typically a solution containing lithium bromide) into vapor; as the vapor condenses, it cools the air around it. Today, Broad has units operating in more than 70 countries, cooling some of the largest buildings and airports on the planet. These systems are all monitored from a central headquarters in Broad Town: When an air conditioner malfunctions in Brazil, an alarm goes off in Hunan.
For two decades, Zhang’s AC business boomed. But a couple of events conspired to change his course. The first was that Zhang became an environmentalist, a gradual awakening that he says began 10 or 12 years ago. The second was the 7.9-magnitude earthquake that hit China’s Sichuan Province in 2008, causing the collapse of poorly constructed buildings and killing some 87,000 people. In the aftermath, Zhang began to fixate on the problem of building design. At first, he says, he tried to convince developers to retrofit existing buildings to make them both more stable and more sustainable. “People paid no attention at all,” he says. So Zhang drafted his own engineers—300 of them, according to Jiang—and started researching how to build cheap, environmentally friendly structures that could also withstand an earthquake.
Within six months of starting his research, Zhang had given up on traditional methods. He was frustrated by the cost of hiring designers and specialists for each new structure. The best way to cut costs, he decided, was to take building to the factory—and as a manufacturer of massive AC units, he knew how factories worked. But to create a factory-built skyscraper, Broad had to abandon the principles by which skyscrapers are typically designed. The whole load-bearing structure had to be different. To reduce the overall weight of the building, it used less concrete in the floors; that in turn enabled it to cut down on structural steel. The result was the T30, 90 percent of which was built inside the factory. And Zhang says this percentage will only rise with future buildings: The more that happens in the factory, he says, the safer and less wasteful construction becomes.
These theories are increasingly accepted by the sustainable building community in the West, where prefabricated and modular buildings are gaining in popularity. In New York, a 32-story modular building, the world’s tallest of its kind, is slated to go up near the Barclays Center arena in Brooklyn (though union disputes might result in a more traditional building instead). Two entirely modular developments have gone up in the suburbs of London. Both modular buildings (which are delivered to a site in prebuilt cubes) and prefabricated towers (closer to what Broad is doing) are safer to construct and easier to regulate than traditional structures, and both cut down on waste.
But modular and prefabricated buildings in the West are, for the most part, low-rise. Broad is alone—perhaps forebodingly alone—in applying these methods to skyscrapers. For Zhang, the environmental savings alone justify the effort. According to Broad’s numbers, a traditional high-rise will produce about 3,000 tons of construction waste, while a Broad building will produce only 25 tons. Traditional buildings also require 5,000 tons of water onsite to build, while Broad buildings use none.
Prefabricated skyscrapers can be inflexible. To create a lobby for this hotel, Broad had to stick an awkward pyramid onto the base.
Compared with the West’s elegant modular buildings, Zhang’s skyscrapers are aesthetically underwhelming, to say the least. On a tour of the T30, my guide gestures at a scale model and says, “It’s not very good-looking, is it?” To create a sufficiently spacious lobby for the hotel, an awkward pyramid-shaped structure had to be attached to the base. Inside, the hallways are uncomfortably narrow; climbing the central stairway feels like clanging up the stairs of a stadium bleacher.
It’s worth noting, though, that the majority of apartment buildings going up in China are equally ugly. Broad’s biggest selling point, amazingly enough, is in the quality. In a nation where construction standards vary widely, and where builders often use cheap and unreliable concrete, Broad’s method offers a rare sort of consistency. Its materials are uniform and dependable. There’s little opportunity for the construction workers to cut corners, since doing so would leave stray pieces, like when you bungle your Ikea desk. And with Broad’s approach, consistency can be had on the cheap: The T30 cost just $1,000 per square meter to build, compared with around $1,400 for traditional commercial high-rise construction in China.
The building process is also safer. Jiang tells me that during the construction of the first 20 Broad buildings, “not even one fingernail was hurt.” Elevator systems—the base, rails, and machine room—can be installed at the factory, eliminating the risk of a technician falling down a 30-story elevator shaft. And instead of shipping an elevator car to the site in pieces, Broad orders a finished car and drops it into the shaft by crane. In the future, elevator manufacturers are hoping to preinstall the doors, completely eliminating any chance that a worker might fall.
While Jiang focuses on bringing Broad buildings to the world, her boss is fixated on the company’s most outlandish plan—the J220, a factory-built 220-floor behemoth that would just happen to be the tallest building in the world. It’s hard to say for sure that the 16-million-square-foot plan isn’t entirely a publicity stunt. But Zhang has hired some of the engineers who worked on the current height-record holder, Dubai’s Burj Khalifa, and Broad has created two large models of “Sky City” (as the J220 has been nicknamed). The foundation is scheduled to be laid in November at a site in Hunan; if everything goes well, the building will be complete in March 2013. All in all, including factory time and onsite time, construction is expected to take just seven months. Again, that’s assuming it really happens: When my guide at the T30 plugs in one of the models and the lights flicker on, he tells me, “My chairman says we have to attract eyes. We have to shock the world.”
But if all Broad ever does is build 30-story skyscrapers—in 15 days, at $1,000 per square meter, with little waste and low worker risk, and where the end result can withstand a 9.0 quake—it will have shocked the world quite enough.
