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The Rosens instead plan to blow away the field in part because Harold and his team of engineers have solved a set of daunting technological issues just in the past year. Harold is, after all, a rocket scientist. For instance, he has been able to create and sustain a relatively pure vacuum in which the flywheel spins, using such exotic devices as molecular drag pumps and molecular sieves. A better vacuum means less friction, thus better spin. He also has been able to suspend the rapidly spinning flywheel in its unstable environment by using sophisticated gimbals and magnetic bearings--something very few, if any, other scientists are thought to have accomplished. "Doing the magnetic bearings with those particular dynamics was a daunting task," says Harold. "You have to be able to hit a deep pothole and still make it work." That's a clue that the brothers are well on their way to solving safety problems.
By the end of the year, the Rosens will have spent $13 million on their project. They expect to spend an additional $10 million to $15 million next year, nearly all of it from Ben's silicon-lined pockets. They also plan to begin selling their flywheel to utilities for stationary power generation next year. Says Ben: "By the end of next year, we will have generated enough risk reduction to seek external funding." Eventually they plan to sell shares to the public. They want to build their own plants to make their own power trains and sell them to car companies. In their vision, "Powered by Rosen" would become a cachet, like "Intel Inside."
This is not a vision that anyone in Detroit shares. Instead, the industry is working closely with Rosen competitors like U.S. Flywheel, Trinity Flywheel and Unique Mobility. That's a badge of honor to Harold and Ben, who are clearly thrilled to be working together. When they were younger, Ben was very much the little brother walking devotedly in the older brother's footsteps: he followed Harold to Cal Tech, and then to Raytheon Corp. in the 1950s, when Ben got his very first job working for his brother, building missiles. Their paths diverged when Ben went East to get an M.B.A. and Harold started building satellites on the Coast. For years they kept up a bicoastal relationship, says Ben, "the way families that live far apart usually see each other, on occasional visits." Now, after 40 years, they see each other all the time. Yet why, after such extraordinary careers, do they need the headache of a high-tech start-up? "We both like tilting against giants," says Ben. "When Harold started his satellite program at Hughes, he was going against AT&T. In the personal-computer business, I was up against IBM and other giants." The giants ignored them, and paid the price. The Rosens have this idea that history just might repeat itself.