To those who are ready
to get to the bottom of things.

The Beginning

I come from a family steeped in the natural sciences. My father was a nuclear physicist. My mother a chemist. My grandfather an engineer.

Even as a child, my world consisted of experiments, mathematical problems, technical tinkering, and chess games with my father. Anyone who plays chess knows: you learn early to think several moves ahead — and not to see only the obvious.

Yet my professional path initially led me in an entirely different direction. I became an entrepreneur. For many years I was privileged to lead a large real estate company with great commercial success.

But the natural sciences never disappeared from my life.
They were simply waiting for the right moment.

A Memory That Changed Everything

I still remember my school days well. My father brought small technical toys back from his travels — some already powered by tiny solar cells. At the time, a physics teacher told us that this couldn't really work.

A few years later, the first solar-powered calculators appeared. What had seemed impossible yesterday was suddenly on every desk.

Not every new observation fits immediately into the existing worldview. Sometimes reality changes first. The explanation follows years later.

The Day at the Gotthard

At the beginning of 2008, my father asked me for something he had never asked for in his entire life.

"I want to show you something."

A professor friend of his was working on an unusual experiment. He received almost no support. My father asked me whether I would be willing to look at the experimental setup and, if appropriate, finance its continuation.

We drove to Switzerland. Deep into the Gotthard massif. There, hundreds of metres underground, stood a professor, a few scientific assistants, students, and a small experimental setup.

No grand stage. No cameras. No headlines.
Just science.

Then something happened that I have never forgotten. A small lamp glowed. Not spectacularly. But it glowed.

At the time, it was not clear what exactly was causing the effect. Whether it was neutrinos, other ambient radiation, or a combination of several factors — that was something the research of the coming years would have to clarify. But the observation was real. And it was reproducible.

Today I know that what fascinated me was less a single word than the possibility that behind an unusual observation something might be hidden that was not yet fully understood.

The Years Without Words

Today we call this period "The Years Without Words". Not because nothing happened. But because we lacked the language.

We observed reproducible effects in materials. We saw that structures at the nanoscale developed properties that could not be fully described by classical models alone.

Graphene was just beginning to transform materials science. New carbon structures opened up possibilities that would have been unthinkable just a few years earlier.

We worked.
We experimented.
We measured.
We discarded hypotheses.
We developed new ones.

At that time we gave our project the name "Neutrino Energy". Not because we could already fully explain all the physical relationships. But because this term symbolised our search for hitherto little-explored energy contributions from the environment.

In retrospect, I would name some things differently.
But I would not want to have missed a single day of that search.

Against the Current

I decided to finance the project. Not with other people's capital. With my own.

I founded companies. I secured trademarks. I invested assets, time, and my entire entrepreneurial network.

In 2014 we went public for the first time. The Federal Press Ball in Berlin. I believed journalists would ask the same questions as scientists. I was wrong.

A technological story suddenly became a headline. It was not our experiments that were discussed. Not our materials. Not our measurement results. But a single word: "Neutrino."

From that moment on, much was reduced to a claim we ourselves had never made. An image emerged that had little to do with our actual research work. The public debate developed its own dynamic.

The Price of an Unconventional Path

The years that followed were hard. There was doubt. Criticism. Investigations for alleged fraud, because it was claimed we wanted to "catch neutrinos in a box". This led to raids and seizures, and there were always physicists who declared that everything we did was nonsense — that you cannot capture neutrinos. This fuelled the courts and the investigators.

All of these proceedings ended after years without confirming the accusations. The observations were real and reproducible — even though we still had no complete explanation for all observed effects.

But time cannot be given back.

During this already difficult time, I lost people who had accompanied me my entire life. My mother. Later my father. My brother. Friends. Scientific companions.

With each farewell, the research project became more than a company. It became an obligation.

I remember a quiet moment. I stood at the graves of my parents. Later also at those of other people who had carried this project with them.

There I made a decision. Not out of defiance. Not out of ambition. But out of responsibility. I would continue on this path. Not to be proved right. But to find out where the truth leads.

The Language Returns

Over the years, the scientific landscape changed. Materials science developed rapidly. New work on graphene, Dirac materials, and nanoscale effects opened up additional perspectives.

Experimental neutrino physics also made significant progress. Not every one of these developments directly confirms our models. But they considerably broadened the scientific context.

Above all, we ourselves learned. We recognised that our task had never been to build a single factory. Our real task was bigger.

We developed a scientific architecture. We formulated connections. We structured insights. We developed a master formula as a theoretical framework for the contributions of various ambient energy sources and their interactions that we were investigating.

We created a foundation on which future research, technical development, and industrial implementation can build.

Today I no longer see our role as that of a conventional manufacturer. But as architects of a technological platform.

Nobody Builds the Future Alone

When people talk about Neutrino Energy today, many see only my face. That is understandable. But it is not the truth.

Behind every advance stand people whose names hardly anyone knows.

Physicists. Chemists. Materials scientists.
Engineers. Programmers. Laboratory technicians.
Staff. Partners. Families. Friends.

They have all played their part. Some with knowledge. Some with courage. Some with patience. Some with love. Some simply by never ceasing to believe that perseverance eventually pays off.

To all of them, my deepest gratitude.

The Relay Baton

Why am I telling you all this?

Not to receive admiration. Not to arouse sympathy. And not to convince anyone.

I am telling you because I believe that great ideas never belong to a single person. They eventually grow larger than their founder. Larger than a company. Larger than a generation.

That is why today I am symbolically handing you a relay baton.

Take nothing at face value. Ask questions. Read. Examine. Speak with scientists. Question us too. That is exactly how progress happens.

If, after this examination, you come to the conclusion that this path deserves support, then I invite you to become part of this journey.

Perhaps as a scientific partner.
Perhaps as an industrial partner.
Perhaps as an entrepreneur.
Perhaps as a licensee.
Perhaps simply as a person who is ready to carry an idea forward.

Because every great change begins with people who take responsibility before the world recognises that something has changed.