The Rheingelt compound is located on the bare, scalped wreckage of a former West Virginia strip mine. The state paid Rheingelt to take the toxic real estate off its hands, hoping — but not really expecting — that his determination and gobs of capital might somehow restore the barren, polluted eyesore. Though the miners did their best to destroy it forever, there are distinct advantages to the site. For instance, the mine shafts and the empty coal seams to which they lead give Rheingelt a storage basement roughly the size of New Hampshire.

Slippery Logic's design has an airy, floating quality. This is partly a result of its massive system of tensioned cables, spun from microcrystal carbon fiber. It is also because many other elements of the structure possess a gentle, naturalistic appearance. No wonder: much of the building is literally alive. The spongelike wall panels are algae-based and, in most cases, have been grown into place, creating spontaneous organic fantasies of form. The massive, gleaming support pillars are nacreous limestone, accreted from natural seawater through an industrial version of the same process that creates coral reefs. The mansion's gardens, five times larger than those at Versailles and lush with endangered species of tropical greenery, are sheltered under vast geodesic domes of fretted glass.

Bamboo, genetically altered for strength and color, is grown on-site and used to form the mottled flooring and ceilings, while also removing any remaining toxins from the strip mine's soil. The furniture — chosen by Welch — is tailored to an era of rising sea levels. It uses the shapes of shells and anemones to create a remarkable subaqueous theme. Cushions are provided by specially engineered mosses of every conceivable color.

Like everyone else in today's capitalist elite, rheingelt is fed up with the greenhouse effect. But unlike most of us, he has decided to make his new house a bunker where he'll fight back against unseasonable rainstorms and heat waves. Carbon sequestration is one of the keynotes of the Rheingelt home. This technique sucks carbon dioxide — which traps heat in earth's atmosphere — right out of the air with solar-powered catalytic converters. What to do with all that spare carbon? Rheingelt and Welch will process it into valuable flakes of industrial diamond. If the whole undertaking sounds unsightly and, well, industrial, don't worry. Their "inverse smokestack," as the carbon-sequestration facility is called, will be tastefully concealed in towers sheathed in acres of iridescent mother-of-pearl (cloned from the cells of one of the few surviving Alaskan abalone).

But don't get the idea that the couple will be living in a laboratory. Genevieve Welch was a debutante before she was an actress, and she remains a socialite at heart. The mansion is amply equipped for entertaining, with everything from a subterranean brewery to a sumptuous in-house mudtrufflage facility (see Games). "I'm sick and tired of living my life through scripts from no-talent hacks in L.A.," says Welch. "Just wait till we hold a Renaissance Weekend in this joint, or maybe even the Technology, Entertainment and Design Conference. I'll have every decorator in the civilized world kicking and screaming just to know the color of my wallpaper." (By the way, that wallpaper? Variants of Roman red and lemon, according to the floor plans.)

Rheingelt and Welch are obviously a force to be reckoned with, but when they choose, they can also be diplomatic. With its tasteful giant windmills and every viable surface coated in solar lacquer, the intelligent mansion not only is self-powering, but also supplies free energy and Net access to all of the couple's West Virginia neighbors within a 30-mile radius. This clever inspiration put a quick stop to all the usual "not in my backyard" activists who might otherwise have objected to such a gigantic installation. "I have to admit," laughs Rheingelt, "a year or two ago, I couldn't have cared less. But Genevieve has taught me to understand and appreciate my public image."

Puffing on a Turkish hookah, with the geodesic girders rising majestically behind him, Rheingelt looks the picture of contentment. "I used to be an uptight, type-A overachiever," he says, "worried about three things: precision, discipline and total psychological dominance over my underlings. Well, I don't need a corporate title to do any of that fun stuff. I'm already ridiculously rich, and the time has come for me to lead the world by personal example. Genny and I are building a palace here to such high standards of art and science we will leave the world awestruck." As if there were any question, he adds: "You know, it's good to be me."