Many called Shahin Amirian a genius. Whenever they said it, he’d just give a crooked smile. Once, in one of his scattered notes found after his death, he wrote: "I am no genius. I’m just someone who has learned to live every action a thousand times in his head before actually doing it. That’s all."
Perhaps that was the secret. Shahin’s margin of error was always near zero because he had lived his own failure in his mind before he ever broke ground.
It all started with his desperate hunt for the perfect location. Shahin scouted ten different spots around Tehran. He wasn't just looking for a warehouse; he was looking for a cover. He eventually settled on an abandoned factory in Chitegar—a relic left behind after the death of a wealthy patriarch. The heirs didn't need the money from the sale, but Shahin was persistent. He approached them with such patience and calculated offers that they finally gave in. They probably thought they were finally getting rid of a madman.
The factory had twelve sheds. The surrounding area was teeming with active industrial plants; one of them was a plastic recycling facility where the crushers operated with such deafening noise that the workers had to wear industrial-grade earmuffs just to keep their hearing. Shahin saw this "sonic hell" as his greatest asset. The hum of thousands of ASIC miners in his shed was perfectly swallowed by the industrial chaos next door.
For 11 months, he ran a front operation manufacturing paper rolls for point-of-sale machines. He hired 130 workers. He lived there day and night. Not for the profit, not for the paper, but to establish a "power consumption pattern." He needed to prove to the utility company that this shed was a high-consumption production unit.
Two days before the 1397 Nowruz holidays, with the city slowing down for the break, Shahin’s technical team moved in. Two old friends, experienced in mining operations abroad, took over the management. In just a few days, the shed was transformed into the heart of an underground empire.
Shahin kept only 25 of the 130 workers—those he had vetted for loyalty and discretion over the past year. He minimized the paper production in ten of the sheds, keeping only one machine running in each as a "vitrine" for any prying eyes. But in the two central sheds, hidden in the back, lay the core of the operation.
For three years, Shahin was consuming 4% of the country’s total electricity, and nobody noticed. No bugs, no slip-ups. Until one day, without anyone knowing how, the police went straight to the shed. The operation was shut down, and Shahin Amirian was sentenced to death for "disrupting the economic system."
The first months in Evin Prison passed in absolute silence. Then, suddenly, the death sentence was overturned to ten years. And then, in a twist that shocked everyone, he was released after less than two years under the guise of "Islamic clemency." Nobody could understand why the mastermind behind the country’s largest energy theft was being set free so easily.
Two years after his release, in 1404, Shahin Amirian was found dead in his home pool. The emergency report was cold and brief: "Heroin overdose."

All images related to the farm and how the police entered, as well as the equipment that had been purchased and moved there in recent days to enlarge the farm, and the technical personnel installing and commissioning them, can be viewed at the link below, which is a reputable news website inside Iran, along with explanations.

mshrgh.ir/1236004

For those who knew Shahin—the precise, meticulous man who wouldn't touch alcohol and barely smoked a cigarette—this was more baffling than the mining operation itself. The case was closed quickly. No one asked how Shahin reached that point. It was as if everyone wanted that file to stay in the dark forever.
Today, that factory in Chitegar still stands. Silent and empty. It feels as if the walls are still holding the hum of those machines, and the secret that Shahin Amirian took to his grave.