Six months. Half a year since it all began with a broken keyboard and impossible neural algorithms. Dr. Hoffmann's farm had been transformed into a research complex that rivaled any government facility, complete with specialized laboratories, dormitories for the resident researchers, and a growing library of documentation on our "arcane language."
During these months, they had catalogued 247 distinct words, developed a grammatical framework for constructing complex commands, and mapped correlations between linguistic structures and resulting physical effects. It was impressive work for a group that thought it was discovering a natural system rather than exploring an interface I had designed.
I was watching from the porch of the main house as Dr. Santos and Dr. Reeves tested a new combination of words in the thermal lab, their voices echoing through the property with a scientific authority that had become second nature.
"NEXUS KALAR VORTHIS DUAL," Dr. Santos commanded, attempting to combine heat transfer with energy doubling.
One of the test bars began to glow with intense heat while an identical bar materialized beside it, both maintaining impossibly high temperatures.
"It worked!" Dr. Reeves shouted. "Duplication of thermal energy while maintaining original properties!"
It was time. Six months of controlled development, of building expertise, of creating irrefutable scientific evidence. They were ready. The world was ready.
Most importantly, I was ready.
I walked back to the main lab where all nine researchers were gathered, each working on different aspects of what they believed to be the most significant collaborative discovery in human history.
"Guys," I said loudly, my voice cutting through their conversations. "I need everyone's attention."
Katharina looked up from her linguistic analyses. Markus stopped calibrating measuring instruments. Dr. Li stopped documenting a new thermal experiment. Dr. Hoffmann turned away from his theoretical equations. The others gradually stopped their activities and turned to me.
"I know you've all been completely absorbed in your research," I began, walking to the center of the lab. "And the work you've done in these six months is extraordinary. You've cataloged hundreds of commands, developed grounded theory, created rigorous scientific methodology for an entirely new field."
"But," Dr. Anderson asked, detecting something in my tone.
"But the time has come to expand beyond this lab."
Total silence filled the space.
"Expand how?" Katharina asked cautiously.
"It's time to announce our discovery to the world."
The reaction was immediate and cacophonous.
"WHAT?!" Dr. Santos exclaimed.
"You can't be serious," Dr. Yamamoto protested.
"We're not ready yet," Dr. Carter added quickly.
"The risks would be enormous," Dr. Reeves contributed.
"SILENCE," he said firmly, using the tone of authority he had developed over the months. "Let me explain."
They gradually calmed down, but I could see anxiety on all their faces.
"For six months we have kept the most revolutionary discovery in human history a complete secret. Do you think this can continue indefinitely?"
"Why not?" Dr. Hoffmann asked. "Operational safety—"
"There is no operational security in indefinite secrecy," I interrupted. "Only increasing vulnerability."
I picked up a stack of newspapers I had brought from town the week before.
"Look at these headlines," he said, spreading newspapers on the central table.
"'MIT Physicists Mysteriously Disappear,'" I read aloud. "'University Funds Diverted to Unspecified Project.' 'Families Demand Information on Missing Researchers.'"
Faces around the table began to show understanding of the situation.
"You can't just disappear from normal academic life without consequences," I continued. "Questions are being asked. Investigations are beginning. Our window for controlled disclosure is closing."
"But press conference?" Dr. Li questioned. "That's... extreme."
"Controlled disclosure," I corrected. "Our own narrative, our own terms, our own timeline."
"Versus," Markus added thoughtfully, "being exposed by investigation or leak."
"Exactly."
Dr. Anderson was shaking his head. "Do you understand the magnitude of the consequences? The moment this becomes public..."
"Governments around the world will want to control this," Dr. Santos added.
"Military applications will be the first priority," Dr. Reeves added.
"Commercial exploitation will be immediate," Dr. Carter contributed.
"Social disruption will be massive," Dr. Yamamoto noted.
"That's why," he said calmly, "we need to be prepared."
I walked over to the whiteboard and started drawing an organization chart.
"First: legal structure. Who among you has contacts in law firms specializing in international intellectual property?"
"I do," Dr. Li replied hesitantly. "But Kai, you're talking about establishing legal ownership over... what? Physical laws? Linguistic structures?"
"I'm talking about protecting our research, our methodology, and our institutional autonomy," I replied. "Before others try to claim credit or impose external control."
"Patent applications?" Dr. Hoffmann asked incredulously.
"Comprehensive legal protection," I corrected. "Patents where applicable, trade secrets where appropriate, institutional copyrights on methodology."
"What about security?" Markus asked. "The moment this becomes public, this place will become a target."
"That's why we need a more secure base," I agreed. "Somewhere that offers both physical protection and legal jurisdiction that respects our autonomy."
"You're talking about a private island," Dr. Anderson realized.
"I'm talking about sovereign educational territory," I replied. "Like Vatican City, but for advanced learning."
"That's... impossible," Dr. Santos protested.
"It is necessary," I corrected firmly. "And with the financial resources that this discovery will generate, definitely achievable."
"Financial resources?" Dr. Carter asked.
"Think about it," he said, starting to pace the lab. "The ability to duplicate matter. Cure diseases. Manipulate energy. Transform materials. What is the economic value of these capabilities?"
"Unlimited," Dr. Yamamoto murmured.
"Exactly. But only if we maintain control."
"Control how?" Katharina asked.
"Academic monopoly. Our academy becomes the only source of legitimate training in these capabilities. Governments and corporations want access? They work with us, on our terms."
"You are describing an academic cartel," Dr. Hoffmann observed.
"I am describing a survival strategy," I replied. "The alternative is to have our discovery weaponized, commercialized, and ultimately destroyed by forces that do not understand the implications."
"What if governments simply take our research?" Dr. Reeves asked.
"By what authority?" I asked back. "We are not government employees. Our research is privately funded. Our methodology is proprietary. And our results are documented as an international collaborative effort."
"International collaboration provides protection," Markus realized.
"Multinational legal framework," Dr. Li agreed. "Much harder for a single government to claim jurisdiction."
"Besides," I added, "the moment the capabilities are publicly demonstrated, every government in the world will want access. Competition will work in our favor."
"Bidding war," Dr. Carter muttered.
"Controlled access agreements," I corrected. "Training programs, research partnerships, technology transfer - all on our terms."
"But demonstration," Dr. Santos asked. "How do you prove capabilities without revealing methodology?"
"Limited demonstrations," I replied. "Enough to establish credibility, not enough to allow replication."
"Like a magic show," Dr. Anderson said sarcastically.
"As a carefully controlled scientific presentation," I corrected. "With full documentation, peer review, and institutional support."
"And chronology?" Katharina asked.
"Press conference in two weeks," I announced. "That gives us time to prepare legal framework, security arrangements, and comprehensive documentation package."
"TWO WEEKS?!" multiple voices exclaimed simultaneously.
"That's enough time if we start now," he said firmly. "Li, I need contacts for a top-tier international law firm specializing in intellectual property and institutional autonomy. Today."
"Markus, contacts at private security companies with experience protecting high-value research facilities. Also today."
"Hoffmann, begin preliminary design for secure research campus. Remote location, complete self-sufficiency, legal independence."
"Carter, comprehensive documentation package covering our methodology, findings, and safety protocols. Ready for publication."
"Santos, Reeves, Anderson - documentation of medical applications. Every healing ability, every biological manipulation, every health implication. Complete pharmaceutical analysis."
"Yamamoto, psychological assessment protocols for student selection. We will need systematic screening for academic admission."
"Katharina, complete linguistic analysis. Grammar, vocabulary, structural principles. Academic textbook level."
"What about me?" Dr. Anderson asked.
"Demonstration planning. What effects demonstrate capabilities without revealing system architecture. How to prove authenticity without allowing duplication."
"This is a huge undertaking," Dr. Hoffmann noted.
"This is a necessary undertaking," I corrected. "And honestly, you've been preparing for it without realizing it. Six months of research has laid the foundation. Now we need to build the superstructure."
"But the risks," Dr. Yamamoto insisted.
"Greater risks in continued secrecy," I replied. "Every day of delay increases the chance of exposure on terms we cannot control."
"Besides," Markus added thoughtfully, "if we're really going to establish academia, we need legitimate recognition. We can't operate indefinitely as a clandestine research group."
"Exactly," I agreed. "Academic legitimacy requires public recognition."
"International recognition requires institutional structure," Dr. Carter contributed.
"Legal protection requires formal establishment," Dr. Li noted.
"And all of this requires making it public on our own terms," Dr. Santos concluded.
"Before anyone else forces our hand," Dr. Reeves added.
Silence fell over the lab as the implications sank in.
"So," Katharina said finally, "we're really doing this."
"We're actually doing this," I confirmed.
"Press conference announcing discovery of... how do we describe this?" Dr. Anderson asked.
"Linguistically mediated reality manipulation," I suggested. "Serious-sounding but non-inflammatory academic terminology."
"Consciousness-matter interface research," Dr. Hoffmann offered.
"Advanced Human Potential Development," Dr. Li contributed.
"Applied cognitive enhancement methodology," Dr. Carter suggested.
"It doesn't matter exactly what we call it," he said. "What matters is that we present it as serious academic research with legitimate institutional support and comprehensive safety protocols."
"And the world's reaction?" Dr. Yamamoto asked softly.
"The world's reaction will be intense," I admitted. "But managed properly, intensity works in our favor."
"As?"
"Fascination breeds demand. Demand breeds value. Value breeds negotiations on our terms."
"You are treating this as a commercial venture," Dr. Santos observed.
"I'm treating this as a strategic necessity," I corrected. "Academic research requires funding. Protection requires influence. Influence requires a value proposition that the world recognizes."
"And the alternative?" Markus asked.
"The alternative is to remain hidden until the discovery is leaked or stolen, then watch others profit from our work while we lose all control."
"Put that way," Dr. Hoffmann murmured, "disclosure becomes necessity."
"Exactly."
"So," Katharina said, straightening with renewed determination, "what's the first priority?"
"Legal protection," I replied immediately. "Everything else depends on establishing a solid legal foundation."
"I will call international advocacy contacts tonight," Dr. Li promised.
"Security assessment tomorrow," Markus added.
"Campus project this weekend," Dr. Hoffmann contributed.
"Paperback package due next week," Dr. Carter agreed.
"Medical analysis beginning immediately," Dr. Santos confirmed.
"Psychological protocols by Monday," Dr. Yamamoto pledged.
"Draft of linguistic textbook by Wednesday," Katharina promised.
"Demonstration planning is underway," Dr. Anderson concluded.
"Perfect," he said. "Two weeks to prepare humanity for the next phase of evolution."
"Next phase of evolution," Dr. Hoffmann repeated slowly. "When you put it that way..."
"This really is bigger than just our research," Dr. Li realized.
"This is historic change," Markus agreed.
"That's why it has to be done right," I emphasized. "Controlled, professional, legitimate. No room for error."
"Understood," came a chorus of agreement.
"Then let's begin."
As they dispersed to their respective tasks, excitement and anticipation filling the lab, I remained for a moment, watching.
Six months of careful manipulation had led to this moment. They were now fully invested in a vision that served my agenda while believing they were pioneering human advancement.
Press conference would establish public recognition of capabilities.
Legal framework would establish my institutional control.
International attention would create demand for the academy.
Academia would create a pipeline of trained users dependent on my system.
And through it all, they would believe themselves to be participants in a collaborative effort rather than instruments in my orchestrated rise to power.
Phase Three nearing completion.
Time for Phase Four: public revelation, institutional establishment, and systematic expansion of controlled magical education.
All leading to a world where magic existed, but only under my authority.
It was exactly as I had planned from the beginning.
"Two weeks," I muttered to myself.
Two weeks until the world changes forever.
And yet no one suspected that the master behind the curtains was the same person offering to lead them to their supposed destiny.
Perfect manipulation disguised as collaborative evolution.
Exactly as I always intended.
Our return to MIT's campus was anything but discreet. Ten world-class researchers showing up simultaneously after six months of unexplained absence certainly made waves. Right at the main entrance, we were greeted by a group of graduate students who had been forced to take over our classes and research projects.
"Dr. Hoffmann! Dr. Li!" one of them exclaimed, clearly surprised. "You... are back?"
"Temporarily," Dr. Hoffmann replied with an air of academic dignity that he had honed during six months of impossible discoveries. "We have business to settle with the administration."
The dean was waiting for us in his office. He had been informed of our arrival by Dr. Li, who had maintained a minimal channel of communication to prevent the university from formally declaring us missing.
"Six months," he said as we entered, without formal greeting. "Six months without proper communication. University resources diverted. Classes abandoned. Projects left incomplete. Explanations, please?"
Markus looked at me, as did the others. Despite our careful preparations for the press conference, we had not specifically discussed how to deal with the university administration.
"Dean Thomson," he said, naturally assuming the position of spokesman. "What we are about to explain will completely justify any inconvenience we have caused. In fact, it will transform MIT into the most important institution on the planet."
The dean raised his eyebrows. "I'm still waiting for that explanation, Dr. Thorne."
"Our team has made a scientific discovery of unprecedented magnitude. We are here to inform you that in two weeks there will be a formal public announcement. We felt it appropriate that you and senior management be informed in advance."
"What kind of discovery justifies complete abandonment of academic responsibilities for six months?"
Dr. Santos took a step forward. "We have discovered a methodology for direct manipulation of physical reality through specific linguistic structures."
The dean blinked. "Excuse me?"
"We have developed the ability to alter matter, energy and physical properties through structured vocal commands," Dr. Li elaborated. "Completely demonstrable, completely verifiable, completely reproducible under appropriate conditions."
"That sounds..." the dean began, clearly searching for diplomatic words.
"Impossible?" Dr. Hoffmann suggested. "I agree. It seemed impossible to me too. Until I saw it with my own eyes. And then I learned to do it myself."
"Demonstration?" I asked calmly.
The dean nodded, clearly unsure whether we were all suffering from some sort of shared delusion.
"VEXIS THALAR ZEPHON," he said, and the pen on the dean's desk rose gently, floating three feet in the air.
He stood completely paralyzed, staring at the unsupported suspended object.
"That's..." he began, then stopped again.
"Just a basic demonstration," Katharina said. "We have much more advanced capabilities."
"What... how..."
"We will be explaining this in detail at the press conference," he said. "But we needed to inform MIT first, since most of us have formal affiliations with the institution."
The dean was now examining the floating pen from all angles, looking for wires or other tricks.
"It's genuine," Dr. Reeves said. "And it's going to change absolutely everything about how we understand reality."
"We need your cooperation to prepare a proper announcement," I added. "Main auditorium, appropriate security, media management."
"And we need to clearly establish that the research was conducted independently," Dr. Anderson added. "Not as an official MIT project."
The dean finally found words. "Why is this important?"
"Because the implications of this discovery transcend any existing institution," I replied. "We are establishing a new academy dedicated specifically to research and development of these capabilities."
"New academy?" the dean asked, finally regaining his academic composure. "Separate from MIT?"
"Necessarily," Dr. Hoffmann confirmed. "The magnitude of this discovery requires a dedicated institutional structure."
The dean looked again at the floating pen, then at our serious faces.
"I will arrange whatever is necessary for a press conference," he said finally. "And I suggest an immediate meeting with the board of trustees to discuss possible future relations between MIT and this... new academy."
"Exactly what we expected," I agreed.
Three hours later, having navigated through emergency meetings with university administration, relevant departments, and MIT's public relations team, I finally found a moment to breathe in my old office. The space felt strangely small and irrelevant after months in Dr. Hoffmann's expanded farmhouse.
The door opened without knocking, and Dr. Li walked in, her expression intense and focused. This was not unusual for her—it was her default expression—but there was an added urgency in her movements.
"Kai," she said without preamble. "I need to talk about the location of the academy."
"Of course," I replied, indicating a chair in front of my desk. "We're considering several options. Private island remains my preference, for obvious reasons of jurisdiction and control."
"I have another proposal," she said, sitting stiffly. "I have received notice from the Chinese Ministry of Science and Technology. They are willing to offer significant advantages for establishing the academy on Chinese territory."
This was... unexpected. Not the offer itself - I had anticipated that nations would begin competing for access once they discovered our capabilities. But I had not expected offers so quickly, even before the public announcement.
"How did you know?" I asked directly.
"I didn't share any details," she replied defensively. "I just mentioned to the academic contact that we were developing transformative technology that would require significant institutional support."
I studied her face for a moment. Dr. Li had always been transparent about her pride in her Chinese heritage and academic connections there. But she was also a scientist committed to the principles of open research and international collaboration.
"What kind of perks are they offering?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
"Sovereign territory of fifteen square kilometers on the southern coast. Legal status equivalent to a special administrative region. Full funding for construction, academic autonomy guaranteed by law, military protection without interference in operations."
"Impressive," I admitted. "Especially considering they don't even know exactly what we're developing."
"They know it's significant," she replied. "And China has a history of valuing knowledge and long-term planning for thousands of years."
The door opened again, and Katharina came in, carrying a pile of documents. She stopped when she realized she had interrupted the conversation.
"Sorry, I'll be back later," he said, starting to back away.
"No," I called. "Stay. Dr. Li is proposing that we consider China as a location for the academy."
Katharina froze, then closed the door carefully behind her. Her normally expressive face was rigidly controlled, but he could see tension in her eyes.
"China," she repeated. "Interesting choice."
"They offered sovereign territory and complete institutional autonomy," I explained.
"On what conditions?" Katharina asked directly.
"None explicit," Dr. Li replied. "Besides normal scientific collaboration."
"And implicit?" Katharina pressed.
"Obviously they hope to develop a privileged relationship with academia," Dr. Li admitted. "But that would be true for any host country."
Katharina sat in the second chair, placing documents carefully on the table. "Why not the United States? MIT already has established relationships with government agencies here. The transition would be smoother."
"That's why it might not be ideal," I replied, seeing an opportunity to let them debate while I evaluated both positions. "Existing relationships bring existing expectations."
"And concentrating power of this magnitude in the hands of the United States would be tremendously problematic," Dr. Li added. "A country that has been at perpetual war since its founding."
Katharina turned to face her directly. "And China has an exemplary record in terms of academic freedom and scientific transparency?"
"China has invested more in basic scientific research over the past decade than any other nation," Dr. Li responded. "While funding in the U.S. has consistently been redirected toward military applications."
"We are talking about a country with a national digital firewall and a social credit system," Katharina countered. "How would that be compatible with academic autonomy?"
"We are talking about sovereign academia," Dr. Li replied firmly. "Territory with its own laws and internal governance. Territory that China is willing to formally grant, with international legal protections."
"And when they decide our research is too important to remain independent?" Katharina asked. "When they classify our language commands as technology of national interest?"
"As the U.S. certainly would," Dr. Li pointed out. "If we establish academia here, how long until the National Security Agency or Department of Defense declares our research a national security issue?"
They were both making valid points, I realized. And that made the situation perfect for my purposes.
"They both have important points," I said, leaning forward. "This location issue is fundamentally about autonomy. We need an operational base that maximizes our independence while minimizing vulnerability to external pressures."
"That's exactly why China makes sense," Dr. Li insisted. "They are explicitly offering full legal autonomy."
"Initial offers rarely reflect ultimate reality," Katharina responded. "Especially when the offering party does not fully understand the value of what is being negotiated."
"But a location in China would have another strategic advantage," I continued, testing their reactions. "It would create a natural balance of power between great powers."
They both looked at me questioningly.
"If we establish a base in the United States, China and Russia will see academia as an extension of American power," I explained. "If we establish a base in China, the United States and Europe will see it as an extension of Chinese influence."
"And that would be good because...?" Katharina asked skeptically.
"Because establishing a third neutral location would mean that all global powers would have a common interest in preserving our independence," he concluded. "With none wanting others to gain exclusive control."
Understanding began to dawn in both of their eyes.
"Truly sovereign territory," Dr. Li muttered. "Not affiliated with any existing power."
"Where?" Katharina asked practically. "Smaller nations would not have the resources to ensure security against pressure from larger powers."
"Idealist?" Dr. Hoffmann asked, entering the room. He had a notorious habit of silently entering conversations. "Perhaps an artificial island in international waters? Or an Antarctic territory?"
"Impractical," Dr. Li replied. "Logistical costs would be prohibitive, and legal status would be constantly contested."
"Switzerland?" Markus suggested, also joining the conversation. Apparently our small group had attracted attention. "Historical neutrality, excellent infrastructure, strong legal protections."
"Still part of existing geopolitical structure," objected Dr. Anderson, now also joining in. "Subject to pressures from the European Union and international community."
Soon the office was full, with all nine researchers debating intensely. It was fascinating to observe how the question of location had immediately captured the group's entire imagination. As they discussed, my mind was processing real strategic implications.
The gym's physical location was important, certainly. But much less important than they realized. The real power wouldn't lie in physical facilities or legal jurisdiction—it would lie in the system that only I controlled. The gym could be located anywhere on the planet and would still be completely dependent on my authorization for access.
But letting them debate furiously about location served my purposes perfectly. The more invested they were in the logistical details of academia, the less they would question the fundamental power structure underneath.
"If I may," he said finally, raising his voice slightly to cut through the increasingly heated debate, "We have two weeks to prepare a public announcement. Permanent location can be decided after we establish a formal presence on the world stage."
"But we need to have an initial plan," Dr. Santos insisted.
"We do," I replied. "For the initial phase, we can use Hoffmann's farm as a temporary base while we negotiate terms with various interested nations."
"Political auction," Dr. Carter observed.
"Diplomatic selection process," I corrected. "Where we will evaluate which nation or region offers the best guarantees of institutional autonomy and operational security."
"Practical approach," Dr. Hoffmann agreed. "Gives us leverage in negotiations."
"And time to evaluate options properly," added Katharina.
Dr. Li did not look completely satisfied, but she nodded reluctantly. "May I inform the Chinese ministry that a permanent location is under consideration, with China as a significant candidate?"
"Absolutely," I agreed. "In the same way that Katharina can communicate with relevant American authorities, Hoffmann with European ones, and so on. The more nations interested in hosting us, the better our negotiating position."
"Competition as leverage," Dr. Santos murmured. "Strategic."
"Exactly. For now, we need to focus on establishing a legitimate public presence and an international legal framework. Physical location is secondary to a proper institutional foundation."
The researchers gradually agreed to this pragmatic compromise and began to disperse, each returning to the preparatory tasks we had set. Only Katharina remained after the others had left.
"You already have a location in mind, don't you?" she asked directly when we were alone.
She smiled. She was always the most perceptive of the group.
"I have several possibilities under consideration," I replied honestly. "But physical location matters much less than institutional architecture."
"Because you control the system regardless of where we are based," she concluded.
"Exactly. Academia is the framework for legitimate access. If established properly, specific location is secondary."
"So the US-China debate is essentially irrelevant?"
"Not irrelevant," I corrected. "Different locations bring different practical advantages and disadvantages. But substantially less crucial than Dr. Li or others think."
Katharina studied me for a long moment. "Are you really comfortable with the idea of negotiating with governments? People who have built careers on manipulation and power?"
I smiled. "I'm pretty confident in our ability to maintain autonomy regardless of who we think is controlling us."
She nodded slowly. "Because in the end, you're the only one with the keys to the kingdom."
"We," I corrected softly. "Academy. An institution we're building together."
It was a lie, of course. But a lie that Katharina and others needed to believe in order to remain invested in the vision.
"Two weeks," she murmured. "After that, nothing will be the same."
"Progress rarely is," I replied. "But with proper structures, we can ensure that change is for the better."
Katharina left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The debate about China versus the US versus other locations would continue, each researcher bringing their own cultural and political perspectives. I would allow it to continue, even encourage it.
The more they focused on the question of where the academy would be established, the less they would question who would actually control its operation.
And in the meantime, I would continue building the infrastructure for Phase Four—public revelation, worldwide acclaim, and the establishment of an academy that would be seen as genuine international collaboration but would operate fundamentally as an extension of my will.
Everything was progressing exactly as planned.
A week had passed since our return to MIT, and what had begun as a controlled leak of information had become a tsunami in the international scientific community. Despite our efforts to maintain secrecy until the official press conference, word had spread through the informal network of academic contacts that connects elite researchers around the world.
I was sitting in MIT's main conference room, surrounded by eight other researchers and three members of the university's board of trustees, when my phone began to vibrate for the tenth time in an hour. This time, it was an international call that I recognized as potentially important.
"Sorry," he said, getting up from the table. "I have to take this call."
It was Dr. Hiroshi Tanaka, director of the RIKEN Institute in Japan, one of the most respected theoretical physicists in the world. We had met at a conference on quantum computing two years earlier.
"Dr. Thorne," his voice said over the international connection, speaking in carefully articulated English. "I've heard some very interesting rumors about the groundbreaking research your team has developed."
"Dr. Tanaka," I answered carefully. "What kind of rumors?"
"Direct manipulation of matter through consciousness-reality interface. Linguistic control over physical properties. Capabilities that transcend established physics."
I sighed internally. The academic network worked with impressive efficiency when it came to spreading information about potentially paradigm-shifting discoveries.
"There are significant developments that will be announced publicly soon," I confirmed diplomatically.
"Dr. Thorne, if even a fraction of the rumors are true, this represents the most important discovery in the history of science. The Japanese government would like to discuss the possibility of establishing your new research institution in Japan."
"Oh?" he said, genuinely surprised by the suddenness of the official offer.
"Sovereign territory in Okinawa, special economic zone status, unlimited funding for research, full protection under Japanese security treaties, but absolute academic autonomy."
"That's a very generous offer," I replied carefully. "But we're still in the options consideration phase."
"Of course. But Dr. Thorne, Japan has a thousand-year tradition of valuing knowledge and preserving wisdom. We would be ideal partners for the responsible development of such significant capabilities."
After ending the call, I returned to the conference room where discussion had continued about logistics of the planned press conference.
"Was it important?" Dr. Li asked, noticing my thoughtful expression.
"Japan has just offered sovereign territory in Okinawa for the establishment of the academy."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"Japan too?" Dr. Hoffmann murmured. "How did you know?"
"International academic network," Dr. Carter replied resignedly. "You tell a trusted colleague, who mentions it to another colleague, who discusses it with a third..."
"And now the entire global scientific community knows that something extraordinary is happening," Markus concluded.
Dean Thomson, who had been partially briefed on our capabilities but still processing the full implications, leaned forward. "How many nations are interested so far?"
"China, the United States implicitly, and now Japan explicitly," I said.
My phone rang again. This time the number was +55 - Brazil.
"Dr. Thorne?" came a voice with a distinct Brazilian accent. "This is Dr. Carlos Mendoza, director of the National Institute for Space Research. I am calling on behalf of the Brazilian Ministry of Science, Technology and Innovation."
"Dr. Mendoza," I replied, putting the call on speakerphone so others could hear. "How can I help you?"
"We have received information about groundbreaking research that your team has developed. Brazil would like to express formal interest in hosting your new academy."
"What kind of arrangement did you have in mind?" I asked, scanning faces around the table.
"Private island off the coast of Santa Catarina, autonomous scientific territory status under Brazilian law, but with independent internal governance. Full government funding for construction and operation, plus access to unique Amazonian natural resources for research."
"Amazon?" Dr. Santos asked with interest.
"The planet's unique biodiversity," Dr. Mendoza explained. "If its capabilities include biological applications, as reports suggest, access to Amazonian flora and fauna would be invaluable for research."
"It's an intriguing proposal," I admitted. "Can I assume the Brazilian government would be interested in scientific collaboration?"
"Naturally, but with complete respect for academic autonomy. Brazil has a tradition of scientific neutrality and international cooperation."
After the Brazilian call ended, Dr. Anderson shook his head. "Three offers in one week. How many more are we going to get?"
As if in direct answer to his question, my phone rang for the third time. Code +7 - Russia.
"Dr. Thorne," came a deep voice with a thick Russian accent. "Professor Dimitri Volkov, Russian Academy of Sciences. I have a proposal that I believe will be of interest to you."
I put it on speakerphone again.
"Professor Volkov, nice to meet you, even if it's over the phone."
"My pleasure. Dr. Thorne, Russia has a long tradition of supporting advanced scientific research without political interference. We would like to offer territory in Siberia - complete isolation, unlimited resources, absolute protection, and most importantly, a proven track record of protecting scientists from outside pressure."
"Siberia?" Katharina asked skeptically.
"The location may seem remote," Professor Volkov admitted, "but it offers unique advantages. Distance from population centers ensures operational safety. Harsh weather would discourage casual visitors. And the Russian government, despite its reputation, has an excellent track record of honoring agreements with autonomous scientific institutions."
"What kind of autonomy would you be willing to grant?" I asked.
"Sovereign territory of one hundred square kilometers, with its own laws and governance. Status equivalent to an autonomous republic, but dedicated exclusively to scientific research. Funding through the region's mineral resources - diamonds, gold, rare metals - managed by the academy itself."
It was an impressive offer, I mentally admitted. A genuinely autonomous territory with its own natural resources for independent financing.
"And the Russian government's expectations?" I pressed.
"Normal scientific collaboration, as any host nation would. Access to academic publications, training opportunities for qualified Russian students, participation in international conferences. Nothing that would compromise operational independence."
After the Russian call ended, the conference room was in contemplative silence.
"Four nations," Dr. Reeves murmured. "China, Japan, Brazil, Russia. All offering sovereign territory and autonomy."
"In addition to the United States, which will clearly also be interested once they discover the full magnitude of our capabilities," Dr. Anderson added.
"And the European Union," Dr. Hoffmann contributed. "Germany, France, the United Kingdom - they will all want to participate once the implications become clear."
Dr. Yamamoto was taking notes quickly. "We're looking at an international geopolitical auction. Every major power is competing to host an academy."
"Which puts us in a position of extraordinary power," Markus noted. "We can effectively choose which nation offers better terms."
"But it also makes us a target," Dr. Santos noted. "The more nations competing for our presence, the more external pressure we will face."
"And it will be harder to maintain scientific neutrality," Dr. Carter added. "Each host nation will expect some level of preference."
Dean Thomson, who had remained quiet during the calls, finally spoke. "Dr. Thorne, do you realize that you are navigating extremely complex diplomatic waters? This location decision will have massive geopolitical implications."
"We are aware," I replied. "That's why it's important to establish clear terms from the beginning."
"But how do you evaluate offers objectively?" asked Katharina. "Each location has different advantages and disadvantages."
"China offers political stability and massive financial resources," Dr. Li noted, still clearly favoring her original option.
"Japan offers a tradition of scientific excellence and a strategic location," Dr. Anderson added.
"Brazil offers political neutrality and unique natural resources," Dr. Santos contributed.
"Russia offers genuine isolation and more complete territorial autonomy," Dr. Hoffmann analyzed.
"And the United States will likely offer more advanced infrastructure and more robust military protection," Markus speculated.
Dr. Reeves was shaking his head. "How do we make decisions that will affect the future of humanity?"
"Methodically," I replied. "We established objective criteria for evaluation. Legal autonomy, operational security, financial resources, political neutrality, access to research resources."
"And chronology?" asked the dean.
"Public announcement first," he said firmly. "We establish presence on the world stage, demonstrate capabilities, create scientific legitimacy. Then we negotiate permanent location based on concrete offers."
"But pressure is already building," Dr. Li noted. "With each passing day, more nations will find out and make offers of their own."
"Good," I replied. "More competition means better terms for us."
"Assuming we can maintain control of the process," Dr. Carter pointed out.
"And that nations don't decide to simply take our research by force," Dr. Santos added somberly.
"That's why genuine territorial autonomy is crucial," I agreed. "We need an operational base that is legally inviolable."
"Artificial island in international waters?" Dr. Anderson suggested again.
"Still vulnerable to international pressures," Dr. Hoffmann replied. "And logistically problematic."
"Perhaps multiple bases?" Dr. Yamamoto suggested. "Main campus in one location, but secondary research facilities in several nations?"
"Interesting," I admitted. "Geographic distribution as a protection strategy."
"And as a way to keep multiple nations invested in our protection," Markus added.
"Each nation hosting part of our operation would have an incentive to protect the integrity of the whole," Dr. Carter noted.
"Risk diversification strategy," the dean summarized with administrative approval.
My phone rang again. This time it was a number I recognized - Dr. Marie Dubois, Director of CERN.
"Europe too?" I muttered, answering the call.
"Dr. Thorne," came an elegant French voice. "Marie Dubois, CERN. Representing a consortium of European scientific institutions. We would like to discuss establishing your academy in Switzerland."
I put it back on speakerphone.
"Dr. Dubois, what kind of arrangement would Europe be considering?"
"Sovereign territory near Geneva, similar status to CERN but with expanded authority. Joint funding by twenty-seven European nations, most advanced scientific infrastructure in the world, and Swiss neutrality ensuring protection from political pressure."
"United Europe," Dr. Hoffmann murmured in admiration.
"International consortium," Dr. Dubois corrected. "Institutional support from all major European scientific powers, but independent governance for academia."
After the European call, Dr. Anderson summed up the situation. "Five offers now. China, Japan, Brazil, Russia, Europe. And probably the United States soon."
"Genuine global competition," Dr. Li noted.
"Diplomatic auction," Markus agreed.
"And we are at the center," he said, "with the power to choose terms that best serve the academy's goals."
"But also with enormous responsibility," Katharina added. "The decision we make will affect the global geopolitical balance."
"That's exactly why it has to be done carefully," I agreed. "Based on scientific criteria, not political ones."
The dean stood up. "I suggest an emergency meeting of the full university board. The situation has clearly transcended the ability of any individual institution to manage."
"I agree," he said. "But remember -- the academy will be independent of MIT. These negotiations are our responsibility, not the university's."
"Understood," the dean confirmed. "But MIT wants to maintain a positive relationship with any institution you establish."
As the meeting dissolved and researchers dispersed to process the day's developments, I remained in the room with Katharina and Markus.
"This escalated very quickly," Katharina noted.
"Faster than I expected," I admitted. "But not necessarily problematic."
"What do you mean?" Markus asked.
"Competition between nations works in our favor. The more offers we receive, the better our negotiating position becomes."
"But it also increases pressure to make a decision quickly," Katharina pointed out.
"And it increases global visibility in a way that can complicate press conferences," Markus added.
"Or it could make it more impactful," I suggested. "If the scientific world is already in suspense about our capabilities, official disclosure will have even more of an effect."
"Assuming we can control the narrative," Katharina said.
"We can do it," I replied with the confidence I truly felt.
After all, they still didn't understand that all this international competition, all this diplomatic pressure, all this geopolitical attention was perfectly serving my goals.
The more nations competing for our presence, the more international legitimacy our academy would have.
The more offers of territorial autonomy, the more real power I would accumulate.
The more financial resources and military protection being offered, the more capacity it would have to expand operations.
And through it all, they would continue to believe that they were participants in a collaborative decision-making process, when in fact they were instruments in my orchestrated rise to a position of global authority on the development of advanced human capabilities.
Phase Four was proceeding even better than planned.
One week until press conference.
One week until the world changes forever.
And I was at the center of it all, controlling every aspect while everyone believed they were witnessing the natural evolution of human science.
It was exactly as I always planned.