Alex arrived in the room without really knowing what to expect. It wasn't the first ti Lassen had called him in a calm tone just to drop a completely outrageous idea.
Lassen didn't even turn around. He was staring at the dark interface, arms crossed, looking focused.
"We're going to unify the world."
Alex stopped dead. He blinked. Then, very naturally, turned toward the door.
"Alright. I'll let you handle that with the UN. I'm going back to sleep."
"Alex."
He stopped. Without turning around.
"Don't tell you're going to start invading countries."
Lassen slowly turned his head toward him, his expression blank.
"Exactly."
Alex started walking again.
"No. No no no. I refuse to hear that."
Lassen caught him by the shoulder.
"Wait ! Listen to first"
Alex turned around.
"Listen to what ? You want to declare World War Three ?"
" Of course not...At leat not now"
"What do you an not now so you really want to declare war ?"
"Just co I'll explain it to you"
____________________________________________________________________________________
Ti passed slowly. Silently, the world went on as if nothing had happened.
So did Lassen, fading gently from the stage like a light one no longer notices once the sun is up.
All ongoing operations were handed over to Alex. Elias moved from one lab to another, Kaela supervised the information networks like a watchful shadow, and Adrian filtered the visitors still trying to get an audience with the genius. But there were no more audiences, no more genius to et. Just a man who read, ate at fixed tis, asked for concise reports, and answered with nods.
Sotis he asked a question "Any news on the nuclear project ?" Alex replied, always without enthusiasm "The team is making good progress. The experintal reactor is stable. We're entering the assembly phase."
Lassen nodded, then went back to his book. Sotis he murmured "Very good. Keep going." Then he disappeared for several days.
His last public appearance was as brief as it was enigmatic.
That day, the futuristic city, the glass city as the dia called it, opened its doors. A technological, urban, and energy feat. Each building was an autonomous power plant. Each street, a smart network. It wasn't a city, it was a statent. Delegations were present, foreign powers had sent their representatives, curious and nervous. And he was there.
At the top of a platform, dressed simply. He hadn't spoken, he had just observed. And when he disappeared from cara view, no one knew how, or when, or why.
Since then, nothing.
And then, just as the world was getting used to his absence, the news fell brutally.
The king of Macro appeared live on national television, flanked by his top advisors. He addressed the people calmly but directly "Today, I am proud to announce that our kingdom, with the technical support of Mister X, has completed the developnt of its first autonomous nuclear power plant." He paused, then looked straight into the cara "It is operational, secure and entirely under national control."
It wasn't a partnership, nor a technological loan. It was a transfer of knowledge, a new sovereignty. And this ti, no one could ignore it.
The shock was imdiate. In Washington, the news cut short a eting on education reform. The president, pale, turned to his Secretary of Defense.
"Is it a civilian plant or a disguised military site ?"
A heavy silence followed. The CIA director, eyes glued to his tablet, replied in a voice that was too calm: "We don't know."
That was the starting point of a crisis eting in the basent of the White House. Satellite images were projected, videos analyzed. The site looked like a civilian complex, but the precision of its construction, its proximity to a water treatnt site, and the complete absence of dia leaks suggested there was more. Soone, sowhere, had managed to keep the secret. Too well.
A general said sharply "We must consider that Macro now possesses fissile material enriched beyond civilian thresholds."
The Secretary of State shook his head "The king was very clear. They don't want war."
The president didn't respond. He stared at the screen, his index finger tapping nervously on the table.
In France, a discreet eting at the Élysée brought together civil and military experts. Files on the Kingdom of Macro, usually buried at the bottom of the pile, suddenly beca a top priority. An engineer from the CEA dared to ask the question no one wanted to formulate:
"If Mister X truly transmitted the technology… what level are we talking about ?"
Silence.
"A level that neither France nor the United States has ever given to anyone."
In Berlin, the chancellery received an analysis report signed by the Bundesnachrichtendienst. There was no proof of weapons. But the words used were troubling: "dual capability", "evolving technology", "rapid militarization potential".
In Moscow, things were more direct. A Russian general frowned as he read the summary of facts.
"A stable, clean, fast reactor, developed without detected industrial espionage ? Either Mister X is a genius beyond asure, or he's the most dangerous strategist of the century."
A counselor added, folding a map "Or both."
In Beijing, the tone was icy. During a closed Politburo session, a senior Party mber declared:
"We thought Mister X would serve our long-term interests. It turns out he serves none. He breaks the logic of blocs. He introduces controlled instability. We must investigate his philosophy."
Another added quietly "Or his true intent."
Everywhere, reactions swung between fascination and paranoia. Nuclear experts agreed on one thing: this type of plant, if it really was what it claid to be, represented a technological leap of at least twenty years ahead of conventional civilian models.
But it wasn't the plant itself that disturbed people, it was the way it appeared, in silence, without international agreents, without asking permission, without oversight.
This resembled no known precedent. Even the major secret programs, Israel, India, or Pakistan, had left traces, rumors, leaks. Here ... nothing. Until the official announcent.
The United Nations Security Council was urgently convened. The Kingdom of Macro's delegation attended, calm and confident. They stated that the plant had been developed to et their internal needs, with clean, non-militarized technology that complied with non-proliferation treaties. No ntion of Mister X. No direct reference. Just flawless technical docunts. Too flawless, perhaps.
In the following days, international analysts multiplied scenarios. Was it a test ? A provocation ? A show of strength ? Or simply… a fait accompli ? The press exploded. Markets reacted. Citizens questioned.
But at the center of it all… nothing. No new appearance, no comnt. No denial, no confirmation.
Mister X was nowhere.
And that was exactly what worried everyone the most.
Markets briefly panicked. Then they readjusted. As if the world had understood that the map had changed, that the center of gravity had shifted, quietly, without war, without bloodshed. Just by the action of a man who now refused to appear.
Speculation flared up again. "Is Mister X dead ?" "Is he in orbit ? In exile ? Or in prison ?" So saw it as a diversion strategy. Others, a form of spiritual retreat. Articles were written and docuntaries commissioned. But nothing. No signal, no ssage. Only the vague mory of a calm smile, seen through glass. And projects that, themselves, kept becoming reality.
In a windowless room, bathed in bluish artificial light, Lassen turned a page. He wasn't really reading anymore. He just let his eyes follow the words, like a breathing exercise. He looked up, stared at the ceiling, and whispered to no one in particular: "So this is how it begins."
The system, for once, remained silent. Maybe it was sleeping. Maybe it was listening. Maybe it was waiting for what cos next.
But Lassen, he didn't move. He had already started everything. The rest… was no longer in his hands.
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