(UN Headquarters — Post-Event Corridor, March 2040)

  The double doors closed behind them on a muffled roar of voices — camera shutters, reporters shouting questions, flashes bouncing off marble. The ceremony was over. The Council was public. And the world now had a name for the body that would govern the most dangerous and promising scientific system ever built.

  Ina moved first.

  Her stride was steady, almost serene, though anyone who knew her well — Nathan, Julie, Isaac — could see the controlled tension in her shoulders. Nathan kept pace on her right, every inch the CEO who had just navigated the most complicated regulatory handoff in modern science.

  Julie stayed close to Isaac, who walked as if the air around him felt heavier.

  They stepped into a side corridor lined with muted blue carpeting and thick soundproof walls. The noise faded instantly, replaced by the quiet hum of diplomatic infrastructure.

  Nathan exhaled.

  “That could have gone worse,” he said.

  Ina shot him a look.

  “That’s your optimism talking.”

  Julie leaned against the wall, letting the adrenaline settle.

  “They’re already cutting our answers apart on social media,” she said. “People are arguing about whether FAEI is ‘the next Manhattan Project’ or ‘global open science.’ Half the reporters heard what they wanted, not what we said.”

  Nathan replied without flinching.

  “That’s what reporters do.”

  Isaac hadn’t spoken since they left the stage.

  Julie touched his arm.

  “You okay?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “I just didn’t expect to feel… exposed.”

  Ina stopped walking.

  This, she knew, was important.

  “Isaac,” she said, turning to face him, “the world didn’t register you. They registered the architecture. And that’s exactly how it should be.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  Nathan stepped in, softer than usual.

  “You didn’t lose control. You gained structure. And you gained allies.”

  Isaac finally exhaled.

  “Julie said something earlier,” he murmured. “That this is better than someone else steering. And she’s right. I just— I didn’t expect it to feel like…”

  He searched for the word.

  Julie supplied it gently.

  “Like handing over your child.”

  He met her eyes with quiet gratitude.

  Ina rested a hand briefly on the railing.

  “FAEI wasn’t taken from you,” she said. “It was recognized as something too big for one country, one company, or one scientist. That’s not a loss. That’s validation.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  A staffer approached, tablet in hand.

  “Mrs. Halberg — you have statements awaiting approval from the BBC, Reuters, and Yomiuri Shimbun. And two outlets want quotes about the Royal Academy licensing clause.”

  Nathan muttered something under his breath.

  Ina offered him a small smile.

  “They won’t pry that loose. Not today. Not ever.”

  Julie scanned her phone.

  “The environmental networks are celebrating the oversight structure. But the energy sector is… very confused.”

  “How confused?” Nathan asked.

  Julie tilted the screen toward him.

  A headline read:

  “FAEI Oversight Council Formed — What Does This Mean for Global Energy Models?”

  Howard’s voice echoed from down the corridor.

  “It means they’ll speculate loudly and incorrectly until someone gives them a story that makes sense.”

  They turned. Howard approached, tying his scarf around his neck.

  Nathan’s eyebrows rose.

  “You were watching the news already?”

  “I didn’t need to,” Howard said. “I have eyes. And a brain. And I know exactly how markets behave when faced with a new variable they can’t quantify.”

  Isaac smiled for the first time that day.

  Ina checked her watch.

  “We have two hours before the first joint briefing. And four before the diplomatic roundtables begin. We should prepare.”

  Nathan nodded.

  “Agreed.”

  But before they moved on, Julie looked back through the small window set into the double doors. Reporters stood in clusters, gesturing animatedly, screens glowing.

  “They’re guessing,” she said.

  Howard nodded.

  “And soon enough,” he murmured, “governments will stop guessing and start positioning.”

  Isaac swallowed.

  Julie took his hand.

  They walked.

  B1.77 — International Reactions

  (Multiple Capitals — March 2040)

  Washington, D.C. — West Wing Situation Room

  The nervous tapping of a pen echoed off the polished tabletop.

  The President sat at the head of the table, brows drawn together.

  “So,” she said, “we didn’t get the architecture.”

  The National Security Advisor cleared his throat.

  “No, ma’am. We got oversight. Not control.”

  “And the UK keeps the financial rights?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The President sighed.

  “Unbelievable.

  We bankroll half the UN’s scientific budget, and the British walk away with the revenue stream of the century.”

  The Chair of the Joint Committee replied:

  “They also walk away with the responsibility. Catalyst-level hazards stay under locks we can audit. And the Council answers to all of us.”

  Silence.

  Then the President nodded reluctantly.

  “That’s something.”

  The science advisor spoke next.

  “The real problem isn’t the licensing. It’s the public optics. The world is suddenly talking about FAEI as though it’s the next great equalizer. Other nations will demand parity. China especially.”

  Beijing — Zhongnanhai Technology Secretariat

  The room was quiet enough to hear the faint hum of the air filters.

  A senior Party official set down a printed dossier.

  “The West has created a scientific cartel,” he said.

  His counterpart corrected him softly.

  “A scientific containment ring.”

  “Is the difference meaningful?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “One implies exclusion. The other implies fear.”

  The room shifted uncomfortably.

  A younger official spoke.

  “Can we demand inclusion in the Council?”

  “We will,” the senior official said. “But understand — this FAEI… it is not technology in the conventional sense.

  The British hold the patents.

  The Americans have the industrial capacity.

  The Europeans have the regulatory power.”

  “And what do we have?”

  The senior official smiled faintly.

  “Ambition. And patience.”

  He tapped the dossier.

  “We will join their council. But we will not rely on it.”

  Brussels — Directorate-General for Research & Innovation

  The conference table was covered in highlighted notes.

  The EU Commissioner shook her head.

  “They did it. They actually did it. A global council. Neutral oversight. Shared governance.”

  Her deputy nodded.

  “And the UK kept the money.”

  “Which means,” she said, “they finally have something we want.”

  Another advisor leaned in.

  “What about domestic pressure?”

  The Commissioner sighed.

  “European citizens will love the oversight. But industry will panic. They’ll see this as the next REACH — global regulation with teeth.”

  “And China?”

  “Will push for access. Hard.”

  She rubbed her temples.

  “We have to position ourselves as the stabilizer. The counterweight between U.S. industrial appetite and UK financial control.”

  Her deputy frowned.

  “And the science?”

  The Commissioner looked out the window at the flags fluttering in the plaza.

  “The science,” she said quietly, “will move faster than all of us.”

  The World

  Markets jittered.

  Newsrooms speculated.

  Think tanks wrote feverishly.

  Social media boiled with half-truths and anxious excitement.

  The world had wanted innovation.

  They had not expected governance.

  And certainly not like this.