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 #9.A Man in Shadow
 
-657 Brevard Avenue, Cocoa, Brevard County, Florida — August 27, 2049, 8:30 a.m.
+657 Brevard Avenue, Cocoa, Brevard County, Florida - 
+August 27, 2049, 8:30 a.m.
 
-Dr. Elena Vasquez felt as she'd always lived in the heart of Cocoa Village. Thirty years earlier she'd arrived from Central California as a broke graduate student, PhD in Physics freshly minted, for a NASA internship that paid next to nothing. The neighborhoods near the space center had struck her as cold, impersonal, absurdly expensive. Then she'd discovered Cocoa: alive, authentic, full of welcoming people. She'd fallen in love instantly.
-Though prices were far from modest, she'd found her shoebox—a tiny room with a kitchenette on the second floor of a decrepit building where the walls shook during thunderstorms. The internship kept getting renewed until she was finally hired permanently. The shoebox had been enough for years. Even now, as a senior NASA executive who could afford to live anywhere, she'd never leave her neighborhood.
-That morning the air was crisp. The sun, already high, illuminated the white, vaguely colonial house where she lived, right on Brevard Avenue. Nothing special about it: tiny yard, single parking spot, constant traffic noise. But she loved everything about the place, inconveniences and all.
-After so many years, she was like she’d been during the internship. Her daughter Miranda was on Mars for a study trip, her son Diego at Berkeley. Two years ago George—her husband—had asked for a divorce. They'd parted as friends, him with his retirement plans, her buried as always in work responsibilities that grew heavier by the day.
-If it weren't for the weight of her NASA role, maybe she could have let herself recapture that feeling from her youth: free and full of hope. Instead, that very morning, several things were disrupting her routine.
-General Thorne had kept his promise to return with a senior government official to discuss Neptune again.
-This time, though, the meeting was scheduled at Cape Canaveral Space Force Station at 9:30, not the NASA research and control center.
-The message was explicit: “Building 9880. Don't arrive before 9:15.” No further explanation. Maximum discretion required.
-As she closed the gate, a shiver ran down her spine.
-Immediately afterward, that strange whistling in her ear started up again, insistent. She decided to ignore it and focus on what lay ahead. Arriving early was forbidden. Arriving late, obviously, out of the question.
-“¡Buenos días, Doctora Vasquez! ¡Qué sorpresa verla a esta hora! ¿Todo bien?”
-Roberto the gardener emerged from behind a hedge, greeting her warmly, surprised to see her leaving later than usual. She reassured him with a small lie.
-“¡Bien encontrado, Roberto! Esta mañana me regalé una hora extra de descanso. En el trabajo hoy todo está muy tranquilo.”
-Lying to Roberto gave her a slight pang of guilt. In her bag, the tablet with Neptune notes weighed like a stone. Nothing about today would be ordinary.
-After leaving Roberto to his work, she realized the usual half-hour commute would feel endless this time. Better switch to full manual driving, she thought: she'd stay focused on the wheel, only glancing at the landscape.
-The navigator suggested her usual office destination. With a twinge of embarrassment, Elena explained that this morning she was going somewhere nearby but completely different. The navigator complied without protest, plotting the route to the outer gates of Cape Canaveral Space Force Station.
-From there the holoscreen marked the route with gray dots indicating restricted access. Then nothing. The map showed only a gray square. Her destination lay at the center of that blank space.
-Manual driving did the trick: occupied with steering, Elena managed not to dwell too much on the situation.
-Check-in was strictly military. Two human soldiers plus a vaguely humanoid robot expertly verified her credentials with a biometric scanner. After downloading the data, they let her through without issue.
-Once past the checkpoint, she watched them on the rear camera display—already returned to exactly their starting positions.
-Though she knew the base well by reputation, having seen its structures from afar hundreds of times, Elena had never set foot inside. Launch pads and bunker-like-buildings appeared one after another. Everything painted an anonymous grayish-white, broken only by yellow signs bearing black numerical codes. She needed to find 9880. Didn't take long.
-Several empty spaces sat in front of the small concrete building. She parked, then checked the navigator's clock. Her device had lost signal. Fortunately the clock still worked. 9:16. Perfect timing.
-As she walked toward Building 9880, a gust of warm wind blew her hair loose. She tied it back with a ribbon she'd luckily brought along.
-That morning she hadn't paid much attention to clothes: she wore an unremarkable NeuraSilk tracksuit and athletic shoes.
-What unsettled her most was knowing the plans had changed: from a standard meeting with her full staff to a personal invitation for a restricted session. What exactly was happening? Crossing that threshold, she'd find out.
-The heavy sheet-metal door opened automatically. She stepped through without hesitation. The panel slid shut softly behind her. A sequence of green lights came on—almost magically—glowing translucent against the wall to her right. Following the luminous markers, she reached another door, this one sliding.
-Access granted with a faint metallic hiss. Passing through, she noticed the thickness of the reinforced concrete wall: she was pretty sure  it exceeded two meters.
-She immediately sensed an unnatural silence inside. Wind, vehicles moving through the base yards—cut off cleanly. As if someone had suddenly switched off the outside world. The only remaining sound was the soft hum of the ventilation system.
-For the first time in her life, she was entering a SCIF—a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility.
-“Welcome, Dr. Vasquez. A great pleasure to see you again. Please, have a seat.”
-The voice was polite but firm: General Thorne, in civilian clothes.
-Seated at the large rectangular table in the exact center, besides him, were two other men.
-“Elena! Good morning! Don't let the location intimidate you—World War Three hasn't started yet...”
-Visibly surprised, she immediately recognized John Evans's face and voice. He'd just tried greeting her with a joke—and received a rather severe look from Thorne in return. Finding him there, seated in that room with his tousled hair and crooked glasses, created a strange effect. For a moment she thought she might be hallucinating.
-Meanwhile the third man, completely unknown to her, remained seated, impassive. Medium height, thin, with rather long salt-and-pepper hair, disheveled. Guessing his age felt impossible.
-The room was reasonably spacious, with smooth exposed concrete walls and no windows at all. Cold light fell from the seams where walls met ceiling down to the glossy white resin floor. The air carried a faint smell of chlorine and ground iron. Furnishings were minimal: several large shelves jutted from the walls, each with a sturdy-looking swivel chair. At the center stood a large rectangular table that seemed to rise from the floor itself.
-Intimidated by the setting, she had to make considerable effort to produce a cordial smile.
-“Good morning, gentlemen. Thank you for the invitation, General. I hope I'm on time...”
-Thorne smiled warmly, spreading his arms in welcome.
-“You're perfectly on time, Dr. Vasquez. We arrived slightly early to open the room according to procedure. Please sit. I have the pleasure of introducing Mr. James Calder, Director of the Strategic Foresight Directorate.”
-Calder stood, calm and relaxed. He wore a soft suit that hung on him with effortless elegance, top shirt button undone. Without speaking, he walked around the table in long strides, reaching Elena from the opposite side to offer his hand.
-“James Calder. A pleasure to meet you, Doctor. If the name of the agency I run means nothing to you, don't worry—perfectly normal. Please sit. This is a restricted meeting, but not formal. Would you like some cold water?”
-Once seated, she accepted the water without hiding her discomfort.
-After greeting John Evans with an affectionate smile, she immediately noticed that even he, seated beside her, didn't look comfortable: his leg kept bouncing nervously. That brief silence was enough for her to notice something else—an absence.
-The whistling in her ear that had followed her for days was gone.
-It had vanished the exact moment she entered the room.
-Reasonably, she should have felt relieved. Instead, thinking about it, she realized—inexplicably—that she missed it.
-This is incredible, she thought. Can you feel nostalgic for a nuisance?
-She lifted her eyes to the others, forcing herself back to composure. Thorne was gesturing broadly toward Calder, clearly inviting him to open the meeting.
-Calder spoke with the confidence of someone used to rooms like this.
-“Gentlemen, first let me clarify we're not gathered in this bunker to protect our physical safety. In that regard, we're not in danger. This is simply a shielded room. Here, interception and surveillance are impossible.”
-Before speaking, he'd smoothed his hair back behind his ears. His tone was calm, distinctly diplomatic. After a brief pause, he shifted his gaze toward Evans.
-“Dr. Evans,” he began, “allow me to confess you're looking at one of the men who got everything wrong.”
-Evans felt himself sink. He tried saying something sensible—
-“Mr. Calder... In that meeting, I... you understand, things you say in the heat of the moment... I probably exaggerated.”
-Calder stopped him firmly, his composure intact.
-“Absolutely not, Dr. Evans. Let me be clearer: when the General reported your criticism of our intelligence work in China, I couldn't help but agree with you completely. Those who make mistakes should learn from them—not blame the person who pointed them out.”
-Evans exhaled in relief. Instinctively he'd pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, as if to wipe sweat from his forehead. Now he held it in his hand, fluttering it like a small white flag.
-Calder continued without reaction.
-“Believe me: Washington is taking this seriously. Many things were underestimated. No one—myself included—intends to repeat past errors. That's why, thanks to General Thorne, I'm here speaking with you today.”
-Before continuing, he set his elbows on the table, expression slightly troubled.
-“Working in sealed compartments makes no sense. We have the data, the reports, reliable primary sources... We also have means of acting on the ground. But you scientists have the skills and tools for deeper analysis.”
-Thorne asked to speak. He seemed to have read Evans's and Vasquez's expressions, sensing the need to be blunt—to cut through it.
-After all: why meet in a SCIF if not for that?
-“Vasquez, Evans, listen carefully. I'll take just two minutes from Calder's explanation to clear things up. I'll be frank: the Chinese Neptune mission has been an international bombshell. No point dwelling—you see the overheated social platforms too. And these last few days there's this new development: billions of interactions blooming around the so-called 'sound' at 432 Hz. The whole world seems to have gone crazy for Neptune.”
-He paused and drew a deep breath. Then continued, voice lower, more relaxed.
-“You understand... We're facing a global phenomenon. The President—and Congress with him—believe the space race has returned as an absolute national priority. Actually, more precisely: people are now talking about a 'race to Neptune.' Common view is we can't afford to leave this advantage entirely to the Chinese.”
-He leaned back in his chair, then let his eyes travel from one person to the next.
-“For now, I'll conclude by saying only this: we need you. We need to work as a team. According to many analysts, whoever wins this match will win the battle for global soft power in coming years.”
-Calder nodded gravely. He cleared his throat with a light cough, drawing attention back.
-“Dr. Evans, Dr. Vasquez: from this point on, I'll be very direct. I must warn you some of what we're about to discuss is classified top secret. It's my duty to ask whether you're prepared to commit to strict confidentiality—even with your collaborators and families.”
-Hearing those words, Evans flushed. Heat rose in his face. His hand went back toward the handkerchief in his trouser pocket.
-“Look... I mean... what can I say...” he stammered. “All right, let me be honest. I'm torn between curiosity and fear of the responsibility that comes with it. But first, I want to ask you something: why did you decide to invite me to a meeting this tightly held?”
-Calder nodded several times, hands resting on the table.
-“Of course, Evans. Fair question. I'll answer plainly: in this competition we must field our best resources. The Chinese are ahead in propulsion, but we're miles ahead in quantum A.I. Prometheus is one of our strongest cards. You're the person who can push it to its limits.”
-John Evans listened, holding his breath. Before replying, he touched his hair, coughed softly, and slid the handkerchief back into his pocket.
-“I understand. What I can tell you is I'm a solitary person by nature. No wife, no children. I live alone. My parents are in New York and I speak to them rarely. Social life? Honestly... what even is that?” He paused. “So if I have to keep a secret, I think I can manage without problems. As for my collaborators, I can use my super-admin account to work without them knowing what I'm doing... So, yes. I've decided. You have my word.” He suddenly turned serious.
-Calder clasped his hands, offering a small, easing smile. Then turned an inquisitive look toward Dr. Vasquez. She didn't give him time to speak.
-“Mr. Calder, let me answer before you ask. I know how these things work. It's not my first time. You can trust me.”
-Her categorical reply seemed to satisfy everyone. Even Thorne smiled, letting out a long breath. Time to get to the point.
-Calder resumed. Everyone listening closely.
-“Here are the facts. I'll be as brief as possible. We know for certain the Chinese are obstructing their own scientists on the Neptune mission. They've effectively forbidden the mission's technical team to investigate the disappearance of the 'Flying Dragon' probe in depth. Our people in China learned this through reliable channels. And there's more...”
-Thorne leaned in with a clarification.
-“The idea that, for media and propaganda purposes, they were simply glossing over the probe's disappearance to focus on the velocity record—that seemed entirely plausible. At some point, though...” He paused. “Forgive me, I'm thinking out loud. Please, continue.”
-“Exactly,” Calder went on. “Our sources in China weren't surprised by that choice. Shortly after, however, we grew suspicious. Two reliable contacts reported strong nervousness spreading among the mission's scientists. Their superiors cut off their access to probe data and the operation's control panel. Incredible but true.”
-“Is it possible they intend to lock everything down as top secret and replace them with new staff?” Vasquez asked, clearly intrigued.
-“Good question. First thing we thought too. We asked a well-placed, reliable source to confirm whether that was the case.” Calder spread his hands slightly. “One of our people investigated and, by luck, found a new secure channel. Through that, we discovered—and verified—something remarkable: pressure is being applied at the highest levels, urging them to abandon the Neptune project. In short, they seem determined to pivot immediately to something else.”
-At this point, Evans found the courage to speak.
-“Excuse me... When you said 'something else,' I remembered that these last few days I've done extensive predictive work with Prometheus. It generated and analyzed millions of scenarios for the near future of Chinese projects, assigning scores.” He counted on his fingers. “High on the list I found something rather curious: a medium-high probability link between the Neptune mission, near-light speed, and increased volcanic activity on Earth. According to that strange association, news about volcanic activity is obsessing many influential people in China. I still don't understand the connection to Neptune—I'd need to dig deeper—but I thought I should mention it... though maybe it's irrelevant...”
-Evans was speaking fast, following his thoughts, paying little attention to anything else. Thorne stopped him with a quip.
-“Well, there you go. A moment ago we were saying we're ahead in A.I...” He winked at Calder to hand the floor back.
-Calder continued without hesitation.
-“Exactly. Prometheus may already be onto something.” His tone sharpened. “According to what we're hearing, there's a group in China—something like a very powerful lodge. These people are indeed obsessed with rising volcanic activity. They've essentially become an apocalyptic sect...”
-“But they're not nobodies,” he added. “They have resources. And they have plans.”
-Even the composed Calder was starting to heat up, just slightly. As he spoke, his manner grew less formal.
-“What they care about is saving their a—” He caught himself. “Sorry. Saving their skin from the volcanic apocalypse they believe will arrive within the next twenty or thirty years. We're aware this sounds like a novel plot... We were skeptical at first too. But the sources align, and the references are solid. Something very strange is happening in China.”
-General Thorne brought his hands to his face. Before speaking, he sighed dramatically.
-“It almost makes me laugh. Fact is, there's always an apocalyptic emergency going on. Remember when everyone was obsessed with global warming? Fifteen years ago it was the most discussed topic in the world. 'We'll all drown when the ice melts!' Now we have nuclear fusion and nobody talks about it anymore...” He shook his head. “There's always a new emergency. Like humanity can't live without one. I'm thinking out loud again—bear with me.”
-In truth, Thorne wasn't distracted. He could see his interlocutors looking at him, puzzled, thrown off by his words.
-“Don't misunderstand me,” he continued calmly. “If the emergency—real or alleged—pushes new technology forward, then fine by me. Reaching profitable, working nuclear fusion so quickly was only possible because of that alarm. Back then, we in the West talked about global warming far more than the Chinese did. Today, with volcanoes, it's the reverse. All right. But this alleged abnormal rise in volcanic activity clearly isn't anthropogenic. So, in practice, what the hell do they want to do?”
-“Ah! General, excuse me,” Evans cut in enthusiastically. “I actually asked Prometheus that exact question recently, and I remember its answer well. First, it pointed out the Chinese are using older A.I.—classical silicon systems, large language models. There's always a huge confirmation bias risk...”
-Calder invited him to continue with an intent, questioning look. Reassured, Evans went on.
-“To put it simply: if you hammer an old A.I. with prompts about volcanic activity because you already believe the conclusion will be catastrophic, it'll find you all the data and evidence supporting that conclusion. If you pressure it with prompts aimed at proving the opposite, it'll happily find you evidence for the opposite thesis. It's a known problem, but it's easy to fall into...”
-Thorne cut him off, a little sharply.
-“So what does your much more advanced quantum A.I. predict about volcanic activity? Enlighten us, if possible, Evans...”
-“Certainly,” Evans replied, cordial and calmer than usual. “Prometheus simply says we can't know. To understand where this cycle of volcanic activity is going, we'd need data recorded over at least a few million years. Instead, we have only a few decades of measurements. The system concluded we cannot tell whether this is a normal mild cycle or a catastrophe in preparation. We can do nothing but leave it to fate, basically...”
-After taking a sip of water, Calder took the discussion back.
-“Fact remains: in China there truly is this group of powerful people who believe it. They're convinced humanity has no way out. Why do they seem so influential? That's what we asked our sources. They told us at the top of this lodge sits a certain Mr. Kong—a figure already known to us. Extremely wealthy, extremely powerful, now 109 years old. Physically, thanks to advanced gene therapies he can afford, he's doing fairly well. Mentally, we have doubts... In other words, he's a fanatic.”
-Thorne leaned forward, eager to absorb the rest. Politics was his daily bread.
-“As you can see, this Mr. Kong is a madman. Still, he's extremely wealthy and has friends that matter in China. With obsessive effort, he's managed to build a cohesive group with staggering political and economic power.”
-“This,” Calder said, “if confirmed, is truly strange. The Chinese have always been pragmatic. Something like this from them is unexpected.” He shook his head slightly.
-Then he continued, clearly deciding to go deeper.
-“Some of the followers truly believe Kong's obsession. But a large portion are with him for pure political calculation. Many use Kong's positions as a pretext. Our source said 'the great families' want to rule China again, and they're ready to seize an opportunity. Some, in reality, have objectives far more prosaic than the fabulous voyage to Proxima b that Kong imagines...”
-At the mention of Proxima Centauri b, Vasquez felt personally addressed. Her curiosity spiked.
-“Proxima b? Help me understand. What does Proxima b have to do with any of this?”
-Calder didn't hesitate.
-“All right. I'll go deeper. Our source called Kong's group 'the people of Kronos,' but we don't know if that's the organization's real name. From this point on, I'm giving you information from a single contact. We have no way to cross-check it.”
-He paused, adjusted his collar, made a slight grimace, then continued.
-“I'll report it as it came to us: these 'Kronos' people appear to have heavily financed the Neptune mission through private funds. They didn't do it to advance exploration of that distant planet. They wanted propulsion tested. They've, for a long time, put intense pressure on the Chinese government to launch an exploration project for Proxima b... even with the idea of establishing, within twenty years, a small human colony there.”
-“Proxima b is potentially habitable—we're well aware of that—but...” Vasquez spoke with calm authority; she was in her element now. She laid out the details carefully.
-“It's about 4.22 light-years from Earth. With Chinese mixed fusion–solar-sail propulsion, I might be off by a little, but we'd still be talking at least ten years to get there. Distances are enormous. To put it plainly: just to communicate mission success back to Earth would take another 4.2 years...” She shook her head. “And calling it habitable... it's only true in a vaguely theoretical sense. In reality the planet is very close to its weak star. That allows liquid water, oxygen... but also frequent lethal radioactive flares. Theoretically, a base on Proxima b would need a massive shield... built 4.22 light-years from here. Sorry for the long explanation, but it all sounds unbelievable.”
-“Well,” Evans said hesitantly, “if these... what do you call them... Kronos? If they're insane—an apocalyptic cult—then you can understand, Elena... They really believe we'll all be buried under lava soon. So they're pushing for a slim chance of salvation, I suppose mostly for themselves. They've fixated on Proxima b, whatever it costs. Strange, yes—but maybe plausible. What do you think?”
-Evans spoke with uncertainty, but Thorne and Calder nodded in unison, encouraging him. Then Calder spoke again.
-“Yes. It seems Kong and his followers have managed to apply serious pressure on their government. As of now, the most credible hypothesis from our sources is that the Chinese have abandoned their vanished probe, content with the successful velocity test. Because, in the end, from the beginning, they were being heavily pushed to make Proxima b the final objective of all efforts.”
-Straightening his back, aligning his shoulders, Thorne signaled it was his turn to close. He adopted a categorical tone, martial posture—clearly his comfort zone.
-“And this, gentlemen—however it plays out—is a huge opportunity for us,” he declared. “People want Neptune. The entities on social platforms talk about Neptune. Everyone makes videos and holograms about Neptune. The biggest accounts have fun speculating about the 432 Hz wave, twenty-four hours a day. If the Chinese, trapped in their internal power struggles, don't intend to give people what they want, then we have a real chance to try to give it to them instead. I believe we must take it.”
-Evans and Vasquez looked at each other. With a shared nod, they decided Elena would speak.
-“General, Mr. Calder, I believe I can also speak for my friend, engineer John Evans. All of this is interesting—deeply stimulating for us. But working with what little we have, and extracting valid, revealing results about Neptune's mysteries, could take months. Maybe years. If, however, we had access to the sensor data from that vanished probe... I'm convinced our path would be clear.”
-Evans watched her with understanding, urging her to continue.
-“Believe me, those probes aren't equipped so differently from ours,” she went on. “The data doesn't vanish completely. There's a whole system—I won't bore you with it. Just know the fundamental data exists somewhere. It must have been transmitted. The control center in China received it. If we had those files in our hands, everything would change for us. If there were a way to access them... it would be a dream.”
-“Prometheus would have lunch, dinner, and breakfast on it,” Evans exclaimed, spreading his hands dramatically. His point was clear, and the others—initially slightly taken aback—ended up looking at him with approval.
-Then Calder shifted in his chair, signaling the meeting was moving toward closure.
-“Don't despair. Our people have done more work in China in the last seven days than in the last seven years. The pieces are finally moving into place. I don't rule out there may be news about the data you mentioned. And not only that. Perhaps something even bigger. I can't say more right now. I think what we've said today is enough. But this doesn't end here. We'll stay in close contact, agreed?”
-Thorne reassured them and briefly explained the secure communication channels he'd arranged.
-They looked at one another and found themselves unexpectedly in sync. To Evans and Vasquez, it felt slightly surprising.
-In the end, though, they were both glad.
-The meeting was over.
-A few formalities. Thorne's instructions for leaving the base. Cordial goodbyes, handshakes. Calder, walking toward the exit in silence, wrapped a light, finely made scarf around his neck.
-Outside was the world again—sunlight, ordinary reality. At the same time, a reality that would never again be the same for Elena Vasquez and John Evans: they'd been recruited.
-Elena was thinking about it, vaguely. She sensed John, like her, was in a highly emotional state, mentally scattered.
-Too much. Too much all at once. All she wanted now was to breathe outside air again. Once she was out, would that whistling return to keep her company? She had no idea.
-She found herself genuinely anxious to know.
+   Dr. Elena Vasquez felt as she'd always lived in the 
+heart of Cocoa Village. Thirty years earlier she'd arrived 
+from Central California as a broke graduate student, PhD 
+in Physics freshly minted, for a NASA internship that 
+paid next to nothing. The neighborhoods near the space 
+center had struck her as cold, impersonal, absurdly 
+expensive. Then she'd discovered Cocoa: alive, authentic, 
+full of welcoming people. She'd fallen in love instantly.
+   Though prices were far from modest, she'd found her 
+shoebox-a tiny room with a kitchenette on the second 
+floor of a decrepit building where the walls shook during 
+thunderstorms. The internship kept getting renewed 
+until she was finally hired permanently. The shoebox had 
+been enough for years. Even now, as a senior NASA 
+executive who could afford to live anywhere, she'd never 
+leave her neighborhood.
+   That morning the air was crisp. The sun, already high, 
+illuminated the white, vaguely colonial house where she 
+lived, right on Brevard Avenue. Nothing special about it: 
+tiny yard, single parking spot, constant traffic noise. But 
+she loved everything about the place, inconveniences and 
+all.
+   After so many years, she was like she'd been during 
+the internship. Her daughter Miranda was on Mars for a 
+study trip, her son Diego at Berkeley. Two years ago 
+George-her husband-had asked for a divorce. They'd 
+parted as friends, him with his retirement plans, her 
+buried as always in work responsibilities that grew 
+heavier by the day.
+   If it weren't for the weight of her NASA role, maybe 
+she could have let herself recapture that feeling from her 
+youth: free and full of hope. Instead, that very morning, 
+several things were disrupting her routine.
+   General Thorne had kept his promise to return with a 
+senior government official to discuss Neptune again.
+   This time, though, the meeting was scheduled at Cape 
+Canaveral Space Force Station at 9:30, not the NASA 
+research and control center.
+   The message was explicit: "Building 9880. Don't arrive 
+before 9:15." No further explanation. Maximum discretion 
+required.
+   As she closed the gate, a shiver ran down her spine.
+   Immediately afterward, that strange whistling in her 
+ear started up again, insistent. She decided to ignore it 
+and focus on what lay ahead. Arriving early was 
+forbidden. Arriving late, obviously, out of the question.
+   "¡Buenos días, Doctora Vasquez! ¡Qué sorpresa verla a 
+esta hora! ¿Todo bien?"
+   Roberto the gardener emerged from behind a hedge, 
+greeting her warmly, surprised to see her leaving later 
+than usual. She reassured him with a small lie.
+   "¡Bien encontrado, Roberto! Esta mañana me regalé 
+una hora extra de descanso. En el trabajo hoy todo está 
+muy tranquilo."
+   Lying to Roberto gave her a slight pang of guilt. In her 
+bag, the tablet with Neptune notes weighed like a stone. 
+Nothing about today would be ordinary.
+   After leaving Roberto to his work, she realized the 
+usual half-hour commute would feel endless this time. 
+Better switch to full manual driving, she thought: she'd 
+stay focused on the wheel, only glancing at the landscape.
+   The navigator suggested her usual office destination. 
+With a twinge of embarrassment, Elena explained that 
+this morning she was going somewhere nearby but 
+completely different. The navigator complied without 
+protest, plotting the route to the outer gates of Cape 
+Canaveral Space Force Station.
+   From there the holoscreen marked the route with gray 
+dots indicating restricted access. Then nothing. The map 
+showed only a gray square. Her destination lay at the 
+center of that blank space.
+   Manual driving did the trick: occupied with steering, 
+Elena managed not to dwell too much on the situation.
+   Check-in was strictly military. Two human soldiers 
+plus a vaguely humanoid robot expertly verified her 
+credentials with a biometric scanner. After downloading 
+the data, they let her through without issue.
+   Once past the checkpoint, she watched them on the 
+rear camera display-already returned to exactly their 
+starting positions.
+   Though she knew the base well by reputation, having 
+seen its structures from afar hundreds of times, Elena 
+had never set foot inside. Launch pads and bunker-like-
+buildings appeared one after another. Everything painted 
+an anonymous grayish-white, broken only by yellow signs 
+bearing black numerical codes. She needed to find 9880. 
+Didn't take long.
+   Several empty spaces sat in front of the small concrete 
+building. She parked, then checked the navigator's clock. 
+Her device had lost signal. Fortunately the clock still 
+worked. 9:16. Perfect timing.
+   As she walked toward Building 9880, a gust of warm 
+wind blew her hair loose. She tied it back with a ribbon 
+she'd luckily brought along.
+   That morning she hadn't paid much attention to 
+clothes: she wore an unremarkable NeuraSilk tracksuit 
+and athletic shoes.
+   What unsettled her most was knowing the plans had 
+changed: from a standard meeting with her full staff to a 
+personal invitation for a restricted session. What exactly 
+was happening? Crossing that threshold, she'd find out.
+   The heavy sheet-metal door opened automatically. She 
+stepped through without hesitation. The panel slid shut 
+softly behind her. A sequence of green lights came on-
+almost magically-glowing translucent against the wall 
+to her right. Following the luminous markers, she 
+reached another door, this one sliding.
+   Access granted with a faint metallic hiss. Passing 
+through, she noticed the thickness of the reinforced 
+concrete wall: she was pretty sure  it exceeded two 
+meters.
+   She immediately sensed an unnatural silence inside. 
+Wind, vehicles moving through the base yards-cut off 
+cleanly. As if someone had suddenly switched off the 
+outside world. The only remaining sound was the soft 
+hum of the ventilation system.
+   For the first time in her life, she was entering a 
+SCIF-a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility.
+   "Welcome, Dr. Vasquez. A great pleasure to see you 
+again. Please, have a seat."
+   The voice was polite but firm: General Thorne, in 
+civilian clothes.
+   Seated at the large rectangular table in the exact 
+center, besides him, were two other men.
+   "Elena! Good morning! Don't let the location 
+intimidate you-World War Three hasn't started yet..."
+   Visibly surprised, she immediately recognized John 
+Evans's face and voice. He'd just tried greeting her with a 
+joke-and received a rather severe look from Thorne in 
+return. Finding him there, seated in that room with his 
+tousled hair and crooked glasses, created a strange effect. 
+For a moment she thought she might be hallucinating.
+   Meanwhile the third man, completely unknown to her, 
+remained seated, impassive. Medium height, thin, with 
+rather long salt-and-pepper hair, disheveled. Guessing 
+his age felt impossible.
+   The room was reasonably spacious, with smooth 
+exposed concrete walls and no windows at all. Cold light 
+fell from the seams where walls met ceiling down to the 
+glossy white resin floor. The air carried a faint smell of 
+chlorine and ground iron. Furnishings were minimal: 
+several large shelves jutted from the walls, each with a 
+sturdy-looking swivel chair. At the center stood a large 
+rectangular table that seemed to rise from the floor itself.
+   Intimidated by the setting, she had to make 
+considerable effort to produce a cordial smile.
+   "Good morning, gentlemen. Thank you for the 
+invitation, General. I hope I'm on time..."
+   Thorne smiled warmly, spreading his arms in 
+welcome.
+   "You're perfectly on time, Dr. Vasquez. We arrived 
+slightly early to open the room according to procedure. 
+Please sit. I have the pleasure of introducing Mr. James 
+Calder, Director of the Strategic Foresight Directorate."
+   Calder stood, calm and relaxed. He wore a soft suit 
+that hung on him with effortless elegance, top shirt 
+button undone. Without speaking, he walked around the 
+table in long strides, reaching Elena from the opposite 
+side to offer his hand.
+   "James Calder. A pleasure to meet you, Doctor. If the 
+name of the agency I run means nothing to you, don't 
+worry-perfectly normal. Please sit. This is a restricted 
+meeting, but not formal. Would you like some cold 
+water?"
+   Once seated, she accepted the water without hiding 
+her discomfort.
+   After greeting John Evans with an affectionate smile, 
+she immediately noticed that even he, seated beside her, 
+didn't look comfortable: his leg kept bouncing nervously. 
+That brief silence was enough for her to notice something 
+else-an absence.
+   The whistling in her ear that had followed her for days 
+was gone.
+   It had vanished the exact moment she entered the 
+room.
+   Reasonably, she should have felt relieved. Instead, 
+thinking about it, she realized-inexplicably-that she 
+missed it.
+   This is incredible, she thought. Can you feel nostalgic 
+for a nuisance?
+   She lifted her eyes to the others, forcing herself back 
+to composure. Thorne was gesturing broadly toward 
+Calder, clearly inviting him to open the meeting.
+   Calder spoke with the confidence of someone used to 
+rooms like this.
+   "Gentlemen, first let me clarify we're not gathered in 
+this bunker to protect our physical safety. In that regard, 
+we're not in danger. This is simply a shielded room. Here, 
+interception and surveillance are impossible."
+   Before speaking, he'd smoothed his hair back behind 
+his ears. His tone was calm, distinctly diplomatic. After a 
+brief pause, he shifted his gaze toward Evans.
+   "Dr. Evans," he began, "allow me to confess you're 
+looking at one of the men who got everything wrong."
+   Evans felt himself sink. He tried saying something 
+sensible-
+   "Mr. Calder... In that meeting, I... you understand, 
+things you say in the heat of the moment... I probably 
+exaggerated."
+   Calder stopped him firmly, his composure intact.
+   "Absolutely not, Dr. Evans. Let me be clearer: when 
+the General reported your criticism of our intelligence 
+work in China, I couldn't help but agree with you 
+completely. Those who make mistakes should learn from 
+them-not blame the person who pointed them out."
+   Evans exhaled in relief. Instinctively he'd pulled a 
+handkerchief from his pocket, as if to wipe sweat from his 
+forehead. Now he held it in his hand, fluttering it like a 
+small white flag.
+   Calder continued without reaction.
+   "Believe me: Washington is taking this seriously. Many 
+things were underestimated. No one-myself included-
+intends to repeat past errors. That's why, thanks to 
+General Thorne, I'm here speaking with you today."
+   Before continuing, he set his elbows on the table, 
+expression slightly troubled.
+   "Working in sealed compartments makes no sense. We 
+have the data, the reports, reliable primary sources... We 
+also have means of acting on the ground. But you 
+scientists have the skills and tools for deeper analysis."
+   Thorne asked to speak. He seemed to have read 
+Evans's and Vasquez's expressions, sensing the need to be 
+blunt-to cut through it.
+   After all: why meet in a SCIF if not for that?
+   "Vasquez, Evans, listen carefully. I'll take just two 
+minutes from Calder's explanation to clear things up. I'll 
+be frank: the Chinese Neptune mission has been an 
+international bombshell. No point dwelling-you see the 
+overheated social platforms too. And these last few days 
+there's this new development: billions of interactions 
+blooming around the so-called 'sound' at 432 Hz. The 
+whole world seems to have gone crazy for Neptune."
+   He paused and drew a deep breath. Then continued, 
+voice lower, more relaxed.
+   "You understand... We're facing a global phenomenon. 
+The President-and Congress with him-believe the 
+space race has returned as an absolute national priority. 
+Actually, more precisely: people are now talking about a 
+'race to Neptune.' Common view is we can't afford to 
+leave this advantage entirely to the Chinese."
+   He leaned back in his chair, then let his eyes travel 
+from one person to the next.
+   "For now, I'll conclude by saying only this: we need 
+you. We need to work as a team. According to many 
+analysts, whoever wins this match will win the battle for 
+global soft power in coming years."
+   Calder nodded gravely. He cleared his throat with a 
+light cough, drawing attention back.
+   "Dr. Evans, Dr. Vasquez: from this point on, I'll be very 
+direct. I must warn you some of what we're about to 
+discuss is classified top secret. It's my duty to ask 
+whether you're prepared to commit to strict 
+confidentiality-even with your collaborators and 
+families."
+   Hearing those words, Evans flushed. Heat rose in his 
+face. His hand went back toward the handkerchief in his 
+trouser pocket.
+   "Look... I mean... what can I say..." he stammered. "All 
+right, let me be honest. I'm torn between curiosity and 
+fear of the responsibility that comes with it. But first, I 
+want to ask you something: why did you decide to invite 
+me to a meeting this tightly held?"
+   Calder nodded several times, hands resting on the 
+table.
+   "Of course, Evans. Fair question. I'll answer plainly: in 
+this competition we must field our best resources. The 
+Chinese are ahead in propulsion, but we're miles ahead 
+in quantum A.I. Prometheus is one of our strongest cards. 
+You're the person who can push it to its limits."
+   John Evans listened, holding his breath. Before 
+replying, he touched his hair, coughed softly, and slid the 
+handkerchief back into his pocket.
+   "I understand. What I can tell you is I'm a solitary 
+person by nature. No wife, no children. I live alone. My 
+parents are in New York and I speak to them rarely. 
+Social life? Honestly... what even is that?" He paused. "So 
+if I have to keep a secret, I think I can manage without 
+problems. As for my collaborators, I can use my super-
+admin account to work without them knowing what I'm 
+doing... So, yes. I've decided. You have my word." He 
+suddenly turned serious.
+   Calder clasped his hands, offering a small, easing 
+smile. Then turned an inquisitive look toward Dr. 
+Vasquez. She didn't give him time to speak.
+   "Mr. Calder, let me answer before you ask. I know how 
+these things work. It's not my first time. You can trust 
+me."
+   Her categorical reply seemed to satisfy everyone. Even 
+Thorne smiled, letting out a long breath. Time to get to 
+the point.
+   Calder resumed. Everyone listening closely.
+   "Here are the facts. I'll be as brief as possible. We 
+know for certain the Chinese are obstructing their own 
+scientists on the Neptune mission. They've effectively 
+forbidden the mission's technical team to investigate the 
+disappearance of the 'Flying Dragon' probe in depth. Our 
+people in China learned this through reliable channels. 
+And there's more..."
+   Thorne leaned in with a clarification.
+   "The idea that, for media and propaganda purposes, 
+they were simply glossing over the probe's disappearance 
+to focus on the velocity record-that seemed entirely 
+plausible. At some point, though..." He paused. "Forgive 
+me, I'm thinking out loud. Please, continue."
+   "Exactly," Calder went on. "Our sources in China 
+weren't surprised by that choice. Shortly after, however, 
+we grew suspicious. Two reliable contacts reported 
+strong nervousness spreading among the mission's 
+scientists. Their superiors cut off their access to probe 
+data and the operation's control panel. Incredible but 
+true."
+   "Is it possible they intend to lock everything down as 
+top secret and replace them with new staff?" Vasquez 
+asked, clearly intrigued.
+   "Good question. First thing we thought too. We asked 
+a well-placed, reliable source to confirm whether that 
+was the case." Calder spread his hands slightly. "One of 
+our people investigated and, by luck, found a new secure 
+channel. Through that, we discovered-and verified-
+something remarkable: pressure is being applied at the 
+highest levels, urging them to abandon the Neptune 
+project. In short, they seem determined to pivot 
+immediately to something else."
+   At this point, Evans found the courage to speak.
+   "Excuse me... When you said 'something else,' I 
+remembered that these last few days I've done extensive 
+predictive work with Prometheus. It generated and 
+analyzed millions of scenarios for the near future of 
+Chinese projects, assigning scores." He counted on his 
+fingers. "High on the list I found something rather 
+curious: a medium-high probability link between the 
+Neptune mission, near-light speed, and increased 
+volcanic activity on Earth. According to that strange 
+association, news about volcanic activity is obsessing 
+many influential people in China. I still don't understand 
+the connection to Neptune-I'd need to dig deeper-but I 
+thought I should mention it... though maybe it's 
+irrelevant..."
+   Evans was speaking fast, following his thoughts, 
+paying little attention to anything else. Thorne stopped 
+him with a quip.
+   "Well, there you go. A moment ago we were saying 
+we're ahead in A.I..." He winked at Calder to hand the 
+floor back.
+   Calder continued without hesitation.
+   "Exactly. Prometheus may already be onto something." 
+His tone sharpened. "According to what we're hearing, 
+there's a group in China-something like a very powerful 
+lodge. These people are indeed obsessed with rising 
+volcanic activity. They've essentially become an 
+apocalyptic sect..."
+   "But they're not nobodies," he added. "They have 
+resources. And they have plans."
+   Even the composed Calder was starting to heat up, 
+just slightly. As he spoke, his manner grew less formal.
+   "What they care about is saving their a-" He caught 
+himself. "Sorry. Saving their skin from the volcanic 
+apocalypse they believe will arrive within the next 
+twenty or thirty years. We're aware this sounds like a 
+novel plot... We were skeptical at first too. But the 
+sources align, and the references are solid. Something 
+very strange is happening in China."
+   General Thorne brought his hands to his face. Before 
+speaking, he sighed dramatically.
+   "It almost makes me laugh. Fact is, there's always an 
+apocalyptic emergency going on. Remember when 
+everyone was obsessed with global warming? Fifteen 
+years ago it was the most discussed topic in the world. 
+'We'll all drown when the ice melts!' Now we have 
+nuclear fusion and nobody talks about it anymore..." He 
+shook his head. "There's always a new emergency. Like 
+humanity can't live without one. I'm thinking out loud 
+again-bear with me."
+   In truth, Thorne wasn't distracted. He could see his 
+interlocutors looking at him, puzzled, thrown off by his 
+words.
+   "Don't misunderstand me," he continued calmly. "If the 
+emergency-real or alleged-pushes new technology 
+forward, then fine by me. Reaching profitable, working 
+nuclear fusion so quickly was only possible because of 
+that alarm. Back then, we in the West talked about global 
+warming far more than the Chinese did. Today, with 
+volcanoes, it's the reverse. All right. But this alleged 
+abnormal rise in volcanic activity clearly isn't 
+anthropogenic. So, in practice, what the hell do they want 
+to do?"
+   "Ah! General, excuse me," Evans cut in 
+enthusiastically. "I actually asked Prometheus that exact 
+question recently, and I remember its answer well. First, 
+it pointed out the Chinese are using older A.I.-classical 
+silicon systems, large language models. There's always a 
+huge confirmation bias risk..."
+   Calder invited him to continue with an intent, 
+questioning look. Reassured, Evans went on.
+   "To put it simply: if you hammer an old A.I. with 
+prompts about volcanic activity because you already 
+believe the conclusion will be catastrophic, it'll find you 
+all the data and evidence supporting that conclusion. If 
+you pressure it with prompts aimed at proving the 
+opposite, it'll happily find you evidence for the opposite 
+thesis. It's a known problem, but it's easy to fall into..."
+   Thorne cut him off, a little sharply.
+   "So what does your much more advanced quantum A.I. 
+predict about volcanic activity? Enlighten us, if possible, 
+Evans..."
+   "Certainly," Evans replied, cordial and calmer than 
+usual. "Prometheus simply says we can't know. To 
+understand where this cycle of volcanic activity is going, 
+we'd need data recorded over at least a few million years. 
+Instead, we have only a few decades of measurements. 
+The system concluded we cannot tell whether this is a 
+normal mild cycle or a catastrophe in preparation. We 
+can do nothing but leave it to fate, basically..."
+   After taking a sip of water, Calder took the discussion 
+back.
+   "Fact remains: in China there truly is this group of 
+powerful people who believe it. They're convinced 
+humanity has no way out. Why do they seem so 
+influential? That's what we asked our sources. They told 
+us at the top of this lodge sits a certain Mr. Kong-a 
+figure already known to us. Extremely wealthy, 
+extremely powerful, now 109 years old. Physically, 
+thanks to advanced gene therapies he can afford, he's 
+doing fairly well. Mentally, we have doubts... In other 
+words, he's a fanatic."
+   Thorne leaned forward, eager to absorb the rest. 
+Politics was his daily bread.
+   "As you can see, this Mr. Kong is a madman. Still, he's 
+extremely wealthy and has friends that matter in China. 
+With obsessive effort, he's managed to build a cohesive 
+group with staggering political and economic power."
+   "This," Calder said, "if confirmed, is truly strange. The 
+Chinese have always been pragmatic. Something like this 
+from them is unexpected." He shook his head slightly.
+   Then he continued, clearly deciding to go deeper.
+   "Some of the followers truly believe Kong's obsession. 
+But a large portion are with him for pure political 
+calculation. Many use Kong's positions as a pretext. Our 
+source said 'the great families' want to rule China again, 
+and they're ready to seize an opportunity. Some, in 
+reality, have objectives far more prosaic than the fabulous 
+voyage to Proxima b that Kong imagines..."
+   At the mention of Proxima Centauri b, Vasquez felt 
+personally addressed. Her curiosity spiked.
+   "Proxima b? Help me understand. What does Proxima 
+b have to do with any of this?"
+   Calder didn't hesitate.
+   "All right. I'll go deeper. Our source called Kong's 
+group 'the people of Kronos,' but we don't know if that's 
+the organization's real name. From this point on, I'm 
+giving you information from a single contact. We have no 
+way to cross-check it."
+   He paused, adjusted his collar, made a slight grimace, 
+then continued.
+   "I'll report it as it came to us: these 'Kronos' people 
+appear to have heavily financed the Neptune mission 
+through private funds. They didn't do it to advance 
+exploration of that distant planet. They wanted 
+propulsion tested. They've, for a long time, put intense 
+pressure on the Chinese government to launch an 
+exploration project for Proxima b... even with the idea of 
+establishing, within twenty years, a small human colony 
+there."
+   "Proxima b is potentially habitable-we're well aware 
+of that-but..." Vasquez spoke with calm authority; she 
+was in her element now. She laid out the details 
+carefully.
+   "It's about 4.22 light-years from Earth. With Chinese 
+mixed fusion-solar-sail propulsion, I might be off by a 
+little, but we'd still be talking at least ten years to get 
+there. Distances are enormous. To put it plainly: just to 
+communicate mission success back to Earth would take 
+another 4.2 years..." She shook her head. "And calling it 
+habitable... it's only true in a vaguely theoretical sense. In 
+reality the planet is very close to its weak star. That 
+allows liquid water, oxygen... but also frequent lethal 
+radioactive flares. Theoretically, a base on Proxima b 
+would need a massive shield... built 4.22 light-years from 
+here. Sorry for the long explanation, but it all sounds 
+unbelievable."
+   "Well," Evans said hesitantly, "if these... what do you 
+call them... Kronos? If they're insane-an apocalyptic 
+cult-then you can understand, Elena... They really 
+believe we'll all be buried under lava soon. So they're 
+pushing for a slim chance of salvation, I suppose mostly 
+for themselves. They've fixated on Proxima b, whatever it 
+costs. Strange, yes-but maybe plausible. What do you 
+think?"
+   Evans spoke with uncertainty, but Thorne and Calder 
+nodded in unison, encouraging him. Then Calder spoke 
+again.
+   "Yes. It seems Kong and his followers have managed to 
+apply serious pressure on their government. As of now, 
+the most credible hypothesis from our sources is that the 
+Chinese have abandoned their vanished probe, content 
+with the successful velocity test. Because, in the end, 
+from the beginning, they were being heavily pushed to 
+make Proxima b the final objective of all efforts."
+   Straightening his back, aligning his shoulders, Thorne 
+signaled it was his turn to close. He adopted a categorical 
+tone, martial posture-clearly his comfort zone.
+   "And this, gentlemen-however it plays out-is a huge 
+opportunity for us," he declared. "People want Neptune. 
+The entities on social platforms talk about Neptune. 
+Everyone makes videos and holograms about Neptune. 
+The biggest accounts have fun speculating about the 432 
+Hz wave, twenty-four hours a day. If the Chinese, 
+trapped in their internal power struggles, don't intend to 
+give people what they want, then we have a real chance 
+to try to give it to them instead. I believe we must take 
+it."
+   Evans and Vasquez looked at each other. With a 
+shared nod, they decided Elena would speak.
+   "General, Mr. Calder, I believe I can also speak for my 
+friend, engineer John Evans. All of this is interesting-
+deeply stimulating for us. But working with what little 
+we have, and extracting valid, revealing results about 
+Neptune's mysteries, could take months. Maybe years. If, 
+however, we had access to the sensor data from that 
+vanished probe... I'm convinced our path would be clear."
+   Evans watched her with understanding, urging her to 
+continue.
+   "Believe me, those probes aren't equipped so 
+differently from ours," she went on. "The data doesn't 
+vanish completely. There's a whole system-I won't bore 
+you with it. Just know the fundamental data exists 
+somewhere. It must have been transmitted. The control 
+center in China received it. If we had those files in our 
+hands, everything would change for us. If there were a 
+way to access them... it would be a dream."
+   "Prometheus would have lunch, dinner, and breakfast 
+on it," Evans exclaimed, spreading his hands 
+dramatically. His point was clear, and the others-
+initially slightly taken aback-ended up looking at him 
+with approval.
+   Then Calder shifted in his chair, signaling the meeting 
+was moving toward closure.
+   "Don't despair. Our people have done more work in 
+China in the last seven days than in the last seven years. 
+The pieces are finally moving into place. I don't rule out 
+there may be news about the data you mentioned. And 
+not only that. Perhaps something even bigger. I can't say 
+more right now. I think what we've said today is enough. 
+But this doesn't end here. We'll stay in close contact, 
+agreed?"
+   Thorne reassured them and briefly explained the 
+secure communication channels he'd arranged.
+   They looked at one another and found themselves 
+unexpectedly in sync. To Evans and Vasquez, it felt 
+slightly surprising.
+   In the end, though, they were both glad.
+   The meeting was over.
+   A few formalities. Thorne's instructions for leaving the 
+base. Cordial goodbyes, handshakes. Calder, walking 
+toward the exit in silence, wrapped a light, finely made 
+scarf around his neck.
+   Outside was the world again-sunlight, ordinary 
+reality. At the same time, a reality that would never 
+again be the same for Elena Vasquez and John Evans: 
+they'd been recruited.
+   Elena was thinking about it, vaguely. She sensed John, 
+like her, was in a highly emotional state, mentally 
+scattered.
+   Too much. Too much all at once. All she wanted now 
+was to breathe outside air again. Once she was out, would 
+that whistling return to keep her company? She had no 
+idea.
+   She found herself genuinely anxious to know.
+