Date: August 20–21, 2005 (Events in Zurich)
Location: The Brotherhood of Starlight’s Secret Training Center in the Mountains Near Zurich, Switzerland
Nestled among coniferous forests near Zurich, a modern complex lay hidden, disguised as a “private school for gifted children.” On August 20, 2005, Zurich was cool at 61°F, the sky shrouded in clouds, while the city buzzed with billion-dollar deals in its banks and financial firms. In the mountains, silence prevailed, broken only by the occasional hum of a helicopter delivering “instructors.” The facility was high-tech for its time: surveillance cameras, a server room, and training halls with glass walls that could be darkened with the press of a button.
In the computer lab, 14-year-old Lucas Hoffman sat focused, his gray eyes darting across a screen displaying stock market graphs and currency exchange rates. Dressed in a gray t-shirt and jeans, his fingers buzzed as he typed commands. His mentor, 50-year-old Karl Weber, a former Zurich trader who had “disappeared” after a financial scandal in the 1990s, stood before him, holding a folder of assignments. Karl’s silver hair was swept back, his suit impeccable.
“Lucas, you have 1,000 dollars in a trading account,” Karl said, his voice cold but tinged with challenge. “Turn it into 10,000 by the end of the day. The markets are volatile, but you know how to analyze trends. Begin.”
Lucas nodded, his focus sharpening. In 2005, cryptocurrencies were nonexistent, but global financial markets were alive with opportunity: tech stocks, oil futures, and currency pairs like EUR/USD drew traders’ attention. The Brotherhood trained its children to exploit these instruments through sharp analysis and speculation. Lucas opened several windows on his screen: a Bloomberg news feed, a chart of Apple stock—rising after the iPod’s success—and an online trading platform. Within 15 minutes, he spotted a news report about rising oil demand due to a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. Lucas swiftly invested in oil futures, selling them at a peak, then shifted to Apple stock, capitalizing on rumors of a new product launch. By midday, he had turned 1,000 dollars into 6,000, and by the end of the day, his balance reached 12,000 dollars.
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Karl observed, his expression impassive, but a flicker of approval crossed his eyes. “Exceeded the goal,” he noted, jotting a comment in his folder. “But it’s not enough. Next week, you’ll have 10,000 dollars, and your new target will be 100,000.”
Lucas smiled, his gray eyes glinting with confidence. The Brotherhood had trained him in financial genius since age 10, using game theory, market behavior analysis, and simulations. Karl’s methods blended mathematics and psychology: Lucas underwent exercises where he predicted market movements based on news, economic reports, and investor sentiment on financial forums. In one simulation, he had spread a fake rumor about a tech company’s new product on investor message boards, inflating its stock price before selling for a profit. The Brotherhood saw finance as creating value from nothing.
As Lucas powered down the computer, 40-year-old Eliza Kron, the facility’s coordinator, entered the room. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, her gray suit sharp and authoritative. “Is Lucas ready?” she asked Karl, her tone brisk. “We need someone to fund the Asia operation next year.”
Karl nodded, his voice steady. “He’ll be ready. In a year, he’ll turn 10,000 dollars into a million.”
Lucas overheard them, his expression calm, but pride swelled within him. He knew the Brotherhood saw him as a tool, but he also saw a chance to become greater—a financial weapon for their future plans, including their ambitious 2025 Mars aspirations.
Parallel in Seattle
Date: August 20, 2005
Location: Seattle
Meanwhile, in Seattle, James Crowe sat in his rented Capitol Hill apartment, surrounded by documents. The city was cool at 66°F, a light rain pattering against the windows, a neon sign casting a red glow through the blinds. The apartment was chaotic—scattered papers, a half-empty coffee mug, the rain’s rhythm a counterpoint to Crowe’s racing thoughts. He had just hung up with Sarah Wilson, who promised a new document.
“They were teaching kids to survive in 1905,” he muttered, his voice rough from sleepless nights, fingers tapping a faded report. “But what are they doing in 2005? I need to find out.”
The words hung in the air, a quiet vow, as the rain intensified, the city’s lights blurring—a reminder of the world moving on while Crowe chased shadows across time.
