The elevator chimed softly, its metallic hum a stark contrast to the tension building within Mr. R. He adjusted his tie, straightened his lapel, and took a deep breath before stepping out into the corridor. The walls were sleek and reflective, lit by cold, white LEDs that seemed to stretch endlessly. At the end of the hall stood a door etched with the company’s logo, a clawed hand clutching a globe, its fingers twisting like wires.

  He paused before the biometric scanner, his hand hovering over it for a moment. Composure, R. They’re waiting. With a sharp exhale, he pressed his palm against the panel. A soft beep and a hiss later, the door slid open.

  Inside, the conference room was bathed in an artificial glow, the kind that strained the eyes but left no shadows. The absurdly wide rectangular table dominated the space, flanked by holographic screens displaying live feeds of global news, market trends, and data flows. Five holographic figures flickered at the far end of the table, their forms translucent and glitching slightly as they moved.

  Conversations halted the moment he entered. All eyes—or rather, simulated representations of them—turned toward him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. R said, bowing slightly. His tone was formal, almost mocking, as he walked toward the table.

  “You’re late,” snapped the gruff figure on the left, his hologram leaning forward as if to emphasize his displeasure. The table rippled faintly as his projection slammed a ghostly fist onto it.

  “My apologies,” Mr. R replied, his voice smooth as silk. “It seems I underestimated how long your collective rage could simmer.”

  The gruff man’s form flickered violently. “You’ve got a lot to answer for.”

  “I’m sure I do.” Mr. R slid into a chair near the table’s corner, his posture casual.

  “You’re aware of what happened at the bank,” the feminine figure said. Her voice was icy, each word sharpened to a blade’s edge.

  “If you’re referring to the breach, then yes, I am.”

  “Breach?” the gruff man spat. “We lost 300 million dules’ worth of critical data because of you! That’s not a breach—that’s a disaster!”

  “And,” the figure at the far end of the table added, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight, “you authorized the deactivation of security protocols that allowed this to happen.”

  Mr. R leaned back, crossing his arms. “I did.”

  “You’re admitting to it?” the feminine voice cut in, her hologram tilting slightly as if leaning forward.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “I am,” Mr. R said. “Because it was necessary for the test run. I never accounted for a foreign variable entering the equation.”

  “A variable?” The gruff man’s form buzzed with anger. “You mean to tell us you didn’t see this coming? You, of all people, caught off guard?”

  Mr. R’s expression hardened. “What I mean to tell you is that no system is perfect, no algorithm flawless. The breach wasn’t a failure of foresight. It was an anomaly, one that no amount of planning could have predicted.”

  “You sound remarkably defensive for someone who’s under scrutiny,” said the feminine figure.

  “Enough,” the leader interrupted. His calm voice silenced the room. “R, we’re not here to trade barbs. We need solutions. You mentioned an asset in your initial report. Explain.”

  Mr. R stood and reached into his pocket, retrieving a small, round device. He placed it at the center of the table, and a beam of light shot upward. The hologram of a human brain materialized, glowing faintly as data points blinked across its surface.

  “This,” he said, stepping back, “is our asset.”

  “What are we looking at?” the gruff man asked.

  “A live scan of a human brain,” Mr. R replied. “This individual’s mind absorbed the data during the breach. Every byte of it.”

  The room fell silent.

  “Impossible,” the feminine voice said at last. “No one has ever achieved Cyber Brain Dyad. Not even with the most advanced implants.”

  “That’s just it,” Mr. R said, gesturing toward the hologram. “This wasn’t achieved with implants. The brain is completely organic.”

  “How?” the leader asked, leaning forward slightly.

  Mr. R pointed to the glowing yellow spikes across the hologram. “These represent neural activity during the breach. The brain essentially acted as a sponge, pulling in data from the digital stream. We’re not sure how, but it seems this individual has an unprecedented ability to interface with technology.”

  The gruff man grunted. “And yet, you let this person walk away?”

  “Not exactly.” Mr. R’s lips curled into a faint smile. “The subject is under observation. Discreetly, of course.”

  “And what do they know?” the feminine voice asked.

  “Nothing,” Mr. R said. “The individual is completely unaware of what happened.”

  The leader straightened. “Good. This remains classified. No one outside this room is to know about this.”

  “Agreed,” the feminine figure said.

  “Ay,” grumbled the gruff man reluctantly.

  The leader nodded. “You have full approval to proceed. Focus all resources on this project. Everything else is secondary.”

  “As you wish.” Mr. R bowed slightly as the holograms began to fade, one by one.

  When the last figure vanished, the room felt colder, emptier. Mr. R glanced at the drones hovering near the walls, their weapons powered down, now idle.

  Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a small device and flicked it on. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he read the encrypted message displayed on the screen:

  //Subject secured. All systems operational. Awaiting further orders.

  “Checkmate,” he muttered, slipping the device back into his pocket. Without another glance, he strode out of the room and into the elevator.

  As the doors closed, he tapped the back of his neck. His face shimmered, morphing; his short hair elongated, cascading down to his shoulders. His chest subtly shifted, broader and fuller. By the time the elevator hummed into motion, it wasn’t Mr. R standing there—it was a woman.

  Clearing her throat, she spoke, her voice a rich, confident tone distinct from before.

  “It all went as planned, Mr. R” she said, her words calm and composed. “They bought every bit of it.”

  “Well done, No. 1,” came the reply through the concealed earpiece. “Head back to base. We have a lot to discuss.”

  “Aye, captain,” she replied, ending the feed with a satisfied smirk as the elevator continued its descent.