At home
My body longed for quiet comfort in the dark.
I activated only a soft, flickering holocandle.
A reminder from Takashi appeared.
The selunar research meeting with the GMC and ARGOS
(Advanced Regulation for Global Operating Systems).
S-2878 • L3 Sintoluna • D14 Irrali
"Sintoluna lifts the song of the world. Irrali radiates silver into gold. The air becomes a guide for encounter. The story weaves a luminous presence."
I connected virtually, alongside the ministerial presences of the dominant cities.
Holograms floated, projecting faces in high definition.
The interface—flawless.
The ministers of London (Tenth City) and Sydney (Fifth) were the most receptive.
Tokyo (Ninth) and Dubai (Third)—the most rigid. Unyielding.
And beyond them—an additional presence:
The ARGOS representative.
In the upper corner of the interface, a static hologram:
Chief Auditor Markus Anselm, Nanotechnology Regulation Division, ARGOS (DRN-ARGOS).
Upright posture.
Eyes—surgical blue.
A face as impassive as an automaton.
ARGOS merely supervised the voting.
But its observations—could decide everything.
Hideaki began.
"Welcome to our 11th selunar session.
Research no. 267-45, Project Jaburu, led by Dr. Akiko Akiyama, in São Paulo.
CogniSynth is connected to living human subjects.
Its purpose is to view, analyze, access, and record memories."
Her voice was calm. Formal.
Her gaze passed over each of us.
"First, Dr. Akiyama will present the current stage of research.
Afterward, the floor will open for voting.
All in agreement?"
A unified yes resonated through the virtual chamber.
"You may begin, Akiyama."
I took a breath.
And started.
I explained the progress.
Despite the recent loss of a patient,
I emphasized the promising results.
A 230% increase in neuron generation.
A 30% reduction in neuronal death rate.
Then the side effects:
Vomiting.
Dehydration.
Motor loss.
Speech impairment.
Reduced concentration.
I shared the documents across the network.
Hideaki nodded, satisfied.
"Very well, Akiyama.
I will review the files.
I'm satisfied with the results.
I vote in favor of CogniSynth's continuation.
Ministers, the vote is now yours."
The results appeared beneath each hologram.
When Tokyo and Dubai voted against—a chill ran down my spine.
Expected.
Still—something inside me tightened.
They could influence others.
I had to remain composed.
"Dr. Mahara Al-Amin, Minister of Dubai—you have the floor."
She tilted her head.
Sharp eyes.
Laced with disdain.
"I will submit my observations through the network.
Nothing further."
Her screen went dark.
My hands grew damp.
Breathing shallow.
"Dr. Hidetaka Yamamoto.
You have the floor."
Calm.
Fingers tapping the table—an irritating rhythm.
"The positive results are… interesting.
But how are the negative effects being managed?"
I swallowed.
"A multidisciplinary team is responsible:
Physiotherapy, hydrotherapy, nerve blocks, and functional nanoelectric stimulation."
My voice remained steady.
Precise.
"Medication is used for severe symptoms:
Speech loss, vomiting, dehydration.
Stem cells are applied for regeneration, alongside continuous psychological and emotional support.
Nanomedicine is used only as a last resort, given the subject's continuous connection to nanites."
Yamamoto nodded.
Still critical.
"I see.
I will review the documents and send my observations.
I look forward to our next meeting."
Then—
Anselm spoke.
His voice was measured. Clinical.
"Dr. Akiyama, ARGOS will review your technical report.
The Technological Security Committee will evaluate the long-term impact of continuous nanite integration.
If necessary, additional containment protocols will be imposed."
Containment.
A euphemism.
For total restriction.
I took a slow breath.
"Of course, Auditor Anselm.
I remain available for any clarification."
He nodded.
A clinical gaze.
ARGOS observed quietly—but if it chose to intervene, it would be absolute.
Anselm held my gaze one second longer than necessary.
Unshaken.
No more words were needed.
The fate of CogniSynth—was already sealed.
I just didn't know how.
Hideaki cleared her throat.
"The vote stands at eight to two in favor of continuation.
Until next session.
This meeting is adjourned."
One by one—the projections disappeared.
The tension hit me all at once.
My head throbbed.
I let out a long breath and sank into my chair.
"Ah, Takashi… what a day."
He placed a chocolate on the table.
"Doctor, you understand what this means, right?"