Decidedly ignoring the figures standing circumspectly nearby, she hesitated just outside the unmarked doors of the SCIF briefing room, her clipboard clutched tightly against her chest, its contents of world shattering importance.
The polished steel surface of the hallway reflected her strained expression. She’d been in high-stakes think tanks before -teams tasked with shaping military doctrine, designing response plans for existential threats, and even guiding national security policy. But this? This was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
It wasn’t just strange. It was absurd. And worse, it was vital.
The results of the scenarios they had gamed over the last seventy-two sleepless hours were conclusive, but they pointed to a solution so unconventional it made her stomach churn. She could already imagine the sneers, the cutting remarks, the scorn from the very people who had trusted her judgment until now.
Her reputation would be on the line the moment she stepped through those doors. By presenting her findings here, she might not just lose her credibility -she might lose her job. She’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to end up as the punchline of a bad joke in some cigar-smoke-filled room where generals laughed about the lunacy of gamers saving the world.
And the worst part? The part that made her palms clammy and her heart race?
She couldn’t blame them if they did.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her blazer and adjusted her grip on the metallic clipboard. Every fiber of her professional self wanted to walk away, to pretend the A.S.I. simulations had produced nothing actionable. But the data didn’t lie. If she didn’t present this, someone else would -likely too late.
Swallowing hard, she placed her hand on the handle and paused, letting the biometric sensor run its scan, a moment later the doors opened and she stepped inside. The murmured conversations halted as the heads of the table turned toward her, their expectant gazes boring into her like a firing squad.
“Ma’am,” the chair at the head of the table prompted, his tone neutral but heavy with authority. “We’re ready for your report.”
She squared her shoulders, steeling herself for what came next. There was no turning back now.
∞
The room buzzed with quiet tension, the kind that only years of high-level operations and political intrigue could cultivate. The long table was surrounded by military brass, government officials, and civilian analysts, all with varying expressions of focus, skepticism, or outright concern. The think tank representative stood at the head, holding a meticulously organized folder, her gaze flitting nervously over the crowd.
“General Jo-” the Special Projects Operator of the think tank began, but the man seated at the head of the table, the commanding general by his insignia, cut her off with a sharp motion of his hand.
“Get to the point,” the general growled, his voice a razor-edged weapon honed by years of command.
The S.P.O. swallowed hard and nodded. “Of course, sir. Ahem. As I was saying, we’ve gone over the data, reviewed every frame of available footage, and conducted extensive theorycrafting sessions with our analysts -regarding the current apocalypse.”
“And?” a severe looking woman interjected, her tone crisp and cutting. The insignia on her uniform identified her as a rear admiral, her steel-gray eyes daring the Special Projects Operator to waste another second.
“What we’ve determined, ma’am,” the S.P.O. continued, regaining her composure, “is that the best minds we can bring in to assist with this crisis are… gamers. Specifically, high level Game Masters, Storytellers, Dungeon Masters, and top-tier players. Sir.”
A ripple of incredulous murmurs swept through the room. Someone scoffed audibly, while several shook their heads in disbelief.
“Are you kidding me?” the rear admiral snapped, leaning forward, her voice cutting through the noise like a whip.
“No, ma’am,” the think tank representative replied firmly. “Gamers -particularly those who specialize in role-playing games and tactical simulations- possess unparalleled knowledge of the specific confluences of data we’re seeing with these incursions. Their ability to think strategically, anticipate patterns, and adapt to unpredictable scenarios is unmatched.” Here she paused, nervously clutching the folder she was holding. “And it’s an apocalypse, ma’am. They have vast knowledge of these…dungeons.”
“You keep using that word, apocalypse. This isn’t some sort of bible study program.” The rear admiral sneered.
“No ma’am. But it is a potential end of the world scenario. And apocalypse also means a revelation. Which I’m sure you can’t argue, this is.”
“Adaptation under fire is our job,” a stocky brigadier general grumbled, crossing his arms.
“Respectfully, sir,” she countered, “the footage of the man who engaged the western incursion demonstrates a deep understanding of these creatures’ capabilities. He exploited their weaknesses with precision. Without his intervention, sir…”
“Our soldiers would have been goners,” the general at the head of the table finished, his gravelly voice heavy with acknowledgment. “Go on.”
The Operator nodded. “Sir, gamers -particularly top-tier ones- excel in understanding emergent systems and abstract combat mechanics. Fictionally, of course,” she added quickly, glancing at the rear admiral, whose brow arched skeptically.
“And you’re saying these gamers are the key to the dungeons?” the general asked, his tone skeptical but intrigued.
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“Yes, sir. That is our recommendation,” she affirmed. “We’ve already compiled a list of the best candidates for recruitment. With your approval, we can begin contacting them immediately.”
“And the resources?” a fellow seated near the middle of the table asked, his eyes fixed on the report in front of him. He paused, looking up when she didn’t immediately answer. “Miss-?”
She straightened, her throat dry. “Emily Smoke, sir.”
“Miss Smoke. What about the resources? The reports are… well, extraordinary is putting it lightly.” He leaned back, his piercing gaze appraising her. She adjusted her glasses, the motion an instinctive attempt to steady her nerves.
“Sir,” she said, shifting her attention to the general. The older man gave her a nod, gesturing for her to continue. “Yes, sir.” She turned back to the civilian, noting his lack of any visible military or government insignia. He was either a contractor or an independent specialist -likely both.
“The resources, as you put it, are remarkable,” she began, her voice gaining steadiness.
She took a measured breath, her fingers brushing against the edges of her notes. “To elaborate, sir, the recovered materials fall into three primary categories: biological remains, structural resources, and energy-rich substances such as the Prismata shards and cores.”
The room quieted, the weight of her words drawing everyone’s focus.
Emily adjusted her glasses again, scanning the room as she stepped closer to the podium. The tension was palpable, the weight of expectation pressing down on her shoulders. She took a steadying breath and began again.
“Sir,” she started, her voice firmer than she felt, “the resources we recovered from the western incursion -the remains of the creatures, along with samples collected from within the dungeon- are, frankly, groundbreaking. Extraordinary, even. We’re looking at materials and energy sources that could redefine entire fields of science.”
She turned her attention to the civilian who had asked the question, ensuring her tone was conversational but professional. “To start, the biological remains of the creatures -their claws, stingers, and exoskeletons- are composed of what we’ve nicknamed ‘Chimeric Adamantine.’ It’s a material with tensile strength and hardness that far exceed anything we’ve ever encountered. For context, it’s harder than diamond, stronger than carbon nanotubes, and nearly indestructible under conventional means.”
There was a murmur of interest from one corner of the room, but Emily pressed on. “The potential applications here are staggering. Imagine military-grade armor that’s light enough to wear but nearly impossible to penetrate. Aerospace shielding capable of withstanding reentry stress without degradation. Even in the medical field, we’re talking about surgical tools that stay razor-sharp for years or prosthetics that could mimic the regenerative properties we’ve observed in these creatures.” She hoped her excitement was not showing through in her presentation. She was a scientist first, having received her doctorates in Exo and Synthetic Biology, and the remains of the creatures recovered were a dream come true. Though what they signified could also lead to nightmares walking the Earth.
She paused, her gaze sweeping the room. “And that brings me to another point. The organic components of this material exhibit what can only be described as biochemical activity. Early analysis suggests these creatures had the ability to self-repair at a cellular level. If we can replicate that process, it could revolutionize regenerative medicine and lead to self-healing materials for industrial use.”
Emily moved to the next section of her notes, her fingers brushing against the edge of the podium. “Now, let’s talk about the dungeon itself. The structural samples we recovered -crystalline lattices embedded in the walls and floor- are entirely foreign to anything in our geological records. During stress testing, we observed these materials adjusting their molecular alignment under specific energy inputs. In layman’s terms, they behave like programmable matter.”
She glanced at the general, gauging his reaction. “The implications of that are… well, they’re enormous. We could be looking at the foundation for next-generation robotics and computing. Materials that could adapt dynamically, changing their properties on command. And imagine modular buildings -structures that reconfigure themselves for space exploration or extreme environments.”
Emily paused again, this time letting her words settle over the room before moving to the final and perhaps most exciting point. “Then there’s the Prismata,” she said, her voice softening slightly as she reached the crux of her presentation. “The shards and cores we recovered are unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Prismata appears to be both an energy source and something more -a bridge between classical and non-classical physics.”
She lifted her head, meeting the eyes of the room one by one. “We’ve identified three distinct classifications so far: Prismateria, Prismana, and Prismatrix. While their exact properties are still under study, the ASI we’ve been using for simulations and theorycrafting has made some preliminary assessments. Prismateria appears to be linked to physical materialization, though we’ve yet to determine how or why. Prismana seems tied to energy manipulation -possibly ESP or something similar. And Prismatrix shows potential for physical enhancements. But these are theories at best, sir. Until further experimentation is conducted, we can’t confirm any of these hypotheses.”
One of the operatives leaned forward, his brow furrowing. “You’re saying you gave access to an AI -the resources that have been gathered? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Artificial Super Intelligence, or ASI. Let’s not be bigoted,” she corrected promptly, though her voice remained calm. “And yes, it’s dangerous. But it’s also necessary. Without it, we wouldn’t have even these preliminary insights. The resources we’ve collected are so far outside our understanding that conventional methods simply wouldn’t suffice.”
Her tone grew more deliberate. “The cores we collected from the lesser dungeon creatures are like portable reactors, storing and releasing power far beyond what any modern battery can achieve. With Prismata, we’re not just talking about energy breakthroughs. We’re talking about rewriting the rules of physics itself. It opens doors to things we’ve only dreamed about -clean energy on a global scale, advancements in quantum mechanics, even fusion technology.”
“Why do you call them Prismata?” the plain clothed agent, for that’s what he had to be, asked.
“Because that’s what he called them,” she said plainly. The agent raised an eyebrow at that, but gestured for her to go on.
Emily’s voice wavered slightly as she concluded, but she held firm - adjusting her glasses. “Sir, these resources -both the materials and the energy sources- have the potential to put us decades ahead of the rest of the world. But…” She hesitated, then pressed on. “It’s critical we acknowledge the risks. The creatures and the dungeon have shown adaptability, even intelligence. If we’re encountering this, others may be as well. And if those resources fall into the wrong hands…”
She let the implication hang in the air.
The room was silent, tension hanging like a storm cloud.
The general finally broke the silence. “Noted, Miss Smoke. Excellent work.” His gaze swept the room. “We’ll review the report in detail. For now, ensure these materials are secured and studied further. And, people -this information doesn’t leave this room. Dismissed.”
As the room emptied, Emily exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the podium for support. Her nerves gathered, she made her out into the hallway and saw no one there, but the same guards at their stations. With a nod of greeting, she left and didn’t look back.
∞
Once back at her office, Emily slumped into her chair, the anxiety she felt from the meeting leaving her as quickly as it had come. For all the breakthroughs and possibilities, a single question haunted her: Had they just opened Pandora’s Box?
The possibilities she’d laid out were as exhilarating as they were terrifying. She only hoped they hadn’t just unleashed something the world wasn’t ready to handle.