Listen to the Cinematic Audio version here: https://soundcloud.com/noexit-636770900/lumina-chapter-3-stone-industries-floor-64?in=noexit-636770900/sets/lumina-a-startup-fantasy

Carmichael Stone stood in the expansive windows of his new office on the 64th floor, overlooking Voltara.

His view from here was extraordinary. He had built the tallest most magnificent building in the city. And at the building’s apex was the Stone Industries logo: a stylized, glowing emberstone, a symbol of the company’s dominance in the energy sector.

As he took in the view, the chaotic sounds of the city made him feel calm. He listened to the buzz of elevated maglev trains soaring between towering structures, hovercabs honking in traffic, and the symphony of commuters, locals, and tourists getting on and off at the nearby railbus station. And below, many floors down, he could hear the soft hum of chanting. But instead of looking down, Carmichael looked out. Where the edges of Voltara’s skyline sliced into the sky, he let his mind wander, in search of his next big idea.

Until there was a knock at the door, and his young blonde assistant said, “Mr. Stone? They’re ready for you,” in a soft, unintentionally seductive voice.

Far off in the distance, Carmichael could see the crystalline spires of Lumina, the prestigious academy where the brightest minds of the future were being forged. Then, turning his gaze to the south, the landscape transformed dramatically: the dark, fiery expanse of Pyronia, its horizon marked by towering smokestacks. From the view of his office, Carmichael could see the entire planet spread out before him—a world teetering on the brink of extinction, its fate resting heavily on his shoulders.

He slowly blinked his eyes. He concluded his meditative gazing and returned to himself. “Thank you, Lilly,” he said. Then he walked to his standing holodesk and stepped into its center, the blue glow enveloping him as the award ceremony commenced.

"Today, we honor Carmichael Stone for his exceptional contributions to non-profit programs, and his unwavering commitment to the betterment of Nova ONE," the holographic host announced. Applause erupted from the virtual audience, a sea of smiling faces beaming with admiration.

Carmichael smiled graciously, accepting the holographic award that materialized before him. "Thank you. Please. It's truly an honor to be recognized for our efforts. All of us at Stone Industries believe in giving back to the community that has given us so much in return, and we are passionate about investing in the next generation of creative minds. Together, I believe we can build a brighter future… for Nova ONE."

He was met with thunderous applause, but he did not hear it. His mind was elsewhere. Carmichael had received hundreds of these obligatory awards over the years—this one, a Thank You for a donation he’d made to the Creative Arts Preservation Society in Voltara. Always in exchange for money. Never in true gratitude for the sacrifices he’d made over the years.

As the ceremony concluded and his standing holodesk powered down, Carmichael's smile faded. The warmth and charm he displayed moments earlier vanished, replaced by a steely resolve. He stood there waiting for his next call, the one he had been thinking about all morning. His eyes were sharp, cold, and calculated. This wasn’t his first board meeting—he knew what to expect. And with a flick of his wrist, he initiated a secure call with The Innovation Board.

The holographic figures of the board members appeared before him. Their expressions were a mix of concern and scrutiny. "Mr. Stone," the chairwoman began, "we've convened this meeting to discuss several pressing issues regarding Stone Industries' current operations."

Carmichael nodded, his face a mix of professionalism and sarcasm. "Not even a ‘Hey, how’s it going, thanks for getting my daughter in a luxe dormitory at Lumina this year?”

“Carmichael,” she said.

“Nancy,” he fired back.

“We are concerned about your recent investor memo, and the accelerated depletion of emberstones due to your mining practices. Your projections indicate that, at the current rate, we will be in a severe energy crisis in 24 months, putting Nova ONE in jeopardy. Additionally, the substantial funds we approved for research and development have yet to yield any tangible results.”

“I can turn the maglev trains off, if that would make you happy.”

“Carmichael,” she said, the virtual room of investors visibly uncomfortable.

“Nancy. You know as well as I do these things take time.”

“Time isn’t a commodity we have anymore, Carmichael,” she said, the decibel level in her voice increasing.

Carmichael could feel his blood beginning to boil—that part of him that had come from nothing and couldn’t tolerate other people’s entitlement and the incompetence that came with it. These people didn’t know struggle. A seat on The Innovation Board was a government job. Glorified hall monitors, responsible for keeping Empyreans like Carmichael within the parameters of “tolerable risk.” But Carmichael knew better than anyone… no risk, no reward.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Still, he didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. He turned 57 this year. Carmichael had been CEO of Stone Industries for nearly four decades, and navigated who knows how many different Innovation Boards. He had managed a hundred risk-averse Nancys. And while they all pledged a commitment to Nova ONE, to the environment, he knew deep down all they cared about was job security.

Carmichael leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "I understand your concerns. Let me assure you, I have a plan to mitigate the depletion of emberstones. However, due to the sensitive nature of this research, I am unable to disclose specifics at this time."

Another board member, a round man with a hook-shaped mustache and a sack of wrinkled skin under his chin interjected, pounding his arms on the virtual table, the technology of their holo-office echoing a matching sound effect for maximum immersion. "Mr. Stone, the depletion rate has increased by 15% in the last quarter alone! News stations are running with the story. The public is starting to worry. We need concrete evidence that Stone Industries is not leading Nova ONE to catastrophic collapse!"

Carmichael's mind raced. He had to maintain control of the situation.

"As I said, I am unable to disclose specifics at this time. However….” he said, and let his voice linger. The longer the silence, the more each board member began to lean in, listening. Hook, line, and sinker. “What I can tell you, and this has been a stealth project for us, but I believe we have found a new energy source for Nova ONE.”

In an instant, it was as if oxygen just got blasted into their virtual meeting room, the long table of board members relieved, their asphyxiation resolved.

“What can you tell us?”

“This is incredible!”

“Will we continue to mine emberstones as back-up?”

“When can we see this innovation?”

Carmichael smiled and basked in the approval, the feeling that they needed him more than he needed them. He loved this power dynamic. It was familiar. He’d hired his first employee at just 19 years old. He was used to other people relying him, and it gave him more than happiness. It gave him purpose.

The problem was, Carmichael didn’t actually have a solution—at least, not yet. So while he bought himself some time, he didn’t really solve his problem.

“You will see the fruits of our labor soon, that much I can promise you. We are on the cusp of something very exciting. In the meantime, I am confident that our current measures will sustain us until our new solution is ready for deployment."

The chairwoman's gaze was unwavering. "We also need clarity on the billions of credits being funneled into this education project of yours, Carmichael. Without transparency, it's hard to justify such expenditure when the planet's energy source is at risk."

Carmichael's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice calm. "SKYLINE is of unprecedented scale and importance. The funding is necessary to ensure we equip the next generation of entrepreneurs with the skills required to achieve the revolutionary outcomes we desire for the next hundred years. You don’t want to let the kids down, do you Nancy?"

The tension in the room was palpable. The board members exchanged uneasy glances. "Very well, Mr. Stone," the chairwoman finally said. "But we will need regular updates and more transparency moving forward."

"Of course," Carmichael replied smoothly. "I will ensure you are kept informed of our progress."

The call ended, and Carmichael exhaled, the tension momentarily lifting from his shoulders.

Without even a moment to process that he’d just lied to The Innovation Board, Lilly gave his office door a soft knock while letting herself in. Her professional demeanor could not mask the tension of the situation. "Mr. Stone, the quarterly financial reports are ready for your review," she said, handing him a sleek tablet. "There’s also the matter regarding the recent protests outside… downstairs.”

They could both hear the muffled chanting, but chose to ignore it.

Carmichael took the tablet. His eyes scanned the data briefly before setting it aside. "Thank you, Lilly. I’ll review these later. As for the protests, have our public relations team put out a press release. Something like, ‘We appreciate the feedback, and you’re welcome for the surge in jobs these past 40 years.’ But you know, not that."

Carmichael’s sarcasm didn’t affect her in the slightest. She looked like an intern—young, with kind eyes, and a soft-warm demeanor you only find in someone inexperienced, still scarless from life. But her exterior was deceiving. Lilly was sharp, organized, but most of all, loyal, her scars hidden. This wasn’t her first time in the fire with Carmichael.

“There’s also been an increase in worker complaints about safety conditions in the mines. Some of the workers are threatening to strike if their concerns are not addressed," she said.

Carmichael’s expression hardened. "I will deal with it personally. Schedule a meeting with the local supervisors and prepare a statement for the workers. I’ll head down there right now."

"Yes, Mr. Stone," Lilly replied, and then was gone—on a mission to execute Carmichael’s vision.

As she exited, Carmichael finally had the chance to gather his thoughts. The call with the Innovation Board was a problem. Lying about the health of the company was a punishable offense. If they found out there was no new energy source for Nova ONE, he could be ousted as CEO—his own company, taken from him. But what choice did he have? He needed more time!

Leaving his office, Carmichael made his way to the private elevator that descended to the Maglev train station. As the sleek, magnetic train whisked him towards Pyronia, his thoughts drifted to SKYLINE. Technically, he hadn’t lied. SKYLINE was his solution, hiding in plain sight. Yes, it was an investment in educating the next generation of entrepreneurs. But really, it was a game—a game to see who was bright enough to solve a puzzle Carmichael had been wrestling with for 40 years.

Why has every planet in The Thundercloud System become uninhabitable?

Why has every energy source, no matter the type, never endured more than a thousand years?

Where did the other planets go wrong—and how might Nova ONE survive?

Even while building Stone Industries, and at the height of his success, Carmichael had asked himself these questions. He always knew emberstones were temporary. But despite all his questioning, he’d yet to come to a solution.

He hoped the next generation might have the answer.

And he planned to capitalize on it.

As the maglev train sped through the landscape, the vibrant city of Voltara gradually gave way to the industrial sprawl of Pyronia. Carmichael remembered his own humble beginnings in The Outskirts. "Everything has changed so much," he thought, staring out the window. The small, lush green town he had grown up in had become a blackened, soot-covered mining district. On his pursuit of progress and prosperity for Nova ONE, this is what it cost him.

This is what it cost everyone.