Eighteen Months Ago

The cold blue glow of his computer screen cast eerie shadows on the walls of Ryan’s office. It was late, and the building was almost empty. In the past weeks, he had been feeling increasingly uneasy, a gnawing sense of dread that he couldn’t quite place. Integrating the NanoChip software and working on the AI control systems had become a monumental task, and the constant scrutiny from the board, particularly from their CEO, Edmundsson, made it all the more unbearable.

The pressure was immense. The NanoChip was supposed to be NAPPA’s crowning achievement, a revolutionary piece of technology that could change the world. But as the head of software and AI integration, Ryan felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on him every day. He was beginning to crack under the strain.

He knew they had to get this launch right. They wouldn’t have a second chance. But Edmundsson was not only increasing pressure on everyone but slowing them down due to his safety concerns. Ryan knew it was bullshit. He was concerned about one thing only—cash. Always had been. What triggered him, though, was one particular email by Edmundsson, in which he had even started talking about postponing the launch, citing concerns that the AI integration had not been tested enough. This could cause a delay of weeks, even months! Ryan couldn’t let that happen. This was his life work, too!

Unable to bear the pressure any longer, that evening, Ryan stormed into General Meyer’s office, passing Dr. Zhang with whom she had apparently just met with. He found Meyer reviewing reports on her computer, her expression focused and intense. An obligatory large bottle of coke and a cup of coffee were her newest companions. Apparently, she was feeling the pressure, as well.

“General, we need to talk,” Ryan said, his voice trembling with frustration.

Meyer looked up from her coffee, slightly surprised by his abrupt entrance. Several empty cups were loosely spread on her table. “Ryan, how can I help you?”

“It’s Edmundsson. He’s constantly questioning the NanoChip project, raising concerns about timelines, AI integrations, and customer feedback. Everything has to be tested, then retested twice. He’s using every excuse in the book, and it’s slowing us down,” Ryan explained, pacing the room.

Meyer leaned back in her chair, considering his words. “Edmundsson is a cautious man at his core, especially when it comes to finances. If something is jeopardizing the sales of NanoChip, he’s bound to respond. So, he’s trying to avoid any public backlash by being careful.”

“But we can’t afford to take breaks,” Ryan insisted. “We’re on the brink of something extraordinary, and his hesitation is risking everything.”

“What do you suggest?” She sipped her coffee.

“We complete the AI integration still in version Beta. Once the product is launched, we deal with smaller issues. We know the NanoChip is safe enough. This is what I’ve been telling the team for months now. There is no complete security in a project like this.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I told this to both Edmundsson and Amanda many times before. Yes, the user will be the last authority, but the system is not perfect, the AI is not perfect. There are always ways to circumvent the AI and interfere with the NanoChips. In the end, the nanobots have to communicate with each other, and we can disturb that process.”

“Oh?” Meyer looked surprised. “I had no idea.”

“Of course, you would need significant resources and time to do that, but no system is perfect is what I’m saying.”

“That’s an interesting point you’re raising. I do agree with you.”

“Anyway, coming back to the topic at hand—Edmundsson; what do we do about him?”

“Well, what does Niko say about it?” Meyer took a few notes and started to scribble on a block of paper. She was really old-school like that.

“Niko is engrossed in his work with the medical and regulatory department. They are preparing for launch, so I barely get to see him anymore, except at board meetings and press conferences. You know him, he wouldn’t understand me. But you understand, don’t you, General?”

Meyer looked up, studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I see that you have a lot of potential, Ryan. You’re still young, but if you want to progress in your career and if you want to be a leader at NAPPA, you need to deal with the likes of Edmundsson. Show him that we need to move forward, for the sake of our vision.”

Ryan felt a mix of relief and anxiety. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting you take control of the situation and confront him,” Meyer said firmly. “Sometimes, leadership means making hard decisions. Now, I would ask you to please leave. I have another meeting coming up in a minute and have to prepare.”

Ryan turned around to leave.

“Oh, and Ryan? One more thing—do speak with Amanda. She has made some remarkable progress in the NanoChip functions recently. You might be able to help her with some integration aspects. Maybe also tell my secretary to bring me another one of these? With lots of sugar?” She pointed to her empty mug.

Ryan left her office, agitated. Was Edmundsson an obstacle to his success and to NAPPA’s vision? Did General Meyer really see it, too? He felt a surge of adrenalin passing through him.

Days turned into weeks, and Ryan’s paranoia grew. He started to see Edmundsson as a threat to his career and to NAPPA’s future. Their interactions became increasingly tense, their conversations filled with veiled threats and accusations.

Then Ryan found himself standing outside Edmundsson’s office. He was in such a shape that he didn’t even realize how he had gotten there or why.

The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear Edmundsson talking on the phone, his voice filled with concern.

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“We can’t allow them to go through with this. It’s too dangerous.”

Ryan listened, contemplating what to say to him when, suddenly, his vision blurred with rage. He pushed the door open, stepping inside. “Thomas, we need to talk.”

Edmundsson looked up, startled. “Ryan, what are you doing here?”

Ryan had a menacing, scary look in his eyes. “You’re a threat to NAPPA’s future. You’re standing in the way. I can’t let you endanger what we have built.” Ryan’s hand trembled as he reached into his pocket, feeling the cool metal of a small device. He took it out and turned it on.

Edmundsson, who was currently standing up from his desk, froze in place.

Ryan approached him. “You see, Thomas, this is a little something I have been working on in the last few weeks. All those late nights in the office were not for nothing.” He grimaced. “It sends a signal to your NanoChip and depletes your neurotransmitter GABA. It basically mimics the stiff person syndrome. Meaning, you can’t move unless I let you. Pretty cool, huh?”

Edmundsson’s eyes widened. He was able to whisper,“Ryan, you don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

Ryan’s mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts, his paranoia reaching a breaking point. “No, this is the only way,” he convinced himself. “But I’m surprised you can still speak. It seems this device still needs some work. I’m pretty sure we can improve it in the future.” He laughed.

“Ryan … why?”

“Not only are you slowing the company down but, as I found out today, you’re also a traitor. I know you’ve been dealing with the Chinese. What do you think would happen if this came out? We are an international company, Thomas—the US-backed us from the start. You’re endangering our future, don’t you see? We can’t afford picking sides in this war.” Ryan looked at him, full of disgust. “And how stupid of you to leave evidence about your military lab on the desk after last night’s meeting? You’re becoming old. You don’t deserve to be my CEO. You even don’t deserve to live!”

He took out a prepared syringe from his other pocket, put it in Edmundsson’s hand, and slowly injected the needle in the other arm—a combination of high dose insulin and beta blockers, cheap and effective. Soon, he would enter severe hypoglycemia, and his heart would slow down massively.

This is a kind, painless death, Ryan thought. After all, I’m not a monster.

Tears rolled from Edmundsson’s eyes as he thought about his wife.

As Edmundsson’s lifeless body slumped over the table, Ryan staggered back, the reality of what he had done crashing down on him. Ryan’s legs gave way, and he collapsed to the floor.

Several minutes later, the door opened. Amanda Zhang stepped in, looking at her computer, apparently coming to a scheduled meeting. “What is happening here?” was followed by a scream after seeing Edmundsson’s lifeless body. “What happened, Ryan? What’s wrong with Thomas?”

Ryan slowly stood up. “I just found him a second ago, with a syringe in his hand. He’s dead, I believe. I can’t believe he could do something like this,” Ryan lied.

“Oh my goodness, quickly, call an ambulance—call someone!” she shouted.

Soon enough, a small group of people gathered around the office, all whispering in shock and disbelief.

General Meyer was pacing around and checking her phone. “Quickly, quickly,” she was saying to herself, as if confused. Then, looking at Ryan’s lost gaze while he sat by himself in the corridor, she felt pity. “You poor soul, how hard this must be on you.” She took Ryan’s hand, pulled him close, and gave him a hug.

In that moment, Ryan felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt … happy.

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Thomas Edmundsson had been a soldier for the Western Front during “The Third War.” It seemed useless to call it a “Third World War” anymore—who else would it involve if not the whole world? The idea of another option seemed ridiculous. Like most of his generation, he had seen horrors that no one should ever witness—cities reduced to rubble, comrades falling beside him, and the grotesque aftermath of chemical warfare on both enemies and allies. Although he had managed to rise to the rank of major due to his sharp mind and keen sense for strategy, these experiences had hardening his heart and scarred him forever. If he had learned one thing, though it was to look out for yourself first, then everyone else. Ruthlessness should be your second nature, a survival mechanism honed on the battlefield.

Until he had met his kind, loving wife, that was. But that came with burdens of its own.

Brit was from a wealthy family and used to having nice things, while his in-laws never really accepted him as their equal due to his modest upbringing.

After the war, Edmundsson sought refuge in his scientific pursuits, hoping to leave behind the brutal past. He had found immense success in that field, but he couldn’t quite escape the past. His PTSD had troubled him ever since and didn’t give him sleep. He became prone to outside influence, trying to impress people who he shouldn’t have cared about. Plus, an evolving gambling addiction had dragged him slowly into a financial abyss. Debts mounted as he lost one asset after another, his money and inheritance all spent. No bank in the US wanted to lend him money anymore, having seen his poor financial decisions.

In desperation, he turned to other opportunities two years to join NAPPA, in order to continue his and his wife’s lavish lifestyle. It seemed, to him, that his inner demons threatened to unravel everything he had built, making him increasingly desperate to protect his fragile world. However, as soon as he had joined NAPPA, things finally started looking up.

Late in the evening, Edmundsson sat in his new NAPPA office in Singapore, with a big, fat “CEO” sign on the office door, newly brought that morning. He was surrounded by papers, scientific journals, and stacks of data. A picture of his wife sat on his desk.

His mind was far from the intricate details of nanotechnology as he waited for his last meeting of the day when a tall man he didn’t recognize unexpectedly entered his office. Although he wore a face mask, his gaze was piercing, made even more intense by his wide, googly eyes.

Before Edmundsson could say a word, the man began to speak through the mask. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Professor Edmundsson.” His voice was cold and menacing. “Let me cut straight to the chase: I know who you are and what you owe.”

Edmundsson’s heart pounded. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Despite what you might think, I am here to help you. You can call me your friend. And believe me; you want me to stay your friend. I am currently acting as an intermediary for the Bank of Shanghai, and I can help you prevent further escalation.”

Edmundsson shifted nervously from one leg to another but didn’t say anything.

“We heard about your new company, Professor,” the man continued. “A very interesting product you have here. Did you think they forgot about you? It’s a shame your company has only deals with the Western Bloc right now. Doesn’t that seem a bit … unfair? Why shouldn’t the rest of the world profit from this technology? To rectify this misunderstanding, they have a proposal for you: you will give them your knowledge about this company and its technology. If needed, you will conduct experiments for them.

“No, no, stay seated, Professor, I am not quite finished.

“If you refuse to comply, we can easily expose your ties to the Chinese government and ruin your career. But this path doesn’t help either side. And if that argument doesn’t sway you, I will make sure to pay a visit to Brit.”

Edmundsson finally mustered the strength to speak. “Leave my wife out of this, you bastard.”

“Bastard or not, you have one day to think about it. If, for any reason, you think of talking to someone, Brit will pay the price. If you don’t deliver on your promise, she will pay the price. Don’t. Fuck. Me. Over.”

Edmundsson was panicking; he felt his chest constrict.

“Speaking of price,” the man continued relentlessly, “make sure you also repay the debt you owe, with interest. We will be in touch. I sent my contact to your phone. Goodbye now.” He left Edmundsson gasping for breath and his mind delirious, looking for solutions.

Obviously, he wouldn’t be able to straight-out give them all of NAPPA’s documents without getting caught, so he devised a plan, in a second. He needed to buy time by ensuring that the technology he delivered to the Chinese was incomplete, and flawed. It must appear functional, but it should never fully work. Until then, he would make sure Brit was safe. He had his connections, of course. If he had to take on more debt, he would. If he had to use company funds, he would. Anything to ensure she was safe.

Edmundsson slumped back into his chair, clutching the picture of his wife, tears streaming down his face.