Buying a Life

The other directors, though silent, also sent messages.

"Most passed," said Number Three. "Anderson, do you have anything to say?"

Anderson took a deep breath, paused for a moment, and finally shook his head helplessly.

Number Three raised his chin and said to the back of the conference room, "Please ask your supervisor, Anderson, to leave."

Four security personnel from the back row of the conference room stepped forward, without saying or making any unnecessary movements, and walked to either side of Anderson, waiting for him to stand up.

Anderson did not resist; he supported himself on the table and slowly and laboriously stood up.

His hand rested on the table, feeling its slight coolness. He thought this was probably the last time he would touch this table.

"Take them away." Director No. 3 gave the final order.

Before the words were even finished, the twelfth projection lit up.

All the shareholders present in the meeting room were stunned.

The projection was on the central chairman's table at the other end of the long table, directly facing Anderson.

Unlike the others, this projection was completely illegible, just a black silhouette.

"The meeting is adjourned."

The voice that came out was synthesized, devoid of emotion or variation, and indistinguishable between male and female.

The conference room was silent for a full five seconds, with the security personnel and Anderson all frozen in place.

Number Three was the first to react. He stood up, and the person in the holographic projection stood up, with a respectful posture.

"Director Number Twelve, what's wrong...?"

"The meeting is adjourned." The projection seemed impatient and immediately interrupted, repeating the message.

Everyone fell silent. Even their breathing became soft.

The projection turned towards number three.

"I disagree with the decision just made."

Number Three opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Number Seven put his glasses back on and leaned closer to look at the projection, as if trying to confirm something. Number Two, who had been leaning back in his chair, sat up straight.

"The board resolution has been passed..." Director No. 3 bowed slightly and said in a low voice.

"I have a veto power," the projection said.

No one refuted.

Anderson stood there, staring at the black silhouette. He recognized the director who had spoken to him privately after the last meeting; that was Director Number Two, not the one in front of him.

He had never met this person before, and knew absolutely nothing about him.

According to his recollection, this Director No. 12 almost never attended any meetings.

In all his years with the Bald Eagle Association, the largest shareholder he'd ever met was Number Two, a legendary figure. But this one…

"Anderson, stay," the projection said. "Meeting adjourned."

Number Three opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he swallowed it and said nothing.

Then his projection went dark, followed by numbers seven, four, and two, one after another the blue lights went out, and the conference room fell into darkness again.

In the end, only the black projection and Anderson remained.

The door closed behind Anderson, shutting out the line of security personnel. They had all left sometime earlier.

The projector didn't move, and Anderson, supporting himself on the table, tried his best to stand upright.

"Sit," the synthesized voice said.

Anderson slowly sat down, and the projection remained silent for a few seconds. During those few seconds, Anderson could hear his own heartbeat.

"The brain-computer interface project," the projector said, "what did your second-in-command tell you?"

Anderson's voice cracked as soon as he opened his mouth. He cleared his throat and said, "He said that regardless of success or failure, the brain-computer interface project is moving to the next phase."

Do you know who originally proposed this project?

Anderson shook his head.

"it's me."

Anderson was stunned.

"This brain-computer interface project has extraordinary significance," the projected synthesized voice said, its tone barely discernible. "When I revealed this project, it was completely banned by the United Nations without being widely disseminated."

The projection took a step forward, and the black outline flickered, as if the signal was unstable.

"Do you know why I did this?"

Anderson said, "I don't know."

"Because the physical body is too fragile," the projection said. "Humans suffer from the pain of war; they become disabled, go insane, go blind, and become paralyzed. Brain-computer interfaces will give those who are suffering renewed hope for life."

"When illness and trauma rob us of our sight and imprison our bodies, when memories are shattered and nerves are severed, brain function can tear open a crack of hope for life."

"It rebuilds neural bridges and reconnects signals and perception; it reconstructs damaged bodies and regenerates cells."

Anderson listened, his throat tightening. Brain-computer interface, such a magnificent engineering feat?

"Brain-computer interface is the first step, and we've been researching it for a long time," the projection said. "To be honest, your mission has been a complete failure, that's undeniable."

"But at least the data came back," the projection said. "The data came back before John, Cole, and Miles were completely lost."

"It's even better than I imagined; they've stimulated even greater brain-computer interface efficiency."

"We've never experimented with such high power before; it's revolutionary, so I don't think it's a complete failure."

"That's why I'm protecting you."

"But they're lost, and they'll never come back."

For some reason, instead of being grateful for his survival, Anderson started arguing.

He didn't even know why, perhaps because this so-called brain-computer interface seemed different to him than what the shadowy figure had described.

"Yes," the projection said. "They're dead, but their data lives on, and that all makes sense."

"Without this operation, perhaps no one would ever have overloaded their brain with a computer so many times in a row."

"That kind of power is enough to cook brain nerves."

The mechanical voice of the shadowy figure uttered those words in a flat tone, sending chills down Anderson's spine and even making him feel a sense of unease.

He didn't know how to respond, and he couldn't keep up the conversation.

"Those people on the board only care about losses," the projection said. "Equipment, stock price, reputation, money... They only know they lost the bet, they only know the stock price dropped, they only know the secret was exposed."

"They couldn't see that battle. For the first time, we truly verified that brain-computer interfaces could overload all their performance parameters in a real combat environment."

The projection moved forward another step, now only two or three meters away from Anderson.

"I know the mistakes you made," the projection said. "The risk assessment was too optimistic, intelligence gathering was insufficient, contingency plans were lacking, and no escape route was planned. These are all true, but do you know what kind of manager wouldn't make these mistakes?"

Anderson shook his head.

"A manager who does absolutely nothing," Projection said. "Sitting in the office, just approving documents, holding meetings, and giving reports. That kind of manager will never completely fail, but they'll never get anything done either. That's not the kind of person I need."

Upon hearing this, Anderson's gloomy eyes finally lit up again.

That's right, that's the kind of recognition he wants.

"The brain-computer interface project must continue," the projection said. "You still need to do it."

"If the equipment is lost, rebuild it."

"If the person dies, then recruit them again."

"Now that the secret is out, we'll figure out another way to continue."

"But the project can't stop, you understand?"

"We want the whole world to enjoy the benefits of brain-computer interfaces as soon as possible."

This time, Anderson's expression became fervent. So all along, he had been engaged in such a great cause!

"After this, you'll be demoted and have your authority reduced, but you'll still be in charge of this project," the projector said. "That's enough."

Anderson nodded.

The projection took a step back. "I've got that brain-computer interface overload data," the projection said. "I've bought your life. Don't let me lose out next time."

The projection disappeared.

Anderson was the only one left in the conference room, panting heavily.

After a while, the door opened, and two security guards came in.

"Manager Anderson," one of them said, "please come with us."