Getting A System In A Modern World

"The same Silas?" a man asked, his voice laced with a mixture of irritation and disbelief as he turned to glare at another seated at the far end of the long conference table.

The room, steeped in an atmosphere of tension, was filled with the world's most powerful individuals—key figures controlling governments and corporations, the puppet masters of global affairs.

Yet even among them, the mention of Silas evoked unease, if not outright frustration.

The man leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Now that this issue has been raised," he continued, his tone growing more confrontational.

"I have some questions that have been bothering me for a very long time, and I would appreciate it if you'd finally provide me with answers."

All eyes in the room shifted to him, and the room fell into an expectant silence.

"Why did you all lift the sanctions that were placed on Venezuela? What's the grand idea behind such an action? And why haven't we dealt with the issue of Yusmairobis' daughter, who was taken from the lab facility in Antarctica?

"And about this Silas," he said, his voice rising slightly, "I thought you were going to do something about him.

Let's not forget he ran wild in your country! Or do you plan to just let him get away with it?"

His words carried a sharp edge, and his glare was fixed firmly on the man seated at the far end of the table.

A heavy silence descended over the room, the kind that made every breath feel heavier.

The tension was palpable, a weight pressing down on everyone present as their gazes flicked between the two men.

Everyone in the room knew the history between these two—rivals who disagreed on nearly every issue but who were nonetheless forced to coexist within this cabal of power.

Finally, the silence was broken by the cold, deliberate voice of the man at the far end of the table.

He clasped his hands together, resting them on the polished wood surface of the conference table, and leaned forward slightly, his glare meeting that of his interrogator.

"Are you insinuating that I am incompetent and incapable of managing my responsibilities?" his voice was calm, but an icy undertone made the question feel more like a challenge.

He continued before the other man could respond, his tone sharpening as he spoke.

"You're asking why we lifted the sanctions as if you don't already understand why they were imposed in the first place.

Do you honestly believe those sanctions would have any meaningful effect with how fast Venezuela is developing?

"And as for Yusmairobis' daughter, let me ask you this—what would 'you' do?" He fixed his cold gaze on the man, his voice dropping to an even chillier register.

The tension in the room thickened, and it became clear to everyone present that this exchange was teetering on the brink of confrontation.

But just as it seemed things were about to spiral, the first man raised his hands in a placating gesture, a sly smile creeping onto his face.

"No need to get worked up," he said, his tone suddenly conciliatory, though his words dripped with subtle condescension.

"I understand that Venezuela is no longer under our control, and there's little we can do about that.

"As for the girl... well, fine. We can let that one go for now. But Silas? Surely, we cannot afford to do nothing about 'him'.

That boy is a loose cannon, and his actions threaten all of our interests. Wouldn't you agree?"

His words hung in the air, and all eyes turned to the man at the end of the table, waiting for his response.

To everyone's surprise, the man merely smiled, a small, calculated smirk that sent a ripple of unease through the room.

"Nothing," he said simply.

The first man's composure broke, his face contorting in disbelief. "What do you mean, 'nothing'?" he exclaimed, his voice rising.

His reaction mirrored the shock felt by everyone else in the room. The name Silas was already a thorn in their collective side, and the suggestion of inaction was nothing short of blasphemy to this group of powerbrokers.

"Are you saying that we, as an organization that controls every major decision this world makes, can do 'nothing' about a child who's still wet behind the ears? Are we supposed to sit back and watch as he interferes with our interests, as he runs rampant and mocks our authority?"

The frustration in his voice was echoed by the murmurs around the table, with many nodding in agreement.

For those seated at the table who controlled the corporate world, Silas represented an existential threat.

His company, Kurt Technologies, was rumored to be on the brink of launching a wave of high-tech products that would render their own offerings obsolete.

Some rumors about the revolutionary VR Pod that could create hyper-immersive virtual worlds making it comeback into the market. Others spoke of an AI system so advanced it made their own investments in artificial intelligence seem like crude toys.

If even half of these rumors were true, their empires were at risk of crumbling. Yet no matter how much money and influence they threw at the problem, they had been unable to touch Silas.

Their usual tactics—sabotage, corporate espionage, and political pressure—had all failed.

Silas operated in a sphere that seemed untouchable, and his growing influence was beginning to cast a long shadow over their carefully constructed monopolies.

For those in the pharmaceutical sector, the rumors were even more troubling. Silas was said to be on the verge of releasing cures for diseases that had long been declared incurable—illnesses that were the backbone of their profit models.

The idea of losing their grip on lucrative chronic treatments sent waves of panic through the industry. If Silas succeeded, their revenue streams would dry up almost overnight.

"We cannot allow this to happen," one of them muttered, breaking the silence. "If he's allowed to disrupt the healthcare industry the way he's poised to, it will set a dangerous precedent for others. He's not just an anomaly. He's a symbol of what's possible without us."

"And let's not forget Venezuela," another voice added, their tone sharp.

"This isn't just about Silas as an individual. His connection to that country has made it a global outlier—an example we

cannot

allow to spread."

The screen at the end of the room lit up, displaying economic charts and statistics that painted a damning picture.

In just two years, Venezuela had gone from an economic disaster to a thriving, near-utopian state.

Their GDP had skyrocketed, their healthcare system was unmatched, and their infrastructure rivaled that of the most advanced nations.

By some metrics, they were outperforming even the wealthiest countries in the world.

"This level of progress is something that has never been seen before," the voice continued, "and it's destabilizing the balance of power.

If other nations see Venezuela as a model and begin to follow their lead, it will spell the end of the systems we've spent centuries building."

The man at the far end of the table finally spoke again, his voice calm and measured.

"I understand your concerns," he said, addressing the group. "And you're right. Silas and Venezuela represent significant threats to our interests.

But let me remind you of something: threats are best neutralized with precision, not brute force."

He leaned forward, his piercing gaze sweeping across the room. "Do you honestly believe we can take on Silas head-on?

Look at what's happened every time we've tried to interfere. He's evaded us at every turn, and his influence only grows.

"No, my friends. We don't fight him directly. We undermine him quietly. We isolate Venezuela, cut off their trade routes, infiltrate their networks. We make their progress unsustainable."

A murmur of agreement spread through the room, though it was tinged with reluctance.

"And as for Silas," the man continued, his voice dropping to a chilling calm, "we wait. He may be powerful, but he's still human. Everyone has a weakness, and when the time is right, we'll find his."

The meeting adjourned soon after, but the tension lingered in the room long after the attendees began to leave.

For all their power and influence, the group couldn't shake the growing sense that Silas was a different kind of threat—a force that defied their usual methods of control.

As the doors to the conference room closed, one thought hung in the air: if they couldn't stop Silas, their grip on the world might finally slip. And for them, that was a risk too great to bear.

Experience exclusive tales on mvl

....

In a quiet hotel room in Paris, Silas was listening in on the meeting. A smile bloomed on his face as he heard the group almost giant loggerhead and he nearly burst out into a laughter when he heard of how they plan to take care of him.

He stood up from the bed where a young lady who was also lying on, stirred awake.

"Good morning, stallion."

"Good morning, sunshine."

This chapter upload first at NovelBin.Com