Watson Tower – Ground Floor
Inside the Conference Hall — 10 minutes before the Press Conference
The hall buzzed with anticipation, packed wall-to-wall in just under an hour. Watson Group employees filled the rear rows, but the front was dominated by journalists — each with a press badge clipped to their jackets and notepads at the ready.
In the third row, three reporters leaned close, mid-conversation.
"First time I have stepped foot in Watson Tower's Presentation Hall," said a young reporter, eyes wide as he glanced around. The chrome-finished walls shimmered under the soft white lighting, and the sleek black stage gleamed with a futuristic look. "Gotta admit... they've got serious style."
"It's also the first time Watson Group's made this kind of noise," the middle-aged man beside him added, tone more measured. "Even when Lucas Watson took over as CEO from Pepper Potts, it was just a quiet in-house affair — no cameras, no press. Today's... different."
"You two don't get it," the older reporter beside the young man grunted, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses. "This company was born out of investments, nothing else. Their Ventures and Capital branches basically print money. But now? With a teenager running the show, they have started burning cash on all sorts of experimental nonsense. The budgets for Watson Labs and Tech have ballooned — and obviously not everyone's happy about it. So now they direly need this kind of PR."
"He is the reason the company exists," the middle-aged man countered, leaning forward with quiet conviction. "The Golden Kid made millions playing the market before he was old enough to drive. He didn't just earn Watson Group its seed fortune — he directed Pepper on what to buy, when to sell, and where to pivot. Every time. And she never hid who she was listening to."
"Exactly!" the younger one chimed in. "And it's not like he is throwing it all away on supermodels and champagne like Toni Stark used to. The guy's building stuff — real tech. Those microbots they deployed after the Mole attack? They helped in rebuilding so much."
"Pfft," the old man scoffed. "You really believe all that 'boy genius' fairy tale? I think Pepper Potts built this empire and pinned it on a prodigy image for PR. And now that she has gone back to Stark Industries, mark my words — Watson Group will start slipping."
"I heard a rumor they're announcing a new COO today," the young reporter said, ignoring the older man's scoffing tone. "And word is... she might be related to Pepper Potts. Some say she is even her adopted daughter — groomed from the start to take over inside Watson Group."
The middle-aged reporter sighed, rubbing his temples. "Maybe. Right now, I am just trying to make sense of the Watson Group's structure. I barely slept last night trying to map it out. They have got, what — eleven different branches? Watson Tech, Innovations, Labs, Capital, Holdings, Ventures, Solutions, Industries, International, Enterprises... and that new Aid Network that's been making waves lately. It's a maze. And the shareholding pattern? Forget it — might as well try learning latin."
"That's the trick with conglomerates like this," the old man said knowingly, folding his arms. "It's by design. Pepper Potts was no fool — she was the one who engineered that web. It's exactly why Watson Group rose so fast and stayed out of the spotlight for so long. Try investigating them — you will get lost in the legal spaghetti before you get anywhere meaningful. Too many conflicting interests, too much overlap."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Besides, I don't believe for a second this press conference is just about naming a new COO."
"Oh?" the middle-aged reporter perked up. "You know something?"
"Yeah, spill it, old man," the young one added, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"I don't have the full picture," the older man said, glancing around. "But I have seen faces here today from Stark International, SpaceX, NASA... even the obscure Aether Foundation. Government suits too."
The middle-aged reporter's eyebrows rose. "Sure, but Watson Group has investments spread across a lot of industries. That could just be normal."
"Nah, NASA and Aether Foundation?" the younger one said, already tapping on his phone. "Aether's just a private biotech and exobiology institute, right? They are all about sustainable ecodomes and... weird next-gen habitat stuff."
The middle-aged man leaned back thoughtfully. "So maybe something space-related, then. Like when SpaceX backed von Doom's orbital launch program."
"Could be," the old man muttered, waving his hand dismissively. "Who knows what that kid is cooking up now."
"I'm more interested in Lucas Watson's love life, to be honest," the young reporter said with a conspiratorial grin. "There is a rumor going around that he is dating none other than Susan Storm — the Invisible Woman herself."
"Wasn't some female Hollywood star asking him out recently, too?" the middle-aged man asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Heh, there have been plenty of women shooting their shot," the younger one replied with a smirk. "Some even succeed, I think. But he has never officially confirmed a girlfriend." He nudged the man beside him and subtly pointed toward the front row. "Check it out — that's Christine Everhart."
"The one who interviewed Toni Stark right before she was kidnapped right?" the middle-aged man asked, looking over at the hot blonde.
"Yep. Word is, she and Stark had a thing that night. But here's the kicker — she switched networks recently, all because of a rumor that April O'Neil went on one date with Lucas Watson… and the very next day, she landed her own prime-time segment at the Daily Bugle." His tone turned sour. "So Christine jumped ship too. Switched straight to the Bugle — and now she is always hanging around Watson Tower, clearly hoping for her own golden ticket. What a slut!"
"Man… what I wouldn't give to just watch her and Toni go at it" The middle aged man said drooling.
"Keep your soap opera chatter down," the old man snapped, sitting up and flipping open his notepad. "The conference is about to begin."
–
The lights in the hall dimmed, and a hush swept over the audience. On every screen flanking the stage, a sleek "W" shimmered into view — the emblem of the Watson Group.
It faded slowly, replaced by a breathtaking spiral galaxy in motion. The camera panned inward, diving deeper and deeper into its glowing core, past dazzling constellations, until it reached a familiar solar system… and then Earth.
A moment later, the camera inverted — flipping to a wide, still shot of the starry night sky, as if the Earth itself were gazing outward.
Then I stepped onto the stage.
"Looking up at the night sky has always made me realize how small we really are," I began, my voice clear and calm. "How small I am."
Behind me, the screens began to rotate through images — the curve of Earth from orbit, Martian dust storms swirling red across its surface, the icy rings of Saturn glittering like glass.
"Every time we stare up at the stars, we're looking at infinite potential," I continued. "But for most of human history, space has been little more than poetry, myth… or mystery." My voice grew stronger with each word. "That changes today."
The lights returned gradually. A single spotlight beamed down upon me.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I said with a confident smile, "I am Lucas Watson, the Founder and CEO of the Watson Group. And thank you for joining us for what will mark not just a new chapter in our company's story — but in the story of humanity itself."
A brief burst of applause echoed from the back rows — mostly Watson Group employees and interns. But elsewhere, murmurs rose among the reporters.
"…So it really is about space."
"I knew it—look at the visuals…"
I smiled faintly and raised a hand.
"When I was a kid — which, honestly, wasn't that long ago," I added with a chuckle, earning warm laughter from the crowd, "I had one question that wouldn't leave me alone: Why haven't we stepped into space yet?"
The audience leaned in, many nodding.
"I mean, the first humans landed on the Moon back in 1969. That's nearly forty years ago now. A few missions followed… and then?" I paused, letting the silence stretch. "We stopped. We stayed satisfied. We built faster computers, smarter phones, virtual realities — but real reality? The Moon? Mars? The stars?" I shook my head, feigning confusion. "We never went back."
Laughter mixed with thoughtful murmurs.
"You can imagine what my poor mother went through," I said with a grin, "having a six-year-old drilling her with these kinds of questions during breakfast."
The crowd laughed again, more relaxed now.
"And it's not like I'm the only one who has ever asked these questions," I said, smiling. "Take my friend Elon Musk, for example — he has been dreaming about sending people to Mars since before I was even born." I chuckled and gestured to Elon in the audience.
Elon laughed loudly and clapped, prompting a ripple of laughter and applause across the room.
"But after realising all the usual reasons — politics, money, logistics, public interest — I realized something else." I paused, my tone shifting. "Something deeper. A different answer."
I took a step forward, the screens behind me now showing soft visuals of Earth's oceans and landmasses spinning slowly.
"We've stopped reaching for the stars because we're too comfortable standing on solid ground," I said, letting the silence stretch. "We're so wrapped up in life here on this beautiful Earth that we've let ourselves become complacent."
The word lingered in the air like gravity.
"So I made a plan," I said simply. "A plan that would need an insane amount of money, cutting-edge science, brilliant people, a ridiculous amount of time… and more help than I could imagine." I let out a light sigh, shaking my head fondly.
"But anyone who knows me — especially my poor mother," I said, grinning, "can tell you one thing: if nothing else, Lucas is persistent."
The audience laughed again, more warmly this time.
"But in all seriousness… we only get one life," I said, my voice turning more sincere. "And I want to do more than just live it. I want to build something with it. Leave something behind that matters. And I know many of you feel the same — maybe your goals are different, but the fire inside? It's the same."
I turned slightly, gesturing toward the massive screens behind me.
"So I studied. I searched. I built a team of extraordinary people. I surrounded myself with those who believed in the same vision… and now, I'm ready to share the results."
On cue, the visuals shifted. On every screen behind me, a tiny glowing dot began to orbit Earth.
Murmurs swept the room.
"What is that?"
"Is that real?"
"No way… it's huge…"
The camera zoomed in. What had appeared small moments ago now revealed itself as a colossal ring-shaped structure, surrounding an enormous rotating sphere — a blend of sleek design and titanic scale, hovering in orbit.
I let the image speak for itself before I raised my voice again.
"The Watson Group is officially announcing the development of the Space Station Citadel — a permanent orbital hub designed to host scientific research, zero-gravity manufacturing, energy experimentation, and more."
I spread my arms wide as the lights flared softly and the image behind me began rotating in real time.
"A home among the stars. Not built as a weapon. Not built as a bunker. But as a platform — for all of humanity."
At first, there were only a few hesitant claps.
Then, like a wave crashing against the shore, the applause surged, roaring through the room.
But amid the thunder, came the inevitable tide of doubt.
"Is the Watson Group really doing this alone?"
"How much money are we talking about?"
"This will take decades to build!"
"Why even attempt it?"
"Shouldn't NASA or SpaceX be leading something like this?"
"Is this even real?"
I could hear the skepticism rising beneath the cheers — murmurs, half-spoken questions, hands going up, even a few reporters standing, eager to interrupt.
I smiled lightly, letting the applause run its course.
Then, as the room began to quiet down, I stepped forward again and spoke with an easy chuckle, "There will be time for all your questions — I promise. But we're not done yet."
Behind me, the spinning Citadel image slowed to a stop as I gestured toward it.
"Some of you might be thinking this is just a hunk of metal floating in orbit. A shell. Maybe even a stunt — a glorified satellite. After all, it is hard to grasp its scale through a screen alone. But let me be crystal clear: at launch, the Citadel will already be twenty times the size of the International Space Station — not just in volume, but in raw capability."
The crowd stirred. Screens behind me exploded with specs and schematics, hard data scrolling in real time.
"Where the ISS supports six astronauts, Citadel will support up to 120 rotating personnel — scientists, engineers, researchers, and humanitarian workers. A living, breathing orbiting ecosystem."
Gasps followed.
"What?"
"This can't be right…"
"He has lost his mind."
"This is fake."
But the murmurs couldn't overpower the renewed thunder of applause. Doubt was battling awe — and I welcomed both.
"And that," I said with a slow smile, "is just Phase One. Just the beginning."
***
[Interstellar: Public Frontier Chosen]