From Devon Duncan's office the view stretched over Zurich, a city flowing through its hours with mechanized exactness. Half a decade had transformed everything. Five years after Geneva after that showdown, in a room that now seemed like a distant clammy nightmare. Official documents described it as a " psychotic break driven by extremist ideology." Devon considered it a stalemate.. The world appeared to see it as a chance.
Burnout failed to capture the intensity of Devon's experience. Maybe existential unraveling was closer. A persistent faint murmur of why try? that no required wellness break could alleviate. His manager, Pamela Pauline commended his " emotional reactivity" as a strength. She didn't grasp the reality. That reactivity had been the flickering spark of concern. At this point faint sparks felt exhausting to maintain.
A file rested on his desk. One solitary page. "Kale Kane. Philosopher. University of Brussels. Discovered in a condition of medically irreversible catatonia. Vital signs: stable. Neural activity: consistent patterns. No physical cause detected."
Pamela's voice crackled clearly over his intercom. "Duncan? Regarding the Brussels matter. It's a formality. The local officials are content. Somnum International has already provided a Belphegor Protocol evaluation, for the family."
Naturally they did. Somnum was omnipresent. Their emblem—a shut eye enclosed by a crescent—decorated subway posters, sports arenas and public service messages. "The Great Calming " was the name given to this period. The metaphysical power of Sloth wasn't eradicated in Geneva. Instead it had been… contained. Analyzed. Deconstructed. Secured under patent. The Belphegor Protocol was a fifteen-minute -intrusive treatment. It guaranteed lasting relief from anxiety from ambition's irritation. Worldwide productivity charts declined, leveled off at a steady controllable plateau. Stock exchanges surprisingly flourished. An new sector emerged: the Industry of Idleness.
Devon's inquiry seemed like a spirit drifting among a realm of automatons. Brussels lay silent. Kane's flat represented the epitome of existence except for one lone open journal, on a lectern. Devon's gaze moved over handwritten text. Sentences stood out: "…a mathematics of yielding…" "…not defiance, but complete assimilation…" "…the peak of surrender…"
A name showed up enclosed in a circle: Javier Jeffrey. Corpus Christi, Oxford.
A notification appeared on his vintage pager—a gadget many deemed outdated. Benjamin Baldric. An unnamed informant, from ago never revealed. Two words: Royal Library. Request Sari.
Over the tranquil North Sea within an Oxford awash in spring foliage Javier Jeffrey experienced a knot in his gut that his hearth failed to soothe. His genius seemed like a burden at this point. He had once given Devon the means—a set of keys. Mathematical frameworks, for contagion. Initially he regarded it as a cerebral challenge. Now he grasped the consequences of the challenge. His office held a brochure costly: Somnum International's "Academic Outreach Program." A handwritten note was attached with a paperclip, the script. Serene. "Your research, on geometric formulas continues to inspire. We have constructed temples on the base you provided. It would be a privilege to present them to you. – F."
Flavio Fergal. A name Javier wished to erase from memory. A man who had once shed tears looking at refugee camp images, who currently ruled over a domain of manufactured happiness.
Javier's hands shook. This wasn't a request. It was a proof of purchase.
Devon located Sari Samantha in a sub-level, below the Royal Library of Belgium an area filled with the scent of dust and lingering stillness. She was petite her expression a veil of detachment. Without requesting any identification she merely guided him to a temperature-regulated vault.
"A personal collection " she mentioned, her tone reverberating softly. "Given anonymously. You are the first to inquire about it in ten years."
The boxes held not books. Corporate reports, Somnum investor prospectuses and wellness brochures. Hidden within Devon discovered handwritten meeting notes. Names were disguised,. The ideas were exposed.
A text, penned in Flavio'ergal's exact script caused Devon's breath to falter: "We battled a war for souls and were defeated. We now conduct trade for desire. We do not stifle ambition. We satisfy a market demand, for tranquility. Our commodity is a void. Our clients pay to escape lack. This is not malevolence. This is effectiveness."
Another page, a cult roster. Not of heretics, but of department heads, project managers, lobbyists. "Rex Ralph – Logistics & Acquisitions." "Fronie Felicity – Aesthetic Compliance." "Hugo Hubert – Philosophical Outreach."
Devon's pager buzzed more. Benjamin Baldric. A sequence of digits: coordinates.. A closing note: Their goal isn't destruction. It's franchising. Kane was involved in a patent conflict.
He glanced at Sari. "Who delivered this assortment here?"
She blinked, like a lizard. "A messenger. From a business record company. It's merely another container in another storage sir." Her complete absence of interest was a kind of terror.
Exiting the library Zurich appeared altered. That calm exactness now resembled a suspended breath. Somnum's advertisements, on trams weren't promising tranquility. They were showcasing prizes. This marked the battle. Not marked by blood-stained symbols. By brand emblems counseling hours and financial gains.. Devon, a figure drained by exhaustion was perhaps the sole individual still willing to care.
He had to locate Javier Jeffrey of Flavio's "outreach team."
Else within a conference room, with a view of a distinct peaceful city Flavio Fergal enjoyed fair-trade coffee. On a screen a live worldwide map displayed Somnum saturation levels shining in blue. A lieutenant, Rex Ralph remained near a window. "Our Brussels branch was chaotic. That philosopher. Kane."
Flavio grinned, a hollow arch of lips. "Not disorganized. A crucial explanation. His work was essential. He refused to license it. He felt his 'Lethargic Calculus' was part of awareness." Flavio placed his cup down lined up with the desk's border. "Now it belongs to the shareholders. Dispatch Hugo, to Oxford. Our long-time acquaintance Javier needs… persuading. Employ logic. It remains our asset."
Rex gave a nod. "What, about the analyst? Duncan. He's snooping around."
Flavio's gaze remained on the glowing map. "Good. Let him see the scale. Let him understand the futility. Burnout is just a first, crude step toward the peace we offer. He is a potential customer, Ralph. Not an enemy. There are no more enemies. Only a market, waiting to be served."