A long, wood table filled the conference room. Its glossy surface reflected the white lights overhead. The reflections exposed the fine, wood grain patterns in the material. Engraved on the surface of both ends of the table was the Greek symbol for the letter Omega, with a circular black and gold design—the logo for Omega Research Corporation.
The chairs lined up along the table boasted plush, black leather. At the end of the table sat a lone occupant. His chair was more elevated than the rest, highlighting his position in the company. To most at Omega Research, he was known simply as the “Chairman.” Only the other board members knew him by name, and even then, they called him “Chairman Riaz.”
The doors to the conference room opened and the six Directors walked in and took seats at the table. A guard, wearing formal attire, stood at the entrance waiting for the Directors to arrive. Once they all took their places, the Chairman motioned the guard away, leaving the seven executives alone in the room.
The Chairman glanced at the faces around the table. Omega Research Corporation’s Directors— his Directors, looked like fleeced sheep. Their defeated expressions told him all he needed to hear. Without saying a word, Chairman Riaz pushed a button on his chair.
A low hum sounded and a barely visible field of blue energy appeared around them— enveloping the entire room. The null field hugged the walls and doors like a cushion. Riaz knew that the null field would shield them from any snooping devices, be it audio, visual, thermal, or molecular imaging—all forms of surveillance would be blocked. However, the technology could only remain active for a matter of minutes—so he would need to make this meeting short.
The Chairman pressed another button on his chair and the lights in the room dimmed. In the center of the table, a hidden holographic projector lit up; various colored graphs and tables with figures popped up. A robotic-sounding voice ensued from the projector.
“Omega Research Corporation ongoing earnings decreased 25 percent to 19.5 billion credits. Ongoing earnings per share decreased 21 percent to 5.1 credits. Income from the Ocean Maintainer Services dropped 19 percent, which constituted approximately 70 percent of the declining income…”
Judging from the faces around the table, this was not news to them—as he expected.
“…Declining revenue attributed to increased competition in multiple business units. ORC unable to keep up with technological advances of competitors…”
The report soon ended. The Chairman let the figures hover over the table until they all had a good chance to digest them. He pushed a button, deactivating the report. The lights in the room brightened.
“I take it this is not news to you,” the Chairman said. “We have stippled our own research and development to throw off the government’s hounds. This has obviously damaged our competitive standing and financial position. And it is a matter of time before the UEP resumes its interest in us.”
The Chairman waved around the table. “We are losing. So now the question is: how do we get back on top?”
After a moment of silence, one of the Directors raised his hand.
“Chairman, we have thrown off the government’s investigation. With all the increased piracy, their efforts are most likely distracted away from us. Surely we can step up R&D on the A.I. technology.”
“No,” the Chairman said. “The UEP is not done with us. We have only delayed them.”
“But sir,” another said. “Why don’t we just send Chin again to… deal with any interested parties.”
“That is not an option,” the Chairman said. “Using Chin is a safeguard of last resort, not a solution. We cannot risk drawing interest in our activities again so soon.”
Riaz paused, looking around the table. For several moments, no one else spoke. The Chairman slammed his fist on the table.
“I want to hear solutions!” the Chairman said. “What happened to all of you? Where are the Directors I appointed?”
Riaz paused a moment.
“This is not just about Omega Research; it is our survival we are discussing here. You are all involved! This corporation’s fate is your own fate.”
The Directors looked at him, their expressions sheepish. They had become so complacent that they’ve lost their drive. If he could fire them all and get some young blood, he would. Unfortunately, their knowledge of the plan removed that option from the table.
At that moment, a warning buzzer sounded indicating that they only had thirty seconds before the null field would collapse.
“Very well,” Chairman Riaz said. “I am going to have the A.I. moved from our R&D facility to a safe location. If the government resumes its investigation, we do not want a surprise raid uncovering it. We will reconvene in a week’s time. By then, I expect some ideas from you all. Meeting adjourned.”
The Chairman pressed a button on his chair and the dark blue null field around them vanished. The doors to the conference room opened and the guard stepped in. The Directors all stood up and left the conference room, leaving the Chairman sitting alone. Riaz motioned the guard away, who left, closing the doors behind him.
Riaz pushed a few keys on his chair, and the lights dimmed. The holographic projector came alive again. Floating above the table was a hologram of a diamond-shaped device. The device was elongated and about two meters tall. Its translucent surface seemed to give off an odd glow. In the hologram, several scientists were working around the device.
The Chairman stared at the device intently. He knew the device not only held the past of Omega Research, but the future as well—and it was a future with infinite possibilities.