Read The Everything: Integration :: The Second Human-Extraterrestrial Dialogue Summit Pt.4

Talax watched them. Watched them break in real-time. He tilted his head, studying the room like a scientist observing test subjects responding to a stimulus. Then, he smiled. Not cruelly. Not triumphantly. But knowingly. Because this had never been a debate. This had never been a fight. This had been a lesson. And they had just learned. After a long pause, Talax flicked his tail and spoke once more, his voice light—almost casual. "So. Shall we talk about what comes next? As... each one of us in the intgreation team does not only watch your memes, and videos. We watch every last one of your sufferings, and analize how to fix it, without ruining your own ability to act." He paused, closing his eyes, and ears lowering... "Trust me... when i say... it fucking hurts."

Orlov, for all his bluster, for all his attempts to twist the narrative—was silent. In the quiet, bitter recognition that there was nothing left to argue. Talax sighed, as he shook his fear, and calmed down. Before walking to the side, and Evaldo nods, as she steps back up. Letting the room calm.

Inside the UN chamber, Secretary-General Esposito finally cleared her throat, her voice barely above a whisper. "...We should take a recess." Everyone nodded, as a quite vote came in. Then... the recess began. As the UUM representatives relax, and talked between themselves causally in Multi-Common no one could translate.

Time passes. Eventually after half a hour. People began to return. The quiet in the hall as people returned to their seats was heavy, almost tangible, like the weight of an invisible force pressing down on every individual present. It wasn't the silence of anticipation, nor the respectful hush that typically preceded a grand speech. It was something deeper. A silence born from exhaustion, from inevitability, from the stark realization that no amount of political maneuvering, no carefully worded speeches, no closed-door alliances would stop the sheer momentum of what had been set into motion.

Some of them sat with an almost eerie stillness, staring at the empty spaces on their desks as if seeing, for the first time, just how much of their world had already slipped out of their hands. Others clenched their hands, gripping pens, phones, documents—anything that gave them some illusion of control, however fleeting. The recess had given them time to compose themselves, to whisper among trusted allies, to make frantic calls to their governments. But it had also given them time to reflect. And reflection, in this case, had done nothing to ease their minds.

President Orlov had returned with a measured, deliberate pace, but there was something in his expression that suggested he was still reeling from the exchange before the break. His face was carefully blank, a mask perfected through years of diplomatic dealings, but the set of his jaw betrayed the simmering turmoil beneath. He had lost the argument, and worse—he had lost it in front of the world. The humiliation burned, not just because of pride, but because he understood, now, what so many in the room did. There was no way out of this. They were stuck.

President Liang of China had spoken little during the recess, choosing instead to listen to the assessments of his advisors. They had offered cautious reassurances, but he knew that the only real truth was the one he had already accepted in his gut: humanity was no longer in the driver's seat of its own fate. The UUM had placed the planet on an irreversible path, and the only thing left to decide was how they would navigate it. He had no choice but to adapt—China had survived millennia by its ability to shift with the tides of history, and this was no different. But that didn't mean it sat well with him.

President Carter of the United States sat rigidly, her fingers laced tightly together on the desk in front of her. The break had given her time to process, but no time to find a solution. There was no solution. She felt an odd sort of bitterness, one that surprised even her—she had spent her life in service to the principles of governance, of democracy, of human leadership. And now, here she was, sitting across from a group of cosmic beings who had already decided what was to come. She had never felt so powerless. And yet... was it really powerlessness, or just the weight of undeniable truth?

The hall had an almost funereal atmosphere now, like the quiet after a great tragedy, when people are still too numb to grieve, but too aware to ignore the depth of the loss. It wasn't a loss of life, nor even of sovereignty—at least not yet. It was a loss of certainty. The illusion that humanity had time, that it had choices, that it had control. All of that had been shattered.

And yet, as Evtalo stepped forward once more, her many golden eyes slowly orbiting in their lazy pattern, there was no sense of triumph from the UUM. There was no gloating, no arrogance, no sense that they had won. Because, in truth, they had never been playing a game.

"Anyway," Evtalo began, her voice still carrying that strange, foreign cadence, her accent still not quite natural in English. "Now that the half-hour break is over, I recommend we move on to... practicalities."

There were glances exchanged across the hall, silent questions passed between world leaders, diplomats, and officials. Practicalities? What did that even mean? It was President Esposito who spoke first, her voice carefully measured. "By practicalities," she said, "are we to understand that you mean the methods by which your interventions will proceed?"

Evtalo said "Yes. Not all interventions are about building fences. Many are about giving gold, and showing you how to make your own way to paradise. As such... lets start on the light side. We will be offering technology for you to reverse engineer, and some gifts for you to use. These are... loans. But anything you produce from inspiration from them is all fair game. Some will be puzzles to progress you forward. Some will be... tools. Others will just be for fun. But they will within the year."

The Secretary-General's lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she hesitated. She was considering the weight of the next question, of how to phrase it in a way that didn't seem desperate or grasping. Finally, she asked, "Will the distribution of these technologies be universal? Will every nation, every group, have equal access?"

Evtalo replied "It will all be given to moral independent actors. Same thing we did with the cameras early. Just... it will be more diverse, and one group may get one thing, another, another thing. We got it planned, we will announce more details when the time comes." She pauses, and says "The next intresting thing to announce is that with the help of Worlds of a Feather, an internship will open this year. Where sgintists, inovators, and more, can learn on the UUM space station, and return to earth with said knowledge. They will stay on the station for 6 months if accepted, and we will be controlling, and handling applications. Worlds of a feather are handling the teachers, and more from the UUM for this. Think of it... like a mini-collage from the UUM. All individuals are allowed to document, record, and livestream everything except the classes back to earth."

Esposito, ever the diplomat, kept her face carefully composed, but there was no mistaking the spark of calculation behind her eyes. She, like everyone else, knew that how this was handled would define the next stage of Earth's relationship with the UUM. She spoke cautiously. "You mentioned that applications would be handled by you and Worlds of a Feather. Can you clarify—what are your criteria for selection? What kind of individuals will be chosen?"

Evtalo's golden eyes shifted, floating slightly closer as she spoke. "It is not based on government selection. It is individual. There will be no quotas per nation. Only personal merit, innovation, creativity, and moral stability. And yes, it will be fully public. Meaning that anyone, regardless of where they are from, will see the application, the criteria, and be able to apply."

Esposito, ever precise, voiced the thought with careful neutrality. "And when you say moral stability... how do you define that?"

Evtalo's golden eyes swirled slowly, shifting into a pattern that was almost hypnotic. "The ability to learn without harming others in the process," she said simply. "We have no interest in educating tyrants, zealots, or those who would use knowledge to enslave rather than uplift. If that concerns you... it should not."

Carter exhaled slowly, finally breaking the quiet. "And when does this process begin?"

Evtalo responded "We will announce it when we announce it." She then paused, and continued "Reguardless, now... i guess we should talk about the elephant in the room. North Korea."

It was the North Korean representative who spoke first, though his voice barely carried. He had been silent through the entire meeting, content to simply exist in the background, but now the weight of his country's fate had been thrust into the open. He cleared his throat once, twice, before finally managing to speak in halting, heavily-accented English.

"The Democratic People's Republic of Korea," he said, his voice brittle and thin, "does not recognize the authority of the UUM in matters of sovereignty."

Evtalo smiled... cruely. "Oh, that's cute" she said, "Recognition... is irrelevant. What matters is the reality of the situation. You fired nukes at us. Primarly due to a insane leader who wanted us gone, and saw our... speed of action too large, and while drunk ordered the nucular strikes. No... im not kidding."

Silence...

Evtalo's golden eyes swirled, glowing faintly as she continued. "The problem is not just the decision. It is that your system allows for such a decision to occur. Your people are starving. Your infrastructure is rotting. Your leadership structure is—" she paused, tilting her head, searching for the right word, "—a bad joke. A joke that harms. The only reason you have remained stable at all is because the world around you has allowed you to do so. But your system is not stable. It is a failing structure held together by force, fear, and the apathy of outside nations."

She then said "Our first intervention... on August 25th, 2027. Will be the dissolvement of North Korea, integrating all territories over 3 months into South Korea, with its help, and involvement. Until... earth only has one Korea. We will begin immediate cordination with South Korea after this meeting. Anyway... that is all. Shall we move on..." Talax looks to the side. He says "mmm... Atanda, can you handle that." Atanda Xtor looks as holograms form on his view. He nods, and then a wormhole forms above him in secounds, and he disapears. "Sorry, North Korea is in full panic mode, and they are planning on launching nukes at everyone. He is handling it." Everyone... is silent... looking at the fox. The fox looks at something to the side, and chuckles. "Heh... 22 nucular launches... funny."

Meanwhile, intelgence agencies are going crazy, as they detect 22 nucular launches from north korea... heading to several nearby nations... but... they disapear one by one, out of the sky. As satalite photos see a purple star intercepting them.

A sonic boom shook the glass, as Atanda Xtor walked back in thru the door, and floated over them, and then... just stood by the other representitives. As he said "There nuclear arsenal is gone." Talax nodded, and said "Anyway, we will deal with the rest of there horrors later, and actual integrating north with south on August 25th, 2027. Continuing... any questions?" 55 seconds... that was all it took. Silence... awe... fear.

Evtalo nods, and says "Anyway, sense no questions were asked. We will move on. Honestly... thats basicly it for our plans this year. Some interventions here and there, some nice technology, a internship, and north korea will merge with south korea. Nothing big. Anyway... Atanda Xtor, lets go. I think we have said enough. Lets leave them to process." Atanda Xtor gets up, and makes a wormhole, as they walk thru it, one by one. Well... Talax just disapears into a screen.

Some hands went up to stop them... but nothing was said. Most... felt hollow. Minds... blank. Others felt immense fear, or some anxiety. As they considered... what just happened.

Political analysts were already scrambling to contextualize the event. Some were cautiously optimistic—if the UUM was serious about removing dysfunction, then maybe this would lead to real improvements, the kind humanity had never been able to achieve on its own. Others, particularly those aligned with authoritarian regimes, were watching with abject horror. If North Korea had been a test case... who was next?

And then, beyond the halls of power, there were the everyday people watching from their homes, their workplaces, their schools. For them, the reaction was something deeper, something more primal. The world they had woken up in this morning was not the world they were living in now. The unshakable rules of geopolitics had been rewritten in front of their eyes. The concept of "superpowers" was a joke now. The UUM had proven, with almost insulting ease, that nothing humanity had built for itself could stand against them.

Back in the chamber, the North Korean representative finally moved. He wasn't an important man—not in the grand scheme of things. He had no real power, no true authority. He had simply been sent to this meeting as a representative of a regime that no longer existed. He was alone, utterly and completely alone, the last desperate thread of something that had already unraveled. Then, in full view of the world, he simply stood up and walked out.