«MARCH 30, 2061. Mandaluyong City.»

*Beep*

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Which part, Professor?”

“The methodology. Congress green-lighted this?”

*Beep*

“Yes,” Dr. Imperio nodded. “The group received word about it this morning. We’re working on procuring resources as we speak.”

“Why?”

*Beep*

The question hung in the still air of the windowless room. For a few moments all that can be heard is the soft, continuous beeping of the security module overhead. All the other attendees looked at the professor, each with his own idea on how to answer, but no one ventured to do so.

“What do you mean?”, a thick, booming voice from the other end of the long table finally replied.

“Why did they approve such a method?”, Professor Buenaventura reiterated, as if the question would make more sense that way.

The other man, a grizzled octogenarian in an olive green suit, placed his head on his chin thoughtfully. His elbow rested lightly on the narra as he eyed the project details. “Maybe because they, too, thought it was necessary.”

“The alpha stage saw a significant neurocognitive degradation in several of the subjects. As much as 53%! Not one of them had been successfully reintegrated into society! And now you're planning to do it on —”

“Discrepancies during the alpha stage had been duly noted, and we have made significant amendments to prevent them from happening again,” a young man in glasses spoke up.

“Discrepancies? This is a blatant disregard for research ethics!”

“And that’s because ethics will not play any role in this project, Professor,” Dr. Imperio retorted coldly. “I’m sure you understand that if our country’s adversaries do not take ethics into account, neither should we.”

“Against our own citizens?”

“You’re beginning to sound like a politician, not a man of science.” Imperio leaned back against the gray office chair.

“And you’re sounding like a mad scientist,” Buenaventura countered. A few chuckles went around the room, feeble attempts to defuse the tension. 

The professor scanned the proposal once again, his eyes moving frantically against the text hovering in mid-air across him. A small blue LED blinked on a headband-like contraption he wore. Nanoelectrodes fired into his scalp,  allowing him to scroll through without lifting a finger.

He then turned to the olive-clad man. “General, I’m afraid this is something I cannot agree to.”

“Professor, you are a vital part of our advisory panel. I’m sure you are compensated enough for your efforts.” The general’s tone was conversational, almost fatherly. Then he sat upright and met the professor’s gaze. “But if you feel this project is too much for you, then so be it. I am sure there are others in your field whose expertise we can rely on.”

*Beep*

The room fell silent once more, until one of the attendees spoke up. “Sir, I think it’s a bit too late to make changes in the panel’s mem—” the man suddenly stopped as the General held up a finger.

“Tempus fugit,” he leaned back as he addressed the room. “The first shipment of TITAN parts lands tomorrow, and they'll be expecting results as fast as possible. This project will not be derailed.” He then turned to the man directly across him. “Professor, you may leave. Project Gordian Knot will proceed — and succeed — even without your assistance.”