D-DAY

When they arrive at the gates of Libra Justice, the small group sanitise their hands using the sensor sinks located at the entrance. Stephan and Jeremy clock in before the latter apologises as he starts walking away towards the locker room, 'Sorry, I'm going to put on my uniform. I'll join you later,' he says.

'Meet us at the front desk, if not at Mr. Vaughen's office,' Nina says, turning to him without stopping walking.

***

The receptionist freezes immediately when she sees Stephan arriving accompanied by a former senator, an MP from the World Parliamentary, and the president of Togo, surrounded by four bodyguards. She would have received the information weeks in advance if they had been invited.

'Madam Senator, Mr. President, MP. Leszczyński, what honour do we have for your visit?' the young woman exclaims while she gets off her seat to greet them with a broad, nervous smile.

'Is Mr. Vaughen in yet?" Nina asks, delighted to see that she doesn't need to waste time with introductions. Clearly, this receptionist is knowledgeable about important people in her world.

'Let me check,' the receptionist replies, barely hiding the anxiety in her voice and face.

The young woman sits down to type on her screen. At the same moment, Jeremy comes back running behind the small group. The receptionist doesn't flinch, her eyes glued to her screen. She reads with a stern face the information displayed on her screen before continuing to type. She reads again, then finally looks up at Nina to tell her:

'Mr. Vaughen is already here, and he'll be delighted to welcome you in his office; I reckon your son and his teammate will be able to guide you,' she says with a big smile without glancing at Jeremy.

'Thank you very much,' Nina says, turning to Stephan, who takes the lead of the group.

Since the very moment they have stepped inside the premises, Borys has been inspected with avid curiosity all that he was allowed to see at Libra Justice. The detail of the interior décor, the choice of colours, the pragmatism of the uniform of their agents, the way they walk, the way they communicate with people and with each other. Everything seems to have been designed to create a detailed, rigorous and flawless conformity; Beneath the diversity of these young faces, identical attitudes, opinions and preferences are imposed. All those who don't fit in or who diverge even slightly from this rigorous conformity are doomed to slow extermination by subtle exclusion where humanity becomes invisible to men.

The old man knows subtle exclusion well; invisibility. In his youth, he was so afraid of it that he himself chose to live a lie more than half of his life, allowing his story to be told by people who didn't know him nor had the desire to do so. The shame of revealing his true self, speaking his truth and being sanctioned for it tied his throat and knotted his stomach for years. Until finally, his position in society enabled him to tell his story to the face of the world so that it could be heard, including by those who, like him, had decision-making power.

Mr. Vaughen's door is wide open; the middle-aged man stands to welcome his surprise guests. The President's four bodyguards stand at each side of the door outside the office as the rest of the small group enters the room. Mr. Vaughen takes them to a back room, spacious with luxurious furnishing and decor. In the middle, stand a round desk with four chairs and a giant flat screen on the wall. Large windows display a peaceful landscape with a dense forest and waterfalls on a bright sunny day.

Stephan and Jeremy go to stand at attention along the wall at the entrance. They stare straight ahead with an expressionless face. In their black metallic uniform, they look like two statues of modern times. They listen carefully.

'Madam Senator, Mr. President, MP. Leszczyński,' Mr. Vaughen says, shaking hands with the woman and the two men one after the other. He invites them to take a seat around his desk.

'Well, what brings you to Libra Justice?' he asks as he sits down with a calm, and peculiar expression on his face.

'For my part," the President begins, 'I'm waiting for an update on the service my daughter paid you for.'

'We're only at the beginning of the mission...' Mr Vaughen replies.

'Except that during the mission, you've lost my daughter,' Nina cuts in sharply.

She has already explained; there is no time for negotiations or political diplomacy; her daughter is in the hands of people as extremists as the organisation that has sent her on that crazy mission in the first place.

'Everything is fine, why overreacting?' Mr. Vaughen retorts evenly with a smile, 'We need time to think about a strategy.'

'Perfect!' Nina snaps as she pulls her tablet out of her handbag, 'Speaking of a strategy, we have one, fast and very effective, but we would need your collaboration,' she places the device on the desk before adding in a firm tone, 'Would you like to hear it?'

'Of course, I'm all ears,' Mr. Vaughen replies gravely. He places his hands in front of his pursed lips.

'So, to start with and to make sure we're all on the same wavelength,' she continues, unlocking her tablet, 'You're going to sign this for me as Libra Justice's commitment to his agent Jeremy Ridley as reparation for the murder of his mother to influence his decision about his employment at Libra Justice.'

As he hears those words, Jeremy can't hold back a shiver running through his whole body then he composes himself. Stephan standing by his side, gives him a compassionate gaze through the corner of his eye.

'Those are big accusations you're making here, Senator Xi Huang,' Mr. Vaughen retorts. He chuckles with a smirk.

'Ah, but these aren't just accusations, Mr. Vaughen. Libra Justice didn't see fit to do a low-key job. Maybe they found the mother and son too insignificant to hide their criminal act in broad daylight,' she says. She shows him the on-camera photo of a Libra Justice agent.

Her gaze doesn't move an inch off the man sitting in front of her.

'And, once you've done everything you'll be told, you'll get that thing off that young man's face and compensate him with the full amount you paid to operate on him.'

Mr. Vaughen nods. He swallows his saliva before questioning, 'And, what's your strategy for getting your daughter and the President's granddaughter out?'

'The inventors of this thing need to show Jeremy how to control his device to do what he did to get out and make sure the other AI is disabled. This will give your agents free rein to attack, search the place and find Sarah and Gaëlle,' she replies.

'How many agents will you need?' he asks.

'How many agents do you have?' she questions.

'In town, a little over five hundred,' he replies.

'That should be fine,' she replies dryly.

The middle-aged man stares at her with a smirk, puzzled, and amused, but seeing that Nina's facial expression and gaze don't flinch, his own face turns very serious again.

Woman's anger is no joke.

'Can you sign? Just here,' she says, handing him her tablet. Then, she calls her son while still turning her back to him.

The young man neither responds nor moves.

'Here, I'm the one giving them orders,' Mr. Vaughen says seriously as he takes the tablet from her hands.

'I'm his mother; it's two or three ranks above yours, even here my dear,' she retorts. Then, she swings on her chair and turns around to her son. She tells him in a soft but firm tone, 'Stephan, please can you upload the file titled Jeremy Ridley once Mr. Vaughen has signed it to send a copy to Borys, the President's office, your sister and Jeremy. You should also send Mr. Vaughen your resignation effective as of the end of this assignment. Thank you, sweetheart.'

'Yes, Mum,' the agent standing at attention replies.

Nina swings back to Mr. Vaughen. She gives him a big smile, then declares gravely, 'Alright, I guess we can start now.'

Nina, Borys, and the President of Togo all start to stare at Mr Vaughen. Borys in particular is appalled how the so-called reputable benevolent organisation has manipulated and abused a young man to seemingly serve society. When is humanity going to stop fooling themselves in the name of saving the most vulnerable ones while serving the interests of those who have too much and want even more instead? This is what the old man wonders every single morning at the foot of the stairs of the World Assembly. For the fearful young man that resides in his ninety-three-year-body, human conformity will always be synonymous with human deformity. Despite the World Parliament and all its beautiful promises, it is yet their conformity within that prevents men's dreams from manifesting themselves in the world they are claiming to save.

People may say that it is young people who will bring a better world, according to Borys, the better world isn't to come from the future. In his opinion, it is created now, at every moment, at every choice of every single person. To him, the world remains the same except for a few details, precisely because the youth's voice is often silenced; a powerful, piercing voice like the shrill cry of a new-born baby. Just like the new-born however, the fragile small body of the youth isn't yet robust enough to carry their dreams to the height of human ambition. They lack the mental strength and audacity of their elders. They, unlike the young, have the past of men and women written on their face, as well as the strength and quiet assurance that their accumulated material and spiritual wealth give them.