The Halls of Power

The Director General of Police, after leaving Lassen's villa, sat in the silence of his office, his mind buzzing with thoughts. He gazed out the window at the capital city of the Kingdom of Macro, its lights shimmering as night descended. The enormity of what he had witnessed at Lassen's villa refused to leave his mind.

The VR headset he had tested wasn't just a gadget. No. It was a revolution. When he had immersed himself in that virtual world, so real yet artificial, he felt as though he had touched a piece of technology straight out of a science fiction novel.

He tapped his desk nervously. This invention could change everything—not just for video games, but for military training, critical scenario simulations, and even education. A technology like this could redefine how Macro approached its challenges.

"It can't stay in the hands of one man," he muttered to himself. "Not without oversight."

He knew what had to be done. As Director General of Police, he had direct access to the highest levels of power. This technology needed to be brought to the Prime Minister's attention. Only he, the intermediary between the people and the king, could decide the next steps.

---

A few hours later, the director climbed the steps of the government palace, an imposing building dominating the center of the capital. He offered a brief nod to the guards at the entrance before walking through its long hallways, lined with offices. Here, the air buzzed with activity—advisors rushing by, secretaries burdened with documents—evidence that power was in motion.

After being announced by a secretary, he was led into a private meeting room where the Prime Minister awaited. The man, in his late fifties, was known for his calm demeanor and analytical mind. Sitting behind a large table, he looked up at the director and gestured for him to take a seat.

"Director, what brings you here so urgently?" he asked, his voice composed.

The director took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.

"I'm here to speak to you about a technology I've seen with my own eyes. It has the potential to change our country… and perhaps even the world."

The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

"I'm listening."

"You remember the recent events involving 'Monsieur X'? The one who dismantled Geria's spy network?"

"How could I forget? That man is a genius, but also an enigma," the Prime Minister replied, his brow furrowing.

"Well, he hasn't stopped there," the director continued. "He's created something… a revolutionary technology. A fully immersive virtual reality headset."

The Prime Minister hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.

"A VR headset? That's nothing new. Many companies are already developing similar technologies."

The director shook his head emphatically.

"No, sir. This isn't just any headset. I tried it myself. It's as if you are truly inside the game. Every detail, every sensation is perfectly replicated. You don't look at a screen anymore—you're inside it. I saw firsthand what it can do."

The Prime Minister's expression shifted. His initial skepticism gave way to cautious curiosity.

"And what does he want from you?"

"He's looking for an industrial partner capable of producing these headsets on a massive scale. Obviously, this kind of production is beyond his personal means. I believe this is an opportunity for us, sir. If we collaborate with him, Macro could become a technological powerhouse."

The Prime Minister steepled his fingers, thinking deeply. Silence settled between them, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock on the wall.

"Why did he choose you?" he finally asked.

"Because he trusts me," the director replied simply. "We've worked together before, and he knows I'm someone he can rely on."

The Prime Minister nodded slowly.

"A technology like this… in the wrong hands, it could do more harm than good. You understand what that means?"

"Perfectly, sir," the director said with a firm nod. "That's why I'm telling you. We can't let this opportunity slip by, but we also need to act carefully."

The Prime Minister leaned back in his chair, his expression growing more serious.

"I'll bring this to the king. Anything related to Monsieur X—his genius or his inventions—must be handled with the utmost care. I assume you don't have any more information about him? Who he really is, where he lives?"

The director hesitated briefly, recalling the image of Lassen, lounging in his chair, a novel in hand, looking as though he couldn't care less about the world.

"No, sir. All I know is that he's here, somewhere, in our country. And that he prefers to remain in the shadows."

The Prime Minister studied him for a moment, as if trying to determine if he was holding something back, then nodded.

"Very well. I'll handle it. In the meantime, I want you to stay in contact with him. Monitor him discreetly, but don't do anything that might alarm him. If he has such technology, we're better off keeping him on our side."

The director stood and offered a respectful salute.

"I understand, sir. I'll do what's necessary."

"Keep me updated," the Prime Minister concluded, rising as well.

---

As he left the palace, the director felt both relieved and burdened. He had done his duty, but questions continued to gnaw at him. Who was Lassen, really? Why would a man with so much power seem so indifferent to it? And just how far would his genius take him?

As he slid into his car, the director muttered to himself:

"What kind of man can change the world while refusing to lead it?"

He didn't yet have the answers, but one thing was certain: Lassen—or rather, Monsieur X—was far from done surprising the world.