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LOCATION: THE SUMMIT, PENTHOUSE, 32ND FLOOR
CITY: RUSSIAN HILL, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
DATE: JUNE 16, 2025 | TIME: 5:00 AM
It wasn't like the world was about to end tomorrow.
But it wasn't exactly unicorns and rainbows either, was it?
Elliot Voss stared into the swirl of his morning latte, watching the steam rise in lazy patterns, like smoke from a distant battlefield.
His mind ticked through the morning headlines with mechanical efficiency: climate collapse, widening poverty, food shortages, viral outbreaks. A carousel of modern chaos. Familiar, yet somehow more fragile with each passing year.
He had lived through war and witnessed peace, seen empires rise and economies crumble, sat at negotiating tables where nations brokered hope, and others where they signed away futures. In eighty-two years on this beautiful, broken planet, he had learned to recognize patterns. And this one felt all too familiar.
Except now… the venom was somehow different.
Not just conflict, but true contempt.
Not just opposition, but dehumanization.
He had never seen this much hollow rage, this much noise drowning out what truly mattered.
It made him ache in ways he rarely admitted, even to himself.
His fingers, scarred and steady, rubbed across his lined face. The gesture was automatic, almost weary.
It's only a matter of time, he thought grimly, before another global war breaks out.
And this time, he knew: there wouldn't be any winners.
His gaze drifted toward the window, where the morning light edged the glass in gold. Far below, the city hummed with oblivious purpose.
Something needed to be done.
And if no one else would do it…
He would.
Elliot stood in front of his home office window. The clock read 5:30 a.m., and the first streaks of sunrise broke the horizon in quiet orange and gold.
It was a good day to start something new.
Or, more accurately…
Something long overdue.
The epiphany had struck when he was just twenty-two.
Double majoring in history and physics, a pairing no one understood, and fewer supported. But the vision he'd seen back then had never left him. Not for a single moment.
Now, sixty years later, the timing was finally right.
Everything was ready.
He had built empires from molten steel and poured foundations from concrete, the literal building blocks of civilization. After graduating from University of Michigan, Voss began his career at Motor City Steelworks. He climbed quickly: head of R&D, then Vice President of Sales. Sharp mind. Steady hand.
The Chairman took notice.
When the older man was diagnosed with cancer, he convinced the board to name Elliot his successor.
From there, Voss pushed Motor City into uncharted territory. He funneled capital into next-generation R&D and pivoted into high-value metals, the kind forged for rocket engines, deep-sea rigs. All the crucibles of innovation.
Materials meant to endure.
Just like him.
Motor City became one of the premier metal producers on Earth. Its valuation soared into the billions.
Eventually, the board offered him the chance to take full control. Over the next decade, as board members retired or shareholders passed away, Voss openly acquired every available share.
He eventually became the sole owner of Motor City Steelworks.
But he didn't stop there.
Next came concrete. Then construction.
Each new company flourished. Not through luck, but through precision and strategy.
When he expanded into biotechnology, medical research, smart infrastructure, and nanomanufacturing, he did so quietly. Out of the public eye.
Thanks to his reputation, investors lined up to fund anything he touched. But after Motor City, he stopped acquiring. From then on, he built everything from the ground up, always installing his own boards, hand-picked to share his exacting vision.
Each business was compartmentalized.
No single board saw the full picture.
That was intentional.
Because if anyone had seen the full blueprint, if they'd realized what Elliot Voss was really doing…
They might have laughed.
Or worse: tried to stop him.
He never liked explaining himself.
Not after everything he'd lost. After everything he'd accomplished.
Better to be underestimated or misunderstood.
Better to stay in the shadows, until it was too late to stop him.
Because, he didn't want to save the world.
He wanted to rewrite its operating system.
Now, at eighty-two, with no heirs, and his body beginning to fail, the time had come to converge the threads.
It was no longer enough to own the separate components.
He had to bring it all together.
Before his window closed.
Before the eternal silence claimed him.
Before everything he'd built turned to dust in someone else's hands.
He crossed the room and sat at his desk. A biometric scan confirmed his retinal ID. A blinking prompt on his phone accepted his fingerprint. The hidden folder on his computer unlocked. And with it, a lifetime of ambition.
Elliot stared at the full ledger of companies he controlled. His personal net worth stood at $114 billion. But that was just the surface.
The true weight of his empire, the combined valuation of his companies and all their subsidiaries, exceeded three trillion dollars.
He let the numbers settle in his mind again.
Yes, he thought. It's time to begin.
He picked up his phone again and sent a message to his executive assistant, Mallory McInnis.
There was work to do.
Sixty-four main companies, with hundreds of subsidiaries under them.
Trillions in combined assets.
A lifetime of silence and precision.
Now it was time to form his Core Council, his version of the Round Table.
Like Arthur. Except this table wouldn't sit in a castle.
It would stand at the crossroads of history, humanity, and technological development.
The Ascension Framework was almost ready.
And once it began, there would be no turning back.
For the first time in decades, his timeline had accelerated.
No longer measured in generations.
Now, it was down to weeks.
Months, even.
Elliot Voss took a quick shower. Got dressed.
And prepared for the short commute that would change the world.