The morning air in San Jose carried the scent of humidity mixed with car exhaust—a smell Ethan hadn't noticed in the two weeks he'd been trapped in the corridors of his dark warehouse. He wore a simple shirt and faded jeans, but his eyes had changed; no longer the nervous graduate seeking a job, but the gaze of a man holding a secret that could set the city ablaze if he wished.
In his backpack lay the prototype of the Ionic One. A phone cover seemingly ordinary enough to deceive anyone, yet in reality, it represented the first physical breach of the thermodynamic laws humans had ever known.
"Aeon, are you sure about the route?" Ethan whispered, adjusting his collar in front of the glass facade of a large electronics store called TechHaven. The store was owned by a man named Marcus, notorious for his ruthlessness in deals and uncanny ability to sniff out innovations before they matured.
[Who do you think I am? Ethan, I've analyzed Marcus's business record and psychological patterns through the available data on the dark web. He is greedy, but smart enough to recognize gold when he sees it. Go in, and remember: you're not selling a phone cover. You're selling the miracle that solves the greatest problem of their primitive age… battery drain.]
Ethan entered the store. Marcus stood behind the counter, a man in his fifties with hawk-like eyes surveying his employees. When Ethan approached, Marcus didn't even lift his head.
"If you're looking for a job, we don't need any new employees," Marcus said in a harsh voice.
Ethan calmly placed his bag on the desk and pulled out his personal phone, old and with a battery that barely lasted an hour—but now wearing the smart cover.
"I'm not looking for a job, Marcus. I'm looking for a distribution partner for the most important invention of the last decade," Ethan said with a confident tone, making Marcus slowly lift his head, a sardonic smile forming on his lips.
"Invention? In a phone cover?" Marcus laughed mockingly. "Hundreds of young people like you have come to me, thinking that adding an extra battery is an invention. Get out, kid—Silicon Valley is full of junk."
Ethan didn't budge. "This cover doesn't contain an extra battery, Marcus. It recycles the processor's wasted thermal energy and converts it into continuous charging current. With it, my phone has run for three days without a single recharge… and its performance increased by 40% because it never heats up."
Silence fell for a moment. Marcus wiped his face with his hand, then reached for the phone. "Show me this nonsense."
Marcus turned the phone in his hands, weighing it… suspiciously light. "Where's the battery? This weight doesn't allow for lithium cells."
[Watch out, Ethan. He's going to connect it to his testing device now. I'll tweak the signal protocol to show him 'impossible' readings that will blow his mind.]
Marcus connected the phone to a voltmeter in his small lab behind the desk. His eyes widened as the needle moved backward. The device wasn't consuming power—it was feeding the battery just by running a heavy app that increased processor heat.
"This… this is technically impossible," Marcus muttered, sweat forming on his forehead. "How did you do this? Where are the circuits?"
Marcus grabbed a small screwdriver, attempting to open the cover, but Ethan snatched the phone away in a swift move.
"Don't try it," Ethan said coldly. "The cover is protected by molecular self-destruction technology. If you attempt to open it without my code, the circuits will turn to worthless carbon dust. You won't get the secret so easily."
Marcus looked at Ethan differently now—a mix of greed and fear. "How much? How much do you want for the patent?"
"I'm not selling the patent," Ethan replied firmly, feeling Aeon push him to hold firm in the negotiations. "I want pre-orders. A contract to supply 10,000 units as a start, with upfront funding for production. In return, I'll give you exclusive distribution rights in this region for six months."
Marcus laughed, but it was a shaky laugh. "Ten thousand units? You're just a guy in a warehouse! How will you produce that number? And how do I know you won't disappear with the money?"
[Ethan, tell him about the logistical system I'll manage. Tell him we don't need Chinese factories—we are the factory.]
"Production isn't your problem," Ethan said. "I'll deliver the first 500 units within a week. If I fail, you can sue me and seize the warehouse and everything in it. But if I succeed, you'll own the product that will kill the portable charger industry worldwide."
Marcus hesitated; the conflict was clear on his face. Suddenly, the store bell rang, and two men in sharp suits with cold eyes entered. Ethan felt a fist squeeze his heart—but Aeon was quicker in analysis.
[Relax. They are not intelligence agents… not yet. They are debt monitors from the bank chasing Marcus. He's drowning, and you are now his lifeline. Press him now—he'll sign anything.]
Ethan smiled internally. "Looks like you're busy, Marcus. I have offers from other stores in Battery Palm. Should I leave?"
"Wait!" Marcus shouted, seeing the men approach. "I'll sign. I'll give you an advance of $100,000 now, the rest upon delivery of the first batch. But swear, if this is a trap, I'll make your life a living hell."
Ethan pulled out a contract Aeon had prepared in advance, filled with legal loopholes protecting Ethan alone. Marcus signed with trembling hands.
Ethan left the store, a check for a sum he hadn't dreamed of during all his years of study in his pocket. He walked a few steps before stopping and taking a deep breath.
"Aeon… we did it. Our first $100,000."
[I told you! These humans can be predicted like primitive chess pieces. Now return to the warehouse. We need to build the mini molecular printer to produce those 500 units. The real work has just begun, and you must be ready… Marcus will certainly try to send someone to steal another prototype tonight.]
Ethan's features hardened. "Let them try. I want to see how your 'protection system' handles intruders."
He returned to the shadows of the warehouse, while the threads of his emerging empire were being woven in secrecy, sending a subtle tremor through the city's technological foundations—one no one yet knew the source of.