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LOCATION: VOSS TOWER, 19TH FLOOR
CITY: SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
DATE: JUNE 19, 2025 | 12:00 PM
Elliot Voss walked slowly to the podium, his tailored suit jacket buttoned, his tie perfectly symmetrical. He stood behind the podium and looked out across the room.
Nobody made a sound as he surveyed the gathering of his top executives. He let the silence stretch—not to intimidate, but to underscore the weight of the moment. When he saw the first signs of restless energy—subtle shifts, a few held breaths—he began.
“I’ve always believed that progress—true progress—doesn’t arrive with fanfare. It arrives quietly. Unannounced.”
He let the words settle before continuing.
“I’m aware that the manner in which I summoned you here was abrupt. Some of you have flown across the country with little context. And I know I don’t do such things lightly. Or often.”
He paused again. A few nods from the audience.
“You’ve all updated your NDAs with Mallory. I trust that the language of that document made one thing clear: this is not a routine meeting. This isn’t about projections, earnings, or acquisitions. This is something else.”
He scanned the crowd—sixty-four of the most capable corporate leaders on the planet.
“Each of you leads one of the most advanced companies in your field. Over the years, you’ve built those companies with vision and precision. Medical breakthroughs. Data systems. Cybersecurity. Material science. Logistics. Nanomanufacturing. Even entertainment and design. You’ve each been entrusted with a piece of the future—and you’ve delivered beyond expectation.”
He let them absorb the acknowledgment—not flattery, but simple truth.
“What you may not have realized is that those pieces were never isolated. They were part of a larger design. A convergence.”
Now the room leaned in.
“Today, you will see how it all connects. But before I take you there—I need to thank you. Every one of you. Without your work, what I’m about to show you would not be possible.”
He let the silence linger.
“And I don’t believe in empty praise.” He glanced at Mallory, then continued.
“As of this morning, I’ve authorized the boards of every one of our companies to issue a discretionary bonus—equal to ten percent of annual salary or wage—for every employee from entry-level to executive. This is in addition to whatever compensation structures are already in place.”
A flicker of movement passed through the room—raised eyebrows, subtle shifts of surprise. A few in the audience exhaled, tension eased.
Then his tone shifted—firmer now.
“You may have noticed your phones and laptops do not work on this floor. That is by design. The jamming array ensures your full attention—and more importantly, absolute confidentiality. What you learn today must remain here, on the 19th floor of Voss Tower. It cannot be shared. Not yet.”
He scanned the room again. No one moved. All eyes remained locked on him.
“Good.”
He nodded toward the side of the auditorium. Mallory’s support team entered silently, each carrying a stack of tablets. They distributed them in perfect synchronicity, then exited the room without a word.
The large screen behind Voss shifted from the WELCOME slide to a simple, four-line agenda:
Agenda:
? Health
? Longevity
? Global Access
? Closing Remarks
Most of the executives flipped open the leather covers on their tablets. The agenda appeared on their screens—clean, minimal, utterly unhelpful.
Voss let the moment breathe.
Then, finally, he began.
“Through all of your hard work and dedication, we’ve accomplished something that, until now, has lived only in theory, or in dreams. We’ve synthesized a compound that eradicates all known forms of disease, infection, and systemic imbalance. Not manages. Not treats. Eradicates.”
A ripple of whispers moved through the room like a shifting tide—subtle but undeniable.
Voss held up a hand, and the room fell still.
“It’s called Vitalyx. And it doesn’t just cure illness. It doesn’t just eliminate pathogens. It fundamentally restores the human body to its optimal baseline.”
The screen behind him shifted. On every tablet and on the central display, an image of the product appeared—a small, pearl-colored bottle, rotating slowly in perfect clarity. Minimal labeling. No markings but the name.
“It’s a liquid. Odorless, nearly tasteless. About the size of a Five-Hour Energy bottle. But one dose—just one—cleanses the entire body. You ingest it, go to sleep… and by morning, you wake up healed.”
He let that settle.
“Vitalyx functions through a class of programmable synthetic bio-constructs—you can think of them as molecular machines. Each one is composed of engineered peptide scaffolds, combined with a proprietary library of self-assembling enzymes and cellular logic gates.”
“Once activated by body heat, they scan the host's biology at the cellular level. They identify anything that doesn’t belong—viral RNA, bacterial colonies, malignant cells, misfolded proteins, heavy metals, metabolic byproducts—and begin a full-body extraction protocol.”
“Rather than attacking cells, they isolate and neutralize threats through targeted encapsulation. Everything is bound at the molecular level and passed through the body’s existing elimination pathways—no invasive procedure, no pain, no side effects.”
He paused, letting them absorb the implications.
“But Vitalyx doesn’t stop there.”
“Over the next forty-eight hours, it executes a genomic integrity pass—scanning your DNA for inherited mutations or damage. When it finds errors—oncogenes, mutational hotspots, regulatory instabilities—it initiates a corrective rewrite using a pre-encoded epigenetic patch library tailored to the individual’s sequence. We’re not just healing you. We’re rewriting the code that made you sick in the first place. And we’re doing it in a way that protects future generations.”
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He paused, letting the gravity of it all settle into the silence.
“I realize not all of you are medical scientists,” he said, his tone calm but unwavering. “But I assure you—every word I’ve just shared is accurate. This isn’t a projection. It isn’t a prototype. Vitalyx is real. It exists. And it works.”
That was when someone finally broke.
“That’s not possible,” a voice muttered from the third row, to Voss’s left. Sharp, incredulous. More nervous than confrontational.
Heads turned. A few rippled outward behind him.
Voss didn’t flinch.
His voice remained steady, just as composed as it had been from the start.
“I understand your disbelief. Truly. It sounds like science fiction. But it’s not. It’s real. It’s already in production. And it’s almost ready for release.”
That was all it took.
The room erupted—suddenly and all at once. Questions. Shouts. Half-risen figures gesturing, demanding answers, talking over one another in a swell of disbelief and exhilaration.
Voss stepped back from the podium and glanced to his right.
Graham Thorne was already in motion.
He walked forward with deliberate calm, his hands folded in front of him, the fabric of his black suit stretched taut over the mass of his shoulders and arms. He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to.
His voice began low—but it rose with precision, power curling beneath each word.
“Everyone—sit down. Now.”
The room quieted by degrees.
“Mr. Voss is not finished. And you will give him your full attention. If not, you will be removed from the room.”
Silence snapped into place.
In a single beat, every executive returned to their seat. Not a murmur remained. Not a foot shifted.
No one wanted to miss what came next.
Now they understood why the NDAs had been rewritten. Why the security was absolute.
This wasn’t hype.
This wasn’t a pitch.
This was history being written in real time.
And Voss… Voss wasn’t even done.
“Thank you, Graham.”
Voss returned to the podium. “I know this is a lot to process. I hope, again, it helps explain the recent NDA updates and the level of secrecy leading up to today. I know you all have questions—but let me finish. We’ll address next steps shortly. I promise not to keep you here all day.”
He scanned the room. The executives had mostly calmed down, returning to their seats. Some tapped at their tablets, noticing now that while the devices seemed to contain additional files, they couldn’t access anything beyond the opening slides.
Voss continued.
“Once the human body has been cleansed, stabilized, and returned to a state of homeostatic health, it becomes ready for the second phase of transformation.”
The screen behind him shifted. A second bottle appeared—pearl white, identical in size and shape to the Vitalyx vial. This one bore a new label, slowly rotating:
REJUVENEX
“Rejuvenex is the second half of a masterstroke. While Vitalyx restores the body’s integrity, Rejuvenex reverses time’s wear and tear. In clinical terms—it extends telomeres, repairs mitochondrial DNA, and reactivates dormant stem cells.”
“But it doesn’t stop at the physical. It enhances cognitive function—boosting neuroplasticity, repairing memory scaffolding, restoring the neural pathways responsible for fluid intelligence and long-term recall. Rejuvenex reverses twenty to thirty years of biological aging.”
He glanced across the room, reading their expressions. There were questions in every pair of eyes—but less panic now. They were listening. Processing. Trying to believe.
“Rejuvenex can be safely administered one week after Vitalyx. Once the first compound resets the body to optimal health, this one preserves and extends that state. Not indefinitely—but for a very, very long time.”
“It’s not an immortality formula,” he added, “but it’s about as close as we’ve ever come.”
That was when the calm cracked again.
A woman rose from the center of the second row. Dr. Elise Draven, CEO of CleanGene Therapeutics.
“Mr. Voss, we’ve spent the last fifteen years mapping epigenetic responses to degenerative signaling. Our teams lead the world in that field—and we’re not even close to reversing aging at this scale. How—how can you expect us to believe this is real?”
The room quieted. Voss met her gaze. He didn’t raise his voice.
“Dr Draven. Good to see you again. You and your teams at CleanGene have contributed more than you know. But you’ve only ever seen one part of the puzzle. You don’t know the full scale.” He paused to look over the assembled executives again. “None of you did. Until now.”
He let that hang for just a moment longer, as Dr. Draven sat back down, dumbfounded. Then Voss softened his tone.
“Please, relax. There will be ample time for questions and deeper technical discussions during the breakout sessions this afternoon and tomorrow. I assure you—every answer you seek will be provided.”
Elliot Voss continued with the meeting, letting his top generals in on one of the greatest secrets in human history. When he finally concluded his long presentation, Graham stepped up to the podium, nodding to his boss as they passed each other. He could see the weariness in Elliot’s eyes, but the older man stood ramrod straight—still appearing as fresh as a soldier in basic training at the first muster call of the morning.
“Thank you for your attention,” Graham began. “We know this has been a long day for all of you.”
He looked to his right as Mallory’s team entered once again, each carrying a tray of phones. They distributed them swiftly, without a word, before exiting.
Graham waited for the doors to close behind the last staffer before continuing.
“These phones are encrypted with a new protocol developed by Craylock Cyberdefense. Mr. Mercer—please raise your hand.”
Surprised at the mention—especially from Graham Thorne—Colin Mercer raised his hand from his seat near the back. Several heads turned toward him.
“Colin and his team developed this encryption protocol specifically for this purpose—though I expect he didn’t know its end use until about an hour ago,” Graham said with a faint grin.
“Moving forward, all communication regarding what you’ve seen today will happen either in person, under controlled secure protocols, or over these phones. Text messages will automatically expire after a brief window. All transmissions are locked behind a tamper-proof firewall. These devices cannot be cloned. Cannot be traced. Cannot be compromised.”
“New email addresses have been preloaded. Do not use any corporate systems to discuss these matters. No laptops. No shared calendars. No assistants. No exceptions.”
He let the pause sit, then scanned the room with a hardened gaze.
“Am I clear?”
Silence.
“Good.” He stepped back. “I’m available if anything comes up. Now I’ll turn things over to Mallory McInnis, who’ll walk you through the logistics for the next day and a half.”
Graham stepped away from the podium as Mallory approached, taking his place by the side exit once more. Voss remained a few feet behind, his gaze steady, proud.
Mallory adjusted the mic.
“Thanks, Graham. And thank you all again for your patience. I know today has been… mentally and maybe even emotionally taxing, given what’s been shared.”
She clicked the remote in her hand, and a new slide appeared behind her—a schedule of breakout sessions grouped in different ways. Each company name was listed under its relevant track.
“You’ll notice your tablets are now unlocked. Please begin by authenticating with the last four digits of your Social Security Number and your fingerprint. This is required to access the material.”
She waited a few minutes, watching the audience. As expected, every executive completed the task without issue.
“Alright. You should now see your full schedule for this afternoon and tomorrow, followed by your personal return travel details. Your boarding passes are preloaded and will activate when your phone pings your location near your departure time.”
“When you arrive at your assigned meetings, your tablet will automatically open the relevant briefing materials. No passwords needed. Just a fingerprint.”
Mallory took a breath, softening her tone.
“You’ll also find curated materials on Vitalyx and Rejuvenex—tailored to your field. Logistics specialists won’t have to parse medical trial data, and research directors won’t be sifting through warehousing forecasts. It’s all filtered for clarity and focus.”
She closed her tablet and looked out over the room.
“That concludes our session. Rooms at the Omni across the street have been arranged for each of you. Some of you have afternoon and evening meetings scheduled later today; others will be back here first thing in the morning. Please check your tablets for times—and be ready. You are already checked in at the hotel, we have your key cards up front,” she said as, once again, her team members entered and presented hotel room cards in their envelope sleeves to each of the executives.
“Please be safe, and we’ll see you again soon.”
Mallory stepped back from the podium.
Executives slowly began to rise—some stretching limbs, others still seated, staring into space. Processing. Calculating. Trying to grasp the magnitude of what had just been revealed.