It came through the bookstore's fax machine.
A relic no one remembered plugging in.It hadn't worked in months.
But that morning, it sputtered to life.Hissed.Spat out a single page.
No logo.No contact name.Just one sentence:
"Let's talk."
And a phone number.
Emir stared at it.
— "They want us to make the first move."
Ziya took the paper, examined the ink.
— "No traceable signature. No stamp. But the number's state-tier."
Çağla ran it through three databases.
— "Redirected through four VPNs, but the bounce ends at a private defense subcontractor."
Leyla didn't hesitate.
— "Trap."
But Emir, after a long pause, picked up the old landline.Dialed.
Three rings.
Then a voice.
Masculine. Calm. Educated.
— "Mr. Kara.We'd prefer to call you a builder now.Not a poet."
Emir said nothing.
The voice continued.
— "We admire what you've done.Truly.A new energy system. Community-driven. Modular.Elegant."
A beat.
— "But that kind of elegance threatens old scaffolding.You understand."
Still, Emir didn't speak.
The voice smiled audibly.
— "We're not asking you to stop.We're asking you to let us help shape the direction."
Then, the offer:
Funding.
Distribution.
Security.
And full immunity from future regulatory changes.
In exchange?
Vetting of each design.
Inclusion of "certain enhancements."
And collaboration on 'select private-sector versions.'
—
Emir finally spoke.
His voice was calm.
— "You burned a box."
The voice didn't flinch.
— "Correction.Someone burned a box.We don't burn.We absorb."
And then:
— "Don't make us choose between partnership and removal."
Click.
—
The room was silent.
No one needed to ask what was said.
They could see it in Emir's eyes—not fear.
Fury.
But not everyone shared it.
Ziya paced.
— "We can't fight ghosts and governments.What if we could negotiate a margin of autonomy?"
Leyla growled.
— "You saw what they did.We give them the blueprints, they'll weaponize resonance within six months."
Ece folded her arms.
— "If they want a deal, it means we've already shifted the paradigm.That's leverage."
Mehmet finally said:
— "But do we want to build in a world where truth needs permission?"
—
Emir looked at them all.
Then walked to the chalkboard.
Wrote one word:
"No."
Underlined once.
Then again.
—
Cliffhanger:That night, a small drone hovered over the bookstore's rooftop.No sound.No light.Just a whisper recorded onto its onboard speaker.
One line.
"We offered peace.Next, we'll offer replacement."
And then it vanished.