(UN Liaison Annex, London — February 2040, Evening)
The annex smelled faintly of old paper and fresh toner, the unique perfume of international bureaucracy. Rows of ceiling lights cast a flat glow over the long oval table where documents were being spread like battle maps.
No flags.
No cameras.
Just binders, laptops, pens, and the exhausted determination of people who hadn’t slept in twenty hours.
Ina sat at the center of the table, jacket off, sleeves rolled with clinical precision. Nathan sat to her right, glasses low on his nose as he read three documents simultaneously. Isaac and Julie sat slightly behind, not signatories yet, but present as required originators of the architecture.
Across from them were:
A U.S. diplomatic legal counsel
An EU scientific governance attorney
A UN liaison officer, acting as neutral anchor
Two UK civil servants with faces set in permanent worry lines
Stacks of draft text lay between them, separated by sticky tabs in colors that didn’t look like they belonged in the same universe together:
Yellow: Mandate scope
Green: Oversight authority
Blue: Data-sharing agreements
Red: Hazard classification and suppression clauses
Purple: Research sovereignty protections
Orange: Dispute resolution
The UN liaison cleared his throat.
“We begin with Article One: Purpose and Scope.”
Nathan slid a page forward.
Article One — Purpose and Scope
1.1 Purpose
The Scientific Multilateral Council (“the Council”) is established under the authority of the United Nations to oversee FAEI-driven scientific discovery, environmental optimization research, and any derivative experimental outputs generated by the Fully Autonomous Experimental Intelligence framework.
1.2 Scope
The Council shall:
review, classify, and interpret FAEI-derived experimental results,
establish ethical and technical safeguards for FAEI-mediated research,
coordinate international oversight for high-impact scientific discoveries,
and ensure that no single nation, entity, or private institution gains disproportionate control over FAEI-driven advancements.
The Council does not:
intervene in Halberg Systems' proprietary industrial implementations,
dictate domestic policy,
or assert ownership over national research agendas not involving FAEI.
“FAEI intellectual property, licensing rights, and revenue structures remain vested in the Royal Academy of Sciences under existing UK statute.
The Council shall not alter or supersede these financial or ownership provisions.”
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
1.3 Rationale
Because the FAEI architecture is capable of generating emergent scientific pathways—including those with profound environmental, biological, and geopolitical implications—it shall be subject to multilateral governance, transparency, and coordinated ethical review.
The U.S. counsel frowned.
“The United States requires technical transparency—at least procedural visibility.”
“The council provides transparency,” Ina said without looking up. “It does not grant unilateral access.”
The EU attorney interjected.
“And it must not allow any nation to exert priority influence over the architecture’s development.”
The U.S. counsel stiffened. “That implies we would.”
“History implies you would,” the EU attorney replied evenly.
Before the tension could spiral, Ina tapped her pen twice.
“This is not a forum for relitigating geopolitics. It is a safeguard mechanism.”
The UN liaison nodded quickly, grateful for the intervention.
“Moving on,” he said. “Article Two: Governance.”
He flipped the tab.
“Rotating leadership?” he asked.
“No,” the EU attorney said immediately.
“Yes,” the U.S. counsel countered.
Nathan lifted an eyebrow.
“Neither.”
All eyes turned to him.
“We need a technical chair,” he said. “Not a political one. Someone whose position remains constant regardless of which nation’s representative is currently presiding.”
The UN liaison blinked. “A technical chair?”
“Continuity,” Nathan said. “Without it, this becomes a geopolitical tug-of-war. With it, the architecture stays stable.”
The Americans and Europeans exchanged looks—unhappy, but quietly recognizing the logic.
“And who,” the U.S. counsel asked slowly, “would fill such a role?”
Ina didn’t miss a beat.
“A neutral appointee with deep expertise. Someone with global credibility.”
The EU attorney sighed. “You mean you.”
“No,” Ina said calmly.
“I mean someone like me. But not me. This must be bigger than Halberg Systems.”
Isaac watched her, quietly impressed.
Julie, beside him, caught the faint tremor in his breath.
This was happening fast.
Too fast.
But also exactly as it needed to.
The UN liaison quietly typed the change.
“Technical Chair established,” he murmured. “Qualifications to be determined.”
Next tab.
Hazard suppression.
Red.
The room sobered instantly.
The UK civil servant swallowed.
“We’ve agreed to Clause Zero. We now need wording for derivative limitations.”
The U.S. counsel leaned forward. “We require independent verification that the Catalyst can’t be reconstructed. Technical lockout protocols. Third-party audit logs.”
“Agreed,” the EU attorney said.
“Accepted,” Nathan replied.
“But,” Ina added, “verification does not include access to source mechanisms.”
The EU attorney nodded slowly. “We can work with that.”
The UN liaison finalized the section:
Red Clause:
Hazard Zero (Catalyst) shall be treated as an extinction-class sequence.
No member state, research body, or the council itself shall reproduce, model, or analyze it.
Verification shall be structural, not informational.
Julie saw Isaac relax only slightly.
This was the best possible outcome.
Next tab.
Data Sharing.
Blue.
The U.S. counsel straightened immediately.
“We need high-frequency reporting of AGPI experimental outputs.”
“No,” Ina said.
“You need access to summaries of relevance. Not raw discovery pathways.”
“That’s insufficient.”
“It’s necessary.”
The EU attorney raised a finger.
“And it prevents intellectual arms races. We’re not recreating the Manhattan Project.”
Nathan nodded.
“The data stays neutral. Processed through the council’s filters. That keeps everyone honest—and prevents misuse.”
The U.S. counsel exhaled, frustrated but resigned.
“Fine. Summaries with optional review panels.”
Julie leaned toward Isaac and whispered:
“They’re afraid.”
Isaac whispered back:
“They should be.”
Final tab.
Purple.
Research Sovereignty.
The UN liaison looked around the table.
“This is the most delicate article. It defines how much influence any one nation has. If any.”
No one spoke for several seconds.
Then Ina did.
“This architecture—FAEI, AGPI, everything derived from it—belongs to no one. And therefore everyone.
So research sovereignty must mean stewardship, not ownership.
Shared benefit, shared responsibility.”
Nathan added, “And defined limits on how discoveries can be deployed.”
The U.S. counsel frowned.
“Limits how?”
Julie stepped in gently.
“Limits like preventing the next Catalyst. Limits like requiring ethical oversight. Limits that keep discoveries from outrunning our ability to understand them.”
The EU attorney nodded.
“Yes. That.”
The UK representative looked exhausted, but relieved.
“We can accept that language.”
The UN liaison typed the final changes.
Then he looked up.
“That… concludes the drafting.”
No one cheered.
No one smiled.
They simply sat back in their chairs, realizing what they had just created:
A new global institution.
Not by idealism.
Not by inspiration.
Not by utopian hope.
But by necessity.
And fear.
And the trembling knowledge that the world had changed without asking permission.
The UN liaison closed the laptop softly.
“These terms will be reviewed by our capitals overnight,” he said. “Assuming no objections… the public signing will take place tomorrow.”
Julie leaned into Isaac, head resting against his shoulder.
He closed his eyes.
Nathan adjusted his glasses.
Ina exhaled.
A chapter had ended.
And something new—far larger, far more dangerous—had begun.
