Looking Out the Dirty Windows of the Glass Tower
In the hallowed halls of academia, where polished floors mirrored the towering ambitions of those who walked them, Dr. Su Vera stood in her office, staring out the dirty windows of her glass tower. Her eyes, typically attuned to the precise details of microscopic slides, instrument screens, and intricate data charts, now drifted toward the distant horizon of her career. But instead of a clear vista, it was clouded by the smudges of compromise and conformity.
The institution that once nurtured her curiosity had become a gilded cage. The freedom she sought within the academic world was confined by the bars of funding proposals, peer reviews, and the bureaucratic dance of scientific politics.
Institutionalization of Thought
Nelson Mandela once said “Any man or institution that tries to rob me of my dignity will lose.” These words echoed in Su’s mind, a solemn reminder of what was at stake. Over the years, she had poured her passion into her research, but with each step forward, she found herself further from the truth she had set out to discover. The institution she served, once a beacon of intellectual pursuit, had gradually dulled her spirit. It had become a place where thought was both encouraged and constrained, bound within the limits of grant proposals and “Funding Opportunities.”
What Su hadn’t fully realized until now was how thoroughly she had been institutionalized. The echo chamber of academia had amplified her scientific voice while muffling her deeper questions. Her research, once a wild bird of prey, had been subtly tamed by the unseen hands of those who funded and shaped it. The patrons of science had a taste for certain outcomes, certain discoveries, and Su began to see how her work had been bent to fit their preferences.
As a scientist, she had spent her career identifying biases and eliminating them from her experiments. Yet the most insidious bias had gone unnoticed—the one dictating the kind of knowledge that was deemed valuable and worthy of publication. The very system that claimed to champion knowledge had become a gatekeeper, choosing what truths were allowed to pass.
The Song of the Academic Scientist
In this world, a scientist must sing for their supper, and the melody is often set by those who hold the purse strings. Su’s song, her research proposals, had become compositions performed first and foremost for the approval of funding panels.
The refrain went something like this:
“I need grant funding,” the scientist pleads,
to a panel of grantors, while down on their knees.
“My research can connect to a cure for disease,
just read between the lines of my grant, if you please.”
“The experimentation outlined here is already done,
it’s my next study that this grant will fund.
While I admit my newest study is not even related,
the way we publish research is clearly outdated.”
This was the tune of modern science—a loop played over and over, with each refrain yielding fewer genuine discoveries. Science had become less about discovery and more about appealing to those in power. If the scientific world were a stage, its achievements were celebrated in private, behind the curtains, while the public, who were supposed to benefit from the discoveries, only caught glimpses of the grand performances long after they had lost relevance.
Reflection and Revelation
As Su gazed out at the fogged glass, she realized how deeply her field had been compromised. The transparency that should define science was hidden behind smudged, opaque windows. The view from her tower might have offered perspective, but it was obstructed by layers of institutional control—decisions about what was published, who had access, and, most importantly, who profited from it all.
It was in this moment of clarity that Su had a revelation. What if there were a way to bypass the gatekeepers of academic publishing? What if the world could see the entire picture of scientific exploration, not just the polished successes but also the failures and the dead ends? After all, she often said, “We know a lot more about what something is not, rather than what that something is.”
She envisioned a platform where negative data—experiments that didn’t support a hypothesis but were still valuable—could be shared freely with the scientific community. This could prevent researchers from unknowingly repeating failed experiments, saving time and precious grant funding. It would reveal the true nature of science: a messy, iterative process where discovering what doesn’t work is just as valuable as what does.
With this vision, Su founded V.O.I.C.E. (Validation of Open Inquiry in Comprehensive Experiments), a non-profit dedicated to giving scientists control over their own data and making all results, including the “unpublishable,” available for the world to see. VOICE gained attention quickly, its promise to revolutionize the way scientific knowledge was shared giving researchers hope for a more honest future. It became a platform where scientists finally had a true voice in their research.
The CODE GAMES Invitation
The success of VOICE hadn’t gone unnoticed. Invitations to conferences and interviews began flooding in, but one in particular caught Su’s eye: a request to speak at the CODE, the Conference on Open Data Ethics, hosted by the Global Accountability in Measurable Ethics Society, known as the GAMES. It was an exclusive event held at EDEN, the European headquarters of the Enlightened Nations of Democracy, the END. The CODE GAMES was attended by the most influential minds in data ethics. Among the attendees would be the enigmatic Dr. Gnuman Builder, known in the undercurrents as Numb. Dr. Builder was a notorious figure, celebrated for his advances in data tracking but whispered about for his questionable ethics and invasive methods.
Su hesitated, but the opportunity was too important to ignore. This was the perfect stage to challenge the flawed system and advocate for transparency in scientific publishing. But she knew the dangers of challenging those in power. Numb had deep connections, and many said he could silence those who stood in his way.
The Terrorist Attack That Set the Stage for the CODE GAMES
Chaos surrounded Su from the moment she set foot in EDEN. A terrorist attack had rocked a concert just outside of EDEN the day Su arrived, leaving scores dead and countless wounded. Rumors swirled that the terrorists responsible had fled to EDEN and were hiding within its borders.
As Su arrived, the city was in a state of unrest. News reports flashed across every screen, police barricades lined the streets, and tension hung thick in the air. The sense of dread followed Su as she checked into her hotel, navigating a maze of security checkpoints and swarming reporters. She had heard whispers that the terrorists were hiding near the END headquarters—the very location of the CODE conference.
Despite the turmoil, the conference proceeded as planned. Inside the glimmering walls of the conference hall, there was an eerie calm, as though the world outside didn’t exist. This disconnect between the chaos outside and the carefully orchestrated event inside only deepened Su’s unease.
The CODE GAMES: Keynote Speech
The CODE was well underway, its pristine halls a perfect reflection of the grandeur and prestige that accompanied such gatherings. Hosted by the GAMES, this was where the leading minds in data ethics and scientific research came together to discuss the future. Yet, beneath the surface of intellectual discourse, Dr. Su Vera felt the weight of disillusionment. The elites who ran the show, including the shadowy forces of the END, were not interested in real change—they were gatekeepers of information, manipulating what was shared and what was withheld.
The keynote speaker, Dr. Gnuman Builder—known as Numb—was introduced with fanfare. His reputation preceded him, a pioneer in data tracking technologies. He took the stage, exuding confidence and control, and delivered a polished speech on the future of data. He described a world where algorithms mapped human behaviors, optimized research, and improved efficiency. His words painted an appealing picture of progress, one that mesmerized many in the audience.
But Su saw through the facade. To her, Numb’s world was one of exploitation, where data was collected without consent, used to strip citizens of their privacy, and sold to the highest bidder. As he spoke, her anger simmered beneath the surface. This was more than just data collection—this was a complete invasion of personal and professional autonomy.
When the Q&A session opened, Su couldn’t remain silent any longer.
“Dr. Builder,” she said, her voice clear but filled with underlying defiance, “how do you justify tracking people without their knowledge or consent? You strip them of their autonomy and privacy. This isn’t progress; it’s exploitation.”
The room shifted uncomfortably, all eyes turning to Numb. He remained calm, unfazed by the challenge. “Data collection is the future of science, Dr. Vera,” he replied smoothly. “Consent often clouds the objectivity of the data. The most important thing is efficiency.”
Su’s eyes narrowed. “Objectivity is meaningless without ethics. Science should not be built on the backs of those who are unaware they are being used.”
The tension in the room thickened as her words hung in the air. Numb’s confident demeanor faltered for just a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He wasn’t used to being questioned, let alone in such a public forum.
But this was just the beginning.
The CODE GAMES: A Speech on Publishing Ethics
Later in the day, it was Su’s turn to take the stage. She stood before the same audience that had been captivated by Numb’s keynote speech, but she carried a very different message.
“Scientific publishing,” she began, her voice steady and strong, “is not what it claims to be. Today, we operate in a system where those in power dictate not just the quality but the content of what is shared. Publishers control both ends of the pipeline—scientists and institutions must pay to publish their work, and then they pay again to access that information. The profits flow freely into the hands of a select few, while the very heart of scientific integrity—peer review—is manipulated by those who profit the most.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, but Su pressed on.
“But perhaps the greatest offense,” she continued, “is the exclusion of negative data—the experiments that fail to support a hypothesis but are still valuable to the scientific process. By refusing to publish such results, we condemn ourselves to repeat the same experiments, wasting time, grant funding, and ultimately hindering progress.”
Her words hit their mark. Su could feel the unease spreading through the room. The END elitists, those who held the power over what information was published and shared, were visibly uncomfortable. They shifted in their seats, their expressions betraying the fact that Su had struck a nerve. Numb, seated near the front, no longer smirked. His cold stare was fixed on her, a look that could freeze fire.
As Su finished her speech, the atmosphere in the room was heavy. She had said what needed to be said, but she knew there would be consequences.
Su’s Confrontation with Numb
After her speech, Dr. Su Vera lingered in the hall, exchanging words with a few fellow scientists who admired her bold stance. Their encouragement strengthened her resolve, but the moment was short-lived. Dr. Gnuman Builder, Numb, approached Su, his polished demeanor masking the menace beneath.
“That was quite the speech,” he said, his tone low and threatening. “But you’re playing a dangerous game, Dr. Vera.”
Su met his eyes steadily, refusing to back down. “The truth is always dangerous to those who hide behind lies,” Su remarked.
Numb’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as he leaned closer. “I can make this all go away. Half a million in grant funding. You finish the project, then walk away from VOICE. You keep your career, your research—no more trouble,” Numb offered.
Su’s stomach turned with disgust, but her resolve remained unshaken. “No amount of money will buy my silence. I meant every word I said,” Su said with conviction.
His expression hardened, the veneer of charm replaced by cold fury. “You’re making a mistake, Dr. Vera,” Numb warned.
Without another word, Numb turned and strode away, leaving Su alone in the dimly lit hallway. She knew this was only the beginning—the battle ahead would be relentless, but she was ready.
The CODE Celebration
That night, as Su mingled with other attendees, she caught whispers of celebration in the air. A bomb had detonated near the END headquarters—another attack by the terrorists. But what disturbed Su most was the reaction of the conference's END elitists. They weren't horrified; they were reveling in it.
The bomb had been detonated by a woman
—a wife of one of the terrorist leaders responsible for the earlier attack at the concert outside of EDEN. Trapped by the police during a raid on the terrorists' hideout within EDEN, she detonated the device, killing herself along with several officers.
The END elitists spoke in hushed tones, their expressions betraying a dark satisfaction, as though this tragedy was another calculated move in a larger game they Controlled.
Su couldn’t shake the growing sense that none of this was random. The attacks, the chaos, and even the conference itself seemed deliberately coordinated to define a pivotal moment. The END appeared to be leveraging fear and destruction to further their agenda, tightening their grip on power. The CODE, which Su had once believed to be a genuine platform for ethical discussions on data and governance, was nothing more than a façade.
The Room Swallowed her Whole
After overhearing whispers about the bombing outside the conference, Su retreated to her hotel room, her mind racing with the day’s events. She poured herself a glass of wine from the complimentary bottle sent by the conference organizers. However, as she raised the glass to her lips, she noticed something unusual—a thin film coating the rim. Uneasy, she poured the wine into a clean glass and cautiously drank from the glass.
She lay down on the bed, trying to process everything that had happened. But something felt off. Her body was heavy, her mind dizzy. She had only taken a few sips of wine, but it felt as though she were drunk. The room began to spin, the walls seeming to expand and contract around her, as if the room was a breathing living thing that could swallow her whole.
A faint red light blinked from a dark corner of the room, casting a strange glow on the walls.
A creeping feeling of unease settled over her. As she stared at the blinking red light, the unsettling thought crept into her mind: “Am I being monitored and recorded?” The sensation of being watched became overwhelming.
Su fought to stay awake, her eyelids growing heavier by the second, but the drowsiness consumed her. As she sank into a deep, unsettling sleep, her last conscious thought was a gnawing suspicion that something was terribly wrong.
CODE GAMES Over
The next morning, Su awoke with a pounding headache and a sense of disorientation. She struggles to recall the events of the previous night. Everything was a blur after the wine, and she had the eerie feeling that something had happened while she slept. She felt sick and violated.
She reached for her phone and saw an email from the conference organizers. They wanted her to come to EDEN headquarters later that morning—and asked her to bring her passport.
Her heart sank as she read the final line of the email: “We hope you enjoyed the celebrations last night.” The words felt odd, out of place. Celebrations? She could barely remember falling asleep, let alone anything resembling a celebration.
Her mind raced. Something wasn’t right. Why did they want her to go to the EDEN headquarters and bring her passport?
Why was there such urgency in their request?
Why couldn’t she remember anything after pouring herself that glass of wine? Her eyes fell on the half-finished glass on the table. A few sips couldn’t have left her drunk—not like this.
Her body felt sluggish, her thoughts clouded. Had she been drugged?
Su replayed the events of the previous night, piecing together fragments of memory: the blinking red light, the sudden wave of exhaustion, and that unsettling feeling of being watched. The sensation that someone had been observing her every move was impossible to ignore.
A nagging suspicion began to take root. She had come to EDEN to confront the most powerful players in data manipulation and scientific control. But now, with the strange occurrences surrounding her arrival, the conference, and the chaos of the attacks, it all felt too coordinated. The entire experience was beginning to seem like an elaborate trap—a carefully constructed plan to disarm her, both physically and mentally.
Su stared at the email on her screen, her thumb hovering hesitantly. Should she respond?
Su’s curiosity gnawed at her. What did they want? Why were they so insistent on her going to EDEN HQ, and why emphasize her passport? It felt more like a calculated move than an invitation, a test—or a trap.
Taking a deep breath, Su made her decision: she wouldn’t go. Instead, she’d leave EDEN immediately.
Her instincts screamed danger.
The Missing Passport
Determined to escape, Su packed in a hurry, tossing belongings into her suitcase. Anxiety pressed down on her with every passing moment, urging her to flee before the situation spiraled further out of her control. Then she froze.
Her passport. Without it, she couldn’t leave.
Frantically, she searched her bags and every inch of the room. It was gone. Panic surged as she retraced her steps. She was certain she’d had it the night before. She remembered checking it after arriving in EDEN, seeing it in her purse when she returned to the hotel. But it was gone.
Her thoughts turned to Numb. His calculated demeanor, his veiled threats—had he orchestrated this? The realization hit her like a cold wave: she’d been targeted from the start.
Without her passport, Su was trapped.
She couldn’t imagine what would come next, but she knew it wouldn’t be good.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts. A new email. The sender: the same conference organizer who had sent the cryptic message earlier.
“Dr. Vera, we have found your passport. It was recovered by security in the hotel lobby. Please come to EDEN headquarters to retrieve it.”
The words felt like a noose tightening around her.
The message was short, but its implications loomed large. Her hands trembled as she read it. The timing was too perfect, the solution too convenient. It felt like a setup, a carefully laid snare.
Without her passport, leaving EDEN was impossible. Yet every instinct told her that going to EDEN headquarters would be walking straight into the lion’s den.
As Su weighed her options, a chilling certainty settled over her—this was only the beginning. Something much larger, much darker, was unfolding, and she was caught in its web.