Beached Whales

On the top floor of New York's most exclusive building, a clandestine gathering unfolded. Within this opulent space, the world's wealthiest individuals had convened—a group of anonymous tycoons known solely to those within their inner circles. They possessed a reputation for funding and kickstarting the birth and demise of entire nations.

Their wealth and influence rendered them virtually untouchable; not only did they own vast properties and products, but they also held sway over countless countries. In the aftermath of the Departing, much of their global influence waned due to many of their key figures vanishing.

These enigmatic individuals were accustomed to answering to no one and nothing. Yet, on this particular day, their collective gaze was fixed upon a man who, in terms of monetary riches, paled in comparison. He appeared unassuming—thin, of average height, and in his mid-forties with a thick mustache. Seated at that moment, he observed the eight powerful men before him, their expressions rife with anxious anticipation.

"Gentlemen," he began, his voice calm and his speech precise. "I comprehend the anguish that grips your hearts. Some among you have lost loved ones—a sorrow so profound that you would surrender your entire fortunes for one final encounter. I, too, have experienced such a loss."

With these words, his gaze locked upon theirs, the man rose from his chair. His thick mustache partially concealed his mouth. Determined, he strode forward, positioning himself beside a towering whiteboard.

When The Departing began, a wave of desperation washed over the world, prompting the hidden hand that pulled the strings to run to the governments of the world for answers. However, in a twist of poetic justice, it became evident that most first-world nations were mere puppets, controlled and funded by the very individuals who now found themselves devoid of answers.

With no external refuge to turn to, they relied solely on their own resources and the brilliance of those few great minds who had dedicated their lives to the pursuit of scientific knowledge, untainted by the allure of wealth and political power. Those far in the fringes.

Fortunately, these intellectual luminaries were the first to recognize the magnitude of the catastrophe unfolding before them. They possessed the foresight to anticipate the collapse of governments and the rapid rise of religious factions, each vying for dominance.

Among these exceptional minds, a man by the name of Robert Sullivan emerged as a beacon of swift action and unparalleled intellect. Despite his modest appearance—a middle-aged man with a robust mustache—he commanded the attention of the eight corporate magnates gathered before him.

Within the scientific community, Robert Sullivan commanded immense respect. Esteemed colleagues from around the globe, each an expert in their respective fields, held him in high regard. Together, they swiftly identified the mounting cases of disappearances, sounding one of the earliest alarms to the unfolding crisis.

Recognizing the gravity of the situation, they established a robust network, maintaining constant communication as they diligently observed and analyzed the phenomenon in real-time.

By the end of the initial month, what would eventually evolve into the World Committee for the Departed (W.C.D) began as a coalition of scientific minds. United by a shared mission to make the information regarding the unfolding events more accessible to the public.

Their objective was to disseminate their findings, shedding light on the potentially cataclysmic occurrences transpiring before humanity's eyes.

With a small nano tracking device sketched out on the whiteboard, Robert Sullivan embarked on an explanation. He recounted a company that had developed these miniature trackers initially intended for animals, but they had also clandestinely sold them to affluent families with elderly relatives suffering from dementia.

Curiously, one of these elderly individuals vanished shortly before a home nurse. Recognizing the potential, Robert contacted theme and attempted to locate the missing person using their satellite-based tracking technology. Astonishingly, the subject seemed to vanish entirely from the satellite's search.

As Robert divulged this information to the eight men before him, an enigmatic smile played upon his lips. However, one among the group voiced their confusion. "I fail to grasp how this discovery is beneficial. It tells us nothing," he expressed with a note of frustration. Robert, his smile unyielding, stroked his mustache before responding.

"It tells us everything we need to know," he replied, his tone laced with conviction. "To begin with, it confirms the undeniable truth: all those who have vanished are unequivocally deceased."

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, and the eight men sprang to their feet, their expressions contorted with anger and panic. Threats were hurled at Robert, to stop funding the W.C.D and replacing Robert as the head of the W.C.D. "What is the purpose of funding an organization called the World Committee for the Departed if there are no departed to be brought back?" one of them bellowed in frustration.

Robert patiently waited for the commotion to subside before addressing them once more. "I'm certain all of you are well aware of the incompetence that your unbridled greed has bred within our governments," he began, his voice measured and composed.

"Meanwhile, the ranks of religious institutions swell as they interpret these events as an apocalypse, a divine punishment. You, gentlemen, believed yourselves to be all-powerful and beyond reproach, but even gods bleed and die. The loss you experienced, that which was so mercilessly torn from your grasp, served as a brutal awakening. The vanishings may have ceased, but none of us can deny that this is no act of any god. Whatever force orchestrated this remains at large, and none of us are safe. If I were you, gentlemen, I wouldn't be worried about those who vanished, I would worry for myself."

As Robert laid bare the reality of their situation, a palpable sense of chaos and uncontrollability descended upon the eight men. Their core was shaken to its very foundations, and a primal terror some of them had not felt since childhood took hold of them.

As Robert focused on the whiteboard, mentally ticking down the seconds, a surprising interruption broke the silence. "Wait, Dr. Sullivan, we may have acted hastily. Please, proceed. We are all eager to hear the rest of your presentation," one of the men implored. Expecting their sudden change of tone, Robert continued his exposition.

"Very well," he responded, his voice steady and composed. "As I was explaining, our initial discovery revealed that those who vanished are indeed deceased. Furthermore, we observed a striking correlation between the disappearances and the concentration of individuals in psychiatric wards and hospitals specifically those who were suffering from chronic depression. It appeared that whatever force targeted humanity has a disproportionate inclination toward our mentally vulnerable. This hypothesis gained further validation as we witnessed a significant decrease in the number of vanishings when the masses sought solace in religious institutions, embracing newfound faith, hope, and beliefs."

Robert gestured toward a photograph affixed to the wall, depicting a series of gruesome crimes. With the exception of one image, the pictures displayed the remnants of a grotesque, massive humanoid-like arm. "At present, the Departing seems to have come to a halt, or so we believed. However, we are now faced with a new form of assault, described by certain religious extremists as the 'second retribution of God.'"

As Robert continued to unravel these disquieting revelations, the room filled with a palpable sense of apprehension, each man grappling with the implications of this ongoing crisis.

Robert directed the attention of the group towards the photograph featuring the colossal dark arm. "This was discovered in a remote cabin nestled in the Swiss mountains. Tragically, the entire family residing there had been brutally slain. However, outside the cabin, we found compelling evidence of a fierce battle that had taken place. Remarkably, the arm of the creature to which this limb belonged had been severed cleanly. It seems the creature fled the scene after losing its appendage. Through our examination, we discovered that the molecular structure of the skin on the arm is five times denser than our own bones—a form of organic steel, if you will."

Robert paused, allowing the significance of his words to sink in. "What makes this discovery truly astonishing is that it offers both terror and hope. The arm displayed unmistakable signs of deliberate body augmentation and genetic manipulation. Astonishingly, the "Devils arm" as it's been coined is still 'alive' and undergoing regeneration within a secure laboratory specifically designed to contain it."

As Robert's revelations unfolded, the sense of disbelief among the gentlemen grew more profound. They were left in a state of awe and bewilderment. Robert pressed on, aware of the weight his words carried. "Our intention is to unravel the biology of this creature through reverse engineering, which undoubtedly promises to revolutionize our understanding of our own biological sciences."

"Although it may appear that we are mere pawns caught in the grasp of incomprehensible forces, I believe there is more to this story," Robert responded, his voice filled with conviction. The confusion in the room was palpable, as the men struggled to grasp the meaning behind his words. One of them voiced their disagreement, arguing that aligning with the strongest force would be the best chance of survival.

Robert locked eyes with the oldest of the eight, his gaze unwavering. "I understand your perspective, and it is a valid one," he replied, his voice calm yet resolute. "But consider this: if we simply align ourselves with the strongest force without fully understanding its intentions and implications, we risk sacrificing our autonomy and becoming mere pawns in a game we do not fully comprehend."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. The room fell into an uneasy silence as the men pondered his words.

Robert continued, his tone steady and measured. "What I propose is not blind opposition or recklessness, but rather a strategic and measured approach. By harnessing the power of reason, science, and unity, we can uncover the secrets of these enigmatic forces and wield that knowledge to our advantage."

"What do you mean? This is far beyond anything comprehensible by human standards. Our best chance of survival lies in aligning ourselves with the most formidable power," argued the eldest member of the group. Nevertheless, Robert persisted in his conviction and responded,

"Wrong! If it were truly beyond our capabilities, we would have been enslaved or destroyed. But that's not the case. These events, as I mentioned earlier, are incredibly rare—perhaps few in number. We're like an infestation of roaches, too numerous to eliminate. However, the truth is that we possess the most potent weapon in our arsenal: time, coupled with a common adversary. As our world crumbles, we have the opportunity to consolidate our resources and focus our energy on any pursuit we desire. It's a chance to build a new world, where reason and science take center stage in our civilization. It's the next evolutionary step for our species, a leap forward. Though beneath us lies the specter of death, we have no choice but to take the plunge. That's why I'm resigning from the W.C.D."

"Damn you, Dr. Sullivan! Do you think this is some kind of game for you to toy with?" Marco Dubois, one of the eight, shouted angrily. "Calm down, Marco. Let the doctor explain his decision to us," another interjected.

"Thank you, Mr. Hao," Robert Sullivan acknowledged, addressing one of the eight with gratitude. He paused briefly before resuming, his tone resolute. "My team lacks the necessary manpower. We need more scientists—a multitude of teams, each dedicated to specific objectives, led by highly qualified individuals. Our focus must shift from investigating the disappearances to developing methods to protect and defend ourselves against the imminent threats we face. We require the establishment of an institution, rooted in science, impervious to the influence of greed or power. It is either this path or a slow descent into a world dominated by baseless spiritual beliefs, undoing all the progress our species has achieved and leaving us defenseless against inevitable annihilation. I believe we have no real choice. That concludes my presentation."

With these final words, Robert abruptly left the room, leaving his colleagues frustrated and deep in contemplation.