As one of the top restaurants in New York City, The Nephele was always filled with all walks of life. In a corner booth, furthest from where Kelly and her party were seated, a group of well-dressed men was holding a dinner gathering.
A man in his fifties or sixties sat at one side of the long table. He wore a sharply tailored, plain black short-sleeved top; the fabric was light and form-fitting yet entirely without wrinkles, clearly made of a sophisticated material. Over it, he draped a black linen blazer, devoid of any extra ornamentation. The texture was breathable and fell naturally, revealing a subtle, fine grain even under the indoor lighting. His overall attire was simple yet exuded an intense sense of control—as if he hadn't just happened to wear this, but had chosen to "only wear this."
He didn't consciously dominate the conversation, yet with every brief remark, the attention of the entire table naturally refocused on him. Even a calm observation like, "The problem with that idea actually lies in the assumption itself," or "The layers of this dish aren't clean enough," sounded like definitive summary statements from a presentation, making people subconsciously pause their movements to think.
He was mostly taciturn, but his aura made it impossible to ignore his presence. Several other men were arguing over the impact of Artificial Intelligence without reaching a consensus. One of them paused and asked, "Charles, what’s your opinion? As an investor in Blueprint, you must have many thoughts."
Charles looked up at him and took a leisurely sip of his wine, as if setting the tone for the conversation with a sense of composed decisiveness. He smiled and said, "If you need to ask me that question, it means you shouldn't be in that seat, nor should you dream of becoming an investor in Blueprint."
As these words landed, the table fell briefly silent. Charles continued his meal, as if what he had just said was merely a casual part of the conversation. He didn't eat in a hurry; every bite was like reading the layout logic of a masterpiece—not for satiety, but for understanding.
Even as people laughed, opened bottles, or frantically checked their phones for data at the table, he remained unmoved. He seemed out of place, yet he appeared to control the very rhythm of the table.
Just then, a person dressed in black entered and whispered something in Charles’s ear. Charles initially frowned slightly, but by the end, he nodded in acknowledgement.
"Charles, did something happen?" the man sitting to Charles’s left asked.
"Nothing. I just heard The Nephele is quite lively today," Charles said calmly. "Let's get to the main point of this gathering. Today's theme is the investment opportunity in Ark Corp. What are your thoughts?"
"Charles, honestly, why do you want to invest in a company with such a minuscule chance of success again?" asked a man in a navy blue suit, sporting cufflinks embossed with golden lions.
"How can a financial tycoon like you say such a thing? Isn't it all just a matter of ROI?" Charles replied.
"No, I can understand the technical and commercial value of something like Blueprint. Ark is different," the man said flippantly. "First, the technology is too early-stage. Second, it'll be hard to see a profit within the next ten or twenty years. Unless there are massive gains to be made, I generally don't choose such long-term investments. You know, humans only live so many years; how is a vague project like Ark ever supposed to be realized?"
"Fair point. But you also know I don't care about short-term ROI. To me, everything is a vision," Charles said slowly. "Think about it—humans still haven't managed to create an effective nuclear fusion reaction. Therefore, the most effective source of fusion is the sun, and finding a way to maximize the utilization of solar energy is the best path."
"But how are you going to effectively transmit that energy back?"
"You're asking the wrong question. The future of humanity was never on Earth; it's in outer space. If one can become the first to effectively harvest and utilize solar energy, they essentially hold the infrastructure of the future. And by controlling the infrastructure, you also control the order and rules of the future."
"But you won't be alive to see that, will you?"
"Who says survival has to rely on the flesh?" Charles smiled contemptuously at the man who asked the question. "The inheritance of human civilization isn't necessarily physical; it's the preservation of wisdom and order. Would you say the thoughts of Plato or Nietzsche haven't survived just because they are no longer in this world?"
At that moment, there was a soft knock on the booth door. It opened slowly, revealing a woman with a beaming smile.
"Long time no see, Charles." A woman, dressed sharply and exquisitely, poked her head in.
"Come in, dear Kelly." Charles shed his previous cold self-restraint. His eyes lit up as he smiled at Kelly and stood up.
The men in the booth stared at the entering Kelly. Suddenly, the room became incredibly quiet. Kelly gave them a slight smile, then walked toward Charles as if no one else were there, familiarly greeting him with two kisses on the cheek. The group of men looked on with a hint of surprise.
"What wind blew you here?" Charles asked Kelly.
"Just heard you were here while I was out with friends and thought I’d come and say hi, you busy man." Kelly said with a laugh. "I won't disturb your dinner. I just came to say hello. It's fate that we're both at The Nephele tonight. If you're free, you're welcome to come find me at Blueprint." Kelly then turned to the men at the other end of the long table and said with a smile, "Sorry to interrupt. I'm Kelly, a friend of Charles. It’s been too long, and since I heard he was here, I thought I’d drop by. If you have any needs, feel free to find me at the Blueprint Research Center."
"Forget it, don't waste your time on these people," Charles said with a hint of playfulness, his tone making it hard to tell if he was being serious or joking.
"Alright, I’ll head back to look after my friends. You know where to find me," Kelly said to Charles with a smile before turning to leave the booth.
"Charles, does this 'survival without the flesh' you mentioned have anything to do with this woman?" the man with the golden lion cufflinks asked again.
"It's one of the ways," Charles replied indifferently. "After all, the simulations of Blueprint no longer deviate much from the trajectory of our world. Soon, we will be able to back up the world's trajectory to the cloud."
"Charles, is there any meaning to a life like that? Everything following a script."
"For people like us, isn't making the world follow our script exactly the meaning of our lives?" Charles gave a slight smile.
The other men joined the discussion at this point, and suddenly, the booth became lively once more.
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