"What's wrong?"
The President frowned as he glanced at the unfamiliar number flashing across his phone screen. It was strange—his personal number was protected at the highest level. For anyone to know it, they had to be someone truly important.
Still, he chose to answer.
"This is the President."
On the other end, an old man's voice spoke with a weary calm.
"Dr. Culliton here."
The President straightened slightly, his tone softening.
"Dr. Culliton, is something the matter?"
There was a pause, followed by the old scientist's hesitant words.
"I was wondering… could you provide us with additional funding?"
The President chuckled lightly, almost relieved.
"For something like this, you can submit a direct request. Didn't I already approve five or six billion for your department? That amount should more than cover your needs. If it isn't enough, I'll authorize more without hesitation."
He wasn't exaggerating. This particular branch of research was crucial to national security, and he had always ensured it lacked for nothing.
"I know you've been generous…" Dr. Culliton replied, his voice trailing into a bitter sigh. "But this time, we need far more than what has ever been given. Without it, our project won't even open properly."
The President narrowed his eyes.
"How much are we talking about?"
"Trillions," the old man said, gritting the words out as though each one weighed heavily on his tongue.
A sharp crash echoed through the phone—on the President's end, a flowerpot had fallen and shattered, the sound of disbelief escaping with it.
"What did you just say?"
If anyone else had made such a request, he would have thought it a bad joke. But Dr. Culliton wasn't the type to exaggerate.
"You heard correctly," the scientist confirmed, his tone even older now, as though speaking the figure alone had aged him another decade. "We need trillions."
Silence stretched across the line. The President, usually composed, felt the weight of those words pressing down on him.
Finally, he asked, voice heavy with suspicion,
"What happened?"
Dr. Culliton had always been a pure researcher, devoted to his work and to the country. For him to make such an outrageous demand… something extraordinary had to be unfolding.
The old man's gaze shifted to Zenkichi, who stood nearby with arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Culliton's eyes seemed to ask: Can I reveal this?
Zenkichi gave a firm nod.
"Yes."
With that silent approval, Dr. Culliton relayed everything that had occurred.
When the President finished listening, there was a long, oppressive silence on his end of the line. It was as if the weight of the world had settled onto his shoulders.
At last, his voice returned, but it sounded older, wearier than before.
"…Very well. We'll provide the funding. But at least give us a month. It will take time to liquidate the necessary assets. No government can instantly produce that much cash."
Zenkichi's sharp eyes softened in thought. After a moment, he gave a short nod.
"One month is acceptable."
He knew the President wasn't stalling. Even for a nation, raising trillions in liquid assets within weeks was no small task.
And for what was coming, time itself was already running short.
_____
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