The observation deck of VitaCore Tower offered a panoramic view of Terminus City that never failed to impress visitors. But Marcus Voss wasn't interested in the view today. He stood with his back to the sprawling metropolis, facing the six other individuals seated around the obsidian conference table. Each represented one of the mega-corporations that collectively controlled every aspect of life on Terminus.

  "The projections are clear," Marcus said, his voice carefully moduted to convey urgency without panic. "At current growth rates, we'll exceed sustainable popution levels within fifteen years."

  Victoria Aqua-Nova, whose corporation controlled the pnet's water supply, leaned forward. "We've known this was coming for decades. The question is what we do about it."

  "The Settlement Council's voluntary measures have failed," replied Imani TerraMinn, whose mining operations supplied the raw materials that built their world. "As have the economic incentives for smaller families."

  The room fell silent as the implications settled over them. The seven most powerful people on Terminus, accustomed to solving problems through corporate efficiency, now faced a challenge that defied simple solutions.

  "There are options we haven't fully explored," offered Rond Zhang of FusionTech, breaking the silence. His corporation provided energy to the entire pnet, which gave him unique insight into consumption patterns. "More aggressive popution controls could—"

  "Could cause civil unrest," interrupted General Darius Ward of ProtectoCorp. "My security forces are already dealing with resource disputes in the outer sectors."

  Marcus nodded, having anticipated this discussion. He touched a control panel, and a holographic dispy appeared above the table, showing popution distribution across social csses. The visualization made the imbance painfully clear—the vast majority of popution growth came from the Worker and Unaligned sectors.

  "The math is simple," said Eliza Chen of InfoSys, her analytical mind already calcuting possibilities. "We cannot sustain thirteen billion people with our current resource infrastructure."

  "Then we build better infrastructure," said Dominic Voss of Helix Pharmaceuticals, who had remained silent until now.

  All eyes turned to him, and Marcus felt a flicker of irritation at his younger brother's idealism. Always the optimist, even in the face of hard realities.

  "The technical challenges are considerable," Marcus replied diplomatically. "And the timeline—"

  "My wife believes there's another approach," Dominic continued, cutting off his brother. "Helena has been leading a research team at Helix that's been looking at neural efficiency."

  Marcus frowned slightly at the mention of Helena Voss, his sister-in-w and one of Helix's most brilliant researchers. Their retionship had always been strained, her ethical concerns often at odds with his pragmatic approach to corporate governance.

  "Neural efficiency won't solve our resource crisis, Dominic," Marcus said dismissively.

  "Actually, it might." The voice came from the doorway, and all heads turned to see Helena Voss stepping into the observation deck, her boratory access badge still clipped to the pocket of her crisp green Helix uniform.

  Marcus's expression tightened. "This is a closed meeting, Helena."

  "A meeting about popution control where half the pnet's popution isn't represented," she replied coolly, approaching the table. "I thought you might benefit from a scientific perspective."

  Before Marcus could object further, Dominic stood and gestured to his seat. "Helena's research is directly relevant to our discussion."

  With reluctance, Marcus nodded for her to proceed. Helena activated her neural interface, and the holographic dispy shifted to show complex neural mapping data.

  "The problem isn't just physical resources," she began, her voice steady despite the hostile reception from several board members. "It's computational resources. The human brain requires enormous energy to maintain consciousness."

  She maniputed the dispy, showing a simution of neural patterns.

  "My team has been developing a neural interface that could potentially store human consciousness in a more efficient medium."

  The room fell silent as the implications became clear.

  "You're talking about digital consciousness transfer," said Eliza Chen, her eyes narrowing. "Theoretical at best, ethically problematic at worst."

  Helena nodded. "But with significant advantages if implemented correctly. A consciousness preserved digitally requires a fraction of the physical resources of a biological body."

  Marcus studied his sister-in-w carefully. There was something she wasn't saying, something behind those intense eyes that always seemed to be calcuting three steps ahead.

  "And what happens to the physical bodies?" General Ward asked bluntly.

  "That's where the ethical framework becomes crucial," Helena replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. "My proposal includes a rigorous consent protocol and—"

  "Fascinating theoretical work," Marcus interrupted, "but we need practical solutions that can be implemented quickly."

  Helena's lips pressed into a thin line. "This isn't theoretical. We've achieved successful consciousness mapping in the boratory. With proper funding and support, we could have a working prototype within three years."

  The room erupted in murmured conversations. Marcus raised a hand for silence, studying the neural patterns dispyed above the table. Despite his personal reservations about Helena, he couldn't deny the potential of what she was proposing.

  "The resource implications would be significant," Victoria Aqua-Nova mused. "If consciousness could be maintained with reduced physical support..."

  "It would solve our popution crisis without reducing our intellectual capital," Imani TerraMinn finished the thought.

  Marcus watched the shifting sentiment in the room. He had expected to leave this meeting with approval for more conventional popution control measures—stricter reproduction regutions, resource rationing for lower csses, perhaps even colony separation. Helena's proposal offered a different path, one with its own risks and opportunities.

  "Your research has potential," he finally admitted. "But implementation at scale would require a ptform, a system to manage the transition and maintain these... preserved consciousnesses."

  Helena's eyes met his, and for once, they seemed to reach an understanding.

  "Such a system would need to be carefully designed," she said. "To select appropriate candidates, preserve their consciousness efficiently, and utilize their cognitive abilities productively."

  "A game," said Eliza Chen suddenly. "A selection system disguised as opportunity. Voluntary participation with real rewards for success."

  The concept hung in the air, taking shape as each corporate leader considered its implications from their perspective.

  "The public would need to see it as advancement rather than control," General Ward noted. "Something aspirational."

  "The technical challenges are considerable," Rond Zhang added, "but not insurmountable with our combined resources."

  As the conversation continued, Marcus observed Helena carefully. There was a tension in her posture, a careful neutrality in her expression that suggested she wasn't sharing all her thoughts. He had known her long enough to recognize when she was holding something back.

  Later, as the meeting concluded with tentative approval to explore Helena's proposal further, Marcus caught her alone near the elevator.

  "What aren't you telling us?" he asked quietly, standing close enough that others couldn't overhear.

  Helena met his gaze, her expression revealing nothing. "I'm offering a solution to your popution problem, Marcus. One that preserves life rather than eliminates it."

  "You've never shown much interest in corporate objectives before," he pressed. "Why now?"

  A slight smile touched her lips. "Perhaps I've learned that change sometimes requires working within the system."

  As she stepped into the elevator, Marcus was left with the unsettling feeling that he had just been maneuvered in a game whose rules he didn't fully understand. He turned back toward the observation deck, looking out at the city sprawling below. Thirteen billion people—a resource crisis waiting to happen, or an opportunity for unprecedented control?

  Either way, the seed of what would eventually become the Game had just been pnted.

  In her boratory ten levels below, Helena Voss sat alone at her workstation, a rare moment of quiet in her otherwise demanding schedule. She opened a secure communication channel, triple-encrypted beyond even InfoSys's standard protocols.

  "They've approved initial exploration," she typed. "First phase of Operation Genesis is underway."

  The reply came seconds ter: "Time estimate for full implementation?"

  Helena thought of the meeting, of the technical challenges ahead, of the careful bance she would need to maintain between revealing enough to secure support without exposing her true objectives.

  "Ten years minimum," she replied. "But we'll only get one chance to do this right."

  She closed the channel and leaned back in her chair, her thoughts turning to the future she was trying to build—one very different from what Marcus Voss and the other corporate leaders envisioned.