207: Chapter 207 The Security Council's Lies Exposed on the Spot

Looking at Voronov's face, which was still cold-snorting but noticeably restrained, Hawthorne reopened the closed dossier, his tone steady and resolute, continuing without being affected in the slightest from beginning to end.

"The claim that Nikola Tesla had no descendants is a long-term smoke bomb deliberately released to the outside world by the American Federal Government."

"The purpose was precisely to cover the existence of his only bloodline."

"Once this child's identity is exposed, it will immediately be locked onto by the intelligence networks of rival countries and utilized as a strategic bargaining chip."

"Therefore, right from the beginning, we chose to make him completely disappear from all public records."

He turned the dossier to the next page, lifted his gaze from the document to scan the entire circular conference table, and continued:

"The truth is that in his later years, Tesla left a son with a reclusive Yugoslav woman."

"That child inherited Tesla's superhuman intelligence genes, a living genius in the true sense of the word."

"Then he 'disappeared' from this world, sent into a secret school for geniuses funded by the military."

"Throughout his entire life, he never left even a single footprint in the public eye or any commercial occasion."

"His entire life is a top-secret dossier directly welded shut by the Federal Government, with no colleagues, no classmates, and not even a friend in the sense of a personal acquaintance."

"The place where he served the military was an underground laboratory without even a serial number."

"Like a hermit, he single-handedly deduced all the theories of advanced science and technology, and personally turned them one by one into operational prototypes."

"When his life came to an end, drained and tormented by late-stage cancer, he made a silent decision: to hand over his lifelong scientific research achievements to the Federal Government."

"Even at his dying moment, he was still overcoming the final scientific research bottlenecks for the country."

"Soon, the White House will use a state funeral to see off this person who never existed."

Then, Hawthorne crossed his hands back on the table, his tone returning to that eternal steadiness and certainty:

"Not long ago, Sophus Tesla just passed away."

"All the advanced science and technology of our Lighthouse Country used to resist the million-strong fleet of the Zeta Star were independently researched and developed by this heroic scientist."

After listening, the representative of the John Country slowly put the pen in his hand back onto the tabletop, paused for a moment, and praised in an even tone:

"Mr. Tesla concealed his identity for many years, dedicated everything he had to the country, and at the critical juncture of human survival, handed over all his achievements free of charge to the Federal Government."

"This selfless spirit of sacrifice deserves a moment of silent tribute from every running light in every laboratory across the globe."

The representative of Gaul Country gently closed a memo pad that had been resting on his knees, placed it on the corner of the table, and spoke slowly and solemnly into the microphone in a gentle tone:

"The name Sophus Tesla should be written in the very first line of humanity's resistance against extinction."

The representative of Sakura Country followed up, saying softly:

"All scientific research institutions in Sakura Country will dedicate their front pages to this great pioneer upon receiving the first batch of technology-sharing data."

The representative of India also spoke up:

"The wisdom of two generations of the Tesla family spans two centuries, from alternating current and radio to the full set of defensive equipment shielding against the alien fleet today, passed down in one continuous line. This is truly the immortal heritage."

The phrasing of these representatives' speeches varied,

but in their hearts, they actually sensed something was amiss.

Every single one of them filtered Hawthorne's long speech from beginning to end with their ears,

and those logical loopholes:

a genius who concealed his identity for decades without leaving any colleague's testimony, a mysterious descendant whose existence was never confirmed just like his grandfather Tesla, and a series of obviously over-stitched legendary tropes—none of these escaped their nerves, which had been whetted sharper than a blade by years of diplomacy.

But none of this mattered.

They were junior partners subjugated under the hegemony of Lighthouse Country.

Big Brother being willing to come out and explain a few words was already giving plenty of face to the junior partners;

if the junior partners continued to relentlessly pursue questions, that would be ungrateful and tactless.

Therefore, at this moment they only needed praise, not further questioning.

But the side of Russia was different.

Just after Hawthorne finished saying the last word,

Voronov pressed his thick, heavy palms against the edge of the tabletop, his tone cold and sharp:

"You said Sophus Tesla independently developed all advanced science and technology?"

"Fine, since he was so powerful, why didn't you use these weapons that can crush alien fleets to directly steamroll Russia during the Cold War?"

"Back then, as long as a Black Hole Bomb smashed into the East European Plain, we, your geopolitical adversary whom you called the number-one enemy for half a century, would have completely vanished from the Earth."

"But you didn't. Why?"

"Because at that time, you didn't have these technologies at all!"

"It wasn't that you didn't want to use them; you simply didn't have them!"

He slowly retracted his hands resting on the edge of the table, letting them hang at his sides, stood in place for a moment, and then chopped down his final conclusion word by word:

"Therefore, every single word you just said, from Sophus Tesla to those technologies suddenly popping out of thin air, is total bullshit!"

"Those things only have one source, and that is the Deep State which you have never dared to admit!"

Hawthorne slightly turned his head, closed the two files that had been leafed through countless times, crossed his hands on the tabletop, and said to Voronov in a tone even more regular than a tape recorder:

"The United States of America maintains its previous stance."

"We do not know what the Deep State is."

"We do not know what the Longevity Faction is."

"We do not know what the Tech Faction is."

"We have never received technological assistance of advanced civilization from unknown sources."

"All the above accusations have no factual basis."

Voronov looked at him for several seconds.

That expression was neither anger, nor helplessness, nor the roaring of slamming a fist against the edge of the table after being repeatedly provoked as before.

Rather, it was a calm and grim, complete disappointment after finally seeing through the entire chessboard completely.

He pushed all the proposals in front of him back to their original positions, looked at Hawthorne's face, which had remained motionless from start to finish, his tone cold and resolute.

"Hawthorne, it's not that you don't know."

"You are commanded not to know."

"You and I have been sitting on this chessboard for a long time, and I can tell."

"Now I ask you, you will only answer the same sentence, and even if asked ten times it will still be that sentence."

"But paper cannot wrap up fire."

"Sooner or later, I will nail all the dark truths behind you in the Security Council under the spotlight, so everyone can see clearly."

Having said that, he pushed the conference agenda in front of him, which no longer had any substantive significance, aside, turned around, and strode toward the exit of the conference hall.

...

Washington D.C., Washington National Cathedral.

Built in 1907, this Neo-Gothic granite building is located on Mount St. Alban in the Northwest quadrant of Washington, serving as the venue for Lighthouse Country to hold state funerals of the highest specifications.

From the memorial service of George Washington to the state funeral of Eisenhower,

from the collective mourning of the Challenger space shuttle astronauts to the National Day of Prayer for the 9/11 attacks,

every time the pipe organ's dirge resounded here, it meant the end of an era.

And today, this grand cathedral will hold a state funeral for someone who had never existed in the public eye.

Above the main entrance of the cathedral, that rose window with a diameter of nearly eight meters cut the morning light into countless patches of interwoven dark blue and golden red, casting them onto the long central aisle.

The oak pews on both sides of the aisle were filled with all the highest-ranking officials from both the military and political circles of Lighthouse Country:

President Joseph Biden sat in the exact center of the first row, Vice President Harris sat to his left,

Minister of Defense Graves and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley sat separately on the right.

Behind them,

Secretary of State Monroe, White House Chief of Staff Madeline, National Security Advisor Sawyer, Director of Intelligence Holt,

as well as the bipartisan leaders of both houses of Congress, the chiefs of staff of various branches of The Pentagon, Supreme Court justices, cabinet secretaries of the Department of Homeland Security and the Department of Energy,

and all senior bureaucrats designated by the political landscape of Washington as "must attend to show loyalty"—all seated orderly according to the seating chart from the front rows to the middle rows.

Heads of state from various countries, such as John Country Prime Minister Harrington, Gaul Country President Duval, Sakura Country Prime Minister Shigeru Hasegawa, and India Narendra Singh, sat in the state guest seats on the left.

In front of each person lay a black-covered mourning booklet printed with gold foil embossing,

with the cover printing the name of Sophus Tesla along with his birth and death years.

The organist slowly played Bach's "G Minor Fugue" in the second-floor gallery, the pipes resonating against the stone walls to produce layers of slowly diffusing low harmonies,

and the air of the entire cathedral was steeped in this nearly solidified solemnity.

Below the altar at the very front of the cathedral rested a dark mahogany coffin personally carried down from a black hearse by Marine Corps honor guard soldiers,

draped over with the Stars and Stripes, the flag surface pressed so flat by battleship-grade ironing that there wasn't a single wrinkle.

Surrounding the coffin, honor guards from six military branches holding ceremonial rifles stood in a circle at standard intervals.

Lying inside the coffin was none other than Sophus Tesla.

A few days and nights before,

this person was still huddled beside a fire hydrant on an old street full of broken glass and abandoned police cars in the Sunset Park industrial area of Brooklyn, his mouth full of the aftertaste of chemical drug residues and some unrecognizable near-death smile.

At this moment, however, he was packaged as a heroic scientist who had single-handedly completed all advanced scientific and technological theoretical derivations and prototype manufacturing in a military underground laboratory without any publicly disclosed serial number, donated all achievements free of charge to the Federal Government, and was still conducting important scientific research work for the country at the very last moment of his life,

receiving a state funeral from the whole world right in the center of the Washington National Cathedral.