Chapter 253: Starry Sky Technical Committee (SSTC)
[I know I said no more bonus chaps but... looking at how close we are to 100 PS... 3 chaps if we make it lol]
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The Starry Sky Technical Committee seemed to appear overnight, as if out of thin air. Within days, they were everywhere, plastering their name and mission across every media platform, drumming up interest with relentless publicity.
"Customize the Future." That was their bold tagline, flanked by slogans that promised innovation and change. Their logo popped up on nearly every website homepage, newspapers, giant LED screens in shopping plazas, and even the ads at bus stops.
At first, the public didn't know what to make of them. Speculation spread like wildfire—rumor had it they were some kind of high-tech research group. And the gossip only grew as whispers of their technological breakthroughs surfaced. Skeptics in the science community were quick to scoff. "What do they think research and development is, flipping pancakes?" quipped one critic online. "Just 'breakthroughs' whenever they want? Why not put up a slogan saying 'Innovating is as easy as breathing'?"
They had a point. This organization, unheard of until a few days ago, now claimed it was on the verge of world-changing discoveries. It was enough to make any reasonable person raise an eyebrow—and maybe suggest the committee members get their heads checked.
But two days later, things took an unexpected turn. The committee launched an official website, and a curious public flocked to it. As soon as they clicked on the homepage, the screen filled with a list of impressive names and photos.
One user, a notorious keyboard warrior, sneered and typed out, "Oh look, another so-called 'expert.' Nowadays any random clown calls themselves an expert."
His comment was immediately hit with replies.
"Ever heard of Dr. Hines? Seriously, educate yourself."
Indeed, the committee's chairman was none other than Dr. Hines, a scientist of almost mythical reputation. Known for his brilliance and quirks, Dr. Hines held a top position in the Ninth Special Service Division and was revered for his work across multiple fields.
People scrolled through the list of members, and jaws dropped. They were greeted with a lineup of elite experts, renowned leaders in fields as varied as biology, medicine, energy, and engineering. It felt like an all-star team, as if they'd compiled a dream roster of the brightest minds on the planet.
As the days went by, the committee's publicity only grew bolder, and curiosity turned to awe. People realized this wasn't just a publicity stunt—it felt like the dawn of something historic.
For anyone still doubting, however, the evening press conference made it all painfully clear.
Broadcast live across all major platforms, the whole world tuned in to watch Dr. Hines take the stage. After a brief introduction, he quickly moved on to the main event.
Two individuals, each disabled by a life-altering accident, were introduced.
The first was Jones Murphy, once an electrician, who had lost his right arm in an accident and struggled to adjust to life on his own. The second was Steve, a decorated war hero and friend of Commander Ross, who had lost a leg in combat.
They were both there to test a new kind of mechanical prosthetic.
Under the world's gaze, Jones stepped forward, visibly moved, and picked up a mechanical arm with his left hand. Without anyone's help, he connected it to his shoulder, where his arm had been amputated.
With a small click, it attached.
In a few tentative movements, Jones began to flex the new arm, watching in awe as the joints, palm, and fingers obeyed him with perfect coordination, as if it were his own limb responding to his thoughts.
Tears filled his eyes.
Even though he'd already tested the arm before the event, the experience felt almost surreal.
Since his accident, he'd struggled with depression, haunted not just by physical pain but by an overwhelming sense of loss. The hardest memory, the one that haunted him most, was the day his ten-year-old daughter had sat on his lap, looked at him with her wide, innocent eyes, and said, "It's okay, Dad. I'll make lots of money to take care of you."
He'd held back his tears then, feeling the weight of being unable to even give her a proper hug.
Now, it was like a prayer had been answered.
The gift he was receiving today would soon be available to thousands like him. Fathers, mothers, sons, daughters—countless people could now dream of holding their loved ones close with both arms again.
And the world watching was just as moved.
"No way… is that a neural link?" someone commented in disbelief.
"This can't be real. This is black magic!"
As comments flooded in, Jones moved to a nearby drum filled with small yellow balls. To everyone's shock, he scooped some up and began to juggle them with his new right hand and his original left, the balls dancing back and forth between his fingers.
Then it was Steve's turn. He rolled his wheelchair forward, picked up a mechanical leg, and attached it to his knee. There was a mechanical whir as the prosthetic locked into place, and then Steve pushed himself up.
The world watched, holding its breath, as he let go of the wheelchair's arms, took a few steps—and then, grinning boldly, he leaped into a backflip, landing smoothly on his feet.
Tears glistened in his eyes too. Steve had learned to accept his disability, had come to terms with his limitations, and made peace with his injuries. This moment was nothing short of a miracle—a miracle he hadn't dared to hope for.
He hadn't just regained a leg; he'd gained a new, improved one.
The world was in shock.
"Take my money!"
"Is this alien tech!?"
But the committee wasn't done.
As if determined to keep blowing people's minds, they announced five more breakthrough projects, each a leap forward in its field. Each demonstration sent shockwaves through the audience, breaking boundaries and surpassing the limits of existing technology.
By the end of the conference, the world was watching in stunned silence. Any doubts had evaporated. Nearly every person on the planet had tuned in, and people were now looking at this committee with a reverence reserved for legends.
"Customize the Future." That was the committee's slogan, and after tonight, no one dared to question it. They clearly had the resources and knowledge to back it up.
Just as the crowd thought the event was over, Dr. Hines took the stage once more, ready to push things to a final, unforgettable climax.
"I know you have high hopes for us," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "And I'd love to take the credit, I really would. Every researcher dreams of recognition."
He paused, letting the suspense build, and then continued.
"You're all wondering who we are, what we do. Yes, we develop cutting-edge technology, but that's not our main goal.
"Our real purpose is to regulate these advances and make sure they benefit every single person on this planet.
"But make no mistake, we're not the ones who created all of this. We're just the speakers, the representatives. The real credit doesn't belong to us."
The audience sat in breathless anticipation, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
Yes, the committee's technology felt magical, almost beyond belief, but they represented the highest echelons of science. If not them, then who?
"Ladies and gentlemen," Dr. Hines announced, "allow me to introduce the person responsible for our future—"
In a flash, a figure descended from the sky, leaving a blazing trail behind. The red and gold armor landed with a powerful impact, standing tall on the stage, instantly becoming the world's focus.
"—Iron Man!"
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