Chapter 157: Landing in San Francisco

Just as the FBI agents raided the apartment door, rushing inside only to find an empty bedroom with bare walls.

Meanwhile, aboard a private jet that had just taken off from Los Angeles International Airport bound for San Francisco, Navali sat in a spacious seat, watching the attentive flight attendant and dedicated private physician move back and forth around him, remaining silent.

Right across from him, a man with bright, piercing eyes sat relaxed against the seat back, looking at him with a smile.

"Hello, Navali—or should I call you 'Ocelotl'? How does it feel?"

The man's gaze fell upon Navali's dark red, scarred face. There was no disgust or contempt in his eyes like what others usually showed, but rather a sense of curiosity and understanding.

Navali's lips trembled slightly, and he shook his head.

"...I didn't expect you people to track me down so directly... and to use something like this..."

His eyes glanced around uneasily before finally settling right in front of him—

"...a private jet."

The man—Sanders, the CTO of Close AI—looked at Navali and smiled.

"Does it make you feel uneasy? A bit apprehensive?"

Navali looked at him and nodded imperceptibly.

Sanders leaned forward and patted Navali on the shoulder.

"This is our big boss's private jet. It has hosted billionaires, giants of the military-industrial complex, and even the Secretary of State. You are not like them; you possess neither staggering wealth, nor vast influence, nor a lofty status—yet there is one thing, just that single thing alone, which makes it worthwhile for this plane to take off for you and land at the Los Angeles airport:

"You are a genius. Geniuses deserve to be treated with privilege."

***

The jet soared through the clouds in the stratosphere.

The flight from Los Angeles to San Francisco was only a little over six hundred kilometers.

During the roughly one-hour flight, Sanders's voice echoed through the cabin of the private jet, detailing something to Navali.

"Ever since we obtained the program you provided, the research and development of our new-generation AI has accelerated significantly. Because your requirements were so explicit, it was easy for us to deduce that 'Ocelotl' was someone closely associated with Masip Ceneviz. And your traits were simply too distinct; the detectives we dispatched took almost no time at all to locate that target—Navali Evans, a Mexican-American man, obsessed with computer technology, who received immense help from Masip...

"Although we found you, we didn't disturb you at first. Both CEO Salman and I deeply understand that geniuses are precious. To demonstrate our sincerity, we reconstructed the AI traces of those video clips in our laboratory and released them. Look, our contract terms have already been fulfilled...

"However, the 'Masip Ceneviz incident' is no simple matter. Although, given our boss's financial resources and Close AI's influence, the FBI and LAPD wouldn't dare investigate us directly, they tracked you down just as we did, and also uncovered the connection between 'Ocelotl' and the name 'Navali.' To eliminate the threat, they decided to arrest you using the crimes committed by 'Ocelotl'—and our boss, having received advance intelligence, believed it was time to bring you back and sent me to receive you.

" Rest assured, your computer and data storage media have been packed up and taken by our people; they should arrive in San Francisco around the same time we do. If you have any other needs, just ask—these are all courtesies extended to a genius.

"Furthermore, after looking into your background, we discovered certain past events you suffered through, and consequently, we specifically deployed human resources and successfully tracked down a few targets."

Sanders smilingly placed a tablet computer in front of Navali.

Almost the instant he saw the first face on the screen, Navali's gaze became "glued" to it.

"This is..."

He murmured in a faint voice.

Sanders's voice came from beside him:

"This man's current name is Fernand, and he is a man of leisure living in Paris—but according to our investigations, he used to go by another name in the United States: Baylubic Evans. You can swipe down to see more."

Navali's finger swiped downward blankly, and the face that next appeared in the center of the screen was that of a woman:

"Phelia, currently running a tavern in Rio de Janeiro—but she used to be called Estrella."

Sanders's voice continued steadily. Navali slowly shook his head, seeming somewhat in disbelief, yet the reality lay right before his eyes.

His finger continued to swipe down, revealing photos of a few more people, but even until the very end, the man who had peeled off his facial skin did not appear.

Navali raised his head and looked at Sanders. The latter, assuming Navali was dissatisfied, explained gently, "There is still one key figure we haven't found—Gerardo Firmend. However, the detective agencies we hired are already operating globally. Also—"

As if changing the subject, Sanders flashed a smile revealing his white teeth:

"However, Navali, among the images that appeared just now, there must be quite a few people you've been yearning for, right? This information is our welcome gift. This is an era of information and technology—information is power, and our Close AI is already a leader among information providers; besides, as you know, the company we rely on, Microsoft, was also founded by our BOSS, and it is one of the largest information oligarchs in the world. Well then, is there anything you'd like to do?"

Navali lowered his head, gazing at the faces appearing one by one on the tablet computer.

Those people he had once longed for—some he had wanted to take revenge on, others he had simply wished to see again—whoever they were, they had all been existences he once thought were worlds away and completely out of reach. Yet now, under the hands of Sanders and the company he represented, they had reappeared before him with full dossiers after just a few days.

However...

Times had changed. Upon seeing these people's faces again, even among them his own mother, Navali felt that the bottom of his heart was like a pool of stagnant water, without the slightest ripple.

He stared at the tablet screen at the woman now named "Phelia," who looked much older, yet completely different from how she used to be back then. Her cheeks had become remarkably plump, her neck had grown a few sizes thicker, and she was holding a wine glass and sitting joyfully in the center of the tavern, with only her brows and eyes vaguely retaining traces of the past. He slowly shook his head:

"...It doesn't matter anymore—I no longer need, nor do I want to see them again."

With that, Navali raised his head and looked at Sanders.

"...Thank you for helping me with so much—now it's my turn to fulfill the contract. So... what kind of work will I mainly be doing?"

Sanders looked at him, a smile gradually filling his face.

"You'll find out soon enough, Navali."

At that moment, the private jet had reached its descent point. Accompanied by a deep roar, it slowly descended onto the runway.

Amid the slight vibration transmitted through the landing gear into the cabin, the plane gradually came to a halt. The airstair extended downward at an angle, and under the attentive assistance of the crew, Navali stepped down the stairs step by step. The glaring sunlight made him instinctively squint his eyes.

Right at the foot of the airstair, Salman, the CEO of Close AI who had been waiting for a long time, walked up quickly. His dark, slightly protruding eyes, characteristic of his Jewish heritage, stared intently at Navali, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Welcome, Navali Evans."