Becoming A Tech Tycoon Begins With Regression

Chapter 233 233: A Call From The White House

"Breaking News"

The familiar red banner flooded screens across the world as news anchors abruptly cut into scheduled programming.

"an outbreak of an unknown disease has been confirmed in Switzerland, with initial cases reported in Geneva late last night."

Behind the anchor, footage rolled of cordoned-off private clinics, black sedans lining hospital entrances, and heavily blurred faces being escorted by security.

"According to preliminary reports," the anchor continued, voice tight, "the illness appears to progress rapidly, beginning with acute fatigue and neurological disorientation before escalating into cardiovascular instability."

"What's alarming," she added, "is that the outbreak appears to be disproportionately affecting individuals in high-ranking or influential positions."

The feed switched to a correspondent standing outside a modern medical complex.

"Authorities have not confirmed whether this is a targeted event," the reporter said, "but sources indicate that over sixty percent of the infected are members of international boards, policy councils, or private strategic committees."

"As of now," he continued, "travel hubs across Europe have been placed on heightened alert. Several cases have already been identified in London, Frankfurt, and Dubai, suggesting the disease may spread silently before symptoms fully manifest."

Back in the studio, the anchor nodded grimly.

"In response to the crisis," she said, "Caldwell Hospital has issued a public statement."

The screen switched again showing a composed doctor Gabriel standing before a backdrop bearing two logos.

CALDWELL HOSPITAL In collaboration with OMNIMED

"Caldwell Hospital," Gabriel said steadily, "working alongside OmniMed, has begun accelerated research into this pathogen."

She paused, then continued.

"Our progress is made possible through real-time biometric and health-pattern data collected by VitaBand, a globally distributed health-monitoring system."

Comments flooded across social media feeds instantly.

"Using anonymized data," Gabriel clarified, "we've been able to map the disease's progression far faster than traditional reporting methods would allow."

"We are confident," he added, "that a viable treatment protocol is already in development."

The anchor returned to the screen, with a serious expression.

"Caldwell Hospital assures the public that an initial treatment framework may be announced within days."

The banner at the bottom of the screen changed.

OMNITECH SUBSIDIARY OMNIMED LEADS GLOBAL RESPONSE.

***

[Washington D.C., Early Morning]

The West Wing was unnaturally quiet, quieter than it usually was.

Even the air felt heavy at this moment.

Inside the Presidential Residence, the lights were still dim.

President Barack Obama sat at the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, palms pressed together.

His breathing was steady, but his vision wasn't.

For just a moment, the room tilted but that quickly passed, a fact which scared him quite a bit.

"Again?" Michelle asked softly from behind him.

Obama didn't turn immediately. "Just… lightheadedness," he said, choosing the words carefully. "Probably exhaustion."

It was the same line the physician had used an hour earlier.

Probably.

Dr. Lawrence had been sworn to silence before he even stepped through the gates.

Secret Service agents now stood outside the room, not with their usual relaxed alertness, but rigid, listening for any sign that something was wrong.

The President of the United States could not be sick.

Not officially.

In a secure medical room beneath the White House, biometric readings scrolled across a screen. Heart rate, neural activity, blood oxygen levels, all nominal, except for a single column highlighted in amber.

Neurological irregularity.

"Matches the Swiss cases," the doctor said quietly, eyes fixed on the data. "Early-stage presentation."

The Chief of Staff's jaw tightened. "Say that again."

The doctor hesitated. "The Geneva outbreak. The symptom pattern is identical."

"Is it contagious?" someone asked.

"We don't know," the doctor replied. "That's the problem. It doesn't behave like a conventional pathogen. Incubation appears… selective."

"Selective how?" another voice pressed.

The doctor swallowed. "Thus far, all confirmed cases globally share one common factor."

He glanced around the room before continuing.

"They're influential, decision-makers. People under chronic cognitive strain."

"Does that mean that someone is specifically targeting people with influence?"

"Quite possibly," the doctor said, wiping the sweat off his face.

***

Back upstairs, Obama stood now, jacket draped over his shoulders, his expression was composed once more.

"How bad is it?" he asked quietly.

The Chief of Staff met his eyes, "Contained. For now."

"And the public?"

"They don't know."

Obama nodded slowly. "Then they won't."

He straightened, the dizziness returning briefly before he forced it down.

"Make the call," he said. "Authorize Caldwell and OmniMed. Whatever they need."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"No, rather than that," Obama paused, "I would like a meeting with OmniTech's CEO, not the COO, the actual founder himself."

"Right away, Mr President." With that, he walked away to complete the task given to him.

They had been OmniTech's CEO for a while now, and although they didn't know how he did, one thing was for certain, the kid was a genius.

Oh, and there was also the fact that they knew who he was.

They hadn't tried getting in his way because his actions stayed within bounds, plus the fact that they would only drive him from the American soil if they tried agitating him.

Though the Presidential advisor would've very much preferred they had a leash on him.

The Chief of Staff didn't voice the thought aloud, but he also shared the same thoughts after all, with a leash, they would ensure that he remained an asset of the US.

Still, they needed him right now, so they had to put that thought on hold for now.

***

Meanwhile, Ethan leaned back on his chair with a smile on his face.

A month after dealing with those pesky pests, everything was going exactly as planned.

Especially given who had just caught the disease caused by him.

{The president,} Athena confirmed and the smile on Ethan's face got wider.

This was phase one of his two part plan, and it was working a lot better than he predicted. His simulation had predicted at least a week before people became desperate enough.

But at this rate, they'd be lining up at his door in the next few days.

As if in response to his thoughts, his phone suddenly started vibrating. He turned towards it before picking it up.

It was a secure, unlisted number.

Ethan glanced at the screen for half a second longer than necessary, then answered.

"Ethan Carter speaking."

There was a brief pause on the other end as the person confirmed his identity.

"This is the White House Communications Office," a calm, professional voice said. "Mr. Carter, the President has requested an urgent meeting with you."

Ethan's smile didn't falter, of course they already knew his identity. At least, they only made contact now rather than when he barely had any worth.

"Urgent?" he repeated mildly. "I'm flattered."

"This is not a courtesy call," the voice continued. "We're prepared to arrange immediate transport, location and timing are flexible."

Flexible in this sense was barely flexible at all, instead, they expected him immediately, but he wasn't going to fold.

"I'll check my schedule and get back to you," Ethan said and without giving the person on the other end a chance to say anything, he ended the call.

There was a grin on his face as he muttered, "let them get a bit more desperate."