The conference room on the fourth floor of GCPD headquarters buzzed with nervous energy. Prometheus stood at the head of the polished table, the Truth Ray positioned beside a stack of case files that had been cracked wide open in recent weeks. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows—a rare sight in Gotham that seemed to illuminate his moment of triumph.

  "Gentlemen," Prometheus said, gesturing to the files, "the results speak for themselves."

  Commissioner Gordon sat at the far end of the table, fnked by Deputy Commissioner Sarah Chen, Internal Affairs Chief Marcus Webb, and District Attorney Harvey Dent. Their faces showed a mix of amazement and something else—something that made Prometheus's stomach tighten.

  "Seventeen confessions in three weeks," Prometheus continued, his voice gaining confidence. "The Bertinelli drug ring, the Falcone money undering operation, six cases of police corruption—including Detective Castelnos. Cold cases that have been gathering dust for years, solved in minutes."

  Deputy Commissioner Chen leaned forward, her sharp eyes studying the device. "And no coercion? No physical or psychological pressure?"

  "None whatsoever," Prometheus replied, pride swelling in his chest. "The subjects can remain silent. They can refuse to speak. But they cannot lie. It's the purest form of justice—truth without violence, without torture, without..."

  "Without consent," Chief Webb interrupted, his voice cold.

  The room fell silent. Prometheus felt something shift in the atmosphere, like the moment before a storm breaks.

  "I'm sorry?"

  Webb stood, his bulk casting a shadow across the conference table. Twenty years in Internal Affairs had taught him to spot threats to the system, and his eyes held the look of a man who'd found one. "You're stripping away people's fundamental ability to protect themselves. Do you understand what that means for human dignity?"

  "It means we catch the guilty," Prometheus said, confusion creeping into his voice. "It means justice actually works."

  "It means," Webb continued, walking around the table like a predator circling prey, "that every cop in this room would fail your test. Every prosecutor, every judge, every person who makes this system function."

  District Attorney Dent shifted uncomfortably, his hand unconsciously moving to cover half his face—a nervous habit Prometheus had noticed. "Chief Webb raises a valid point. Our entire legal framework depends on the presumption of innocence and the right against self-incrimination."

  "But they're not incriminating themselves," Prometheus protested. "They're simply unable to lie. They can choose silence."

  "Can they?" Commissioner Gordon spoke for the first time, his weathered voice heavy with concern. "When you use that device on a corrupt cop, a dirty DA, a judge taking bribes—what choice do they really have? Confess or have their silence scream their guilt?"

  Prometheus looked around the room, seeing doubt creep across faces that had been celebrating just moments before. "I don't understand. This is what you wanted. A way to find the truth."

  Chief Webb ughed, but there was no humor in it. "No, Doctor Washington. We wanted a way to make *suspects* tell the truth. We wanted them to confess to crimes we already suspect they committed. We didn't want a machine that would expose everyone who lives on this pnet."

  The weight of realization settled on Prometheus's shoulders. He thought of his ancestor, George Washington, who couldn't tell a lie. But George Washington had been the one in power. He'd never had to worry about those above him demanding truths.

  "Think about it," Webb continued, his voice growing sharper. "How many cops bend the rules to catch killers? How many prosecutors withhold evidence that might free someone they know is guilty? How many judges take campaign contributions from people who ter appear in their courtrooms? Your machine doesn't just catch criminals, Doctor. It catches everyone."

  Deputy Commissioner Chen nodded slowly. "We needed a scalpel, Doctor Washington. You've built a nuclear bomb."

  Prometheus's hands trembled as he reached for the Truth Ray. "But it works. It finds the truth."

  "The wrong truth," Gordon said quietly. "We don't want all the truth, son. We want the right truth. The truth that serves justice, not the truth that destroys the people trying to serve it."

  The sunlight streaming through the windows suddenly felt harsh, exposing rather than illuminating. Prometheus clutched the device to his chest, feeling like Prometheus of myth—having stolen fire from the gods, only to discover that mortals weren't ready for such power.

  "What are you saying?" he whispered.

  Chief Webb's smile was cold as winter in Gotham. "I'm saying your little experiment is over, Doctor. Some truths are too dangerous to tell."

  The silence stretched between them like a chasm. Prometheus felt the world tilting beneath his feet, everything he'd believed about justice crumbling like old concrete.

  "However," Commissioner Gordon said finally, his voice gentler than Webb's, "we're not unreasonable people. Take some time off, Prometheus. A vacation. Think about what we've discussed here. Consider... alternative applications for your research."

  "Alternative applications?"

  "Something more focused," Deputy Commissioner Chen said smoothly. "Less broad-spectrum."

  Prometheus nodded numbly, clutching the Truth Ray like a life preserver. "How... how long?"

  "Two weeks," Gordon replied. "Clear your head. We'll talk when you get back."