Zhdanov himself, usually depicted by a compliant government-controlled media as physically powerful and a paragon of perfect health, had aged rapidly over the past several months. His round face was pale and pudgy, and he looked thicker around the waist. There were visible shadows under his hard, brown eyes, and even his hair had thinned and turned gray. Well, Petrov thought dispassionately, death and illness come to us all sooner or later. If Russia’s autocratic president had expected his run of good fortune to continue forever, recent events must have shown him how wrong he had been.

Now Zhdanov eagerly leaned forward in his chair. “I understand you have a special proposal to present to us this afternoon, Colonel?”

“Da, Mr. President,” Petrov said. Outwardly calm, inside he battled a storm of swirling emotions. In a very real sense, his fate now rested entirely on his ability to persuade these men, especially Zhdanov, to approve the plan he was about to present. He tapped a virtual control on the podium’s computer display. Right away, the wall screen behind him lit up to show a detailed topographic map of the Russian Federation—all the way from its disputed land border with the Ukraine to the Pacific coast around Vladivostok.

He nodded to the junior officers waiting at the back of the room. They fanned out to present Zhdanov and the others with pairs of sleek, futuristic-looking eyewear. “Gentlemen, please put on the AR smart glasses you’ve been given.”

They obeyed, and Petrov heard a series of stifled gasps as they saw the world around them instantly transform. The augmented-reality technology embedded in each pair of smart glasses had just studded the huge map with three-dimensional representations of the military hardware deployed across Russia—everything from fighter aircraft to main battle tanks, warships, submarines, surface-to-air missiles, strategic bombers, and nuclear-tipped ballistic missiles.

He smiled a bit, observing their awed reaction. Pavel Voronin was the one who had pressed him to make full use of this new technology in his briefing. “Salesmanship is showmanship,” Grishin’s urbane henchman had pointed out. “Dazzle those old farts and they’ll be eating out of your hand by the time you’re finished.” It appeared that Voronin’s cynical assessment might be correct.

Petrov tapped another control on the podium. In response, the map zoomed in to show the region of southern Russia around Akhtubinsk and the Chkalov State Flight Test Center. New three-dimensional pictures appeared. These showed the PAK-DA stealth bomber prototype effortlessly performing a series of complicated aerial maneuvers. They finished with image-enhanced video shot from one of the Su-34 chase planes when the bomber launched its Kh-102 practice cruise missile. That drew more excited murmurs, especially when the augmented-reality program depicted a realistic-looking nuclear fireball rising from the intended target.

“As you can see, Mr. President,” Petrov said smoothly, “our flight tests of the new stealth bomber prototype are progressing rapidly and with complete success so far.”

Zhdanov nodded gravely. “That is a testament to your own skills and courage, Colonel.”