Noah Langford - October 2120
It had been a week since my father expanded my access within the facility. Seven days of careful manoeuvring, of performing the role he expected while executing my own plan beneath the surface.
Progress was measurable, but acting independently remained difficult. Every step I took was under surveillance, either him, or one of his silent, precise security teams.
Today, I had clearance to observe her, the woman with the ability to control water. From the moment I saw her, the irregularities were immediately apparent. She had lost herself entirely. Whatever individuality she had once possessed was extinguished, leaving only mechanical repetition.
She walked the same paths, struck at the same points, circled endlessly, until exhaustion forced her into fragile sleep. Yet no fatigue lingered beyond the cycle. She showed no sign of burnout.
I focused on her blood, noting its flow, its rhythm, its response to her abilities. With each observation, I refined the nullifier formula. Incrementally, methodically, I recalibrated it. The projected success rate reached 81%. A measurable improvement, but still insufficient.
"Today" my father's voice cut through the quiet, clinical and cold, "we are injecting the nullifier directly into the test subject."
I turn from the observation window. His eyes were precise, calculating, and unyielding.
"The success rate is still below optimal," I say, keeping my tone calm. "The potential effects remain unknown."
His gaze sharpens. I recognise the weight behind it, testing for any signs of hesitation or weakness.
"Noah," he says, voice like a scalpel, "sometimes trial and error yields more actionable data than any algorithm."
I study him in return, noting the subtle indications of his strategy, the way he probes for doubt. I can not allow it. Not now.
"I understand," I say evenly, inclining my head. My mind, however, is already calculating contingencies, variables, risks, thresholds. The ethical implications were clear, but inaction would jeopardise my access, and my ability to protect Kai.
He presses the intercom button. "Proceed."
The cell door slides open. Guards and a scientist enter with mechanical precision. She doesn't notice until they pin her in place. Her strikes were futile against their control.
The scientist injects the nullifier. I track the dispersion of the green liquid through her veins. Subtle convulsions, followed by a slackening of her body.
My father activates a timer. His attention is fixed and mine remains on her.
At first, she rocks in silence. Then her hands clutch at her head. Screams erupt, guttural and ragged. She tares at herself, scratching her arms, ripping at hair. Blood runs freely. She appears to be attempting to reject the nullifier, fighting the effect through sheer force of will.
I step forward instinctively, but my father's scribbling commands attention. Pain, suffering, death, this is normal for him. Data to collect, patterns to record.
My vision wavers. For a terrifying moment, the figure before me becomes Kai. His face contort in agony, body thrashing violently. Nausea hits me, but I force control, grounding myself. And then, just as abruptly, the image reverts to her.
"Should we not intervene?" I ask calmly, calculating phrasing to minimise suspicion.
"No," he says sharply. "Alive, she provides data. Dead, she is replaceable."
I process the statement clinically. There is no negotiation, only probability and contingency. My only option is observation, and subtle note-taking.
Her head strikes the floor again and again. The final impact produces a sickening crack and her body goes still.
He presses the intercom. "Proceed to take samples."
The guards return, collecting blood with detached efficiency. I record details discreetly, masking my own documentation as observational notes.
My father turns his attention to me scanning me for reaction. But when he finds none, he returns to his tablet.
When he suggests we compare notes in his office, I agree, closing my notebook. "It would be most efficient."
We move down the corridor, with Officer Lang following behind us.
We walk in silence when suddenly two figures appear ahead. A girl with vivid purple hair and unnaturally red eyes, and a taller, older man. Their eyes met mine and recognition seems to flicker in them.
"004?" the girl calls.
The man nudges her, pulling her behind him. My father's head snaps in their direction.
"Is there a reason for your presence?" His tone is immediate, precise.
"My apologies, sir. We came to report," the man says.
"You will be called later," my father says, dismissive. "Leave."
The girl's gaze lingers on me. They had mistaken me for someone else... Kai. Their knowledge of him is evident.
My father's shoulder tensed. "I must take care of something first" he says, Leaving with only strict orders to Lang "Noone is ti entry or exit my office until I get back. Noah, stay inside until I get back"
Alone in his office, I seize the opportunity. Behind his desk, I connect the USB, bypassing security protocols with calculating precision. Files numbered 001 through triple digits sprawled across the screen.
And there it is: 004... now I know it's Kai by stomach seems to drop.
I copy the data efficiently, scanning for critical points, experimental protocols, weaknesses, vulnerabilities.
The suddenly footsteps outside remind me of time constraints. I withdraw the USB, restore the system, and assumed a neutral posture.
My father returns. "Something has come up. We will compare notes another time."
Relief is immediate, but I mask it. "Disappointing," I say, rising. "Perhaps next time."
As I rise to leave he blocks my path. "Your grandfather requests your presence for dinner this weekend, for your birthday."
I pause. My birthday. A day I had long ignored since… since Kai's apparent death.
"I already have plans with Finn" I reply quietly.
"You would do best not to upset Mr Carter," he warns.
I incline my head, feigning consideration. "I will attempt to reconcile."
With that, I pass him, heart focused and thoughts precise.
The only thing I care about right now is to ensure Kai and those at the revolutionary have the USB stick. It could be pivital to exposing GeneX.
Every action from this point forward requires precision, calculation, and patience.