Noah Langford - August 2120
He must be doing it deliberately. There's no logical reason for a meeting to drag on this long, yet he keeps stretching every point just a little too far… almost as if his goal is to irritate me.
"As you can see here, the increase in the Lunex vial's success rate continues to grow-" It's the most I've heard my father speak in months.
My focus keeps slipping, too much for my liking. My eyelids keep drifting shut, and every time my head starts to dip, I jolt awake again. At least the room is dark.
The entire setup resembles a lecture hall, all of us facing forward while my father drones through the data. But I already know all of it. Every chart, every conclusion. I built half the underlying models.
And yet he and my grandfather insisted I attend for some reason.
Exhaustion, boredom, and the irritation of wasted time, builds with each slide. My mind keeps thinking back to the nullifery. I would do anything to be working on it right now instead of being here.
Every few minutes, my father's gaze flicks toward me, sharp and assessing. As if he's waiting, hoping, for me to slip. Perhaps that's his plan. Let me nod off, then turn to my grandfather and the other board memebers and say I'm struggling. That my work should be reassigned. That he should take over my project.
"And that concludes our presentation," he finishes, finally, nearly an hour later.
The room erupts into low conversation as scientists begin to mingle, compare notes, network. Normally I would welcome the chance to speak with minds at my level, but right now all I want is to go back to my lab and recover the time I just lost.
I'm one step from the exit when I hear my father call out.
"Noah." His voice is loud, not quite a shout. "Come here a moment."
A command, not a request. As always.
I sigh silently, slide my mask back into place, and turn with the best approximation of a polite smile I can manage.
"Yes, Father?" Calm. Collected.
Two people stand beside him, a man and a woman, and behind them a young woman, she seems about my age. Her presence surprises me, people our age don't usually attend these presentations unless they're here to observe. Or they're prodigies.
"I'd like to introduce you to the Wellingtons" my father says, wearing the same polished, calculated politeness he uses when he wants something. I suppose I learned that skill from him.
I reach out and shake their hands. "A pleasure to meet you." The smile feels stiff, harder to maintain than usual.
Mrs Wellington looks me over with amused delight. "Oh my, you're just as handsome in person."
"Brains and looks" Mr Wellington laughs. "Life really isn't fair."
"Oh- thank you." I bow slightly, eager to change the subject before the awkwardness intensifies. "What brings you here today?"
"Your father invited us" Mr Wellington says, giving me a friendly pat on the back. "We heard you've had a significant impact on the Lunex project."
"Well, I just went back over the formulation and ran a few calculations, nothing major" I say, keeping my tone modest.
"I'm afraid my son spends so much time buried in his lab that he's begun to lose track of the world around him" Joseph says, his smile precise but empty.
What is that supposed to mean? Who are they?
Is he testing me?
I search my exhausted mind, but nothing surfaces. I've heard the name Wellington before, I'm almost certain, but I can't place it. Not while i'm running on four hours of sleep.
"Noah, this is Charles Wellington" my father explains, "the Military Science & Technology Advisor."
I pause, then turn to look at the man properly. He doesn't match what I'd expect of someone in such a high-ranking military role. He looks… normal. His smile seems genuine, and there's no arrogance about him.
"My apologies, Advisor. I wasn't aware" I say, still slightly thrown.
But a question forms immediately, sharp and cold.
Why would someone of his status attend a simple presentation about the Lunex vial?
And then it clicks... far later than it should have.
GeneX is planning a partnership. With the military.
Weaponised enhancement. Soldiers turned into guardians.
I swallow hard. This is the worst possible development for my plan.
If GeneX aligns with the military, dismantling them becomes nearly impossible. And worse, there will be more powered individuals. Stronger ones.
An entire army of them.
My stomach twists. This could change everything.
Mr Wellington's hand lands on my shoulder, warm, heavy, presumptuous. "Don't worry about it" he says with a politician's ease, "anyways, there's someone we'd very much like you to meet, this is my daughter Daisy."
The girl steps forward. She gives a small, awkward wave, eyes flicking up to mine. "Hi. It's… nice to finally meet you. My parents have told me a lot about your work."
I straighten automatically, spine falling into that rigid line I can't quite unlearn. Compliments, attention... it all feels like fluorescent light directly in my face.
"Have they" I reply, the corners of my mouth lifting into a polite, brittle smile. "I hope it wasn't exaggerated."
Mrs Wellington laughs, loud enough that a few heads turn. "We've kept up with every report! Truly, you've done incredible things at GeneX."
Daisy winces at her mother's enthusiasm. "Mum…"
Mr Wellington laughs, "Daisy's been doing excellent work with the Science and Technology Military Advisory. Quantum modelling, integrated systems analysis, she's a prodigy in her own right."
"Dad" Daisy cuts in, pink-cheeked and flustered, "please stop."
While they bicker softly, the pieces slot together with the unpleasant precision of falling dominoes. Their presence. Their timing. The way they positioned her beside me as if arranging a photograph. Compliments that sound rehearsed. The quiet, eager smiles.
This isn't an introduction.
It's a pitch. One that my father and grandfather pushed me in.
Mrs Wellington's smile widens, warm and practised. "We think the two of you could do extraordinary things together."
There it is. Naked ambition wrapped in polite words.
My stomach knots, not with nerves, but with a deep, tired disbelief. A political alliance. A connection between GeneX and the military's science division. They aren't even trying to hide the angle.
Daisy looks at me then, properly, and her expression makes the situation worse, not scheming, not smug, just uncomfortable. "I… didn't realise they were going to push it like this" she murmurs. "Sorry."
I offer her a faint, strained nod, the closest I can get to reassurance. She's a victim of this as much as I am.
Mr Wellington's voice cuts back in, oblivious. "Of course, these partnerships would be open doors, for both sides."
Is he trying to hint at my secret project?
Mrs Wellington adds, "A power pairing" as though the phrase is meant to flatter me.
I don't let my posture shift. I keep my voice level, calm, professional.
"My work is not something to be traded" I say quietly. "And neither am I."
It lands like a dropped pin in the middle of a silent room. It wasn't harsh or dramatic. Just factual.
Daisy exhales, shoulders loosening. She looks relieved.
Her parents look… startled. Already recalculating angles.
I force my polite smile back into place, the mask fitted perfectly. "If you'll excuse me" I add, inclining my head just enough to appear respectful, "I have work to return to."
Before they can protest, before Mrs Wellington can attempt another pitch, I step away, calm, precise, and already heading for the exit.
Daisy gives a tiny wave goodbye.
Her parents don't. They're too busy reconfiguring whatever plan I've just derailed.
I don't look back. I head straight for the lift and slip inside, pressing the button with more force than necessary.
My father is going to be furious with me walking away like that. But I am just to tired. Tired from lack of sleep, tired trying to fix the nullifer, tired of being here.
The moment the doors begin to slide shut, I exhale, long, shaky. I hadn't realised I'd been holding my breath. My shoulders hit the back wall as I let myself sag for the first time all evening.
It almost closes when suddenly a hand slips between the doors.
They jolt open again and my stomach drops.
My father steps inside with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
I flinch before I can stop myself, spine snapping straight as he moves closer, not touching, not speaking, just standing there with that unreadable expression carved into his face.
The doors closes and the lift begins its slow, vertical climb.
Silence settles like a weight.
Floor after floor ticks past, and with each one my anxiety coils tighter and tighter. I know him well enough to understand this quiet. He's furious. Not with a raised voice, not his style, but with the cold, measured disappointment that always cuts deeper.
He must be livid that I walked away. That I didn't play along. That I ruined whatever scheme he'd been arranging.
I keep my gaze fixed on the illuminated numbers above the door.
Anything to avoid his eyes.
The lift hums in silence. I press my staff card against the reader and the doors sliding open with a quiet click. I step inside and swipe the card to register my access.
Hoping to god that his father continues up to his lab. But then he speaks.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?" His voice is quiet, too quiet, but it carries that precise, cutting edge only he can wield. Every word measured, deliberate, designed to wound without raising it above a whisper.
I turn towards him as I near my desk. He stands rigidly in the corner of the office, eyes cold, sharp. His jaw is tight, hands clasped behind his back. The calm, calculated expression he wears only makes the fury beneath it more dangerous.
"You embarrassed me" he continues, each word deliberate, clipped. "Do you understand the stakes? The leverage? Everything I've built, everything I've planned and you throw it away with a single comment."
I remain still, silent, letting him vent. His fury is not loud. It doesn't need to be. It presses down in the room like gravity.
He moves closer, slow, deliberate, and I can feel the weight of his intellect locking onto mine, dissecting, analysing. "You think your morals, your… integrity, matter here? Do you? You humiliate me, and for what? For your project?" His lips twitch in the barest, cruelst of smiles. "This partnership is about power. And you-" He pauses, letting the word hang, heavy with accusation. "You make it personal. You always do."
I press my hands against my desk, steadying myself. I can feel the familiar rush of tension, the precise mental calculation spinning through me. Every argument, every consequence.
He studies me for a long moment, and I know he's cataloguing every micro-expression, every shift in posture, every unspoken admission.
Finally, he exhales sharply, the tiniest sound, like a blade sliding free. "You may think you're clever, Noah" he says, voice low, dangerous. "But clever doesn't mean untouchable. And right now… you've made yourself very, very touchable."
The words land like cold steel.
I say nothing. I don't move. I wait. Calculating, as always.
Because that is all I can do. Where is Finn? I really need him here right now.
My father steps toward me.
I retreat without meaning to, one instinctive step back, and the moment I do, I see it register in his expression. The flicker of satisfaction. The way his smile sharpens into something crueler, more deliberate.
He closes the remaining distance slowly, like he's savouring each inch of my fear. When he lifts his hand, my eyes snap shut on reflex, bracing for the slap.
But it never comes.
I open my eyes to find him right in front of me, his breath brushing my cheek. His hand settles against my face, too gentle, the kind of touch designed only to mock and I flinch anyway.
"Noah" Joseph says with an indulgent smile meant only to wound, "you appear to have mistaken your position. I give direction and you comply."
He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
"Don't insult me by pretending I don't know what you've been doing in here." he says, voice calm, almost indulgent. "I am a very observant person, so if you thought I didn't notice something, believe me I did. I just chose to stay silent"
The whisper sinks into me like ice water.
He steps back, smiling that razor-thin smile that always means he's won, because he sees I've gone still, muscles locked, breath caught in my throat.
"You'd be wise to listen to me" he adds, turning toward the door, "if you don't want everything you've worked for to come crashing down."
And then he's gone.
The silence he leaves behind feels suffocating. My heart drops, my thoughts scatter, panic punching through my ribs.
He knows... He knows about the nullifier.
Or he just bluffing? What if he's not?
My stomach twists, nausea rising as my mind spirals out of control. I can't think. I can't breathe. All I can hear is his voice, the threat behind it, the certainty, the promise of ruin.
I press my palms to my temples, trying to ground myself, but it only makes the pressure worse. My thoughts keep looping, breaking apart, reforming into something harsher.
The room hums too loudly and my heartbeat pounds in my ears like an alarm.
It's starting... I know this feeling.I've been here before.
The edge of a psychotic episode, creeping in like a shadow under the door.
My vision blurs for a second, not physically, but as if my brain can't decide what it's seeing. The corners of the lab feel distorted. Shapes stretch and pull. Every noise echoes.
I need to get out. I need to get away from this building, from him, from their eyes.
I stumble to my desk, grabbing for my medicine and take the last two remaining pills.
My chest is tight and my vision keeps narrowing, like the world is closing into a tunnel.
I want to go home... but I need the to work. I can think there... but there is to much to do here. I can work there... but your equipment is better here.
But I can breathe there without my father being around.
Just a few days... Just long enough for my mind to settle. Long enough to figure out whether he knows or if my brain is turning shadows into monsters again.
"Just a few days... I'll be fine at home" I whisper to myself.
But even that sounds like a lie.