Noah Langford - July 2120
Almost there. Just a fraction more.
The lab is unnaturally quiet today, it's the kind of silence that amplifies every breath, every minor slip of concentration. My attention narrows to the microscope before me. One careless movement of the pipette could ruin the slide, and I refuse to waste another sample.
Under the lens, a familiar scene unfolds, red and white blood cells in their endless rhythm, but there is also something unnatural that moves among them. A orange cells, sliding effortlessly into their domain, mimicking their behaviour. The Lunex mutation, it is bold as ever, pretending to belong there.
I lower the pipette with precision and depress the plunger. A thin film of green liquid fans out across the slide - NL34. My thirty-fourth attempt at a viable nullifier.
No contamination. No turbulence. So far, it's going perfect.
I step back from the microscope, pull my goggles back on my face, and turn to the monitor displaying the live feed. The digital readout projects a faint blue light over my hands, sterile and ghostlike. Two progress bars pulse on the screen: Lunex Mutation Activity in red, NL34 Efficacy in green.
At first, the mutation dominates the screen. 82% percent activity, aggressive, consistent. Then, gradually, I see the decline.
72%... 61%... 49%...
The green rises to meet it, deliberate and steady. Nullifier Efficacy: 54%.
My pulse begins to quickens. After months of theoretical revisions and failed stabilisations, it's finally working. The mutant signal is fading. The serum is doing exactly what it was designed to do and I begin to feel a small amount of excitment rise within me.
Then the data shifts.
49%... 52%... 58%...
"Don't destabilise now," I breathe, barely audible. But the algorithm doesn't obey.
Mutation Activity: 67%.Nullifier Efficacy: 31%.
A low alarm tone slices through the silence, measured, mechanical, almost like a heartbeat in distress. I watch as the red bar surges, devouring the green in a single violent sweep.
86%... 93%...
Crimson floods the display.
NL34 has failed...Again.
I exhale, pressing my palms over my face. The faint sting of disinfectant clings to my hands from the gloves. Every iteration, every recalibration and still, the Lunex strain refuses to yield.
Perhaps Father was right. Perhaps I am only good at merely perfecting fragments of his legacy rather than creating one of my own.
The success with the Lunex survival rate had been a modification, not an innovation. The framework was already there... his framework, whereas the nullifier, is mine alone, and its failure is absolute.
Finn should be back soon with the Nexa vials, the only remaining variable I that could help with my project. But even that feels futile. The mutation's structure is astonishingly resilient; it's clear why so many people fail to survive more than a couple of hours after exposure.
I drop my hands and stare at the red glow on the monitor. It seems almost sentient, like it is mocking me.
I pick up the slide. There are no trace of green serum remains. Complete degradation. Thirty-four experiments, and not a single lasting result.
Frustration surges. I slam the slide down onto the counter, the sound sharp in the quiet.
Then the evevator door suddenly opens, but I don't turn. The weight of failure presses down, heavy and familiar.
I listen to footsteps until they pause at the threshold between the lab and the adjoining office. I finally look over and my stomach sinks a little.
Finn stands in the doorway, one hand holding a metal case, and his other resting on his hip. His usual quiet composure is gone, replaced with something taut. Annoyance, barely masked.
"What's wrong, Finn?" I ask turning my attention back to the monitor.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His tone is controlled, but there's steel beneath it.
"Tell you what?"
He doesn't answer right away. The silence stretches, it's deliberate, calculated. He's waiting for me to look at him, knowing I can never hide anything once he has my eyes
"Noah," he says again, firmer this time. It's not a plea; it's a command, which for some reason makes me meet his eyes.
He looks genuinely irritated. "What promise did you make with your father?"
Of course Father told him, he never could resist meddling in everyone else business.
I exhale through my nose. "I agreed to work with him again, for two days a week in exchange for the Nexa vials you're holding."
Finn glances down at the case and the irritation flickers into something that could be considered as anger.
"You've spent years trying to cut ties with him, and now you go crawling back?" His voice is tight, too calm to be casual.
I push my goggles up fully and face him. "I'm not crawling back. It's a temporary collaboration, nothing more."
Two days a week. A small sacrifice, if it means progress. But when I glance at the red-lit monitor again, the numbers frozen at ninety-three percent, something in me falters.
For the first time in years, I feel the edge of doubt cut clean through my resolve. And for the first time, I wonder if I've already lost.
I grind my teeth, looking at the red screen highlighting my failures. Thirty-four experiments, and not a single iteration brought me closer to success. Every hypothesis I formulated, every reaction I meticulously predicted, betrayed me.
It's maddening really. Every time I thought I understood the Lunex mutation, it shifted, constantly adapting as if laughed at my calculations. I should have seen this coming, anticipated it, accounted for it.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing I could press my mind as easily as I pressed the pipette. Why can't I solve this? Why does every variable I introduce collapse under the weight of this mutation?
And yet… I can't stop. I won't stop. That's the cruelest part, the drive refuses to leave me, even when every tangible result screams failure.
Finn shifts in the doorway, snaps be back to focus and I turn my attention back to him. I can feel his tension. The slight twitch in his jaw, the way his eyes hold mine.
"This is ridiculous," he says quietly, though the tone makes it feel like a verdict. "You know what working with him means, and you're still going back?" His face, tight with frustration, is a mirror of my own irritation, but directed outward. His anger isn't just for me; it's for the risk I'm willing to shoulder, for the way I'll let Father manipulate me again.
"It's temporary," I say, my voice calm, but the words taste hollow even to me. "Two days a week. That's all. I can manage it. And it's the only way to get the materials I need."
Finn scoffs, shaking his head. "Manage it? Noah, you don't manage him. You bend." His voice tightens.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but my mind won't stop, I can feel it fracturing into pieces. Every failed attempt loops in my head, twisting, feeding my irritation. I should have done more. I should have been smarter, faster, better, but here I am, staring at digital proof of my incompetence.
Finn steps closer, worry threading through his frustration. "Do you even see what he's doing? You're letting him pull you back in."
I flinch, because he's right but the thought of giving up is unbearable. Ever
"I don't have a choice," I mutter, voice tighter now. "Not if I want this to work. The nullifier isn't going to stabilise itself. The mutation won't wait for me to feel ready. I need this."
Finn exhales, long and heavy, and his shoulders slump slightly, though the tension doesn't leave him. "And what happens when your two days a week aren't enough? When he decides he needs more from you? Will you throw everything you've built away again just to satisfy him?"
My head is starting to hurt. His words are sharp, but they ignite something else inside me, a flicker of anger. How dare anyone suggest I don't know the cost of what I'm risking? How dare anyone tell me what I can or can't handle?
I move past him, crossing to my desk and lowering myself into the chair. My tone is steady, almost detached, masking the turbulence underneath."I determine the cost, Finn. I decide how far I go. Every step I've taken, I've weighed the consequences."
Finn's eyes narrow. "Then why does it feel like you're falling into your fathers hands?"
I slam my hands on the desk, forcing myself upright. Everything in me screams, ready to snap. First, the experiments fail and now Finn, acting like I'm some helpless child. Like he alone can see what my father is doing. Like I'm incapable of noticing, of understanding.
"Enough, Finn!" I growl, letting the edge of my anger cut through the room. "I didn't ask for your input. And I don't need it from a security guard. You're not here for insight, you're here to follow orders." I press my fingers to my temple, trying to squeeze the tension from my skull, but the anger doesn't fade. It sharpens me, makes every thought precise.
"You think you understand my father? You think you understand me?" I continue, voice low, pointed. "You don't. Don't act like you know everything about me because I let you stay at my house"
Finn exhales, small, almost sheepish, shaking his head. "You've gotta be kidding me…" He mutters it like it tastes wrong in his mouth and lets out a brief, hollow laugh. Then, slow, deliberate, he crosses the room. When I glance back, he's placing the case on my desk and pivoting to leave without a word.
I watch him go, but the heat in my chest doesn't cool. It narrows, focusing. My thoughts, my mind, only feeling that burning anger.
Then, he suddenly stops, mid-step and turns. I pause with a twitch of uncertainty. He reaches into his pocket and then he slams a small container on the desk before retreating again.
I don't speak or move. I let just let him leave.
I stare down at the container. My medicine. A small fissure cracks in the armor of my fury and I slump back into the chair. My fingers drum the desk in a measured rhythm.
A sigh escapes my lips... Good job, Noah.
_______________________________________
The day passes in a blur, my work on the project consuming me so fully that I hardly notice the hours slipping by. It isn't until my stomach reminds me that it's late that I finally step back. The irritation and anger from earlier no longer linger, they've melted away with the medication and the rhythm of my work.
I decide it's time to call it a day. I shrug off my lab coat and grab my bag, before taking the lift. Glancing at my watch, I start tapping my foot. Finn isn't here. I'm used to him meeting me at the end of the day, and it feels... strange. Where could he be?
The elevator dings open, and as I step out onto the ground floor, a tall man in a GeneX security uniform blocks my path.
"Mr Langford," he says.
I pause, caught off guard, before looking up at him. "Yes?"
"I will be your escort home today," he replies.
Confusion spikes within me. "Where's Finn?"
"Officer Lennoy departed early and asked me to take you home," the guard, Officer Price, I realise, says.
That doesn't make sense. Finn has always drove me home? I pull my phone from my bag and unlock it. A few missed calls and messages flash on the screen, but nothing urgent, except one name that stands out: Finn Lennoy.
I open the message, and the words make my chest tighten slightly.
Noah. I need to clear my head, so going out for drinks with the guys. Officer Price will take you home.
Then another message follows, and my heart skips a beat.
Make sure you eat something.
I linger on the screen a moment longer than I should, and Officer Price clears his throat.
"Let's head out."
Without another word, he turns toward the car. I fall into step behind him, mind still lingering on Finn's messages, on the small, careful thoughtfulness behind them.
___________________________
I sit in my makeshift lab at home, going over the notes from today's failed tests, but my mind keeps drifting. I find myself glancing at the clock again and again, 11:12 p.m.
It's late, and Finn still isn't home. No messages. No calls. A flicker of worry gnaws at me. Not for his safety, Finn can handle himself, but for the fallout from today's conversation.
My thoughts drift back to the office, to the words that I can't take back.
"I didn't ask for your input. And I don't need it from a security guard."
"You think you understand me? You don't. Don't act like you know everything about me just because I let you stay at my house."
I bury my face in my hands. I didn't mean to let my anger lash out at Finn. I knew he was right. Usually, his input grounds me, reminds me I'm not alone in how I feel.
But today… after all those late nights and nothing but failure staring back at me, after taking my father's offer for resources that might not even work, after delaying my project further to protect his legacy… something inside me snapped. That frustration had nowhere to go but out, and the nearest target, the one closest to me, was Finn.
Sitting here now, I can feel the weight of it all, the anger, the guilt, the worry. And I can't stop replaying every word.
I've never been good with people. Talking to them feels like walking through a maze I can't navigate, and more often than not, they seem to avoid me. I've been told over and over that I'm strange, that I act like I'm better than everyone else, that someone like me has no right to complain. And when my irritation spills over into anger, when I lash out, they call me a monster.
But never Finn. Even today, when I said things I didn't mean, things I knew would hurt him, he never said a word. I know I'm a monster. I don't care who I step on to reach my goals, and I even made Finn into a killer to protect me.
Yet not once has he complained or called me a monster. Now because of my careless words, have I finally pushed him too far? What if he hates me now? The thought cracks something deep inside me, like a fissure running across my heart.
I take a deep breath and try to refocus on my notes. Then, suddenly, my phone rings. I walk over and pick it up.
Finn Lennoy.
My stomach drops. He said he needed time to think, did he decide to leave?
"Hello?" I answer.
"Oh, hi, Mr Langford?" The voice on the other end isn't Finn.
"Speaking," I say, trying to keep calm, though nerves are starting to coil in my chest. Where is he?
"Sorry to bother you so late, sir, but… Lennoy is a bit drunk and refusing to go home," the voice continues. "Do you have someone who can come and get him?"
Drunk? Finn hasn't had a drink in ages. A lump forms in my throat.
"Send me the address. I'll sort it," I reply.
When the call ends, I consider calling one of the other GeneX officers to go get him, but stop myself. What if Finn refuses to come home? No. I can't risk him running off. I'll get him myself.
I head to the front door and pick up the car keys, pausing for a moment. I'm not supposed to leave alone, if someone tried to attack me without a security guard, I'd be done for.
I go to the spare room and unlock the door. Inside, a wall lined with the various agents and weapons I've developed stares back at me. I scan it quickly and pull a taser before heading out.
Once in the car, I do a quick mental check. It's been a long time since I last drove, and I was never good at it, that's why Finn always ended up behind the wheel.
I enter the address and head toward it, but a gnawing feeling sits at the back of my mind. Finn's is probably going to push me away when I get there.
I pull up, stepping out of the car. No one seems to have followed me, which is a relief.
As I step forward, someone comes running over, hand raised. "Mr Langford? Why are you here?" It's the security guard, concern etched across his face.
"I came for Finn," I say, walking past him. He hurries to keep up.
"You're not supposed to be here alone," he protests.
"Well, now I'm not. Where is he?" I cut him off. I came here for one thing.
He hesitates for a moment before leading me down a twisting maze of narrow alleys. At the end, a small, hidden bar comes into view, one of those secret places only locals know about. And outside, with his head down… Finn.
I dismiss the security guard with a curt nod and walk towards where Finn is sitting. I take a steadying breath before leaning down and lightly tapping him on the head.
He slowly lifts his face, his eyes meeting mine. There's a faint gloss over them and his cheeks flushed pink. He's definitely drunk. Finn has never been able to hold his drink, which is exactly why he stopped years ago.
At first, he doesn't seem to recognise me. But as I stand there staring down at him, his eyes widen and he suddenly springs up, almost knocking me over. I stumble back, startled by the sudden movement, but he's quick to grab my arms and steady me.
"Noah! Why are you here?" His words are slurred, and when he moves, he sways, dizzy from the motion or the alcohol, I'm not sure.
I catch him by the arm before he can fall again. "Come on, let's go home," I say quietly. I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary. There are too many eyes watching, and the GeneX board would have a field day if a photo of me helping my "security guard" made it into the press.
I slide my hand down and take his wrist, pulling him gently along the way I came. He doesn't resist, though he's silent as we walk back through the narrow alleyways.
After a while, I slow down, realising with a growing sense of unease that I've completely lost track of the way out. I was too focused on finding Finn earlier to pay attention to the route the guard took.
I pause for a moment, but it was long enough for Finn to take it as an invitation to stop. Before I can react, he leans against the wall and slides down slightly.
"Why would you come here, Noah?" His voice is low, rough. "It's dangerous for you to come on your own… If anything happened to you…" He trails off, covering his face with his hand.
Something inside me twists. Finn is always composed, always in control. Seeing him like this, vulnerable and unguarded, pulls at something deep in my chest. The only other time I've seen him like this was when he argued with his father about joining GeneX.
I kneel down in front of him, trying to meet his eyes, but he still doesn't look up.
"Finn. Look at me," I say softly.
He hesitates, then lowers his hand from his face. His blue eyes finally meet mine.
I reach out and brush a strand of hair away from his face. He flinches slightly but doesn't pull away.
"I'm sorry about what I said in the office," I say quietly. "I didn't mean any of it. I was just… angry."
He looks at me for a long moment before sighing. "I know."
His calm response makes me nervous, so I keep talking. "I do value your input, it helps me... stay grounded. And I like having you around. Who else would make me dinner?" I tease lightly, hoping to draw out a reaction. It works and a small laugh escapes him.
"But most of all," I continue, my voice lowering, "I'm sorry I said you were just a security guard. You're…" I hesitate. What is he to me, really? He's more than a bodyguard. He's my anchor. My constant. Without him, I'd be lost.
"You're important to me, Finn."
His eyes widen slightly before he masks it with a small nod.
"I know, Noah," he says softly. "I was just… worried about you. I can't let your father take you away from me."
Take me away from him? He's always been more dramatic after drinking. I manage a faint smile and reach up to ruffle his hair, the same way he's done to me countless times when trying to cheer me up.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell him.
He smiles faintly before his head droops again, clearly fighting the alcohol. It's going to be difficult finding the car if I have to drag him the whole way.
"Listen, I'm just going to take a quick look for the exit. I'll be back in a second," I say as I start to stand. But before I can move, his hand shoots out and grips mine tightly.
"No, you can't go on your own," he slurs, voice heavy with concern.
I pat his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, I won't be long. Besides, I've got this." I pull out the taser and give it a quick buzz for show.
The concern on his face doesn't fade, but before he can protest further, I slip away, jogging down the alley.
"Noah, wait!" his voice calls out behind me, but it fades as I turn the corner.
I follow the path carefully, mapping the route in my mind. When I think I'm close to the exit, a shadow moves ahead of me. Before I can react, a hand grabs my collar and shoves me hard against the wall. The impact knocks the breath out of me, and my taser falls to the ground with a clatter.
I drop to my knees, gasping, but then hear the crackle of electricity. The man has picked up the taser.
I look up at him, and observe him. Plain features, brown hair, brown eyes. Completely unremarkable.
"I thought that was the famous Noah Langford I saw at the bar," he says with a crooked smile.
I stay silent, my pulse hammering. My eyes flick briefly toward the alley where I left Finn. He's in no state to come after me.
The man grabs me by the throat and slams me back against the wall. I struggle for breath, my hands clawing at his wrist. The taser buzzes beside my ear.
"You were such an easy catch," he sneers. "People made out like you were untouchable."
Another idiot thinking he can make a fortune off a ransom.
I grit my teeth, bracing for the jolt, but before it comes, the man's body is suddenly wrenched sideways. I collapse to the ground, gasping for air and when I look up, there's someone standing between us.
Finn.
He's swaying slightly, but his stance is firm, steady, protective, dangerous.
He moves faster than I expect. One lurching step and Finn's already between us, voice low and steady even with the alcohol wobbling his balance. For a second I'm suspended in disbelief, then he strips the taser from the man's grip with a quick twist, as if he's done this a hundred times before.
There's a brief flurry, Finn drives the probe end into the man's shoulder, the device hissing to life, and the attacker convulses once before collapsing like a puppet whose strings were cut. It's over in a breath. The man goes limp on the cobbles, out cold.
Finn sways but stands his ground, chest heaving. He looks up at me, eyes sharp for a moment, then they softens.
"Are you, okay?" I ask, though the question is for both of us. He lets out a short, humorless laugh and shakes his head. "I'm fine. He's not getting up." He sounds proud and terrified all at once. He walks back to me and hold his hand out for me to take.
He pulls me up with ease and when I think he's about to let go of my hand, he instead suddenly pulls me towards him and before I realise what is happening, his arms are wrapped around me in a hug. So tight that it feels like he's trying to shield me from everything around us.
"Finns, What-" I'm about to protest but then he cuts me off.
"Shh. Just give me a second" he whispers. Something about the way he said it, like he's tired and a little bit broken make me stay still. My arms are still by my side, but as the hug tighterns again, like he's afraid i'll disappear if he lets go, I find my arms automatically lifting and wrapping around him.
A small laugh leaves my throat as I start to pat him on the back. Like a mother smoothing a baby. my eyes drift to the man lieing on the floor.
"You did good Finns. You saved me yet again" I smile. but that comment seemd to cause him to flinch. I feel him shaking his head on my shoulders.
"It's all my fault. if you didn't have to come all the way here-" he starts saying but this like it's my turn to cut him off.
"You did force me to do anything, it was my choice to come and get you. It was something I wanted to do" I say.
He pulls me up like it's nothing, like my weight is barely there, and I expect him to let go. But instead, he suddenly yanks me closer, and before I know what's happening, he's holding me. His arms wrap around me like he's trying to shield me from the whole world, and I feel how tense he is, like he's afraid if he loosens his grip, I'll vanish.
I try to protest. "Finns, what-"
But he cuts me off, whispering, "Shh. Just give me a second." There's something in the way he says it, tired, a little bit broken, that makes me freeze. I don't move, and slowly, almost without thinking, my arms lift to hug him back.
A laugh escapes me, small and nervous, and I pat his back the way you would a child, soft and steady. My eyes drift toward the man on the floor.
"You did good, Finns. You saved me yet again," I say, smiling, but I see him flinch. His shoulders shake against me, and I feel it in my chest, he's carrying some weight he won't let anyone else see.
"It's all my fault. If you didn't have to come all the way here-" he starts, his voice quiet and tense, but I cut him off.
"You didn't force me to do anything. It was my choice to come and get you. It was something I wanted to do."
Even as I say it, I know he doesn't fully believe it.
"Come on, let's go home" I say as I step back, brushing dust from my sleeves, and start to calculate the fastest route to the car.
Finn follows as I set off in a direction, swaying slightly, but he isn't falling, which is enough. His drunk presence is a variable I can account for: timing, distance, the safest path home.
He says something, slurred, but it doesn't contain any actionable information, so I ignore it. Still, I make a mental note to keep him close, to make sure he doesn't stumble.
I can tell he's sobered up a little since the fight, his eyes are clearer, though his focus still drifts. Even so, I notice the way he keeps scanning the area as we walk, like he's expecting another threat to appear from the shadows. It's unnecessary, but I don't say anything. If it helps him feel in control, there's no harm in letting him keep watch.
I stay close, keeping him in my peripheral vision, adjusting my pace without thinking about it. He's unsteady, and while part of me calculates the most efficient route to the car, another part is just making sure he doesn't trip. When we reach the end of the alley, the night air hits us, it is sharp, cold, and clean compared to the staleness inside.
Once we reach the car, I open the passenger door and guide him in. He doesn't resist, just leans against the seat, blinking like he's trying to force himself awake. I close the door and walk around to the driver's side, taking a quick glance at him as I start the engine.
"You should sleep. I'll wake you when we get to the house," I say.
He shakes his head, stubborn as ever. "No. I need to make sure nothing else happens."
"We're in the car, Finn. Nothing's going to happen. Just sleep," I reply, keeping my voice even.
He argues for a little while, his words growing slower each time, until eventually his head tilts against the window and his breathing evens out. I glance at him once more before turning my attention back to the road.
He finally looks peaceful. It's… strange, seeing him like that. My chest seems to tighten but I don't dwell on it. I just keep driving.
______________________________
The next morning, I wake earlier than usual. Finn's still asleep in his room, so I write a quick note and leave it on the table, simple and to the point. Take the day off. You need it. I tell myself it's for efficiency's sake; he'll be no use exhausted. But if I'm honest, I just think he deserves a break.
Officer Price picks me up and drops me at the laboratory. As I step inside my father's domain, the sterile smell of disinfectant and chemicals hits me immediately, it is some how comforting and suffocating all at once.
A few familiar faces greet me on the way in. We exchange the usual pleasantries, and as the morning goes on, more people come by to say they're glad I'm back. I smile politely, offer short answers, and keep my focus on the data in front of me. Beneath it all, there's that faint, unwelcome thought... by being here, I'm doing exactly what my father wanted. Playing my part in his game.
The atmosphere shifts the moment he enters the room. It always does. His footsteps have a rhythm everyone recognises. People straighten up, voices drop, and within seconds, the space clears as staff rush back to their stations. He doesn't even need to speak; authority radiates from him like static.
He approaches me, and we exchange the usual sharp, clinical words. He talks; I listen and only reply with straight forward answers. It's the same pattern as always, precise, rehearsed, hollow. When he finally turns to leave, something from yesterday flashes through my mind: Finn's voice, raised in frustration, telling me I shouldn't have to come back here. If my father could simply stay out of my work, and my life, Finn wouldn't have been dragged into this at all.
So before my father can take another step, I rest my chin on my hand and speak evenly."Oh, Father, keep Finn out of our business."
He pauses. I can feel him studying me, trying to decipher my motives.
"Could that explain why he appears absent from your vicinity today?" he responds but I don't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I turn to my laptop, eyes fixed on the screen, signalling the conversation is over.
After a tense moment, he leaves without a word. Relief settles in my chest, though I keep my expression neutral. As he retreats toward his office, I glance up discreetly. He closes the door behind him, then, surprisingly, walks over to the blinds and shuts them tight.
I frown slightly. He never shuts his blinds, he likes to make sure everyone knows he is always watching.
So what exactly is he trying to hide?