Chapter 123. Apex Sector, Underground Citadel
The ceiling lights in the core lab of Facility Prime pulsed with a dim, clinical blue. Dozens of control panels blinked silently, their monitors filled with graphs, simulations, genome sequences, and global air current models. Maps of continents hovered on a giant transparent screen, with swirling animated clouds tracing projected wind movements — each tagged with red points: Deployment Zones.
Doctor Naehr stood at the very center of it all, hands folded behind his back, eyes narrowed at the floating model of the Earth. His long silver hair gleamed like steel under the sterile light, and his black irises—unnaturally still—fixed on a continent like a hawk about to strike.
"Have you finished calculating atmospheric dispersal ratios?" he asked, his voice calm. Too calm.
A subordinate—Dr. Mara Helst, younger and visibly tense—looked up from her console. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and tried to steady her breathing before speaking.
"Yes, Doctor. All simulations match the predicted vectors. If deployed as you requested—via high-altitude weather balloons—within 72 hours, the compound would circulate through the stratosphere. It would take approximately nine to thirteen days for global saturation at low trace exposure levels."
Naehr nodded, seemingly pleased.
"And with that, we can begin our correction."
Helst hesitated. She looked at the data again. "Sir... the compound is still unstable. Test groups have shown only two confirmed survivals out of thirty-six. The mutation variance is unpredictable. In several cases, the genetic sequence collapsed entirely within the subject. Others—"
"Others chose stagnation," Naehr interrupted. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The chill in it was enough to still the air. "They failed because they clung to the old version of humanity. The sick, the impure. This is not about safety, Dr. Helst. This is about selection."
"But Doctor—" Helst took a step forward. "You’re talking about mass exposure. Children. Elderly. Civilians. There’s no way to control who inhales it, who doesn’t. We aren’t ready. We can’t be sure of long-term effects. The genome correction potion is still reactive in the bloodstream after seventy-two hours. We’ve observed psychotic breaks. Cellular destabilization. Tumors."
Naehr finally turned to face her. His expression was almost gentle—but it made her stomach turn.
"You speak as if any of that matters."