Max sat alone in the white room, the brightness around him bouncing off every surface like it was trying too hard to be clean. He leaned over a table cluttered with tubes, burners, and blood samples. Two vials, side by side, marked only by faint ink. The scent of copper hung in the air.
His hand moved slowly across the pages of a worn leather book, scribbling notes while glancing at the duplicator resting near the blood. The device looked harmless now, like a forgotten toy. But it had split something that shouldn't have split.
He stared at it for a long time, then exhaled through his nose.
Behind him, a voice broke through.
"So, did you get something? Who's the fake and who's the real one?"
Max turned.
