13 Days since Joseph's accident. ZenthCore Building.
The ZenthCore logo shone atop the glass tower, casting an elongated shadow over the sidewalk. For any citizen of San Cristov, it was a symbol of progress; for Anton Marsol, it was the place that had spat out his brother.
Anton stopped in front of the doors, feeling a pang of nausea in his stomach.
Before crossing, he earnestly checked the mail and messages on his Inmo, clinging to the hope of finding a message from Agent 1. Twelve days had already passed since the meeting. From deep within his brain, Anton understood what that silence meant; the logic was crushing. But, appealing to his feelings, his heart wouldn't detach from that small opportunity. His heart and mind were seas of contradiction in the midst of a storm.
With no option but to move forward, he had to go on.
"Are you okay, Anton?" asked Dr. Marcos Baruj, noticing his hesitation.
Anton blinked, pushing away the memory of Joseph leaving that building.
"Yes, Doctor. It's just that… my brother worked here. Being in this place brings back somewhat bitter memories."
Baruj nodded with empathy, adjusting his tie.
"I understand. But remember we are here for an external consultation. Doctor Elías Kovak is the best in his field. If anyone can help us understand how to control the subjects of Compound A, it is him. By the way, how has Joseph been doing?"
"He is stable," replied Anton, resuming his march. "His body is strong. The doctors say his physical recovery is going better than expected, although he remains… asleep."
"That is good news, all things considered. Come on, let's not keep Kovak waiting. He has a reputation for being… peculiar with time."
Both entered the building, passed the security checks, and went up to the 40th floor.
They walked down the hallway until reaching the last door, as the signs indicated, which was wide open.
Upon looking in, Anton was surprised. It didn't look like a clinical laboratory, but a high-end private study. The walls weren't white, but an elegant opaque olive green combined with mahogany wood panels. The lighting was warm, cozy, and the air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and expensive cologne.
In the background, the sound of a television could be heard.
In the center of the room, sitting relaxedly in a dark red leather armchair, was he, watching the news on a floating holographic screen.
"...authorities confirm a new wave of kidnappings in Zone 3 during the early morning. Citizens are advised to maintain the curfew..."
Baruj gave two soft knocks on the door frame to announce their presence.
The man in the armchair turned immediately, with a vibrant energy.
It was Doctor Elías Kovak. Despite being forty-six years old, he kept himself in enviable shape. His brown hair was styled with a modern cut and his green eyes shone behind square-framed glasses. He wore a lab coat, yes, but he wore it open over a designer shirt and dress trousers, giving him a casual yet sophisticated air.
"Hello, welcome!" exclaimed Kovak, jumping to his feet. He consulted the time on his Inmo with a smile. "Just in time. I love punctual people. Come in, come in, make yourselves comfortable."
With a wave of his hand, he turned off the television.
"Excuse the distraction," said Kovak, pointing to two comfortable chairs in front of his desk. "These days one has to be glued to the news. The situation in San Cristov is getting... well, a bit spicy out there, don't you think? Kidnappings, beasts in the forest... madness."
"It is worrying, no doubt," replied Baruj, entering. "Thanks for receiving us, Elías."
"Please, Marcos, the pleasure is mine. And you must be Doctor Marsol. I have heard a lot about you." Kovak shook Anton's hand with a firm and warm grip. "Sit down, please. Do you want coffee? Water?"
"We are fine, thanks," said Anton, relaxing a little. The vibe of the place was strangely comforting.
Just when they were about to start talking business, a side door opened. A young woman entered, pale-skinned and with a totally shy expression. She moved with a stiffness that contrasted violently with Kovak's ease.
"Doctor," she said with a kind voice, staring at nothing while her hands trembled. "The 4:00 p.m. appointment has arrived. What should I proceed to do?"
Kovak didn't lose his smile, but his tone became cloyingly sweet.
"Oh, put her later, darling. I am with important visitors now. Let them wait or reschedule."
"Understood, Doctor," she replied quickly. She turned around and left, closing the door.
Kovak turned toward them and let out a sarcastic little laugh.
"She is very eloquent, right?" he joked, winking at them. "Sometimes I think ZenthCore sends me the most 'lively' assistants on purpose. Anyway, to what we came for. Marcos told me you are working on something interesting regarding animal instincts."
"That is correct," said Baruj. "We are working on a pharmacological project that… interacts with basic survival instincts, seeking to suppress primitive aggression and enhance obedience without damaging the motor cortex."
Kovak leaned back at his desk, crossing his legs.
"Interesting. The old dilemma of taming the beast without killing the animal. You see, gentlemen, the brain is like a jazz orchestra. If you want to change the melody, you can't simply shoot the drummer. You have to change the sheet music."
The conversation flowed naturally. Kovak was brilliant, explaining complex neuroscience concepts with simple metaphors and occasional jokes that made Baruj laugh. There was no trace of stiffness; it was pure charisma and intellect.
"The theory is good," concluded Kovak, "but I would like to show you something practical. I have developed a Real-Time Neuronal Resonance Scanner. It is my little toy. Any volunteer?"
"I will do it," offered Anton, consumed by curiosity.
"Excellent attitude!" Kovak clapped once. "Sit in the reclining chair, Doctor Marsol."
Anton approached, but hesitated an instant before sitting.
"It isn't dangerous, is it, Doctor Kovak?" he asked.
"Relax. Nothing a neuronal transplant can't fix if it goes wrong," joked Kovak, winking.
Anton let out an awkward laugh while finishing settling into the chair. Kovak placed a helmet full of sensors on him with agile movements.
"Relax. This will be a light show."
The room darkened and the three-dimensional hologram of Anton's brain filled the air. Millions of golden and blue lights pulsed in a hypnotic dance.
Kovak adjusted his glasses, approaching the hologram. His smile vanished for a second, replaced by genuine fascination.
"Wow..." murmured Kovak. "This is... unexpected. Look at that architecture. It is sophisticated, dense, but maintains absolute calm. I had never seen such a powerful and structured neuronal map. It is beautiful."
"Is it unusual?" asked Baruj.
"It is a work of art," replied Kovak, looking at Anton with a new intensity. "Doctor Marsol, you have a privileged mind."
Anton looked at his own projected mind, surprised by the compliment.
Kovak turned off the hologram and the lights returned.
The meeting continued for a few more minutes. Until Baruj was satisfied with the information gathered.
"Doctor Kovak, it has been very enlightening," said Baruj, standing up and extending his hand. "Your technology will be of great help for… our product."
Kovak shook Baruj's hand firmly.
"It is a pleasure to collaborate with competent minds."
Anton got up to say goodbye. He was going to extend his hand toward Kovak, when a violent vibration in his temple stopped him.
His Inmo lit up with a blinking red light.
EMERGENCY NOTIFICATION Sender: Georg
Anton accepted the call mentally, and his grandfather's anguished voice resonated directly in his ear.
"Anton! You have to come! It's Joseph! Something is happening with Joseph, the doctors are running and...!"
Color disappeared from Anton's face. Terror froze his blood.
"I'm sorry!" exclaimed Anton, ignoring Kovak's hand. "I have an emergency!"
Without giving further explanations, Anton ran out of the office, leaving the door open.
"Anton!" called Baruj, embarrassed. He turned toward Kovak. "I am very sorry, Elías. His brother is grave in the hospital. Excuse this abrupt exit."
"Don't worry, Marcos," said Kovak, raising his hands with an understanding and kind smile. "Family comes first. Go with him. We'll talk later."
"Thanks."
Baruj left hurriedly after Anton.
The door closed, leaving Elías Kovak alone in his elegant office.
Silence filled the room.
Slowly, Kovak's kind smile melted like wax in fire. His relaxed posture disappeared, becoming rigid and tense.
His green eyes, previously warm and joking, darkened with raw emotion.
He walked to the center of the room and reactivated the hologram of Anton's brain.
He observed it floating in the air.
Kovak's face contorted into a grimace of absolute fury. He clenched his fists with such force that his knuckles turned white, and his nails dug into his palms. It wasn't just anger; it was envy, it was visceral hatred, it was the look of a predator that had just found a threat... or prey.
When Anton burst into the intensive care room, chest heaving and cold sweat stuck to his back, he prepared for the worst. He imagined defibrillators, nurses shouting, a flat line on the monitor.
But he found silence.
The room was calm, only broken by the rhythmic beep —though slightly faster than normal— of the machines. There were no doctors. Only Georg was there, standing by the window, looking toward the parking lot with his hands in his pockets.
"Grandpa?" called Anton, voice choked. "What happened? Where are the doctors?"
Georg turned slowly. His eyes were red, tired, surrounded by deep circles that seemed to have aged ten years in an hour.
"They already left, son," said Georg with a hoarse voice. "The emergency passed."
Anton approached the bed. Joseph was still there, motionless, bandaged.
"What was it?" asked Anton, checking the monitors frantically.
"A neurogenic bradycardia, they said," explained Georg, rubbing his face with a trembling hand. "His heart rate nose-dived out of nowhere. His brain... because of the blow, sometimes doesn't send the correct signals to the heart. It almost stopped, Anton. They had to inject atropine to stabilize him."
Anton let out the air he was holding. He caressed his brother's bandaged cheek gently, feeling the warmth of the skin. He was still alive.
"Thank God..." murmured Anton.
"Anton," Georg's voice sounded hard, cutting but worn.
The young scientist turned around. His grandfather looked at him with a seriousness that froze the blood.
"We have to talk."
"Grandpa, not now, I just arrived running and..."
"Now, Anton!" interrupted Georg, raising his voice for the first time in years.
Anton stood still. Georg never shouted.
The old man walked until he was in front of him.
"I spoke with the trauma specialist while they stabilized him. They told me this can happen again. His body is fighting. They recommended taking the decision now."
"What? So soon?" asked Anton.
Georg paused, holding his grandson's gaze.
"So I made a decision. I already signed the papers for the transplant operation."
Anton stood stunned. The world stopped for a second. He felt a buzzing in his ears and a sensation of betrayal rose up his chest like acid. Time had run out for the miracle.
"What?" whispered Anton, incredulous. "Grandpa... what did you do?"
"I did what was necessary."
"They had given us more time to think about it!" complained Anton, voice trembling with rage. "We had a month."
"We don't know if Joseph can wait a month, Anton!" exploded Georg. "He almost died on us today! His heart almost stopped!"
"But we could wait a little longer!" shouted Anton. They weren't used to arguing like this. Anton had never been defiant; that was always Joseph's role. But frustration was overflowing him. "I just needed a few more days!"
"Stop being so selfish!" claimed Georg. "It is not about what you want, it is about him living! There is no other way, Anton. He must be saved."
"There could be another way!" insisted Anton, eyes full of tears of helplessness. "I told you there was a possibility!"
"There isn't! It doesn't exist!" sentenced Georg, hitting the air with his hand. "Those are fantasies of yours because you are afraid. But I am also afraid to bury him. I am tired, Anton! I am so tired!"
Anton felt his heart breaking.
"Grandpa..."
"I am tired of everyone dying before me," said Georg bringing his hands to his head. "First it was your grandmother... my wife. Then your father, your mother... my own daughter... Everyone has gone. I have buried them all."
Georg pointed to Joseph's bed with a trembling finger.
"I cannot allow Joseph to be next! I cannot bury my grandson! That is not the natural order of things, Anton. Parents shouldn't bury their children. If the solution for him to live is to fill him with metal, then so be it. I prefer a grandson of metal to a dead grandson!"
Anton opened his mouth to reply, but fell silent. The reality of his grandfather's words hit him.
Georg lowered his tone, seeing how shattered his grandson was.
"The operation is scheduled to begin in seventeen days," explained Georg, now calmer but firm. "They need that time to measure, manufacture the implants, and prepare his body. We have that time, but the decision is already made and signed. There is no turning back."
Anton lowered his gaze. Seventeen days. The logic was crushing: without Agent 1's help, the implants were the only real salvation.
Georg approached his grandson and, seeing the fury and pain in his tense shoulders, hugged him.
"Forgive me, son," whispered the old man. "I know you wanted the best for him. But I couldn't risk it. Forgive me for not trusting in a miracle."
Anton stood rigid for a moment. He was furious, yes. He felt betrayed. But feeling the trembling in his grandfather's arms, his rationality prevailed. Georg had acted out of love, out of terror of loneliness. It was the best logical option available.
Agent 1's opportunity seemed dead anyway.
Anton relaxed his shoulders, exhaled the air and the rage, and returned the hug to his grandfather.
"It's okay, Grandpa..." said Anton with a dull voice. "You did what had to be done."
Georg separated, patted his cheek, and nodded, eyes moist.
"I'm going home. I need to sleep. Stay with him."
Georg withdrew from the room shuffling his feet, leaving behind the weight of the decision.
Anton remained alone in the clinical silence.
He turned toward the bed. Joseph lay there, bandaged, oblivious that his fate had been sealed with a signature. In seventeen days, he would cease to be completely human.
Anton clenched his fists.
Seventeen days.
He looked at the ceiling, as if looking for an answer.
"God help me," he thought, closing his eyes tightly, "because I don't want to do something crazy."