The Outcast Genius

CHAPTER 3 — THE GLASS ROOM

A low, rhythmic beep drilled through Ethan’s skull. Cold light pressed against his eyelids like interrogation lamps. He tried to move. His wrists didn’t follow. “Welcome back,” a voice said. smooth, clinical, female.

Ethan opened his eyes. The ceiling was mirrored glass, fractured by white light panels. He was strapped to a medical bed, his veins mapped by wires, sensors crawling across his chest.

A translucent wall separated him from the rest of the room, where shadowed figures moved behind tinted glass. He forced his throat to work. “Where”

“Somewhere safe,” the voice replied.

He turned his head ,  the speaker was a woman in a lab coat, her ID tag turned backward. Her expression was professionally blank. “Where’s Elara?” Ethan demanded.

She glanced at her tablet. “Unconfirmed. Your vitals were unstable. We prioritized stabilization.”

He strained against the cuffs. “Unstrap me. Now.”

Her tone didn’t change. “You’ve been unconscious for six hours. Your blood shows traces of Nuroline. Induced coma protocol.”

He froze. “Nuroline? That’s”

“Experimental. And effective.”

Behind her, a door hissed open. The room seemed to tilt. Vivian walked in. She was dressed in a storm-grey suit, her hair pulled back, eyes the same shade as regret.

“Ethan,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t have gone to the docks.”

He almost laughed. “You shouldn’t have signed my consent forms.”

Vivian flinched. “You read that.”

“You forged my initials into your family’s nightmare project,” he spat. “You turned me into data.”

She motioned to the doctor, who exited silently. Only they remained now, husband and ex-wife, separated by light and distrust.

“I signed those papers,” she said quietly, “to keep them from doing worse. If Gregory had known you finished the bio-sequence model”

“He’d have stolen it,” Ethan finished. “He did anyway.”

Vivian’s voice broke slightly. “I tried to bury your prototype. I failed. They took it. And now they’ll use it to patent a serum that rewrites genetic memory.”

Ethan’s pulse spiked. “Project Helix.”

Vivian nodded. “They’re accelerating human adaptation. They call it ‘evolution on demand.’”

“And what do you call it?”

She looked at him. “A war disguised as progress.”

He tried to sit, but the restraints bit deeper. “Release me.”

“Not yet. They’re watching. Every camera in this room reports to my father. If he suspects we’re”

“On the same side?” he said bitterly.

“Still married,” she whispered. “Legally. And technically, I’m your guardian here.”

His laugh cracked. “How convenient.”

“Ethan, listen.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “The Syndicate wants Helix live-tested within a week. They’ll need you. You’re the only one who can stabilize the adaptive RNA without collapse.”

“So they want me back in the cage.”

Vivian shook her head. “Not if I get you out first.”

He blinked. “You?”

She slid a keycard from her jacket. “The power surge at the docks, that was me. I blacked the grid to cut the Syndicate’s feed.

Elara was supposed to extract you, but they got there first. I’ve been tracking her signal since. She’s alive, detained.” Ethan’s throat went dry. “You’re lying.”

She stepped closer until he could see the tremor in her hand. “If you don’t believe me, ask yourself why you’re not dead.”

The mirrored ceiling flickered, a camera adjusted. Vivian turned her head slightly and smiled up at it, the perfect corporate daughter again.

“Darling,” she said sweetly, “I’m taking him to recovery level in five minutes.”

Then under her breath, fast and low: “When I unstrap you, faint. Don’t move. Two guards, one hallway, no cameras. Elevator straight down. Don’t look back.”

Ethan’s heartbeat was a hammer. “Why?” he whispered.

“Because for once,” she said, “I’m choosing you over them.”

She turned toward the glass wall. The locks hissed. The restraints loosened. Ethan went limp, eyes half-lidded, breathing shallow.

Vivian leaned close, whispered, “You have sixty seconds after the door closes.”

Then she pressed a syringe into his hand, small, cold, silver-capped. “What is it?” he murmured.

“Insurance.”

The door slid open. Guards entered. Vivian waved them aside. “He’s sedated.”

They lifted him. Vivian led the way through the corridor, the sound of her heels echoing against sterile metal. Every step was tension wound tight.

At the elevator, she turned sharply. “Prep the containment suite,” she ordered. The guards obeyed, stepping into the lift.

When the doors closed, Vivian exhaled hard, pulling Ethan to his feet. “Go. Now.”

He stumbled forward, adrenaline cutting through the fog. “Vivian”

“Don’t thank me,” she said. “Just run.”

He moved down the hall. Red lights began flashing, security override. Vivian slammed her palm on the panel, locking the bulkhead between them. “Vivian!” he shouted.

“Keep moving, Ethan!” she cried back. “They traced my keycard. You can’t come back for me”

Her voice cut off in static. Ethan sprinted through the sterile maze, alarms wailing, the syringe still in his palm. A door slid open ahead = EXIT MAINTENANCE BAY.

He burst through it into night air, the city sprawling below, glittering and cruel. He looked at the syringe again. A note was taped to it, written in Vivian’s sharp hand: “When you’re ready to remember, inject.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. Remember what?

Behind him, the facility’s sirens crescendoed. Below, shadows converged, agents in black converging on the rooftop.

He pocketed the syringe. “Fine,” he whispered. “Let’s find out what they erased.”

Then he jumped.