Under the faint blue light, his small body looked fragile. He read the data written inside—line by line.
Radit — Emotion: High | Diet: Protein | Intervention: Minor CRISPR, BDNF
Interpretation: Strong, fast, requires stabilization.
Role: Soldier / Explorer / Survivalist.
Felicia — Emotion: Moderate | Diet: Chicken, soy | Intervention: Genetic therapy, BDNF, HGH
Interpretation: Balanced, rapid recovery. Nearly perfect.
Role: Executor.
Zinnia — Emotion: High | Diet: Vegetables | Intervention: HGH
Interpretation: Intelligent, high endurance.
Role: Mass mobilizer.
Frans — Emotion: Low | Diet: Protein | Intervention: Minor CRISPR, BDNF
Interpretation: Calm, analytical.
Role: Pilot.
Raphael — Emotion: Low | Diet: Protein | Intervention: BDNF, HGH
Interpretation: Stable and strong.
Role: Tactician.
Ethan — Emotion: Low | Diet: Protein, vegetables | Intervention: Senolytics
Interpretation: High longevity.
Role: Survivalist.
Isabel — Emotion: Unstable | Diet: Soy, grains | Intervention: Genetic modification, BDNF, neurotransmitter regulation, HGH
Interpretation: Complex, high potential, high risk.
Role: Initiator.
Thivi — Emotion: High | Diet: Vegetarian | Intervention: High-dose genetic modification
Interpretation: Potential destroyer—or savior.
Role: Orator / Analyst.
Livia — Emotion: Moderate | Diet: Protein, vegetables | Intervention: Genetic modification, HGH, nootropics
Interpretation: Balanced, analytical.
Role: Executor.
Kaivan bit his lip. His hands trembled violently. These names were not just data—they were his friends, the people who laughed and fought beside him. Now they were no longer treated as human. They had been turned into experiments, subjects, tools for a cold and merciless ambition.
He clenched the folder tightly, his face twisted between anger and grief. "What have they done…?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
In a sudden burst of emotion, he kicked the archive shelf. The metal rattled violently, the sound echoing through the empty room. He didn't care. His eyes burned like embers.
"I have to see them…" he said, softly but firmly. He swept the folders from the desk and stuffed them into a small bag. "I need to know what's left of them."
The ventilation shaft above was narrow and choked with dust. He crawled forward slowly, his small body slipping through the cold metal like a shadow. His breath was held tight, his chest rising and falling faintly. Each brush against the walls produced a soft scrape, cold sweat sliding down his temples. Between the pounding of his heart, only two sounds existed—the hiss of machines and his own restrained breathing.
They Were Never People Here
Under the faint blue light, his small body looked fragile. He read the data written inside—line by line.
Radit — Emotion: High | Diet: Protein | Intervention: Minor CRISPR, BDNF
Interpretation: Strong, fast, requires stabilization.
Role: Soldier / Explorer / Survivalist.
Felicia — Emotion: Moderate | Diet: Chicken, soy | Intervention: Genetic therapy, BDNF, HGH
Interpretation: Balanced, rapid recovery. Nearly perfect.
Role: Executor.
Zinnia — Emotion: High | Diet: Vegetables | Intervention: HGH
Interpretation: Intelligent, high endurance.
Role: Mass mobilizer.
Frans — Emotion: Low | Diet: Protein | Intervention: Minor CRISPR, BDNF
Interpretation: Calm, analytical.
Role: Pilot.
Raphael — Emotion: Low | Diet: Protein | Intervention: BDNF, HGH
Interpretation: Stable and strong.
Role: Tactician.
Ethan — Emotion: Low | Diet: Protein, vegetables | Intervention: Senolytics
Interpretation: High longevity.
Role: Survivalist.
Isabel — Emotion: Unstable | Diet: Soy, grains | Intervention: Genetic modification, BDNF, neurotransmitter regulation, HGH
Interpretation: Complex, high potential, high risk.
Role: Initiator.
Thivi — Emotion: High | Diet: Vegetarian | Intervention: High-dose genetic modification
Interpretation: Potential destroyer—or savior.
Role: Orator / Analyst.
Livia — Emotion: Moderate | Diet: Protein, vegetables | Intervention: Genetic modification, HGH, nootropics
Interpretation: Balanced, analytical.
Role: Executor.
Kaivan bit his lip. His hands trembled violently. These names were not just data—they were his friends, the people who laughed and fought beside him. Now they were no longer treated as human. They had been turned into experiments, subjects, tools for a cold and merciless ambition.
He clenched the folder tightly, his face twisted between anger and grief. "What have they done…?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
In a sudden burst of emotion, he kicked the archive shelf. The metal rattled violently, the sound echoing through the empty room. He didn't care. His eyes burned like embers.
"I have to see them…" he said, softly but firmly. He swept the folders from the desk and stuffed them into a small bag. "I need to know what's left of them."
The ventilation shaft above was narrow and choked with dust. He crawled forward slowly, his small body slipping through the cold metal like a shadow. His breath was held tight, his chest rising and falling faintly. Each brush against the walls produced a soft scrape, cold sweat sliding down his temples. Between the pounding of his heart, only two sounds existed—the hiss of machines and his own restrained breathing.