“Good to know I passed the blood test,” Zach muttered.

The employee ignored the quip, pulling out a clipboard. “Name?”

“Zach.”

“Family name?”

“James.”

“Age?”

“Twenty.”

The man began firing off a barrage of personal questions: birthplace, residence, education, employment history. Zach’s answers were sparse, most of the sections left blank. “I don’t remember,” he said repeatedly, feigning a detached tone. “I think I must’ve studied before the amnesia, but it’s all hazy.”

The employee scribbled his responses onto the clipboard without reaction, though the stiffness in his posture hinted at skepticism.

Once the preliminary questions were complete, the testing began. It started with simple chemistry queries—balancing equations, explaining reactions, identifying compounds. Zach answered effortlessly, though he couldn’t help but notice the relative simplicity of the material.

When the questions turned to physics, the challenge level barely rose. Basic mechanics, some thermodynamics—concepts he could have tackled while being high on drugs. However, the chemistry section took an intriguing turn. The employee introduced compounds and processes Zach had never encountered before, their properties and interactions foreign to his knowledge. Still, by asking a few clarifying questions and applying logic, Zach pieced together accurate answers.

The employee’s neutral demeanor cracked, just slightly, as he jotted down the final responses. “Not bad,” he admitted, collecting his notes. “I’ll let Geroi know.” He left the room, leaving Zach to his thoughts.

A few minutes later, Geroi returned, his weathered face betraying a trace of approval. “Heard you did well.”

“I know,” Zach replied evenly, his confidence understated but palpable.

Geroi raised an eyebrow, but there was no real challenge in his gaze. “You lying about not going to school?” he asked.

“If I went, I don’t remember,” Zach said.

“Convenient.” Geroi studied him for a long moment before sighing. “Normally, we’d dig into your past, every detail, before letting you anywhere near our labs. But we’re short on people who know their way around science—especially with war on the horizon.”

Zach’s ears perked at that. War again. The word had been tossed around loosely in the streets, but now even this high-level facility seemed preoccupied with it. This wasn’t just fearmongering. Something real was brewing.

“You’ll be under heavy surveillance,” Geroi continued. “Security reasons. Once we confirm you’re not a spy or worse, we’ll ease up. In the meantime, you’ll work as a beginner chemist. Pay’s fifty silver coins.”

“Fifty?” Zach repeated, his surprise evident. That was far more than he expected.

“Don’t get too excited,” Geroi warned. “We’re paying you to think, not just work.”

Zach nodded. “When do I start?”

“Now.” Geroi waved over another employee, who handed Zach a neatly folded outfit. It consisted of a grey lab coat, matching pants, and a black shirt embroidered with intricate mineral designs. Along with it came an ID card bearing his name and the title “Apprentice Chemist.”

“You’ll need to clean up first,” the employee instructed. “There’s a shower down the hall.”

Zach made his way to the bathroom, its minimalist design a stark contrast to the bustling labs. Stripping off his worn clothes, he stepped under the warm cascade of water.

As he scrubbed away the grime of his journey, his mind churned with unease. The mention of war had planted a seed of dread. If this city was a military asset, it was a likely target. Staying here meant risking entanglement in a conflict he wanted no part of.

But leaving wasn’t an option. Not yet. He needed resources, knowledge, and a stronger foothold before he could think about escaping whatever danger loomed.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

When he emerged, his reflection in the mirror startled him. The sleek grey outfit fit snugly, the mineral designs on the shirt catching the light in a way that gave him an almost futuristic appearance. He looked... competent. Maybe even a little intimidating.

Zach smirked. “Cool.”

Zach’s boots echoed against the steel stairs as he climbed behind Geroi. The narrow staircase spiraled upward, dimly lit by the flickering lights overhead. The air felt colder as they ascended, and the sharp smell of chemicals tickled his nose.

Geroi walked ahead, his posture rigid, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I’ll make this clear, Zach,” Geroi said, his voice low but firm. “If you’re a spy, or if you do anything to disrupt our work—even by accident—you won’t get a trial. You’ll be dealt with swiftly.” He glanced back at Zach. “Understand?”

Zach nodded, feigning indifference. “Crystal clear.”

Geroi’s lips curled into a thin smirk, but he said nothing more as they reached the third floor. He pushed open a heavy metal door.

The laboratory was vast and chaotic. A group of about ten people, clad in strange hazmat suits that resembled astronaut gear, moved between workstations. The room was divided into sections, each with unusual items: rows of containers filled with gases that shimmered in unnatural hues, cages housing small, strange creatures with glowing eyes and odd appendages, and shelves lined with odd minerals and stones that seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive.

Zach’s gaze lingered on one scientist tapping on a tablet that projected a holographic display above it. The floating 3D model spun slowly, annotated with glowing lines of text in a language Zach didn’t recognize. He raised an eyebrow; he hadn’t expected to see this level of technology here.

Geroi strode forward, and the scientists stopped their work, turning to face him. The hum of conversation and the whir of machines faded, replaced by silence.

“This is Zach,” Geroi announced, his voice cutting through the quiet. “He doesn’t have a degree from any science school—at least, none he can remember. But he scored an A on the interview test. It’s clear he’s educated, even if his memory is… compromised.”

A murmur ran through the group, but Geroi raised a hand to silence it.

“Teach him the essentials. Make sure he can contribute immediately. We don’t have time for hand-holding.” His gaze swept over the group, sharp and unyielding. “Hanjo, you’re in charge.”

An older man with graying hair and a face lined with age stepped forward, giving a curt nod. “Understood.”

Geroi turned on his heel and left without another word, the door slamming shut behind him. The group’s attention shifted to Zach.

“Welcome,” Hanjo said, his voice gravelly but not unkind. “Things are… rough around here, so you’ll need to learn fast. We don’t have the luxury of specialization. Everyone is expected to do everything. Enchantment drugs, chemical weapons, bio-engineering—whatever needs doing.”

Zach tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “Why not outsource some of it to other companies? There must be groups better equipped to handle specific fields.”

Hanjo snorted, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, there are. Plenty. But Glory”—he gestured vaguely around the lab—“wants it all. They’ve got their fingers in every pie. It’s not about logic; it’s about business. More control means more power, even if it’s inefficient.”

Zach nodded, filing the information away. Hanjo’s demeanor shifted, becoming more formal as he waved a hand toward one of the workstations.

“Come. I’ll show you what we’re working on.”

Zach followed, weaving through the cluttered room. They stopped at a table where a set of small, clear containers sat neatly arranged. Each one appeared empty, but Hanjo picked up a tablet and tapped the screen. A hologram sprang to life, displaying molecular structures and complex diagrams.

“This,” Hanjo said, tapping one of the containers, “is our current project. A gas that causes mass hysteria. Completely invisible, completely odorless. Once released, it spreads rapidly, inducing paranoia, hallucinations, and uncontrollable fear in anyone exposed to it.”

Zach smiled. "Awesome."

----------------------------------------

The hours in the lab passed in a blur, the constant hum of equipment and the faint hiss of gas through tubes creating an almost hypnotic rhythm.

.ach stood at his workstation, meticulously following the instructions Hanjo had given him earlier. The man hadn’t been exaggerating—the work was a mix of precision and chaos.

“You’re doing better than I thought, new guy,” Hanjo remarked from across the room, his sharp gaze momentarily lifting from his tablet. His tone was begrudging but carried a hint of approval. “Didn’t think you’d catch on so quickly.”

“Just paying attention,” Zach replied casually, not looking up. He kept his movements measured, careful not to show the ease with which he performed each task. His hands worked with a familiarity that came from years of practice and studying with his friends—though he wasn’t ready to explain how he had that practice.

The other researchers seemed to pick up on it, too. One by one, their conversations with him became less curt, their instructions less condescending. By the time the team gathered for a short break, they were speaking to him like an equal.

All except the young guy.

“Must be nice,” the younger researcher muttered as Zach returned to the workstation.

His name tag read Ren, and he couldn’t have been older than twenty. He adjusted the fit of his gloves with a sharp tug, glancing sideways at Zach. “Getting all this attention on your first day.”

Zach paused, arching a brow. “I didn’t ask for attention. Just doing the work.”

Ren snorted, picking up a tablet. “Right. Sure. Because everyone just magically knows how to mix a multi-phase compound on their first attempt.”

“I watched Hanjo do it earlier,” Zach replied smoothly, injecting just enough nonchalance to deflect further suspicion. “It’s not that hard if you pay attention to the ratios.”

Ren didn’t respond, but the sour look he gave Zach spoke volumes.