LXXII
Good Labs was a sleek, sterile marvel of modern architecture, its polished surfaces reflecting the endless pursuit of progress within its walls. Atropos stepped into the lobby, her every movement precise and deliberate. Though she was still the Director of Operations for the Hunter’s Association, she had recently taken on another significant role—head researcher for a cutting-edge technology development initiative. It was a position President Bob had personally pushed for her to accept, eager to see the project come to fruition under her meticulous guidance.
Her schedule was growing increasingly packed, but Atropos didn’t mind. Efficiency was her forte. As she approached the elevator, she mentally dialed the phone number of her younger brother, Reynard, using her integrated neural systems.
The elevator doors slid closed, the soft hum of the machinery accompanying the familiar ringing tone in her mind.
Reynard answered almost immediately. “Hey, Atropos.”
“I am so sorry I can’t attend little Leon’s birthday,” she said, her tone as close to apologetic as her typically stoic demeanor allowed.
“It’s fine,” Reynard replied. “You’re busy. We understand.”
“Did you receive the package?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think it’s excessive.”
“You... opened it?” she asked, a hint of warning in her voice.
“No, I didn’t. I don’t know what it is.”
“Good,” Atropos said, allowing a small smirk to form on her lips. “I’d hate you if you ruined the surprise.”
Reynard sighed. “It’s nearly the size of a car, Atropos. Even I know it’s excessive. Even with aura, it’s tough to heft around.”
“That’s because you have noodle arms and weak aura,” she teased.
“Ouch,” Reynard muttered.
“You have Leora and Selena there. Have them do the heavy lifting.”
“I did,” Reynard replied. “The neighbor saw and now they think even worse of me.”
Atropos had to suppress a laugh, though the thought of her brother’s predicament amused her. Normally, she kept her emotions locked away, her mechanical inclinations favoring logic and precision over sentiment. But moments like these—interacting with her family—brought out something... human.
“What even is in it?” Reynard asked.
“A slide,” she answered matter-of-factly.
“A slide?” he echoed, incredulous.
“Yes, a slide. And also a swing set,” she clarified. “The toy shop was amenable to the idea.”
“A toy shop?” Reynard asked, his tone growing more skeptical.
“It’s a joint project between a toy company and a construction company. Don’t worry—it’s safe.”
“Does it come with instructions like furniture?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, come on…”
“It should make it easier for you to assemble with the instructions provided,” she said, though a hint of dry amusement crept into her voice.
“If only you knew,” Reynard muttered.
“Is there a problem?”
“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly. “I just finished the treehouse in the backyard. The slide and swings will be perfect there.”
“I hope Leon likes it,” Atropos said, her tone softening. “From what I hear, the park is far from your neighborhood. This way, Leon will be safer too. The less exposure he has outside, the better.”
“Leon will be fine,” Reynard reassured her. “Goodwell is pretty insular.”
The elevator chimed as it reached her floor, the doors sliding open with a quiet hiss. Atropos glanced at the corridor ahead and said hastily, “I have work to do. I guess this is goodbye.”
“Goodbye then, sister,” Reynard said warmly. “Stay safe out there.”
Atropos paused for a moment, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in her chest at the word sister.
The Good Labs were a marvel of engineering, buried several kilometers underground in a labyrinthine complex designed for secrecy and security. To call it isolated was an understatement. The aura-reinforced walls lining the corridors shimmered faintly under the artificial lights, a constant reminder of the safeguards against intrusion. Every hallway was lined with reinforced doors requiring both facial recognition and ID scans to pass.
It wasn’t just physical barriers that made the labs secure. Jamming technology was omnipresent, disrupting all unauthorized signals and ensuring no communication devices could function without clearance. Even the underground location contributed to the sense of isolation. Here, in this tightly controlled environment, every movement and action was scrutinized.
Atropos was one of the few exceptions to the strict protocols. Her authority allowed her freedom of movement within the facility, but she never abused it. The scientists and researchers working on this classified project weren’t so lucky. Unlike Atropos, who could leave and return at will, they were confined to the lab for extended periods.
The Hunter’s Association wasn’t heartless, though. Personnel were allowed to contact their families twice a week in a supervised environment, ensuring that even in their isolation, they could maintain some semblance of normalcy.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Atropos walked through the corridors, passing through multiple security checks without pause. Her gait was purposeful, her mind focused on the task ahead. After several turns, she arrived at the main laboratory, the heart of the operation. This was where the simulations and experiments for the new technology were conducted.
The lab was vast, its walls lined with monitors displaying data streams and simulation results. At the center of the room stood Robert “Bob” Arkwright, the President of the Hunter’s Association. Despite his position, he was actively participating in the simulations, his sleeves rolled up and a focused expression on his face.
When he spotted Atropos, he straightened and gave her a mock stern look. “Atropos, you’re late.”
“Apologies, Robert,” she replied evenly, her tone polite but distant.
Bob winced theatrically. “Oh, come on… Don’t be so formal with me. Still holding a grudge about me trying to use Reynard as bait?”
Atropos’ gaze narrowed slightly, but she relented. “Fine, Bob.”
Bob grinned, his usual charisma shining through. “That’s better. I swear, I’ll make it up to you. I’ve got some ideas for how to—”
“Let’s focus on the task at hand,” Atropos interrupted, her tone clipped but not unkind. She gestured toward the nearest monitor. “How are the simulations progressing?”
Bob sighed but didn’t push further. “Not as smoothly as I’d like. The projections are solid, but we’re running into compatibility issues with the aura matrix. I was hoping you could take a look.”
Atropos nodded and moved to the console, her mechanical fingers flying over the keyboard as she analyzed the data. The familiar rhythm of her work settled over her, her earlier irritation with Bob fading into the background.
As the two delved into the intricacies of the project, the room hummed with quiet intensity. Despite the tension that occasionally surfaced between them, their shared commitment to the mission was unshakable. This was the nature of their work—high stakes, high stress, but always driven by a desire to protect humanity.
The air in the lab was tense, though not from the work itself. Bob and Atropos had a relationship that defied easy description. It wasn’t romantic in the conventional sense, yet it went beyond mere professional camaraderie. Their dynamic was as intricate as the aura-based technology they worked on.
Bob was a man of human instincts, though he liked to think of himself as coldly logical. Yet time and again, his emotions betrayed his carefully constructed rationality. Atropos, on the other hand, was the inverse. Lacking human emotions, she approached everything with calculated precision. And yet, despite her lack of feelings, she found herself drawn to the complexity of what it meant to be human—perhaps even to Bob himself.
Atropos wasn’t sure if what she felt for Bob was affection or a mere experiment in understanding humanity. She had once told herself it was the latter. Even after Bob’s reckless ambition had nearly cost Reynard his life, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Resentment, perhaps, but not hatred. Being “human” was complicated for Atropos.
For Bob, being human came naturally, even when it was inconvenient.
Bob glanced at her as she studied the monitor. “What do you think of dinner later at seven?”
“I am a machine,” Atropos replied without looking up. “I don’t need food.”
Bob smirked. “But you still have taste buds—”
“No,” she cut him off.
He leaned against the console, undeterred. “How about we clock out early and visit Reynard’s family? We could use the World Path for a quick getaway.”
Atropos froze, her fingers pausing mid-type. She turned to him, her voice calm but firm. “The World Path? That’s an abuse of authority, and Reynard wouldn’t like it.”
An awkward silence followed, punctuated only by the faint hum of machinery. The nearby staff quietly distanced themselves, sensing the shift in mood.
Atropos inwardly sighed and returned her focus to the screen. “There’s nothing wrong with the aura matrix. This project is based on the research paper A Study on Thematic Powers Manifested by Aura, correct? Something Reynard wrote?”
Bob nodded.
“I suggest we involve Reynard in this project,” she continued.
“Already tried that,” Bob said with a shrug. “He rejected the offer outright. Why don’t you do the recruiting? He might listen to you.”
Atropos stilled. The thought of working with Reynard again appealed to her. Yet, she hesitated. She didn’t want to risk their already tenuous relationship.
Bob tilted his head, studying her expression—or lack thereof. “Let me guess, you don’t want to be hated?”
Atropos finally turned to him, her tone flat but sharp. “You are annoying, Robert.”
Bob winced dramatically, clutching his chest as though wounded. “Bob! Please call me Bob!”
She didn’t respond, her gaze already back on the monitor. But for a brief moment, her lips twitched—almost imperceptibly—as if amused. Bob didn’t miss it, and he smiled to himself.
Their relationship might have been complicated, but in its own way, it worked.
Atropos stood before the massive screen dominating the main laboratory of Good Labs, her fingers hovering over the console. The culmination of months of grueling work, sleepless nights, and cutting-edge innovation was finally before her. The lab buzzed with an air of tension as the staff watched the display showing the simulation results: [99% Accuracy].
Bob leaned against the edge of a workstation, arms crossed, a rare seriousness etched on his face. Despite his usual lighthearted demeanor, even he couldn’t ignore the gravity of what they were about to unleash.
Atropos broke the silence, her tone as sharp as the sterile air around them.
“The intent of this project is to create an artifact capable of divining the ‘Theme’ of a person’s aura. In the paper authored by Reynard, this ‘Theme’ was referred to as a ‘Gift’—a singular manifestation of an individual’s innate potential.”
She tapped a key, bringing up diagrams of aura flows and energy matrices on the display.
“According to the theory, a person only has one true Gift, a core essence that defines their abilities. However, hunters like us spend years, even decades, honing Special Abilities that stem from that Gift. If this technology works as intended, we could reduce that time to mere months.”
The murmurs among the staff grew louder. They all knew the implications.
Bob raised an eyebrow, breaking into her monologue. “And that terrifies you, doesn’t it?”
Atropos turned to him, her voice steady but laced with unease. “If this becomes public, the repercussions will be immense. The Government won’t like it. The World Order’s stance is unpredictable. Hunters are already a divisive force, and now we’re proposing to arm the entire world with knowledge of their potential? This could upend everything.”
Bob pushed off the workstation and approached her, his steps deliberate. “And yet, isn’t that the point? The dissemination of aura knowledge will be a bloody path, yes, but it’s necessary. Cryptids are growing in number and strength. Hunters alone can’t stem the tide forever. If we don’t empower the mundanes—give them a fighting chance—we’re dooming them to slaughter.”
Atropos sighed, momentarily faltering under the weight of the decision. “Have it your way, Bob,” she muttered, turning back to the console.
With a flick of her mind, she slotted in the final authorization code, the screen shifting to display a glowing green button. Her hands hovered for a moment, as if the enormity of the act was finally sinking in. The lab fell silent.
“I’ve poured every resource and mind available into this project. This is the first aura-infused software, a Maker-artifact that exists solely in the world of zeroes and ones. It’s something that should never have been possible. And yet…”
Her finger tapped the green button.
“Ladies and gentlemen, witness the birth of the Dynamic Interface for Verification and Identification of Natural Energies. Or, as I prefer to call it, DIVINE.”
The room erupted in activity as the screen lit up with data streams, the software booting up for the first time. Atropos stepped back, watching as the program came to life. It was more than a tool—it was a revolution.
Bob smirked, his voice breaking the tension. “That’s excessive, but I like it.”
Atropos didn’t respond, her eyes locked on the display. She thought of Reynard, of Leora, of Leon. She thought of the countless lives this technology could change—for better or worse.
For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something better.
~072