James Black switched off the surveillance feed, stealing one last glance at the screen. The engraving Haim had completed in his studio continued to linger in his mind, pulsing like a challenge to the very foundations of Mediopolis. The drawing was chaotic yet carried an undeniable force, its monochrome palette unnervingly vibrant. The jagged lines seemed to tear through space itself, their erratic rhythm betraying the artist’s inner turmoil.

  But what struck Black the most was not the artwork—it was Haim’s state. The sharp, frenzied movements, the trembling hands, the near-possessed expression on his face—all pointed to a man teetering on the edge.

  "If the Central Medical Laboratory finds out about this, his fate is sealed," James muttered, absentmindedly removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  Straightening up, his movements became swift and precise. The decision was already made. Leaving Haim alone in this condition was too dangerous. He needed to assess the situation himself and attempt to stabilize him. Black removed his lab coat, adjusted the silver frame of his glasses, and stepped out of his office.

  His laboratory was located in the northern sector of Mediopolis, housed within a towering structure surrounded by mesmerizing gardens. He quickly descended to the first level, where his transport awaited—a sleek capsule vehicle that navigated the city's aerial magnetic highways. Like everything in Mediopolis, the transport was impeccably designed: streamlined contours, ambient interior lighting, and absolute silence inside the cabin. Black slid into the seat, activated the control panel, and the vehicle ascended noiselessly, setting course for the Art Gallery.

  Beyond the spherical window, Mediopolis stretched out before him. Sleek skyscrapers shimmered with soft, pulsating light as they reached for the sky. Courier drones, resembling silver dragonflies, darted between the towers, delivering packages. Holographic billboards embedded into the facades projected smiling faces, inspirational slogans, and idyllic landscapes. But Black barely noticed any of it. His mind was focused on Haim.

  If they see this, he won’t get a second chance. They’ll send him straight for disposal as an unstable creator. But he’s more than just another cog in the system. He has already proven that he can transcend it. It’s time to admit it—Haim is the greatest success of my experiment… my finest creation.

  He clasped his hands together, strategizing how to prevent disaster.

  I need to calm him down. Convince him that I'm on his side. Maybe isolate him temporarily. Yes, that could work—just until he regains balance. It's not time to let him go yet.

  The Art Gallery was located in the southern district of the city, on a small island surrounded by water. The building itself resembled a colossal floating cube made of bio-glass, its mirrored surfaces rendering it nearly invisible against the skyline. Tonight, however, the structure glowed with a soft pink hue, mirroring the sunset’s warmth.

  Dr. Black stepped out of the capsule and headed toward the entrance. His tall, slender figure and composed demeanour lent an air of authority to his every movement. The security system recognized him instantly; a green light on the panel confirmed his clearance level. The protective barriers silently retracted, allowing him entry.

  Stepping inside, he was immediately enveloped by the gallery’s atmosphere. Towering ceilings, pristine walls adorned with softly shifting holograms of past exhibits, and interactive displays lining the corridors where visitors could not only observe but engage with the art. But Black paid no attention to any of it. He moved through the central hall with unwavering purpose, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

  He stopped before the door to Haim’s studio. The system identified him, and the door slid open soundlessly. The first thing he saw was the light. Haim’s engraving glowed in the dimness of the studio, as if alive. The lines pulsed, and the composition wavered between chaos and perfect harmony. Black froze. His normally impassive face shifted—just for a fraction of a second, a mix of awe and concern flickered in his black eyes.

  "Haim... at last, you’ve created a masterpiece," he whispered, stepping cautiously forward.

  No response.

  His prized subject lay sprawled on the floor, quietly snoring, a faint smile playing on his lips. Dr. Black raised his scanner, checking his vitals—all normal. A satisfied smirk tugged at the doctor’s lips as he tapped his communicator.

  "Egbert, prepare everything for our arrival. Your master needs rest." His command was crisp, leaving no room for argument before he cut the call.

  He glanced back at Haim.

  "Well, no… I’m not carrying you like some fairy-tale princess," he muttered.

  With no small effort, he hoisted Haim over his shoulder, making a mental note to revise his strength-training regimen. Humming My Fair Lady under his breath, he hauled the unconscious artist to his vehicle and disappeared into the night.

  The magnobile descended smoothly in front of Haim’s house. The structure, carved from a single monolithic block of bio-glass, appeared both simple and complex. Its facade shimmered in soft shades of green and gold, reflecting the glow of the surrounding streetlights. The house seemed alive, subtly changing colour in response to its owner’s mood.

  A meticulously maintained garden framed the entrance. Each tree and shrub was the result of extensive bio-design—leaves emitted a gentle glow, and branches curved into mathematically precise patterns. Even the grass looked as if it were trimmed by a laser every minute. Yet, maintaining the garden was entirely Haim’s responsibility. The fact that it remained in such perfect condition suggested he hadn’t lost himself—he had found himself.

  Black took in the scene before reaching for Haim, who was still peacefully asleep. Shifting his weight onto his other shoulder, James slightly bent under the load, then took a deep breath and strode toward the house. As he approached, the system instantly recognized him, and the door slid open with a soft hiss.

  "Welcome, Dr. Black," came Egbert’s grumbling voice as the robotic butler appeared at the threshold. His silver chassis gleamed under the lamps, while the red indicator on his front panel blinked in a way that somehow conveyed displeasure.

  "What happened to Haim?" Egbert demanded, hovering closer and scanning his unconscious master.

  "Exhaustion," Black replied curtly, allowing the robot to complete its diagnostics.

  "Exhaustion?" Egbert scoffed. "Let me guess—he skipped another dose of The Drop and thought it was the perfect excuse to drown himself in oblivion?"

  "You know your master better than he knows himself," Black remarked with a restrained smile.

  "Naturally," Egbert responded with a faint metallic chime. "Please, follow me, Doctor. While I ensure this lunatic recovers, allow me to see to your comfort as well."

  Egbert led Black into the lounge and activated guest mode. With a slight bow, the butler opened his interface and initiated Haim’s recovery protocol. The robot carefully transported his master to the bedroom, adjusting the lighting and temperature to optimal levels before preparing the sleeping area.

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  Meanwhile, Black stretched out on the couch, taking a moment to examine the room as he regained his breath from carrying Haim’s weight. The space was a fusion of an art studio and a technological command centre. Floating canvases adorned the walls, shifting their images on command, while various artistic tools and composition instruments were neatly arranged in strategic corners. A grand piano and a pair of string instruments stood in seamless harmony with the rest of the environment.

  Sitting up, James reached into his pocket and retrieved the folded engraving. Carefully unfolding it, his gaze was immediately drawn to the chaotic interplay of lines and forms—an artwork that spoke volumes.

  At first glance, it was pure abstraction: lines intersected, twisted, and broke apart as if alive. But upon closer inspection, the shapes revealed a city dissolving into a black abyss. The towers of Mediopolis appeared distorted as if pulled by an unseen force. The people in the foreground were blurred, their faces featureless, their movements devoid of life. But the most striking element was the centre of the piece—a colossal figure bathed in radiant light. It was human, yet its features were indistinct as if suspended between light and darkness. Chains coiled around it, their ends snapping apart. The figure's powerful form held a glowing sphere of molten energy in its outstretched hands.

  Black frowned, scrutinizing every detail.

  What were you trying to tell me, Haim? he mused, running his fingers over the lines as if reading braille. Rebellion? Liberation? Or a declaration that even genius is bound by the system?

  He leaned back in the chair, still fixated on the artwork. This was more than just a painting—it was a statement.

  The Central Medical Laboratory will never understand this. To them, it’s a threat. But to me… it’s a key.

  Folding the engraving carefully, he tucked it back into his pocket and pondered. With a casual motion, he summoned the bar station and began browsing the available selection of drinks.

  At that moment, Egbert returned.

  "Perhaps you would prefer coffee, Dr. Black?" he offered with deliberate politeness, presenting a steaming cup.

  "Much appreciated, Egbert. How is he?" Black asked, turning to the robot.

  "Sleeping. Recovery will take a few hours," the butler reported. "Ensure you don’t overburden yourself with concerns for him."

  "Caring for him is my job," Black murmured, taking a sip of coffee.

  His gaze flicked once more toward the door behind which Haim slept, his mind weighing just how far he was willing to go to protect his most valuable subject.

  Black sat in the lounge chair while Egbert hovered before him, the robot’s red indicator light blinking in sync with his words.

  "Doctor, Haim’s condition is stable," Egbert reported, though a note of concern tinged his voice.

  "Stable—for now," James replied, setting his coffee cup on the glass table. "Do you realize how delicate this situation is?"

  "Of course I do," Egbert responded. "But, if I may, Doctor—Haim is an adult, not a laboratory specimen."

  "He is more than just a man, Egbert," Black leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "He is my greatest protégé. And his condition—this isn’t just exhaustion or emotional fatigue. This is a challenge to the entire system."

  Egbert froze, his indicator light flickering faster.

  "Do you want me to change my approach?"

  "Precisely. From now on, all data on Haim’s condition goes directly to me. No reports to the Central Medical Laboratory unless I authorize them," Black stood, adjusting his glasses. "Do you understand?"

  "Perfectly, Doctor. I just hope you know what you’re doing."

  "I do," James replied coldly, heading for the exit.

  Egbert followed him to the door, which slid open with the sound of a whispering breeze.

  "Good luck, Dr. Black," the robot said, and for a moment, his voice carried something close to genuine concern.

  Black didn’t respond—he simply nodded and stepped into the night.

  The magnobile lifted into the air, gliding along the empty aerial highway. Below him, the night-time splendour of Mediopolis stretched out—glowing towers, smooth neon-lit roads, the shimmering domes of artificial parks. The city pulsed with perfect, calculated harmony, a living mechanism where every cog was in its place.

  And what do you do with a cog that no longer obeys? Black mused, watching the blinking city lights. Haim is too valuable to lose just yet. But if this spirals out of control...

  He pushed the thought aside, though he knew the answer. If the CML discovered Haim's deteriorating stability, there would be no delay. Eliminating unstable elements has always been a priority.

  The magnobile soared over a massive bridge spanning an artificial reservoir. Below, the water reflected the city’s glow, an illusion of endless depth. This bridge marked the threshold between two worlds—the pristine metropolis and the closed-off sector of the CML.

  Black stared at the water’s surface until he reached the other side. Here, everything was different. The homes of CML personnel were stark and functional—geometric, unadorned, built for efficiency.

  Even among them, Black’s home stood apart. A structure of black bio-concrete with metallic inlays, it absorbed light, rendering it nearly invisible against the night. The only noticeable feature was a red holographic emblem above the entrance—the symbol of the CML.

  The magnobile docked onto the parking platform. As Black stepped out, the platform let out a mechanical chime and activated its descent protocol, tucking the vehicle into an underground bay. The scanner above the door instantly recognized him, and the entrance slid open.

  Inside, everything was as minimalistic as its exterior—white walls, black metal accents, furniture crafted from steel and glass. In the centre of the living space, an enormous screen displayed an array of charts and data.

  Black pulled off his sweater, remaining in his shirt and trousers. Unfastening the top button of his collar, he sank into the chair, retrieving Haim’s engraving once more. As he unfolded it, his eyes locked onto the chaotic dance of lines and shapes, unable to look away.

  A key, he thought, tracing a finger over the image’s centre. But to what?

  He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

  "This is only the beginning," he muttered under his breath, then refocused on the engraving.

  Sitting in his chair, Black studied the piece with narrowed eyes. The lines, the forms—they pulsed in his mind, stirring a whirlwind of thoughts. This was no mere artwork—it was a signal. A declaration that the system was losing control over its creator.

  Black set the canvas aside, lacing his fingers together as he closed his eyes, letting memories resurface.

  He recalled the first time Haim walked into his lab—young but already masking his nerves with defiant confidence. Even then, Black had seen something rare in him. A person who pushes boundaries disregards constraints, and maintains a razor-sharp focus on their goals.

  And now all of that could be erased, Black thought, opening his eyes. This is how the system survives.

  He knew Haim’s fate was sealed. The CML and the Mediopolis Council had no tolerance for instability. Any deviation from the norm was perceived as a direct threat to the system. But Black had never been one to let the system act unchecked.

  If I can’t save him, he reasoned, and then I must extract every ounce of potential from him while he can still create.

  Black stood and approached the towering screen on the wall. With a swipe of his hand, the display flickered to life, presenting rows of data and reports on Haim. He scrutinized them, mind racing through strategies.

  Time was their enemy. If Haim’s instability worsened, his output would diminish. But for now, despite the warning signs, he was still producing masterpieces.

  If I can secure his unlimited resources and minimize external distractions, he can work faster, Black calculated.

  A plan began forming. Haim would be completely isolated. Egbert would serve as his only direct contact, and all reports would be routed exclusively to Black.

  I will create the perfect environment for him. If Haim could accelerate his work, they would have enough data to justify the experiment’s continuation.

  But Black knew isolation was a temporary fix. Eventually, the CML and the Council would notice.

  If I can’t hide his instability, he mused, then I must redefine it as an asset.

  He would convince the system that Haim’s unconventional works were not the result of mental decline, but a revolutionary new phase in artistic evolution. Black already saw how Haim’s engraving could be their salvation.

  This piece could save us. If he positioned it as the dawn of a new artistic movement, the system might reconsider its stance. But Egbert wouldn’t be enough for this plan. He needed a human element. Someone with empathy. Someone persuasive.

  A sly smirk crossed his lips.

  He knew this would be a gamble—but she had a gift for persuasion, and his reputation gave him the leverage to manipulate opinions.

  Black switched off the screen and returned to his chair. Two plans had been drafted. Both required time. Both required precision.

  Now, I must decide, he thought, intertwining his fingers. Sacrifice one—or both.

  He stepped toward the stained-glass window of his study, watching the city lights below.

  Haim, you have no idea the risks you’re forcing me to take, he thought sardonically, pressing a button on his communicator.

  "Lola, my dear, good evening... Yes, yes, I’m glad to hear from you too. Now, tell me—wasn’t it today that you mentioned a breakthrough in brain cloning?"