The bar was a dimly lit haven, bathed in the glow of neon signs and the soft hum of electronic jazz. Patrons gathered in hushed clusters, their conversations merging with the clinking of glasses and the gentle whir of the robot server, its sleek metallic frame moving efficiently between tables.
Ethan sat at a secluded booth, nursing a glass of whiskey. Across from him, Roger slouched over the table, his face flushed, eyes bleary from too many drinks. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the rim of his empty glass, a restless, angry motion.
"Th-those fuckers," Roger slurred, his voice thick with bitterness. He glared at his reflection in the glass, his hands trembling.
The robot server approached, its voice a calm monotone. "Please refrain from using vulgar language. This is your first warning."
Roger scowled at the machine, waving it away. "All my life's work," he muttered, his voice cracking with a mix of anger and despair. "I did it all... me, by myself." He jabbed a finger into the table, his hand shaking. "And they think they can just... take it away."
Ethan leaned forward, his brow furrowed. He poured another measure of whiskey into Roger's glass. "Come work with us. You can start over. A fresh start."
Roger let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Fresh start, that's optimistic.... you know you were always the perfect guy. Looks, High school sweetheart, married her, those precious kids...." His voice trailed off, a wistful edge creeping into his tone. He looked up at Ethan, "I envy you, man."
Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but Roger cut him off, raising a hand. "No, I know what you're gonna say." His voice softened, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, sealed capsule. It was no larger than a finger, its contents a shimmering, translucent serum.
Ethan's eyes widened. "What's this?" he asked, his voice low with concern. "Don't tell me..."
Roger nodded, his expression somber. "Look yu're the only one I can trust," he whispered, pressing the capsule into Ethan's hand. His grip was firm, desperate. "This is the last of its kind, what i gave them is not complete."
Ethan's heart pounded in his chest. "Roger, if they find out—"
"I know," Roger interrupted, his gaze steady despite the alcohol coursing through his veins. "That's why I'm skipping town for a few weeks. Keep that safe for me."
Ethan stared at the capsule in his hand, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should. It wasn't just a container—it was a culmination of years of research, of Roger's genius, stolen by a corporation more interested in profit than progress.
"Be careful," Ethan warned, his voice edged with concern. "They'll come after you."
Roger managed a weak smile. "They can try." He pushed himself up from the booth, swaying slightly before steadying himself. "I'll be back. Just....take care."
As Roger stumbled out of the bar, the neon lights casting long shadows on the pavement, Ethan remained seated, the capsule clutched tightly in his hand. The robot server moved past, collecting empty glasses, oblivious to the gravity of the exchange that had just taken place.
As the bar's lights flickered overhead, Ethan slipped the capsule into his pocket, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on his shoulders. The night stretched on, but for Ethan, the future had just shifted, bringing with it a burden he hadn't anticipated but couldn't refuse.
---
The Builders, a sophisticated faction, retained the capability to modify and enhance physical structures. They could transform biological tissues or synthesize materials, allowing Ethan to adapt his body in extraordinary ways, from reshaping limbs to creating defensive mechanisms. Their adaptability is their strength, making them invaluable in situations that demand quick and innovative solutions.
The Healers, on the other hand, focus on regenerative and restorative functions. They excell at repairing cellular damage, curing diseases, and augmenting the body's natural defenses. Their presence ensure the host withstands injuries and recovers swiftly, while also enhancing physical senses and endurance beyond human limits.
These two factions only survived while others didn't make it and lost them after time traveling:
"Communicators
"Synthesizers (AI)
"Interfacers (Internet)
"Arbiters (Weaponry)
The remaining balance creation and restoration. Though reduced in number, their collective functionality remain a potent force, blending advanced technology with human resilience.
Ethan's ability to command the nanobots wasn't reliant on any external devices or interfaces. It was rooted deep, where his consciousness reached out , guiding the tiny machines. Each nanobot was a part of a collective, able to perform specific tasks, but they were also capable of adapting, reshaping their functions based on Ethan's intent. They didn't need a synthesizer or central control system. They were extensions of Ethan's thoughts, responding to his needs in real-time. The communication between Ethan and the swarm was almost instantaneous.
For the nanobots, it wasn't just about executing commands. It was about the way Ethan's mind could shape their behavior. By focusing on his desired outcome, he could instruct them to alter their structure, combine materials, or even initiate processes like healing or reconciling injuries. In essence, it was like speaking a language only he understood, a quiet dialogue of thought and action, where his will and their ability to adapt were in perfect harmony.