The morning sun barely lit the streets when Adam boarded the creaking old bus heading toward the city's public office. He sank into a seat near the window, watching the scenery roll by in a blur. His mind, however, was far from the crowded bus or the distant honks of traffic.
"How do I crack this?" Adam thought, clenching his fists on his lap. His experiments—hours of painstaking work—were stagnant, the elusive breakthrough teasing him just out of reach.
He stared out of the window, his reflection faintly visible against the passing backdrop of buildings and open fields. "There has to be a way to make it work. I've already tried adjusting the environmental variables. Maybe it's not the external factors. Maybe I'm missing something internal… something fundamental about the process."
A nagging voice in his head suggested he might be the key, but he dismissed the thought as desperation. He was used to thinking logically, not emotionally. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and leaned against the cool glass, letting the rattling bus soothe his restless mind.
The public office was a bustling hive of bureaucracy. Adam stepped inside, the noise of ringing phones, clattering keyboards, and murmuring voices washing over him. He approached the front desk, where a young receptionist greeted him with a polite but rehearsed smile.
"I'm here to see Mr. Carter about my parents' pension," Adam said firmly, his tone measured.
The receptionist glanced at a clipboard. "He's in a meeting. Please take a seat and wait."
Adam nodded and found a spot in the waiting area, the plastic chair creaking under him. Hours passed. The clock on the wall seemed to mock him as he checked it repeatedly. He approached the desk multiple times, each time receiving the same response.
"Mr. Carter is still in a meeting," the receptionist said without looking up.
The day wore on, and frustration gnawed at Adam's patience. By the time evening arrived, the waiting room was nearly empty, and Adam's anger was at its peak. When he spotted Mr. Carter leaving his office with a leather bag slung over his shoulder, Adam bolted up and marched straight toward him.
"Mr. Carter!" Adam called, his voice echoing through the quieting office.
The official stopped and turned, his expression annoyed. "What is it, young man?"
"I've been waiting the entire day to talk to you about my parents' pension. You've been dodging me every time I've come here!"
Mr. Carter scoffed. "Do you know how busy I am? This isn't something I can resolve overnight. These things take time."
Adam stepped closer, his jaw clenched. "Time? It's been three months. I'm not leaving until you give me a real answer."
The official's smirk was the last straw. Before he knew it, Adam's fist collided with the man's face, sending him staggering back into his office. Papers scattered, and the receptionist let out a shocked gasp.
Mr. Carter wiped his bleeding lip, his eyes narrowing. "You'll regret this," he growled. "You won't be able to leave this city alive."
He pulled out his phone, making a call as he stormed out of the building.
The bus stop was deserted when Adam arrived, his knuckles still throbbing from the punch. The adrenaline was wearing off, and a cold dread settled in his stomach. Before he could board the next bus, a group of men stepped out from the shadows, their faces obscured but their intentions clear.
"You've got guts, kid," one of them sneered. "But Mr. Carter doesn't like loose ends."
The attack was brutal. Fists and kicks rained down on Adam as he struggled to defend himself. Pain exploded through his body, and the world became a blur of motion and agony. Somehow, he managed to break free, dragging himself onto the next bus.
The ride home was a haze of blood and exhaustion. Adam leaned against the window, his swollen face hidden in the dim light.
When he finally reached home, he slipped inside quietly, careful not to wake his grandmother. He avoided the mirror, heading straight to his room, where he collapsed onto the bed.
The pain in his body was unbearable, but his mind refused to rest. As he lay there, a strange clarity began to form amidst the chaos. Images of his experiments flashed through his mind, each one aligning into a pattern he hadn't noticed before.
"The DNA…" he thought, his breathing ragged. "It's not just about what's there… it's about what's missing."
In his mind's eye, he saw his DNA—its strands incomplete, with vast empty spaces waiting to be filled. The realization hit him like a thunderbolt: his human DNA occupied only a small fraction of his genetic potential. The rest was… empty.
But before he could process the implications, a sharp, searing pain shot through his forehead, just between his eyebrows. It was as if something inside him was stirring, scratching against the edges of his mind.
Adam's vision swam as the pain intensified, and with one final gasp, he blacked out, collapsing into the void of unconsciousness.