Project Silas - 14 The Trojan Garden
The basement apartment smelled of damp lime and ozone, a far cry from the pressurized, sterile labs of the research center. But for Edward, it was the first honest workspace he had ever owned.
On the scarred oak table lay three prototypes. To the "Fixers" who had secured the equipment, these were products—high-margin assets for a world obsessed with status and longevity. To Edward, they were seeds.
The Product Line
The Fixers returned at dusk, their silhouettes framed by the high, barred windows of the den. They didn't look at the man; they looked at the table.
"You said you had something we could move," the lead Fixer said, tapping a gloved finger against the first glass jar. "Something for the 'High-End' market."
Edward didn't look up from his microscope. "Three vectors," he said, his voice flat.
1. The 'Luster' Cream: A topical application that used a refined version of the vector to rewrite the melanocytes. It didn't just hide wrinkles; it replaced aging skin with a vibrant, jade-tinted glow. More than a cosmetic, it brought a terrifying clarity to the mind. The optimized metabolism stripped away the fog of aging, bringing back the vigor and the sharp, bright memories of youth. It offered the feeling of immortality—that specific, reckless certainty everyone possessed before they realized death was a reality.
2. The 'Dermis' Patch: A concentrated dose designed to trigger localized hide-hardening. Aimed at the private security firms and the paranoid elite, it turned the skin into a flexible, impact-resistant plating.
3. The 'Zen' Drop: A designer drug that stabilized blood sugar and eliminated the "spike and crash" of a modern diet, providing a level of mental clarity and calm that no synthetic stimulant could match.
The Necessary Evil
"There’s a catch," one of the Fixers noted, holding a vial of the Zen drops to the light. "The clinical reports on the Oak Haven outbreak said these people stopped eating. They just... stood in the sun. If our clients stop buying food, that’s fine. But if they start turning green and standing on their lawns like statues, the heat from the CDC will be unbearable."
Edward finally turned, his eyes reflecting the dim amber light of the room. This was the moment of the lie.
"It’s a metabolic byproduct," Edward said, his tone one of practiced scientific regret. "The vector is so efficient at cellular repair that it inadvertently triggers a photosynthetic response. You can't have the 'Luster' or the 'Dermis' without the jade tint. It’s the cost of the architecture. You’ll have to market it as a 'signature look'—the mark of the elite."
The Fixers shared a look. In a world where people paid for designer scars and digital implants, a "Jade Glow" that signaled wealth and invulnerability was an easy sell.
"The hunger suppression?" the lead asked.
"A side effect of the stabilized glucose," Edward lied smoothly. "Tell them it's a 'dietary optimization.' They’ll save thousands on meal plans."
The Long Game
The Fixers left with the samples, already whispering about distribution hubs in St. Louis and Chicago. They saw a windfall. They saw the next evolution of the black market.
Edward watched them go, then turned back to his workbench. He felt the righteous fire in his veins—the same fire that had started in his Victorian home before the world went to hell.
He hadn't mentioned that the "side effect" was the entire point. He didn't care about the vanity of the rich or the armor of their bodyguards. He cared about the fact that every person who used 'Luster' or took a 'Zen' drop was being permanently, genetically decoupled from the global food supply.
He was using their greed to fund a global inoculation against famine. He was a man who had been told he couldn't feed the world, so he was simply going to make a world that no longer needed to be fed—one "designer" dose at a time.
"Greed is a much more efficient vector than altruism," he whispered to the shadows of the basement.
The Tanner was just getting started.