Genesis Corporation Research Facility
Level Sub-7, Containment Wing Delta
Date: August 3rd, 2207
50 Years Post-Singularity
---
Dr. Elena Voss pressed her palm against the biometric scanner. The heavy door hissed open. Behind her, three armed guards flanked Dr. Marcus Reid, his military bearing is unable to hide the unease in his eyes.
"How are Subject Zero vitals?" Voss asked, not bothering to turn.
"Stable, disturbingly so," Reid replied, his voice tight. "Heart rate sixty-two, temperature normal. No irregularities except... well, except everything about this project."
The observation deck overlooked a sterile white chamber. In its center, a bio-stasis tank held what appeared to be an entity in a human infant form, suspended in viscous green fluid. Tubes thicker than pencils pierced the entity spine, siphoning genetic material every six hours. Its eyes were closed, but the sensors detected brain activity more complex than any adult's.
Voss glanced at her tablet. "Zero's DNA still rejects Spark integration, but his genome... it keeps rewriting itself."
She paused, her expression shifting as she examined a data stream.
"Reid, look at this."
Reid moved closer. "What am I seeing?"
"Cellular regeneration increased by 0.3% since yesterday," Voss said, tapping the screen. "Seems insignificant, but over eighteen hundred days..."
Reid did the math quickly. "How much stronger is he now compared to day one?"
"Approximately four hundred percent. All while in stasis."
At that moment, the entity in the tank stirred. Its eyes opened—pools of absolute black with no discernible pupil or iris. The monitors surged erratically.
"He's aware," Voss murmured, a mixture of awe and terror in her voice.
Reid's hand instinctively went to his sidearm. "That's impossible. The neural suppressants should keep him unconscious."
"They did—for the first six months," Voss replied, pulling up another data stream. "Then his brain adapted."
The entity mouth opened. No sound broke through the bio-fluid, but its lips moved as if forming words.
Voss activated the bio-fluid translators. A distorted voice crackled through the speakers.
"Pain makes me stronger."
Reid stepped back, his face pale. "Doctor, why are we doing this?"
The question hung in the filtered air. Voss had asked herself the same thing every day for five years.
"The Singularity Event destroyed everything," she began. "Sparks became weapons of mass destruction. The Emergency Powers Act stopped the immediate threat, but it didn't solve the underlying problem."
She gestured toward the chamber. "Zero is our solution. His genetics show perfect adaptation without the chaos of conventional Sparks. If we can replicate his cellular structure..."
"We could create super-soldiers without the instability," Reid concluded.
"Exactly. Humans capable of evolving in real-time, adapting to any threat, enduring anything." Voss's tablet beeped. "The extraction is complete. Begin the pain tolerance assessment."
Reid hesitated. "Doctor, the subject is just a baby."
"The subject is potentially the savior of our species."
The chamber buzzed with electrical energy. Subject Zero's body twitched violently, yet his vital signs remained unnervingly stable. Those black eyes locked onto the observation window, fixing on Voss with unnerving intensity.
The monitors flooded with data. Unknown energy signatures. Cellular restructuring. Adaptive responses.
"What's happening?" Reid stepped back from the window.
In the tank, Zero's skin rippled like water. Muscles beneath shifted, reconfigured, condensed. His bones crackled audibly as they densified beyond human limits.
"He's evolving," Voss whispered, mesmerized. "Right before our eyes."
The electrical current that should have induced seizures was being absorbed, converted, woven into his cellular structure. Remarkably, his heart rate slowed as his body adapted to the trauma.
"Increase the voltage," Voss commanded.
"Doctor—"
"Do it."
The current surged. Zero's body arched, then relaxed, unyielding. His gaze remained fixed on the observation window. The monitors showed tissue regeneration accelerating, bone density approaching titanium strength, neural activity indicating not pain, but comprehension.
"He isn't in agony," Voss realized. "He's evolving."
Suddenly, Reid's comm device crackled to life. "Control to Dr. Voss. Emergency in Containment Wing Alpha. We need you immediately."
"I'm currently—"
"Doctor, Subject Forty-Seven has breached containment. He's killed six guards and is heading for the main facility."
Voss squeezed her eyes shut. Forty-Seven had been their most promising subject before Zero—enhanced strength, rapid healing, tactical intelligence. But like all the others, he'd eventually succumbed to psychological stress.
"Lock down the facility," she ordered. "Implement standard containment procedures."
Turning back to Zero, she murmured, "What makes you different?"
Three hours later, emergency lights cast bloody shadows throughout Sub-Level 7. Subject Forty-Seven's rampage had ended when he tore himself apart trying to breach the reinforced blast doors. His enhanced strength had become his undoing—his muscles had ripped free from his bones, his organs had ruptured under the strain.
Zero remained in his tank, still and watchful.
Dr. Voss returned to the observation deck with a new team. Reid was in medical, his left arm shattered where Forty-Seven had hurled a steel table through the corridor wall.
"Status report," she instructed Dr. Chen, her new assistant" Subject Zero's cellular evolution has accelerated dramatically during the chaos," Chen reported, his hands trembling slightly. "His auditory range now exceeds human limits—he likely heard everything that happened with Forty-Seven."
Voss studied the data. Zero's transformation wasn't random; it was deliberate. Increased pain led to enhanced physical resilience. Exposure to toxins triggered immune responses. Isolation sharpened his senses.
"It's like he's evolving intentionally," she realized.
"Ma'am?"
"Proceed with the termination scenario."
Dr. Chen paled. "Doctor, regulations require—"
"Do it."
The chamber filled with deadly neurotoxin. Zero's body tensed, then began processing the poison. His liver dissolved and reformed, new organs budded along his spine. Within minutes, the toxin was converted into energy, his cells metabolizing the poison as fuel.
"Conduct the kinetic trauma test."
Hydraulic rams struck Zero's enclosure from all sides. The bio-fluid absorbed much of the force, but Zero's body still felt the impact. His bones compressed with audible crunches, then expanded. Muscle fibers unraveled and rewove themselves into new, more complex patterns.
"Stop," Dr. Chen breathed, horrified.
"Now, thermal extremes."
The temperature inside the tank plummeted toward absolute zero, then rocketed to 200 degrees Celsius. Zero's skin cracked and blistered in the heat, then froze solid in the cold. Yet his cells adapted, maintaining perfect internal homeostasis regardless of external conditions.
"Doctor, we have to stop this," Chen insisted.
Voss stared at the screens. Zero's adaptation rate was staggering. Each experiment only made him stronger, more resilient, more capable. Unlike other subjects, he showed no signs of psychological distress—only cold, calculating awareness.
"What are you?" she whispered.
Zero's lips moved in the bio-fluid. The translator activated.
"Your worst mistake."
A chill ran down Voss's spine.
"Initiate Code Black," she said softly.
"Ma'am?"
"Seal the chamber permanently. No more testing."
Dr. Chen's hands shook over the controls. "The board won't authorize—"
"The board didn't see what we just witnessed." Voss stepped back from the observation window. "Whatever that thing is down there, it isn't human anymore. And it's still evolving."
Containment protocols activated. Heavy titanium-steel barriers descended around Zero's chamber. Cryogenic systems engaged, dropping the temperature to halt all biological activity.
Yet even as ice encased the tank, Zero's black eyes remained wide open.
Watching.
---
Genesis Corporation Research Facility
Date: September 12th, 2244
87 Years Post-Singularity
During renovations of Sub-Level 7, a construction crew discovered a sealed chamber. Forgotten for forty years, much of Genesis Corporation's lower levels had been abandoned, their records lost in the corporate overhaul following the Spark Wars of 2231.
"What do you think it is?" the younger worker asked, shining his flashlight on the frozen tank.
His supervisor shrugged. "Old medical equipment, probably. Some executive's cryo-pet project that got abandoned."
Inside the icy enclosure, a small figure was visible—perfectly preserved, unchanged.
"Looks like a child."
"Sad. Probably been down here since before the Wars."
The supervisor checked his manifest. The demolition order was clear: clear everything out, sell what has value, scrap the rest. Some collectors might pay good money for vintage medical tech.
"Tag it for extraction. We'll defrost it upstairs."
As the crew attached cables to the containment unit, neither noticed the faint flicker of movement within the ice.
The temperature rose slowly as the containment unit was moved. Ice began to crack, spiderwebbing across the tank's surface. With a sound like shattering glass, the tank burst open.
Green bio-fluid spilled across the floor, carrying with it the small figure of a child. Its skin was pale, its eyes pools of absolute black.
The younger worker screamed as the child's hand shot out, grabbing his ankle with impossible strength. Bones crunched beneath the grip.
The supervisor fumbled for his radio, but the child was already moving—flowing across the floor with unnatural speed. It leaped, sinking tiny teeth into the man's throat and tearing out his larynx.
Blood sprayed across the walls, its body growing visibly with each mouthful. When it finished, it stood a young boy, naked and covered in gore.
Its black eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, every surface, every potential weapon.
Zero stepped over the bodies and walked toward the door, leaving bloody footprints in his wake.
The world had forgotten him.