The warehouse buzzed with a different kind of energy. The open call was over, and the survivors—barely a dozen—stood awkwardly in a line while Rosa handed them mismatched mugs of instant coffee.
Jericho eyed them like a drill sergeant sizing up recruits. "So these are the geniuses, huh? Half of them look like they'd trip over an extension cord."
One of the new hires, a wiry girl with grease still smudged on her cheek, shot back, "At least I don't solder like my hands are shaking."
The room broke into laughter. Jericho flushed red, but even Rosa chuckled.
Maria raised a hand, silencing the chatter. "Enough. They're here. Let's see if they're worth the trouble." She looked to Rafael. "What's the test?"
Rafael stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "We start simple—but not easy. Portable water stations. Something cheap, durable, and fast to assemble. If AquaPure's going to scale, we can't just rely on straws. We need units whole families can use."
A murmur spread through the recruits. Some nodded eagerly, others exchanged nervous glances.
Rafael continued, "You'll have three days. Materials are whatever's in this warehouse—scrap pipes, drums, filters, plastic. Fail, and you walk. Succeed, and you're part of this for real."
Jericho muttered under his breath, "Sounds like hazing."
Maria smirked. "More like survival."
Day one was chaos.
Lea Santos immediately claimed a corner of the floor, spreading out blueprints she scrawled on old newspaper. "Gravity-fed flow," she muttered. "Simpler than pumps. We just need elevation."
Carlo Mendoza, the teenage tinkerer, scavenged bamboo poles and rigged them into a tripod. "Like this, Ate?"
Lea frowned. "Not bad, but it'll collapse without cross-bracing."
Meanwhile, Nanay Pilar, the sixty-year-old with her solar lamp, quietly wired a salvaged panel to a battery. When Jericho scoffed—"What, you think the sun will filter water?"—she gave him a sly smile. "No, hijo. But it can power UV sterilization."
By the second day, alliances formed. Lea and Carlo worked side by side, their filter tower starting to resemble something workable. Nanay Pilar's solar rig hummed faintly, attracting curious stares from the older workers.
But not everything went smoothly. One recruit tried to build a pump with scavenged fan blades; it exploded in a puff of smoke, sending everyone ducking for cover. Rosa scolded him like a grandmother, shoving a broom into his hands. "Clean your mess or no dinner for you!"
Even Maria cracked a smile at that.
On the third evening, Rafael gathered them all around a battered plastic drum perched on bamboo supports. Tubes snaked from its base into improvised filters, then out into a bucket. A small solar panel glowed faintly beside it, feeding a jury-rigged UV strip at the final outlet.
Lea wiped sweat from her brow. "It should work."
Carlo crossed his arms. "It will work."
Jericho muttered, "If it doesn't explode first."
Rafael stepped forward, filling the drum with brown water scooped from a roadside canal. The group held their breath as the liquid trickled down through layers of charcoal and sand, then under the faint glow of the UV strip.
Minutes later, clear water dripped steadily into the bucket below.
Rosa gasped. Maria leaned closer, inspecting. Even Jericho's jaw dropped.
Rafael picked up a cup, filled it, and drank without hesitation. The warehouse fell silent until he lowered it with a faint smile.
"It's clean."
Cheers erupted, filling the warehouse with a roar of triumph. Carlo whooped, Lea high-fived him, and Nanay Pilar simply folded her hands, whispering a prayer of thanks.
Maria turned to Rafael, her eyes narrowed—but her lips curved into the smallest of smiles. "Looks like you picked right, Boss."
Rafael's gaze swept over the recruits, their faces glowing with pride and disbelief. To them, it was their victory. To his old crew, it was proof their company was evolving.
But only Rafael knew the truth: every test, every scrap of material, every "lucky" success had been guided by the Codex's unseen hand.
The Codex pulsed faintly in his vision:
"Prototype milestone achieved. Innovation trajectory: accelerating. Warning: external attention probability high."
Rafael set the cup down slowly, his smile fading into resolve. Success had given them proof of what they could do. But it would also draw the eyes of new enemies.
For now, though, he let the cheers echo. AquaPure wasn't just surviving anymore.
They were inventing the future.