CHAPTER
7

Aria padded down the smooth, dimly lit corridor toward the facility's private pool, her bare feet whispering against the cool, tiled floor. The hum of the lights, the faint scent of chlorine—it all brought a sense of calm she hadn't felt since her encounter with Specimen X. She clutched her towel and goggles, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, ideas, and half-formed theories, but the prospect of slipping into the water, of immersing herself in the silence beneath the surface, offered a solace she couldn't find anywhere else.

She reached the pool, the water lying still, an expanse of glimmering blue that invited her in, beckoning her to shed the weight of the day. She perched at the edge, letting her toes dip in first, savoring the coolness against her skin. Slowly, she adjusted her goggles, the specialized lenses automatically adjusting to her eyesight needs, sharpening the world around her as though she were wearing her glasses.

Sliding into the water, she felt its embrace surround her, cool and steadying, closing off the outside world. Here, under the surface, everything felt muted, softened. The harsh lights of the lab, the constant drone of machinery, the ever-present demands of her research—none of it mattered in the blue depths of the pool. In the water, she felt weightless, buoyed by something beyond herself. It was as though the water held her together, a constant and reassuring presence that kept her grounded.

Pushing off from the edge, she began her laps, her strokes smooth and measured. Every movement was a controlled release, each breath timed to her rhythm. The pool became her sanctuary, the water her refuge, and with every stroke, she felt herself slip further away from the worries that clung to her.

Yet, as she moved, her mind circled back to her work, to the haunting silver eyes of Specimen X, the revelation he had shared, and the disturbing allure of his genetic adaptability. For years, she had watched her vision deteriorate despite the cutting-edge technology available. Laser surgeries, corneal transplants, retinal implants—she had tried them all, but nothing worked. In the end, the progressive degeneration continued, each procedure a temporary reprieve at best. But now, she thought as she glided through the water, her breath even, her muscles pulling her forward, she felt a surge of determination mixed with hope.

As she pushed through the water, she considered her options, her mind drawn inevitably to the genes of Specimen X. His cells didn't just adapt; they changed with purpose, evolving in response to his needs, governed by some internal drive. If she could find a way to isolate those genes, stabilize them long enough to understand their processes, then perhaps... just perhaps, she could replicate it. A procedure like that could be revolutionary—if it worked, it wouldn't only help her; it could change genetic science.

She surfaced, inhaling deeply, then submerged again, her mind racing. Of course, the risks were monumental. She couldn't just inject herself with an unknown gene sequence; the repercussions could be catastrophic, unpredictable. Specimen X's adaptability could interact with her own genome in ways she couldn't predict, destabilizing her cells rather than healing them. But what if, instead, it provided her body with the capacity to regenerate, to adapt her eyes back to perfect function? The idea lingered, taking root in her mind as she continued her laps, each thought expanding into new possibilities, potential theories, and—dare she think it—solutions.

Her vision hadn't always been this way. She remembered the curious, reckless five-year-old girl she had been, fascinated by genetics from an age when most children only knew nursery rhymes. She had wanted violet eyes—an unusual and rare color, one she had glimpsed in a book and thought enchanting. And, against all logic, she had found a way. Her father, a geneticist himself, had left behind notes on experimental techniques, incomplete but enough to understand the basics. She'd used the facilities at home, watched the lab procedures her parents performed, and pieced together enough to begin her own experiment.

The result had been exactly what she wanted: vivid, luminous violet eyes. But she had paid the price. Changing her eye color had destabilized her vision, a fact that became apparent as she grew older. It was a side effect her five-year-old self hadn't foreseen, but she had never regretted it. Even now, with her eyesight compromised, she didn't regret it. That was why she had poured herself into the study of genetics, driven by the need to heal what she had damaged, to fix the body she had changed too soon.

Aria's hands sliced through the water, each stroke measured, her muscles working with a rhythm she had perfected over years of swimming. Here in the water, she could feel each breath, each movement, with a clarity that often escaped her in the lab. The rhythm, the control, it was a reassurance—a reminder that she could still move, still work with precision despite her faltering vision. And perhaps, if her theories proved right, if she could just figure out how to stabilize Specimen X's genes, she could reclaim her sight.

She imagined, in scientific terms, how she might isolate his adaptability trait. An adaptive gene sequence, she thought as she turned her body in the water, moving from one end of the pool to the other. How would it interact with human genes? Would it splice in neatly, like a puzzle piece, or would it rebel, destabilize my cells? She would need to design a safe delivery mechanism, something that could control the initial interaction, stabilize the gene so her cells could adapt gradually.

It was all hypothetical, and yet the thought of seeing clearly, of no longer feeling her world blur and fade at the edges, made her pulse quicken. If only she could grasp the elusive adaptability of Specimen X's genes. The mystery of his biology was a double-edged sword, holding both answers and dangers in equal measure. She could alter her own genes, yes, but would they evolve the same way? Or would they warp, contort into something unrecognizable, something dangerous?

As she neared the pool's edge, she paused, holding onto the cool ceramic tile and pulling off her goggles. She blinked as her surroundings became slightly hazy, her usual blurred vision returning in the absence of her goggles' adjustments. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heartbeat slow, and closed her eyes.

In the stillness, her mind wandered back to Specimen X. His words echoed, reminders of things she had rarely considered: that boundaries were not immutable, that structure itself was a constraint she might challenge. But what boundaries could I dare cross? she wondered. The field of genetics was limitless, its potential held only by the ethics and caution of those who wielded it. But here, she had a choice: to hold fast to her ethical constraints or to risk everything for her own ambition.

The facility had placed strict protocols on the handling of Specimen X's cells, making it impossible for her to experiment with them freely. But what if she found a way to extract his genetic material, undetected? Just a single sequence, just enough for a small test. The thought lingered in her mind, tempting her, its allure too strong to shake. The clarity of perfect sight, of restoring what she had lost... she could taste the possibility, feel it just within reach. And the water around her held her, a silent reminder that here, she could be anyone, do anything. Here, in her sanctuary, she could let herself imagine, could believe in the possibility of reclaiming her vision.

Finally, she hoisted herself out of the pool, the water streaming down her body, cool and grounding. She wrapped the towel around her shoulders, letting herself take one last breath, filling her lungs with the cool, humid air. She was acutely aware of the tension easing from her body, her mind settling into a kind of resolve she hadn't expected.

She had to test her theories. There was no way around it. Specimen X's genes were unique, unlike anything she had encountered, and if there was even a chance—however small—that his adaptability could restore her sight, she had to pursue it. She would be careful, she would keep her testing confined, controlled. She would find a way to extract his genes without setting off alarms in the facility's monitoring system.

With one last glance at the water, her place of refuge, she allowed herself a moment of hope.

Aria dried her hair quickly in the locker room, the water droplets sliding off her skin as if to shed her recent thoughts along with them. She had indulged in the fantasy of extracting Specimen X's genes, envisioning herself regaining her vision with a clarity that had once seemed like her birthright. The urgency of her research crackled in her mind like a current, and she couldn't wait any longer. She needed to see him again—to feel the thrill of proximity to something that might change her life.

She slipped back into her lab coat and pushed her damp hair behind her ears. Her glasses went back on, pulling the world into focus just enough to guide her steps through the winding, sterile hallways of the facility. As she approached the corridor that led to Specimen X's holding cell, her heart thudded, her pulse quickening with a mix of anticipation and dread.

Just as she rounded the last corner, she came face-to-face with Dr. Ellis Grayson. His tall frame filled the doorway, blocking her path like an unmovable obstacle. He was leaning against the wall, clipboard in hand, one brow raised with an expression that hinted he'd been waiting for her.

"Aria, twice in one day?" His tone was casual, almost friendly, but there was a hint of suspicion under his smile.

Dr. Grayson was a few years older than Aria and had a reputation among the staff as an ambitious scientist, always eager to curry favor with superiors. While he was undoubtedly skilled, his manner of mixing scientific discussions with veiled compliments and casual flirtation made Aria feel uncomfortable. She'd brushed it off in the past, though her autistic mind often failed to decode his hints and gestures as anything other than professional.

"Yes. I need to access Specimen X's cell," she replied, her voice firm as she tried to step around him. But he didn't move.

He chuckled lightly, blocking her again. "Aria, you do know we have strict policies for a reason, right? I checked the access logs—you were in there earlier without prior clearance."

Aria's expression hardened. She hadn't anticipated this level of resistance. "I need to follow up on some... irregularities in his samples. The genetics aren't stable enough for proper analysis." Her tone was measured, careful not to give away more than necessary. She couldn't risk disclosing her true intentions or revealing that his genes were mutating.

Dr. Grayson tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed her. "Oh, come on, Aria. You've got the samples. No need to be hasty. Trust me, we're all eager to learn more, but there are protocols. You've always been the rule-follower here, haven't you?" He smiled, a hint of warmth in his voice.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, shifting her weight impatiently. "The data is incomplete," she replied, folding her arms, meeting his gaze with a directness that made him flinch slightly. "His genetic sequences show a tendency to adapt unpredictably, so each sample is practically obsolete as soon as it's extracted. I need new data in real-time."

He didn't budge. "I'm sorry, Aria, but I can't grant access. There are only so many times we're allowed in the cell, and there's been no prior authorization for a second entry today." He tried to offer her an understanding look, but his gaze lingered a little too long, his interest edging beyond scientific curiosity. "Maybe we could... schedule another time together?" he suggested. "Go over the data together, perhaps?"

Aria blinked at him, her brow furrowing. His suggestion barely registered as she recalibrated her approach, trying to calculate how best to convince him. "I don't think you understand, Dr. Grayson. My project depends on this. Every minute we wait, we risk losing invaluable insights."

He shrugged, visibly unfazed by her plea. "I get it. I really do. But you've already accessed the cell once today. We can't just pop in and out as we please. That's not how research of this nature works."

"Then tell me how it works," she replied, her voice edged with frustration. "Tell me how we're supposed to make any headway if we don't adapt our approach? This is unprecedented research; it requires unprecedented access." She could feel her patience slipping, the control she'd always prided herself on faltering under the weight of his dismissive gaze.

Dr. Grayson exhaled, a sympathetic smile plastered on his face. "Aria, you know the rules. You've already got the genetic samples, and those should be more than sufficient for now. It's against protocol to go back for more without a specific order from Dr. Hamill."

She took a steadying breath. If she could just reveal the adaptability of Specimen X's genes, she might get the clearance she needed. But admitting this unique trait would also raise alarms—too many questions she wasn't prepared to answer. So she opted for another route, hoping to appeal to his sense of ambition. "Dr. Grayson, we are on the verge of a breakthrough that could redefine genetic science. You've seen the reports; you know what's at stake here. Imagine being part of that discovery."

He laughed softly, the sound bordering on patronizing. "Oh, I'm well aware of what's at stake, Aria. Believe me, I want to make history as much as anyone. But pushing boundaries recklessly isn't the way to get there. Besides, I'm sure Dr. Hamill will authorize another visit soon enough. You just have to be patient."

She gritted her teeth, glancing at the door behind him, her thoughts racing as she considered her options. Protocol or not, she couldn't shake the urgency building within her, the knowledge that every second spent arguing with Grayson was a second lost.

"I don't have time for this," she muttered, turning on her heel to walk away, her fists clenched at her sides. She could feel Dr. Grayson's gaze on her back, but she forced herself to keep moving, her mind already spinning with alternative plans.

As she strode back to her own lab, the walls seemed to close in, their sterile white surfaces amplifying her frustration. The research facility's endless bureaucracy was suffocating, a labyrinth of rules and regulations designed to stifle progress. She had come too far, invested too much to let another scientist's ego—or the constraints of an outdated protocol—stand in her way.

Reaching her lab, she closed the door behind her and took a deep breath, leaning against the wall as she tried to gather her thoughts. She needed another way in, a means to access Specimen X without tripping any alarms. Her gaze fell on her holographic screen, where a data feed from the samples she had collected earlier continued to scroll with incomprehensible lines of code.

An idea flickered in the back of her mind, barely formed but persistent. There were other points of entry into the specimen's cell; she had seen the maintenance reports detailing each one. With the facility's intricate network of interconnected labs, there might be an access point close enough to bypass the main entrance altogether. It would take stealth, timing, and perhaps a little luck, but if she could enter under the guise of maintenance... it just might work.

Crossing to her desk, she began pulling up the facility's blueprints, her mind alive with possibilities. Dr. Grayson's reluctance had only stoked her resolve, a fuel to her ambition that refused to be extinguished.