Thanks for the poster! Msg me if you want to make a poster/trailer. Also, stay strong, EXO fans!! I hope this update will give you momentary comfort.

“This is the formula you use in order to ensure the accuracy of its database.” I tap the screen with my pen. “Write it down. This will be on your final exam.”

Hurriedly, sixty-five students copy the equation from the screen and onto their tablets. Their fingers swiftly tap across their virtual keyboard with a panic that brings a nostalgic smile to my lips. Remembering the time when I was once a student is a memory that can ensue inside of me a laughter that mocks my teenage self. It’s rare for a man at my age to be associated with a high title and position normally reserved for the elders. It was only five years ago that I graduated from the Institute, and since then I have spent years experimenting with ways to commandeer the top of the ladder. And here I am now, sitting on the hope of another promotion with the promise of my latest development in the palm of my hand.

To be more precise, it currently sits in a small, glass vial on my desk – one pill that can impede the trouble of a revolution.

“We’re finished for the day,” I announce. “Bring your completed worksheets tomorrow. I will hand out a study guide for us to look through.”

My students consecutively gather their belongings and leave my classroom. I store my files in separate folders and turn off the computer. After my last students leave, I grab the vial on my way out of the classroom.

After a series of narrow corridors, I exit the East Wing and take the moving walkway toward my office. On my way there, I pass a group of colleagues who greet me with coffee in one hand and a folder in the other. Although I wave back, I disparage them. They’ve spent the past few months setting me up for failure. They’re idiots if they think I will fall for one of their juvenile ruses.

“Lay,” One of the idiots says. “Will you be at the meeting?”

“Of course I will.”

“He’ll be late, too,” another mutters.

I take off my glasses and slide it into the pocket of my jacket. “They can’t start without me. If you think they’ll actually commence the meeting without me present, then you’re welcome to arrive on time.” I smile. “Goodbye.”

I can hear them argue amongst themselves after I pass. When I look behind me, I notice that instead of heading for the meeting room, they have split up towards their personal offices.

I chuckle. Of course it worked.

I rest my hand on the scanner and wait for the decisive click of the machine before the door opens. I place the vial on my desk and turn on the lamplight. Hooking my jacket over the chair, I sit down and flip through the pages of my notebook. Scattered scribbles fill dozens of pages, while small, sharp font organizes the rest. I skim through my notes until I find the procedures for creating a flawless pill. I glance at the vial. Inside, the pill seems to pulse with a repetitive glow.

I’m tempted to confirm my speculations by testing it with its respective Exon, but it’s my only pill, and my last trick. If I’m going to play this game, I need to play it smart. It’s all for the Institute. And it’s all for me.

After gathering the materials I need for my presentation, I stride to the meeting room. I’m exactly five minutes early, and as I predicted, everyone is here save for the men I rerouted earlier.

“Where are the rest of my colleagues?” I say as I turn on the black box on the table. After plugging in my personalized chip, the box shoves the virtual touch screen towards me. I take the ergonomic display and reduce the size so that I can access my files without revealing my codes.

“You’re as scrupulous as ever, Lay.”

“It’s part of business.” I clap my hands. “Shall we start?”

“What of the others? Should we wait for them?”

I flick the screen to the wall and enlarge it. Without hiding their marvel, they watch me manipulate the display. “I told them the meeting would start when I arrive. I suppose they didn’t hear me.” I smile to the others, but my cheeks are stiff. I need to practice this if I am to look welcoming. “We will begin.”

Twelve minutes into my presentation, those witless scientists prance into the room. Their wonderful faces of surprise are so gratifying. Quickly turning my back to the men, I poke my cheeks and stretch my jaw. Turning around, I attack them with a relaxed smile. “Hello. Thank you for joining us.”

I hear one of them swear as he sits. I narrow my eyes. “You’ve joined us at a crucial part. You must have waited for this specific moment. Could I ask one of the men who walked in to volunteer his body? It will only take a minute.”

The men who were present since the start of the meeting choose their candidate with a swivel of their heads and the direction of their eyes. “Great,” I say. “Can you come here?”

Driven by his pride, one of the idiots approaches me with a deathly glint. He’s cursing me in his head. It’s so evident that he might as well be holding a microphone to his mouth.

“As I was explaining,” I return to the screen, “I’ve been in the middle of experimenting with a pill that could solve all the problems the Institute has ever had concerning the 2^nd Gen Exons. As you must be aware, they have been deactivated until further notice by the head of the Institute. What concerns us is that, three years ago, they were becoming human.” I sense a cold fog rest over each man’s shoulders. That development could have cost us our jobs as well as a sentence in the Government’s prison. We were not dealing with a small issue. We were dealing with an issue that could, in theory, wipe humanity from the Earth.

“So I experimented. The cause of the evolution is still unexplainable. However, the memories that were acquired during that change were stored in a way that was reviewable. I discovered that an Exon’s data could be targeted and extracted. With that thought, I devised a pill that carries inhibitors specific to an Exon’s visceral memories.” I lift a vial from my pocket. Within it is a pill smaller in size than the one in my office. “By removing the memories of the 2^nd Gen Exons, I can reset their systems without any residual difficulties. We can make them forget who they became and remember only who they are - a machine made to follow the mandates of humans.”

“Why a pill? Why not a cleared cache instead?”

“Because if Exons ever want to play human again, we can fool them into thinking they already are.”

Their eyes are bright with fearful curiosity. I assure the shoulder of the idiot next to me with a light tap.

“What happens if we take the pill?” He asks.

I open the vial and drop the pill into my palm. “I haven’t gotten that far.” Wielding it directly across the idiot’s face, I ask, “Would you like to be my experiment?”

He gulps. If the ambience weren’t so serious, I would mock his unease.

“It shouldn’t be harmful.”

“It looks strange,” he mumbles as he peers at the pill’s translucent skin. I want to roll my eyes. It takes a genius like me to create an exact replica.

“Here.” I place it in his hand. With sweaty fingers, he carries it to his lips. “Go on,” I urge. “Take it.”

With baited breath, the men watch as the idiot slowly, excruciatingly, drops the pill onto his tongue. I give him a glass of water, and with closed eyes, he drinks.

Eager to see, the men stand up. Concluding from the perspiration on his eyelids and his bloated face, he hasn’t swallowed. In precisely twenty seconds, the shell breaks, revealing its sweet contents.

His weak chuckle fills the silent room. “It’s chocolate.”

The men slowly join him in his relieved celebration. Soon, the entire room is laughing. I allow him to return to his seat as I conclude my message.

“You’ve pulled a dirty trick!” They accuse me, but of course, none of them seem to care that he could have died. What concerns scientists is not a positive result, but a result. That’s why we’re often associated with the term ‘mad’. The line between what is morally wrong and morally right has been erased by theories and experimentations. 

“I am perfecting the pill, I assure you,” I say. “I will be talking with the Institute’s designers regarding its function. For now, I ask that you wait patiently and attentively for its patented release. Until then, please enjoy these chocolate treats.” A woman enters the room with a jar of wrapped chocolate made to look like pills. Once they are distracted by the confections, I leave.

I spend an hour in my office testing math functions and travelling the Exon’s anatomical poster on my wall, hoping that when the time does come for that pill to be swallowed, my creation won’t collapse as a reality of those men’s expectations. I have to research again. I am about to bring my journal to the laboratory when a knock pounds my door.

“Hello,” the stranger at the door says. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Riis. I’m the Institute’s marketing representative.”

I shake his hand. “Lay.”

“I understand you’re in the middle of a project.” He peeks into my office. I push him aside and shut the door behind me. I smile as the automatic lock beeps confirmation.

“I was.”

“I wanted to request your attendance at a sales pitch.”

“I don’t work in that field.”

“Yes, but you seem to know the best about the 2^nd Gen. We need your help in assuring the Government that there are no infirmities within our building.”

The Government? “Why?”

“We are about to release the 3^rd Generation Exons. Satisfaction is crucial if we are going to move forward as a business. We must have everyone’s full compliance.”

I fold my hands behind my back. “You want me to assist you.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t like visiting the Government.”

“We know.”

“You know?”

“It seems to be common knowledge in the science wing, I’ve been informed. We have an offer, if that interests you.”

“And what is it?”

“Because it has been three years since we last met, the Government’s council members will all be present, as well as one integral guest.”

There isn’t anybody in the Government that would interest me. “Who is it?”

“I can’t recall her name,” he murmurs, “although she is infamously known as the Argent who scored 75 on the test.”

The woman who fell in love with the Exon. I grin. My joy is genuine when I say, “When do we leave?”