Chapter 228 Intellectual Disability
Elbert didn't push Trinity any further. He got the gist of her answer. FIC, the group behind her modifications, was powerful, and if they were doing their job managing modified humans, he saw no reason to step in.
"I've checked out their modification tech," Robert's voice crackled in his earpiece. "It's all about muscle control."
"Like Hercules, they want to boost physical abilities: strength, endurance, reaction time."
"They do this by tweaking genes, making 63 unpaired chromosomes. This causes genetic defects, making them infertile but focusing all hormones on muscle growth."
"They also get both fast-twitch and slow-twitch muscle fibers to work together by adding a special cell, boosting both speed and power."
"These cells can divide endlessly, basically making them immortal. They're cancer cells."
'Cancer cells.' Elbert shuddered. The key to their modifications was something so destructive.
"Exactly," Robert confirmed. "Eventually, these cancer cells mess up the modified human's internal balance, shortening their lifespan."
"It's against nature. If this keeps up, humanity will destroy itself."
Elbert lit a cigarette, frowning. "Robert, is this info useful to you?"
"Very. With their data and materials, I can improve the modification process, enhance modified humans, and remove the drawbacks."
A glimmer of hope cut through Elbert's worry. His mission just got a lot more important.
He watched as Robert, his digital mind working fast, downloaded all the facility's data. With four years of research, this was a treasure trove of info, both terrifying and groundbreaking.
"Wait," Robert's voice was sharp with surprise. "There's an anomaly. Jessica was pregnant before the modification. She gave birth after the procedure."
"She somehow avoided the genetic damage. The child's codename is 'Innate God.'"
"He's almost four years old. And he's here, in this facility."
Elbert jumped to his feet. He knew about the child, which was the leverage the Card Club used against Jessica.
A section of the wall slid open, revealing a hidden room—a child's bedroom, complete with a bed, a bathroom, and a brightly colored slide.
In the center of the room, a young boy with blonde hair sat at a small table. He was beautiful, with pale skin and striking blue eyes, clearly of Veridianian descent. But there was an unsettling stillness about him. He seemed oblivious to the chaos outside, focused on the objects on the table: condiment bottles, colorful jellies. He moved them occasionally, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Elbert's eyes narrowed. The boy's brow, the set of his chin—it was all undeniably Steven. This was their child.
But regardless of parentage, he was innocent. The deaths of the children he had seen weighed heavily on Elbert's soul. He wouldn't let another life be lost.
Trinity, her eyes filled with compassion, struggled to her feet. "Elbert, what are you doing? He's just a child, not one of them."
Elbert ignored her, his gaze fixed on the table. He reached out and moved a pepper shaker.
The boy glanced up, curiosity flickering in his eyes, then quickly returned his focus to the table.
Trinity limped over, noticing a small plaque on the wall that read, "Intellectually Disabled."
"Stop it, Elbert!" she snapped, her voice tight with anger. "He's just a child with special needs. Show some compassion."
"Intellectually disabled?" Elbert mused, still watching the table. "Do you know what he's doing?"
Trinity frowned. "Playing with his food?"
"He's playing chess. Against himself. The pepper shaker is the king, the matchstick the queen, the jellies are knights, the sugar packets rooks." He looked up at Trinity, serious. "I'm his opponent now. Don't interrupt us."
Trinity stared, speechless. She looked back at the table, realizing it was a chess game. A game played without a board, with everyday items as pieces, their positions held solely in the child's mind.
This child, no more than four years old, was playing chess against himself. And winning.
But what shocked her more was Elbert. He had not only recognized the game but had instantly understood the significance of each piece and seamlessly joined the match.
Trinity fell silent, watching the two with awe. It was like witnessing a battle of intellects she couldn't begin to comprehend.
Outside, the fire raged, the air thick with smoke. But inside that room, a strange peace settled. The two players were oblivious to the inferno, focused entirely on their game.
The modifications had made both Elbert and Trinity impervious to the heat, but to Trinity's surprise, the child seemed unaffected too.
She watched them play, feeling a strange warmth in her chest. It was as if the burning building had turned into a cozy villa, the flames outside just a comforting fireplace. The image was oddly reassuring.
A sudden groan from the back of the room shattered the illusion. Trinity, unable to follow the chess match, got up to investigate.
A smaller, more utilitarian room lay beyond. In the center, a man lay curled in a massive iron cage. His body was skeletal, skin stretched over protruding bones, pockmarked with sores oozing pus. The stench was overpowering. It was a miracle he was still alive.
Trinity's eyes fell on a small modification limiter, its lights flickering erratically. She glanced back at Elbert, still engrossed in his game, then at the dying man.
Another cough, wrenched from the man's ravaged lungs. Blood and bits of tissue splattered his skeletal chest. His head fell back, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Trinity closed her eyes, heart aching for the nameless soul who had died in that cage. Another victim of the facility's cruelty.
She reached out and pulled the plug on the limiter. "Rest in peace," she whispered.
As she turned to leave, she noticed something—a tattoo on the man's withered arm, faded but still visible: a black and white clown, its painted smile stretched into a grotesque grin.
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