Who Is Behind The Lab Coat Part 1

Peering into the hole revealed a surprisingly deep shaft, the darkness swallowing the meager light from Aiden’s room. A complex network of ropes and pulleys crisscrossed the opening, and I could just make out the tiny forms of hamsters scurrying along the lines, their small paws working with surprising strength to hoist and lower miniature platforms. The whole setup looked impossibly precarious, a testament to Aiden’s unorthodox engineering.

“All aboard!” Aiden called out, already stepping onto a small, rickety platform that swayed precariously. “Down to Zone B, if you please. And thank you kindly for your…enthusiastic cooperation.”

From somewhere below, a tiny squeak that sounded suspiciously like a formal salute could be heard. The hamsters on the pulleys began to work in unison, their combined efforts surprisingly effective as the platform shuddered and began its descent. The air in the shaft was cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of ozone and hamster bedding.

“You have a secret elevator operated by hamsters?” I asked, my voice a mixture of disbelief and morbid amusement as the fortress’s metal walls slid past.

“What kind of self-respecting mad scientist wouldn’t?” he shot back, a hint of pride in his voice. He adjusted a pair of oversized goggles on his forehead, seemingly unfazed by the swaying platform.

I followed him onto the rickety contraption, my stomach lurching slightly as it descended. The hidden passage opened into a cramped stairwell, the air growing warmer and buzzing with the low hum of electronics. The stairs led down into a space that defied the chaotic exterior of Aiden’s room. This was a command center, bathed in the cool glow of multiple cracked computer screens displaying a dizzying array of information. Live feeds flickered with images from every corner of the floating fortress, security schematics overlaid with blinking indicators, and lines of encrypted data scrolling across the monitors.

Aiden moved with a focused energy, his fingers flying across a sleek, holographic keyboard that projected from the console. The playful mad scientist had vanished, replaced by someone intensely serious.

“What have they done to him?” I whispered, a wave of conflicting emotions – relief at seeing him alive, horror at his confinement – twisting in my gut.

I inhaled sharply, my gaze fixed on the screen he indicated. The image was grainy, illuminated by a harsh, artificial light, displaying a stark, windowless cell. And inside it, hunched on a narrow cot, was Dad.

“He’s…surviving,” Aiden confirmed, his voice grim. “But not well. The data logs indicate increased surveillance, restricted access…ever since he finalized the prototype for the mini nuclear fusion reactor, the World Government’s been tightening the noose.”

I frowned, confusion warring with my fear. “But that reactor…it’s supposed to be our salvation. To give us back the sun we lost!”

Aiden’s expression darkened, the cool light of the monitors casting sharp shadows across his face. “That’s the crux of it, Delia. It’s not just a power source anymore. In their eyes…it’s a weapon. A weapon that could destabilize their entire control.”

A cold dread snaked its way down my spine. The guards’ conversation echoed in my memory: ‘If Kotton pulls this off, we won’t need governments anymore.’

I turned back to the screen, my gaze locked on Dad’s still form. He looked so small, so vulnerable in that stark cell.

The glow of the supercomputer flickered across Aiden’s face as he continued to sift through the data, his expression unreadable. Dad’s image remained frozen, a stark reminder of the government’s ruthlessness.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” I murmured, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Dad was working to save us. Why would they treat him like this? Like some…criminal?”

Aiden leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Because salvation doesn’t always look the way people expect, Delia,” he muttered, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the edge of the console. “Governments—especially those teetering on the edge of oblivion—see power shifts before the masses do. Your father created something that fundamentally changes the balance. And they…they are terrified of change they can’t control.”

I swallowed hard, my thoughts a tangled mess of fear, confusion, and a growing sense of injustice. “But the world needs this change, Aiden. We lost the sun. We lost everything.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” he said, his voice sharp, the playful edge completely gone. “The sun wasn’t just a giant lightbulb, Delia—it was a fundamental order. A cycle of life and death, of warmth and cold. For millennia, it dictated everything: agriculture, migration, even our earliest calendars and beliefs. And now, with your father’s reactor, humanity isn’t tethered to that ancient rhythm anymore. His invention isn’t just about surviving the darkness—it’s about who gets to write the new rules.”

The weight of his words pressed down on me, a suffocating realization. I had been so focused on the simple act of rescue, of bringing Dad back into our small, broken world. But this was so much bigger.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“It’s simple, in a terrifyingly complex sort of way,” Aiden said, his eyes fixed on some unseen point beyond the monitors, a chilling intensity in their depths. “Their goal isn’t just to control energy. It’s to completely dismantle the old systems of belief, the ancient frameworks that governed human behavior.” He turned to me, his gaze unnervingly direct. “What does religion mean to you, Delia?”

The question caught me completely off guard. In this world of scientific marvels and stark survival, the abstract concept of religion felt like a relic of a bygone era.

“I…I don’t believe in God,” I stammered, confused by the sudden shift in topic. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Whether or not you personally subscribe to any faith is irrelevant,” Aiden said, his voice low and urgent. “Look at history, Delia. Laws, societal structures, the very concept of right and wrong—they’re all intertwined with those ancient stories, those tales of divine reward and punishment. Science demands empirical evidence, trial and error. But religion, and those who wield its influence, often resist progress, clinging to dogma.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Volkov…he sees this sunless world as a blank slate, an opportunity to rewrite the rules, to ‘re-correct’ what he perceives as centuries of misguided faith.”

The hypocrisy of it struck me like a physical blow. For centuries, science had battled against religious dogma, proving the Earth’s orbit, challenging ancient superstitions. The church had used scripture to justify oppression, to maintain the power of elites who twisted faith for their own gain. And now, this Volkov wanted to exploit a godless world to impose his own twisted order.

“Re-correct?” I exploded, my fists clenching. “My father was close! He was doing this for humanity! To bring back the light!”

Aiden blinked, taken aback by my vehemence. “Yes, yes, noble motivations and all that. But the allure of power, Delia, is a potent one. Especially when wielded by those who lack the intellectual capacity to generate true progress themselves.” He shook his head, a flicker of genuine sadness in his eyes. “Such a lamentable state of affairs.”

His detached, almost academic assessment of the situation, his reduction of my father’s sacrifice to a mere “lamentable state of affairs,” sent a fresh wave of fury coursing through me. He understood the stakes, the potential for both salvation and tyranny that hung in the balance. And yet, he stood there, dissecting it like some detached observer, more interested in the philosophical implications than the very real danger Dad was in.

“Aiden, please,” I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper, the fear for Dad eclipsing my anger. “I need your help. Please. Take me to him.”

He finally met my gaze, his expression unreadable. “And how do you propose we accomplish that, Delia? Barging into a high-security zone with nothing but righteous anger?”

He was right. My desperation, while understandable, wasn’t a strategy. Even with Aiden’s hidden lab and his…unconventional methods, a reckless assault would be suicide. Just as that thought solidified, Nutmeg, as if sensing the shift in tension, suddenly darted from Aiden’s shoulder onto the holographic console. The tiny hamster scrambled across the virtual keyboard, his frantic paws triggering a cascade of commands.

Just as I managed to scoop up the furry culprit, one of the schematics flashed back onto the main screen, catching my eye. The blueprint shimmered in the air, a dizzying array of interconnected circles, triangles, and squiggly lines that somehow represented energy flow. My brow furrowed. It looked less like a power grid and more like a particularly abstract piece of modern art.

“What in the…is this supposed to be?” I asked, utterly bewildered.

Aiden, who was currently attempting to balance a small, whirring drone on his nose, squinted at the holographic projection. “Hmm? Oh, that. Just a little…thought experiment. A theoretical framework for harnessing ambient static electricity on a localized scale and then…you know…shunting it around.” He shrugged, the drone wobbling precariously. “Purely academic, of course. Probably wouldn’t actually work.”

“Static electricity?” I repeated, my disbelief growing. This was his grand plan?

“Well, the air’s just brimming with it, isn’t it?” Aiden said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “All that friction from the fortress moving through the atmosphere…untapped potential, I tell you! Just need the right kind of…collector…and a really good…shunter.” The drone finally tumbled off his nose and landed with a soft thud on a pile of empty energy drink cans.

But as I stared at the nonsensical diagram, a strange familiarity tugged at my memory. Vague recollections of Aiden muttering to himself, sketching furiously on scraps of metal and discarded ration wrappers. He’d always been obsessed with the most outlandish energy sources.

“You’ve been working on this for a while, haven’t you?” I asked, a hint of reluctant curiosity creeping into my voice.

Aiden grinned, his usual manic energy returning. “Ever since I realized relying on a single, giant explosion for power was terribly…inelegant! Think of the possibilities, Delia! No more dependence on their grubby reactors! True energy independence, powered by the very air we breathe…or, you know, the static in it.”

“And this…scribble is the key?” I gestured at the chaotic blueprint.

“It’s the conceptual key!” Aiden corrected, tapping a particularly squiggly line. “The actual key involves a lot more trial and error, probably a few explosions, and possibly sacrificing a few of Nutmeg’s less cooperative brethren for…testing purposes.”

Hearing that, Nutmeg and the rest of his friends paused for a moment. Ignoring that last comment, I still admit that its pretty impressive as I look over the plans.

Aiden was muttering to himself, his finger tracing the lines on the holographic blueprint. “No, no, the energy flow doesn’t make sense here. It’s…inefficient. Almost deliberately so.” He zoomed in on a cluster of interconnected nodes. “And these calculations for the shunt relays…they’re all off by a factor of pi.”

Pi? The irrational number that haunted every geometry and physics problem I’d ever encountered? What could that possibly have to do with static electricity?

“Maybe you just made a mistake in your ‘theoretical framework’,” I suggested, a hint of sarcasm lacing my voice. His confidence in his outlandish ideas was often inversely proportional to their actual viability.

Aiden scoffed, clutching his chest dramatically. “A mistake? In my elegant conceptualization? Preposterous! This design sprung forth fully formed from the very fabric of my intellect!” He tapped the blueprint with exaggerated flourish. “No, this…this deliberate inefficiency…it’s intentional.” He stared at the screen, his brow furrowed in thought. “But why?”

An idea, sudden and completely illogical, sparked in my mind. I started to remember Dad’s meticulous nature, the odd presence of pi in Aiden’s chaotic design…it was a long shot, a completely baseless hunch. But the sheer absurdity of it made me almost want to test it.

“Maybe…maybe it’s not about static electricity at all,” I said slowly, watching Aiden’s reaction. “Maybe those ‘collectors’ aren’t for static. Maybe they’re…antennas.”

Aiden blinked, his jaw dropping slightly. “Antennas? For what? Tuning into cosmic microwave background radiation for…power?” He snorted. “Even I’m not that insane.”

“And those ‘shunters’…maybe they’re not moving energy. Maybe they’re…relaying a signal,” I continued, my voice gaining a strange confidence. “And that factor of pi…maybe it’s not an error. Maybe it’s…a frequency modulator.”

Aiden stared at me, his usual manic energy replaced by a stunned silence. “A…signal? You think my static electricity doodle…is actually some kind of…communication system?” He shook his head slowly. “That’s…utterly ridiculous. But…strangely…compelling.” He rubbed his chin, his eyes gleaming with a flicker of scientific curiosity. “Alright, indulge my amusement. What kind of signal do you think my ‘antennas’ and ‘frequency modulators’ are transmitting?”

I hesitated, my mind racing. "A wireless perpetual motion system network," I whispered.