Testing Room, Level 6, San Cristov City – ZenthCore Corporation
Joseph Marsol watched through the glass panel as the skyscrapers rose above him. San Cristov was a vertical jungle. Majestic. His gaze always stopped on one tower: the Burj, 2,000 meters high. So tall that from where he stood, he couldn't even see its peak.
He felt his breathing accelerate. He moved his foot unconsciously, up and down.
"Mr. Marsol, enter the testing room," announced a protocol android.
The room was spacious, windowless, with cold, armored walls. In the center, a glass table. Around it, executives and evaluation agents. All intimidating. Most wore dark formal suits, and several displayed visible implants: cybernetic eyes, metallic necks, even a sort of mouth guard with lights that lit up when speaking.
The android, with a high-pitched and artificial voice, opened the protocol:
"Final evaluation of the Ghost Skin project. Three years of development. Presentation by Joseph Marsol."
Joseph remained standing. The suit rested on a platform, unfolded, like a foreign skin. It was a material so fine and light that, upon seeing it, it was hard to believe the technology it contained. It had no weapons. No lights. Only a matte gray surface that absorbed the light.
He took a deep breath.
"I call it Ghost Skin," he said with a firm voice.
One of the executives, named Louis, spoke with an artificial tone, amplified by his voice modifier:
"Why should we invest in your invention?"
Joseph smiled slightly.
"Because this suit changes the way we understand war. While some destroy from the outside, this recovers the most valuable thing from the inside: information. The true weapon of every conflict."
An executive raised an eyebrow.
"So it is a suit for espionage?"
"Yes. But it goes beyond that."
Some murmured. He continued:
"Its fabric disperses thermal and electromagnetic signals. No radar picks it up. No camera sees it. It needs no support backpack: it injects nutrients and water directly via microdoses into vital zones. It can keep its user alive for a month. It regulates internal temperature with adaptation by biorhythms."
Joseph continued his speech while moving through the area and explaining his project in detail. Trying not to seem insecure, he adopted a straight posture and his gaze remained covertly fixed on the grayish wall at the back.
"And I am developing gloves with Van der Waals force, inspired by the Vecnu frog, from Caracas. Specialists in climbing all types of surfaces."
A silence.
A woman with titanium plates on her forehead noted something on a tablet.
"Continue, Mr. Marsol."
In that moment, Joseph made a mistake: he looked for the first time into the eyes of the executives. They were not eyes; they were dry slits in the face, without the slightest moisture of emotion. They were droopy, dissatisfied eyes.
Joseph took a breath and continued:
"It emits no heat. It has no electromagnetic signature."
"In what contexts would this suit be best applied?" said Louis with the same robotic voice.
Joseph didn't realize at what moment he had become motionless, while his right leg trembled rapidly.
"Covert espionage. Rescue in collapsed zones. Evacuation of agents. Exploration in unstable zones. Even humanitarian operations. It can save the lives of several lost agents."
"You already said that last quarter."
"No. Before it was a concept. Now it is functional. It has already been tested in extreme environments," Joseph answered, indignant.
After this, there was a constant bombardment of questions for Joseph, who elaborated more each time and tried to convince them of this revolutionary product. Between each question, he took a breath to concentrate.
"And that... how much does it cost to produce?"
Joseph, before exiting through the doors of the building, stopped at the entrance. He squeezed the hand that was trembling, took a gulp of air, and walked out looking straight ahead, with a firm and determined gaze.
"How did it go?" asked a voice in front of him, followed by a quick blinding light and the sound of an old camera.
It was Anton Marsol, a young man of 27, tall, with pale skin. He wore black trousers and a light gray turtleneck shirt, holding a Sony Handycam DCR-HC. A thin metallic protrusion, circular in shape, stood out from the right side of his temple. He was leaning against a Toyota GR Supra.
"Good, as always," replied Joseph, sketching a simple smile. "They said they'll call me if I'm in."
Anton straightened up and approached with a grinning grimace.
"And why the photo?"
"Today is a special day, Jos," Anton replied while turning the camera screen. "Do you think they'll fund your project?"
"No doubt, brother," said Joseph, turning his gaze toward the tip of the building. "I will reach the top. It is my purpose."
Anton let out a brief laugh and messed up his hair with one hand.
"I know, little brother."
Anton settled in next to Joseph and extended his hand with the camera; the same blinding light came out, followed by the old photographic sound.
"Cut it out!" retorted Joseph, frowning, getting into the vehicle quickly. "Take me climbing, Anton."
On the way to the climbing center, the atmosphere inside the car was quieter than usual. The only thing sounding was the radio, alternating between songs and fragments of news. The sensation was as if something invisible were crawling between them.
Joseph, with his eyes closed in the passenger seat, was the first to speak.
"Anton, can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"I am... I am afraid, Anton," said Joseph while opening his eyes and lowering his gaze.
"You know what will happen to me if they fire me from that company, right?"
"It's not going to happen, Jos, they will accept you, I know it."
"If they kick me out, I'm finished, Anton," murmured Joseph, pressing his forehead against the cold glass. "In San Cristov, if ZenthCore spits you out, no one else picks you up. I'll be a nobody."
"They aren't going to kick you out. The suit is good."
"It's not about the suit. It's about me. I am afraid. My purpose... I am afraid," murmured Joseph.
The silence inside the car returned.
Anton cleared his throat.
"Did you go to the doctor this week to have your body and the condition checked?" asked Anton, trying to distract him a bit.
"Yes, they told me the usual: to be careful with the climbing and to come back next month."
After this, another sepulchral silence flooded the automobile. Anton knew the stress and worry his brother was going through. After all, he also went through the same thing and was approved. He had faith in Joseph's project; he truly believed it was something innovative. 80% of the new inventions that came out were weapons or technology for war. This was something different.
"So... your purpose?" he asked while changing the channel.
"...and in other news, San Cristov authorities confirm a robbery involving the use of a biotechnological arm in the financial zone."
"Yes, my purpose," repeated Joseph, letting out a slight laugh. "I know, it sounds a bit silly or childish."
"No, no, it's fine... just that I don't think it works like that," replied Anton with a serious voice, eyes fixed on the road.
"...authorities confirmed last night the death of a 40-year-old man following an animal attack on the outskirts of Zone 7. The victim, Dorian Martínez, was found with severe wounds by emergency units, following the call from his wife..."
"Look at it this way: it is my purpose to become one of the most important engineers at ZenthCore, and..."
Joseph's voice was interrupted by Anton's hand, which rose in front of him.
"Wait. Silence. The radio," he murmured, his frown deepening more and more.
"...he was transferred in critical condition to the General Hospital of San Cristov, where he passed away minutes later. It is presumed the attacker was a displaced bear. The F.Y.D. has been notified and is reportedly sending a small team for inspection in the perimeter. Experts warn the population not to approach unauthorized wooded areas and to report any unusual sighting..."
"...Breaking news: armed robbery at the Central Bank of San Cristov. Authorities confirm the assailants used heavy drones to access the vault..."
"Does the F.Y.D. take charge of investigating these cases?" asked Joseph.
"They shouldn't," replied Anton while turning off the radio.
After the news, his gaze became increasingly lost, and his hands—though Anton didn't notice—were no longer steady on the steering wheel. The stability that had characterized him until minutes ago had disappeared.
A white delivery van had stopped abruptly about fifty meters away, waiting to turn left. It was too close. Anton remained absorbed, eyes glassy, oblivious to the imminent danger.
Joseph's heart skipped a beat.
"Anton, watch out!" he shouted, his voice breaking the bubble of tension.
Instinctively, Joseph reached for the steering wheel and yanked it sharply to the right, while his foot slammed on the brake with force. The tires screeched. The car tilted violently. The white van passed grazing them on the left, so close that for a moment it seemed they could touch it. The smell of burnt rubber and the distant horn of another car filled the air.
Anton gasped, pulse racing. His eyes, finally focused on the road, looked in the rearview mirror. His hands were trembling.
"What...?" he stammered, still disoriented.
Joseph looked at him with a frown, a mixture of anger and relief.
"You got lost, brother. You almost killed us. What the hell is wrong with you?"
Anton closed his eyes for a few seconds. The adrenaline still coursed through him, but the worst was replaced by a deeper shadow.
"Sorry, Jos. It's work stuff..."
Before Joseph could respond, a soft beep sounded.
A soft blue light blinked on the right side of Anton's head.
The young man brought two fingers to his temple, activating the Inmo implant, while diverting his gaze toward the windshield.
It was an "Inmo," a high-tech communication implant. It was capable of displaying a holographic interface and data projection.
Joseph didn't hear what the voice on the other side said, but he noticed how his brother's expression hardened.
"Yes, because of the news," said Anton in a low voice. There was a pause. "Yes. Emergency. I will be present."
The Inmo turned off. A sigh escaped Anton's lips. The worry about the accident was replaced by a new tension.
Joseph, still shaken, asked:
"What happened? Who was it? What are they talking about?"
Anton shrugged, without looking at him.
"Nothing important. Just... work stuff."
"Hey, why don't you get an 'Inmo' implanted and ditch that obsolete earpiece?"
"You know I hate implants," Joseph replied.
The change of subject was evident. Joseph noticed the evasion, but didn't press. He knew Anton had a habit of keeping the important things quiet.
Shortly after, Anton dropped him off at the entrance of a dusty trail that snaked toward the foothills of the mountain.