That night, long after Dr. Medici has gone to her private quarters, I sneak off to the secret lab I set up in the old dungeon below the main level.
It is here that I do my best work. It is here that I pull together everything I’ve ever learned and apply it to a project the likes of which humanity has never known.
I am making the impossible real, and I am doing it all for her. For us.
I don the surgical gown and gloves, the cap and mask. I check the readings on the computerized monitors, gauging the condition of my handiwork.
As I reach for the scalpel, I remember the last time I saw Dr. Medici cry. It was three months ago, right after her fifth husband left her.
I found her in the lab, crying on the floor beside a broken alchemy generator. The generator hadn’t been broken two hou
