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| Book Cover |
Chapter 1: Hydrogen
In 1981, Dr. Rupert Sheldrake, a British Biochemist, in his book A New Science of Life proposed the theory of morphic units and morphic resonance which later on gave birth to an interesting yet untested hypothesis called morphogenetic field. After millions of dollars were spent and decades of R&D (Research and Development), the International Scientific Community finally declared his research a dead end mostly due to not meeting the standard protocols and to quote the ISC Chairman, showing no financial potential in the long run. His research, together with his lab in Harvard was abandoned. He later on accepted the university's offer to undertake an empty position as a professor in genetic engineering for his unmatched expertise in the matter. As genius as he is, once dubbed the next Einstein in the field of Biochemistry, he had no clue that his research was being continued and carried out by none other than his two brightest and most talented students. One of which holds the key to global peace while the other, well, the harbinger of catastrophe.
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As he ran away from them at a pace approaching light-speed, the synapses intersections inside his neural system of his agile and brilliant mind began to understand everything...every single event, every incident both coincidental and planned that got mixed up with the forces of nature in the past. The still-active grey matter that resides within his cognitive cerebral cortex have finally managed to connect the dots and lines of the eternal enigma he was trying to unveil and uncover since childbirth. Now that all the puzzle pieces have fallen to their designated places, he knows what his next move will be, and how he should carry it. No amount of doubts, nor painful obstacles can stop him now. He feels invincible. The fact that he has got everything he needed inside his hands, is the ultimate reason he's able to repel fear this time around. He momentarily looked at the tiny and specially designed side-mirror, extended just milimeters away at the right side of his Spy-tacle scanner eyepiece, a gadget he invented for the sole purpose of saving his life and assist him in eluding the grim reaper known as Death.
He could see vividly the silhouettes of five of the most valuable agents (MVPs / MVAs) in the espionage division of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), in his night-vision mode- those of which he used to work with and call colleagues- still chasing him down towards the end of the rooftop, or the end of the world if it's the last thing to do. He's still perspiring, more and more as time passes, up till a point where extreme lethargicity kicks in. His right hand is holding some documents of utmost importance tightly, one could say he's squeezing them, while a small sized cylindrical vial which contains a peculiar blue liquid is on his left. No doubt, those two items are what got him stuck in this ginormous mess.
"Dammit...I'm totally screwed" he thought.
"Please Dex, stop!!!" shouted his former partner, and lover, Daphne Daffodills.
He recognized that smooth and soothing voice anywhere, anytime, even without looking..As the vibration of the familiar sound echoed via the compression and expansion of the air molecules, captured by both his eardrums in the form of transverse wave, it sends chills down his spine..Oh how he missed that voice. But the thought of betrayal and breach of trust wiped out all the feelings he once had for her at that exact moment. As he approached the edge of the building, as if nearing the edge of a cliff, his senses were suddenly amplified. Perhaps it was due to the fact that in the chilly air felt dancing on his skin, there was an abrupt silence, like dead and deadly silence. Just like the absence of sound, there was also a sudden inexplicable pain that he felt on his lower body. His left leg felt numb, while his right leg bled so much that his pants were soaked wet in red, in less than a blink of an eye. Apparently he was shot by the captain of his team, Capt. Frederick Anderson.
"Halt, or I swear to God I'll shoot again Dex. You've got nowhere left to run!"
His captain wasn't joking. There was not enough ground or surface for him to run in the current vector and direction he's moving. If he is wise, he'll reduce his momentum till the friction force bring him to a natural stopping point. Dexter was left with no option. His right leg was disabled due to a metallic bullet tearing his internal muscles at 85 degree Celcius, 300kmph, while his right leg was rendered useless due to the high amount of lactic acid build up from muscle exhaustion (which occur once a person enters anaerobic respiration cycle). Just like everything else, human's muscular system does have limitations. Logic dictates that he shouldn't be moving forward anymore at this point, but hey, screw logic. To paraphrase Einstein, miracles happen to those who believe. He suddenly felt an Adrenaline rush throughout his body- a prehistoric trigger since the ancient times that allows mankind to overcome physical limitations for survival...it's what makes a mother able to stop a moving car with her bare hands to save her child from being hit, or a fireman running in flames out of a fiery building to save an old lady...superhuman in seconds.
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Thought of as a rogue agent, Dexter fled away...
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"Oh gravity, thou art a bitch..." he whispered silently.
His eyes and frontal lobe however, did not give up easily and tried to run and calculate every possible action, reaction, possibilities and options he has left...in a real life or death situation. And apparently, the result of those two vital organs of his, joining forces in a tag team was not disappointing. His eyes quickly caught the glimpse and sight of the building located at a distance of five medium vehicles in front of him, while his grey cells have already been assigned the task of calculating the trajectory and parameters of his jump which would follow the laws of projectile motion in Physics 101-the exact point where he will end up landing (or hitting) the skyscraper covered with thick layer of industrial-strength glass, and the amount of force generated by his momentum that is required to break it. Using all the strength and courage left, or the remaining amount that he could summon, he kicked the ground as hard and fast as he could- he made and took a giant leap of faith in the middle of the night air like a black raven soaring in the sky. Nothing could stop him, not the air friction nor fear of dying there and then.
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| for a second, he truly believed he could fly |
