The sun cut through Cade's half-drawn blinds, prying at his eyelids until the light finally stirred him from sleep. He groaned and rolled away from the window, pulling the blanket over his head. But the light was relentless, bleeding through the fabric and stabbing at his closed eyelids. He cracked one eye open, drowsy and confused. The apartment was quiet—too quiet.

  Something felt wrong.

  He sat up fast, his heart already sinking.

  The wall clock ticked calmly in front of him. 10:07 AM.

  "Goddammit, not again."

  He vaguely remembered last night: one more chapter of Godhunter Ascension, then another, then just one more after that. A twenty chapter update had dropped at midnight, and Cade had devoured it until well past 3 AM, too engrossed to plug in his phone charger.

  Now here he was—late for the lab. Again.

  Still muttering curses, Cade threw off his sheets, stumbled to the bathroom, and began his routine in a daze. Toothbrush hanging from his mouth, he pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a hoodie that smelled clean enough. No time for coffee. No time for breakfast. Not that he cared anymore.

  As he jogged down the stairwell of his apartment building, Cade’s thoughts spiraled like they always did.

  Was this it? Was this what his life had become?

  Ten years ago, he’d dreamed of gene editing, of rewriting DNA like it was code. He saw himself on the cutting edge of science—unraveling the human genome, designing treatments for incurable diseases, doing the kind of work that got your face in journals and textbooks.

  And now?

  Now? Now it was rinse and repeat. Run an experiment. Wait. Analyze. Repeat. Sometimes the data meant something. Usually, it didn’t. The job had become a gray fog that never lifted. He wasn’t discovering anything. He was just a cog in the machine designed to grind the fun and wonder out of people.

  It was like being stuck on a treadmill built of dreams he no longer believed in.

  But what else was he going to do? Quit? Walk away from the years he had sacrificed for a chance at this future? He’d spent too long on this path—bachelor’s, master’s, PhD. If he bailed now, it would all have been for nothing. He didn’t have a backup plan and was thousands of dollars in debt from student loans. He’d have nothing to show for it if he quit now. He was nothing without it.

  This job might be boring as hell, but it was the only thing tethering him to a life he had once dreamed about.

  Thirty-five minutes later Cade pushed through the double doors into the lab, trying to pretend he hadn’t just sprinted across campus.

  The lab was already alive with motion.

  Centrifuges whirred in the background. Fume hoods hummed with that soft, menacing drone. The familiar scent of bleach in the air. Black chemical resistant lab benches and stainless steel tables gleamed beneath the harsh overhead lighting, cluttered with racks of samples, vials, pipettes, and endless notes.

  And standing at the center of it all—of course—was Sasesh.

  He glanced up as Cade entered. His eyes were cold and focused. His dark, neatly combed hair didn’t have a strand out of place. He wore his usual black jeans and crisp white lab coat. Even the way he stood at his bench, arms folded, held an air of disappointment.

  “You’re late,” Sasesh said flatly.

  “Good morning to you too,” Cade replied, trying to fake a casual grin.

  “I started your prep. It’s time-sensitive.” His tone was almost as short as he was. “You would’ve missed the window by thirty minutes.”

  “Thanks,” Cade said. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

  Sasesh’s mouth twitched in something that could almost be mistaken for a smile. “Must be a pretty unreliable alarm. It failed you last Thursday too. And Monday before that.”

  Cade opened his mouth to reply but stopped. Instead, he walked over to his station and checked the bench. Sure enough, the buffer was already out, samples lined up. Tubes perfectly labeled.

  He hesitated a moment before saying “Seriously… thanks Sasesh.”

  Sasesh didn’t respond. He just turned back to his own experiment.

  Under his breath, Cade heard him mutter, “Some of us still care.”

  Cade frowned. “What?”

  Sasesh looked up, eyes neutral. “I said, the next step is adding the lysate buffer,” Sasesh replied smoothly.

  Bullshit, Cade thought. He didn’t imagine the words. He knew what he heard. But confronting Sasesh would just make things worse.

  They hadn’t always been like this. When Cade first joined the lab, they actually got along. There was a healthy rivalry—pushing each other to publish, to refine their protocols, to get better results. It was fun to have friendly competition.

  But as Cade’s enthusiasm for the work dulled, Sasesh’s tolerance dulled with it. Lately, it felt like every conversation was one breath away from a proper argument.

  Sasesh worked with an almost mechanical precision—methodical, consistent, never missing a beat. Cade used to admire that. Now it just made him feel like a failure by comparison.

  Across the room, Nadean leaned over her notes, hair tucked behind her ears, eyes focused. She wore a lab coat like everyone else, but hers was rolled up at the sleeves, paint-splattered jeans peeking out from underneath. Her presence seemed to soften the sharp edges of the lab. She caught Cade’s glance and gave a small wave.

  “Morning, Cade,” she said with a bright, easy smile.

  “Morning,” he said, trying not to sound as tired as he felt.

  He always felt awkward around Nadean. She was... well, nice. Too nice, maybe. Cade had a hard time reading her. She talked to everyone, laughed with everyone, even flirted—maybe? Probably not. It was hard to tell. She was just that kind of person. Friendly. Open. The kind of person who made everyone feel at ease.

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  Once upon a time, Cade might’ve acted on his small crush. But not anymore. Not after what happened with his ex, Sofia. He didn’t have the emotional bandwidth after her. And besides, someone like Nadean wouldn’t be interested in some washed-out postdoc.

  He turned back to his bench and tried to focus. Measure. Mix. Wait. Check the timer. Record the results.

  The clock ticked on. Every second felt like a reminder of the boring life he’d chosen and the doors that were no longer open.

  By the time noon rolled around, Cade felt like he’d aged a year. He pulled off his gloves and rubbed his eyes.

  Across the room, Sasesh was sliding his own gloves off.

  “Want to grab lunch?” Sasesh asked, turning to Nadean.

  “Sure,” she said. “Let me wash up first.”

  Cade pretended not to notice, but his ears perked up when Nadean looked over.

  “You heading out too, Cade?”

  “Yeah,” he said, hesitating. “But I’ve only got thirty minutes before I need to be back for the next step.”

  Nadean pouted in mock disappointment. “Aw. That sucks. Sasesh and I have about an hour. Maybe next time?”

  “Maybe,” Cade echoed.

  They left together, laughing about something Cade didn’t catch. He waited another full minute before moving. He didn’t want to walk behind them. Didn’t want the awkward small talk or the feeling of being the third wheel.

  As he finally moved to take off his lab coat, the lab door creaked open again.

  Professor Sanders stepped in, his pale blue shirt was wrinkled, and a fresh coffee stain marred his outdated tie. His slacks sagged slightly at the hips, and the sleeves of his brown corduroy blazer were pushed halfway up his arms.

  His eyes landed on Cade.

  “Ah, just the person I was hoping to find.”

  Cade stood frozen mid-motion, one sleeve of his lab coat still hanging limp at his side.

  Professor Sanders gave him a tired, polite smile, but that only made Cade feel more anxious.

  “I was just heading out for lunch,” Cade said quickly while trying to sound casual.

  Professor Sanders nodded. “Of course. But if you’ve got a moment, I was hoping we could have a quick chat in my office.”

  Cade hesitated. “Uh… sure. You want to grab lunch together?”

  The professor gave a soft chuckle. “No, no. I already have plans. This won’t take long.”

  Cade’s stomach tightened. He wasn’t sure why—Professor Sanders was usually easygoing, more interested in his own experiments than micromanaging postdocs. But something about the tone, the phrasing, the way the older man lingered in the doorway—it set Cade’s nerves on edge.

  Still, he nodded. “Alright.”

  They walked side-by-side through the dim corridor, their footsteps echoing against the linoleum floor. He should’ve been halfway through a sandwich by now, looks like he won’t have time to eat after all.

  He tried to make light conversation. “This about the assays from last week? Because I think the readings were off—”

  Professor Sanders raised a hand gently. “Let’s wait until we’re in my office.”

  That shut Cade up fast.

  The silence that followed was heavy. The walk to the office felt longer than it should have, like the hall had stretched out, extending the silent torture as time seemed to drag.

  As they reached the front of the professor’s office, Amanda, the department’s admin, looked up from her laptop. She was in her usual attire—fluffy pink blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, red cat eye glasses perched low on her nose. Her fingers paused over the keyboard.

  Her eyes met Professor Sanders’. Something passed between them. A look followed by a soft sigh. Then she glanced at Cade and gave him the faintest shake of her head.

  Not good.

  She closed her laptop slowly, grabbed a thin file from the desk, and stood.

  “Come on in,” Professor Sanders said as he opened the door.

  Cade followed him in and sat down in the chair opposite the professor’s. Amanda slipped in behind him and took the seat to the side, crossing her legs, and holding the file in her lap. She didn’t open it.

  The office was a cluttered mess—books, journals, printouts stacked in teetering piles, and old posters from past students who had long since moved on to real jobs.

  Professor Sanders sank into his chair and leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped.

  “Cade,” he began, “you’ve been with us nine months now.”

  “When you first joined the lab, you were sharp. Focused. Quick to pick up protocols, eager to contribute. You were a great addition to the team.”

  That past tense hit like a brick and Cade’s stomach began to sink.

  “But lately…” Professor Sanders sighed. “Well. I think you know things have changed.”

  Cade opened his mouth, but Professor Sanders raised a hand.

  “Please, just let me finish. It'll be easier for both of us.”

  Cade shut his mouth.

  “The truth is, your performance has slipped. You've been late. You've missed deadlines. And more importantly, you've lost engagement. Passion. You don’t seem like you want to be here anymore.”

  Cade swallowed hard. His heart was pounding in his ears.

  “But I get it,” Professor Sanders continued, gentler now. “Burnout is real. Academia grinds people down. Especially in your position. Postdocs are often overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated.”

  He leaned back, rubbed at his temple. “Normally, I’d say we give it time. But unfortunately, we don’t have that luxury.”

  He nodded toward Amanda. She opened the file and handed it to him, then sat back with folded hands.

  “The university is cutting our budget. The new funding restrictions are brutal, and the department's scrambling to adapt. Every lab had to make hard decisions. I have had to make hard decisions.”

  Cade knew what was coming. He felt it—like watching a wave roll in and knowing it was going to crash over you.

  “We’re eliminating your position, Cade.”

  The words landed like a punch to the gut.

  “What?” Cade managed. “I… but… I have an experiment running right now. This week’s data—”

  “I know,” Professor Sanders said. “But this isn’t about a single experiment. The funding isn’t there. And we have to prioritize roles based on output and necessity. I’m sorry.”

  “No one gets fired from a postdoc,” Cade said, voice cracking. “They just let the contract expire. I thought—”

  “This isn’t personal,” Professor Sanders interrupted. “It’s not a reflection of your intelligence. It’s logistics. Pure logistics.”

  Cade looked down at the folder now sitting in front of him. His fingers didn’t move. He couldn’t move. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. This was his life. His identity.

  “I don’t really have anything else,” Cade said quietly. “This job… it’s all I’ve got.”

  Professor Sanders nodded, sympathy weighing down his face. “I know. And I wish I had better news. But we need the position cleared by the end of the week.”

  Amanda stood, gesturing toward the folder. “Everything you need is in there. If you want copies of any of your data, you’ll need to submit a request by Friday.”

  Cade sat frozen. His hands shook. He stared at the folder, suddenly realizing he didn’t even remember what the last data entry he’d made was.

  “What about my experiment?” he asked, voice hollow. “The cultures. The transfection—”

  “Sasesh will take over the protocol,” Professor Sanders said. “He’s already familiar with it.”

  Of course he is.

  Cade’s lips parted, but no words came. There were none left. It was already over.

  Then the overhead lights flickered.

  A low hum passed through the room—subtle at first, like the distant growl of thunder in a dream. The building rumbled beneath them. A tremor—not violent, but unmistakable. Books rattled. A stack of folders slipped off a bookcase.

  Cade looked up. “Was that an earthquake?”

  Professor Sanders looked equally confused. “There’s never been—”

  A sharp ding echoed in Cade’s ears, loud but strangely clean—like the sound of a chime inside his skull.

  Without warning a translucent screen snapped into existence in front of his face, hanging in the air, clear and radiant like a floating HUD.

  INITIALIZATION COMPLETE

  WELCOME TO THE MULTIVERSE

  TRANSPORT TO TUTORIAL COMMENCING…

  Cade’s breath caught in his throat.

  “What the f—”

  Everything went white.