A day after his loft was reduced to a pile of ash and blackened walls, Adam, in the privacy of his friend Trevor Homam’s house and more than a little drunk, opened up and revealed the real reason behind the disaster.

  Adam hated keeping secrets from Trevor. Even if telling the truth meant being considered a freak or a madman, he needed to unburden himself, and the whiskey had given him just enough courage to do so.

  He confessed that the fire hadn’t been a domestic accident, as he’d told the insurance company and everyone else, but had been caused intentionally by a maniac who shot energy blasts from his hand.

  Needless to say, his skeptical friend didn’t believe a word he said, so Adam had to prove his story the same way Juzo had done with him a few Fridays ago: with a demonstration.

  Trevor went pale when the purchasing manager of his company levitated three feet off the ground and conjured a swarm of white flames in his hand. The strange combustion scared Trevor so much that he almost wet his pants.

  An almost unrecognizable Adam—haggard, unshaven, and exhausted—explained to his friend everything that had happened over the past few weeks: meeting Juzo, the events after B-Crush, and as the story went on, sobriety began to creep back in, replacing the haze of alcohol. The whiskey had already done its job.

  The difficult part came near the end of the story. Trevor shed the horrified look on his face and replaced it with a mask of indifference, devoid of emotion—the same mask his conservative mother would put on whenever she had to talk about her husband’s shady tendencies, or so Adam remembered.

  Trevor adjusted his glasses and gave him a faint expression of Nothing’s changed, everything’s fine. He listened to Adam with his head down, occasionally nodding and asking no questions, like someone half-listening to a political speech on the radio. Adam had the impression that, just like with those speeches, his friend would end up with more questions than answers.

  Then Trevor said, “As long as you’re okay…”

  Adam waited for the rest of the sentence, but that was it. ‘As long as you’re okay…’ What? I’ll be okay? I’ll feel at peace? Adam mentally added, ‘…then I’m fine with it,’ but even then, Trevor’s words didn’t make sense. The phrase had sounded like a friendly warning—one of those ‘You know what you’re doing, buddy’ lines people give when they think you’re about to make a bad decision.

  Adam, as always when something puzzled him, asked outright, “What do you mean, ‘As long as you’re okay’?”

  Trevor took off his glasses, cleaned the lenses even though they weren’t dirty, put them back on, and stared blankly ahead.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said, unable to shake Adam’s gaze. “Just… be careful when you do what you do.” He walked over to the bar cart, poured himself a bit of whiskey, and downed it in one gulp without even tasting it. “If things are as you say, then make sure you don’t get tangled up in some international mess,” he added, turning his back to Adam as if he couldn’t face him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You mentioned stolen files,” Trevor replied, “and things that aren’t publicly known—at least not here on this side of the world. Implants, anti-gravity thrusters… those are Military tech from Markabia. You know how possessive they are about their assets.”

  It was true; Adam hadn’t considered that.

  “I know,” he said, trying to brush it off. “Relax, those files are lost, and—”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Trevor interrupted. “The Imperial Army isn’t stupid. They probably know exactly what happened to your twin. And let me remind you—you work for an international company. If you get caught up in a political scandal with those people, it’ll bring a lot of unwanted attention to us.”

  Trevor finally turned to him, and in his eyes was that familiar look—the same one from the hospital, when they’d discussed pulling strings to bury what had happened to the other.

  “You’re right,” Adam conceded. “Maybe it’d be best if I resigned from my position. That way, the company won’t be dragged into this.”

  “I don’t think resigning will help,” Trevor said. “But maybe you could take a leave of absence. And with those flames of yours… if you don’t get them under control—”

  “Yeah, I know… I could hurt someone. I understand.”

  Trevor offered him the keys to one of his rental apartments, suggesting he live there until his loft was habitable again. It was on the 40th floor of the Andromeda skyscraper in the Cyan District, about ninety blocks from his home in the Carter building.

  The apartment was much larger than Adam’s loft and fully furnished. It had an enormous living room, three bedrooms—each with its own bathroom—two balconies, a recreation room, and even a bar stocked with fine liquors and whiskeys. The place was luxurious and immaculate, like everything Trevor owned.

  The only downside: the apartment had walls—lots of them. Too many for Adam’s liking. No large, open spaces. He couldn’t go to the bathroom, leave the door open, and still have a view of his home. Now, every area had a door. A home carved up. As if he needed one more reminder that his old life was over.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Is something wrong?” Trevor asked when he saw Adam’s expression. “Don’t you like it? It’s the best one I’ve got, but I can lend you—”

  Adam stopped rubbing his scruffy copper beard and looking around like a lost soul.

  “No, no, it’s fine,” he said, trying to force a smile. “It’s more than fine, Trevor; really. Thank you so much.”

  Adam hugged him. Trevor returned the hug, though not very enthusiastically. Then again, Trevor was never big on hugs or displays of affection. But this time, Adam noticed something different: a certain distance, born of fear—walls, like the ones in the apartment. Something cold filled his chest, and he worried that the mask Trevor was wearing might be a prelude to an irreparable rift in their friendship.

  “Well, I’d better go…” Trevor said, shaking Adam’s hand as if he were a real estate agent closing a deal. “I have an early flight tomorrow; meeting with the investors in Principia. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Are you kidding? What more could I need with all this?” Adam replied. Hiding his sadness, he opened one of the bottles at the bar, poured two glasses, and raised one in a toast.

  Trevor took his glass and toasted, though he barely wet his lips.

  “Hey, Rita told me the Carinae will be there too, in Principia,” Adam said. In truth, what his secretary had said was irrelevant—he just wanted to strike up a conversation and feel a bit of the camaraderie they used to share. And what better topic than one they almost always agreed on: business. “Are Homam Enterprises finally teaming up with the Carinae to take on Morris & Co.?”

  Trevor smiled. A small victory for Adam.

  “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. For now, I have to go.”

  Trevor left, and after seeing him out, Adam kept the door open for a long time.

  The first few days living there felt strange to him.

  Adam felt out of place—not just in the apartment Trevor had entrusted him with, but in that part of the city as well. It wasn’t like his residential neighborhood—peace was nonexistent here. There were no quiet streets, only busy avenues and constant traffic jams. Everything he knew was far away.

  Every time he walked back from the gym or the grocery store, he’d look up and see the towering skyscrapers around him, their peaks hidden in the clouds.

  Standing before these giants, he felt small. And he hated that feeling.

  “Fine! Just give me the stupid ticket and get out of the way, you damn robot!”

  Adam turned to see a truck driver leaning halfway out of his window, yelling at a traffic enforcement robot that didn’t seem in any rush to process the man’s demand.

  Behind the truck, a bus honked its horn.

  “Hey, jackass!” the truck driver yelled back at the bus. “Can’t you see I’m being ticketed?!”

  The honking continued, followed by more shouting. Adam’s heart raced, and he had to get away. Traffic fights during rush hour and complaints about robotic officers or parking meters weren’t new to him; he’d seen them every morning on his way to work in his old neighborhood. Yet witnessing one now grated on his nerves in a way it never had before.

  His perception of the city had shifted. The grandeur and opulence of Proxima—and of his life—now felt sinister, even hostile.

  But a good businessman always knew how to turn misfortune into opportunity.

  Since unleashing his anger on Simon, Adam hadn’t experienced the static surges that made him blow out light bulbs and fry electronics. That was how he discovered he needed to release the excess energy in his body regularly to avoid issues.

  In the evenings, as the sun dipped low and the night was still faintly illuminated, Adam would sneak down to the rocky shore by the sea. Once certain he was alone, he’d unleash streams of white flames into the water. A couple of minutes of nonstop bombardment was more than enough to leave him feeling empty. The good thing was that the steam he generated also helped mask him from any curious eyes.

  If the electrical buildup became unbearable and he couldn’t make it to the coast, he’d head to a nearby nature reserve. After ensuring the park keeper android was nowhere near, he’d find a secluded pond deep in the woods and repeat his ritual, letting the water consume his fire.

  With all the energy discharges and exposure to strange radiation, Adam started to worry about his health. So he asked Dr. Kara Lieven to run a full medical checkup.

  He had no intention of telling his friend the real reason behind it, so he made up a ridiculous excuse—something about fearing he’d picked up a condition during his ghost coma that caused an overload of static energy in the body.

  One question from her was enough for him to come clean. Another, and he showed her—just like he’d shown Trevor.

  Kara’s reaction to witnessing the almost supernatural creation of a Fotia in his hands was a stunned laugh, followed by speechless awe that lasted for hours.

  The good news was that, aside from the lack of sleep and dark circles under his eyes, Adam’s physical health was perfectly fine—for now.

  He also stopped by his loft to check on the repairs. Since he always went in the mornings, he never ran into Rubén Blue, the night-shift doorman—which was just as well. He didn’t want to hear himself stammer through another awkward excuse about ‘that terrible fire caused by a household accident,’ and he definitely didn’t want to risk saying too much and end up adding Rubén to the small circle of people who knew what was really going on with him.

  Then there was his appearance.

  He spent more time in front of the mirror, ensuring nothing looked out of place. He shaved and used specialty hair products, more meticulously than before. But one morning, he gave up. The scruffy beard—always reappearing like clockwork—felt inevitable. He embraced the brooding look of Juzo as his own.

  Not only that. He wasn’t entirely sure how, but he was convinced that by absorbing his brother’s Binary proteins, he had also taken on parts of his personality and behavior. The proof of this was that every time his phone chimed and he heard something like, ‘Hi, Adam, sweetie… Why haven’t you called me back?’ he would hang up immediately. The syrupy voices of his casual girlfriends had started to get on his nerves.

  “I’m glad there weren’t any delays with the shipment this time,” Adam said, nodding as Rita filled him in on the latest company news over the phone. “I know, Francisco’s a very capable guy. He’ll do fine while I’m away.

  “Nah, I told you, it’s nothing serious,” he added, trying to keep the exhaustion and discomfort from slipping into his voice. “And no, I’m not on vacation with one of my girlfriends… or in a hospital, either. Luckily, I came out of the house fire unscathed. It’s just that… I decided to take a few days off, you know? Right… Anyway, I’m glad everything went well with your mom’s tests. Hey, what about Trevor? He’s never been away this long… What? Oh! I didn’t know he was back already…. Yeah, yeah, he mentioned he had to fly out for a meeting in Principia, but… Well, I thought he’d let me know when he got back. I see, he went and came back on the same day… No, with so much going on, he probably forgot to tell me, you know? Alright, Rita, I… I gotta go. Right, same to you. Take care. Bye.”

  “Hi, Trevor!”

  “Adam… How are you?”

  “I just wanted to check in, see if everything’s alright.”

  “Everything is fine.”

  “Okay… Good.”

  “Adam, I’m sorry… Right now… I’m already in bed. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  “Of course, sure!” he said and hung up. Time had never been an issue for them to talk, but now…

  He looked at his hands. There was the answer to so many evasions. Trevor really wasn’t just scared for him—he was scared of him.