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The afternoon sun streamed through the kitchen window as Harry walked in, dropping his backpack by the door. After looking around, he found Stephen out in the barn, just as he?d been for the past few days, continuing his renovation project. The air inside was thick with the scent of fresh-cut wood and sawdust. Stephen was meticulously measuring a section of wall in one corner, clearly intending to transform it into something more permanent. "Dad?" Harry called out, stepping over a pile of lumber. Stephen looked up, a pencil tucked behind his ear. "Hey, Flash. Just getting this corner ready. Thinking of turning it into a proper workshop. Somewhere I can tinker with tools and gadgets, do some of my own experimental research when I have time." He gestured vaguely with his measuring tape. "There's something I want to ask about what you said last night." Harry said. "About the other decision by President Truman that's more closely related to my existence. I've read his biography in school library, but I can't conclude which one is it." "Whoa? I didn't know you're so passionate about history. What happened?" Stephen asked. "Actually? it's about Asha. After she learned about the connection between my name and the dropping of the atomic bomb, she doesn't look as cheerful as before." "Oh, it's about a girl? I understand." Stephen said, taunting Harry. "Don't worry. I'll explain it after dinner."
After dinner, Harry calls in Stephen's promise for an explanation. "Is it the formation of United Nation?" he guesses. Stephen took a sip of water, then set the glass down. "No, the Truman decision that's more closely related to you, was his Executive Order 9981: 'Equality of Treatment and Opportunity in the Armed Services.' It was about desegregating the military, about giving everyone, regardless of race, a chance to serve, to fight, to be recognized." Stephen leaned back, a complex expression on his face. "In the earlier phases, the research in Project David was heavily focused on safety. We were trying to understand how to increase the success rate of enhancement and drastically reduce the fatal and irreversible failure rates. We started with what we thought were simpler, easier fixes ... rehabilitating disabled veterans. Soldiers who had lost limbs, or suffered severe, life-altering injuries. They were the perfect candidates, in a grim way, because they had already given so much, and often felt they had nothing left to lose." His voice grew somber. "More sophisticated technology, the kind that could truly enhance human traits, came with exponentially higher risks and failure rates. Only those with absolutely nothing to lose were willing to take that chance, to volunteer for the experimental procedures. And as expected, many of them ended up dead. But their sacrifices, Harry... they were not in vain. Each failure taught us something, pushed us closer to understanding, to finding the breakthroughs that eventually led to... you." Harry frowned, trying to connect the dots. "But I still can't see the connection between the executive order and the experimental subjects of Project David, Dad," he said, his brow furrowed in confusion. Stephen nodded slowly. "That's because I haven't finished my story yet, Flash. An ethics concern emerged, a very serious one, when genetic engineering became involved in the project. The test subjects, these enhanced individuals, were feared for posing a danger to the foundational structures of society. There was a real worry they could become uncontrollable, or even turn against the very people they were meant to protect." Even the thought that they will simply outcompete ordinary people in getting jobs has frightened many decision makers. He leaned forward, his voice dropping, as if sharing a painful secret. "Some high-ranking officials, driven by fear and a twisted sense of control, began to call it 'eugenics.' They used that word ... a discredited and controversial ideology that aims to 'improve' the human species through selective breeding or genetic manipulation. It's been associated with some of the darkest moments in human history, Harry, including forced sterilization and genocide." Stephen's jaw tightened. "To alleviate such fear, to appease those who saw these enhanced individuals as a threat, a terrible decision was made. Their fear was not entirely baseless though, since some of the super soldiers did go out of control. Genetically engineered individuals were planted with severe limitations as a means to control them. They were made to depend on a specific substance which they needed to consume at least once a week. Otherwise, their cells would start to self-destruct, a painful and irreversible process." He looked at Harry, his eyes filled with a deep sorrow. "It prevented them from escaping, from truly being free. And to add insult to injury, they were also stripped of their rights as citizens. They were treated inhumanely, Harry, as expendable tools, not as human beings who had sacrificed everything for a cause they believed in." Harry's eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. The horror of the situation, the injustice, washed over him. "Now I can see the connection," he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. "By referring to the executive order, you wanted them to have equal rights to other citizens. You wanted them to be treated as human beings, not just... tools." Stephen nodded, a grim satisfaction in his eyes that quickly faded into weariness. "Exactly, Harry. That's what your mother and I, and a few others, fought for. To ensure that those who served, those who sacrificed, were treated with dignity and granted the same fundamental rights as any other citizen. It was a battle we were still fighting, even as the project evolved." He pushed his chair back from the table, the scrape of wood on the floor echoing in the quiet kitchen. "This is a lot to take in, I know. And it's information that very few people in the world know. You understand how important it is to keep this secret, don't you, Harry? From everyone. Especially your friends." Harry swallowed, the weight of the secret settling heavily on his young shoulders. He thought of Asha and Rowan, their innocent lives. He nodded, his gaze firm. "I understand, Dad. I won't tell anyone." Stephen gave him a long, appraising look, then a small, tired smile. "Good. Now, it's getting late. You've had a long day, and a lot to process. Time for bed, Flash. We'll talk more another time." Harry stood up, the chair scraping loudly. The comfortable warmth of the farmhouse suddenly felt like a fragile shell, protecting him from a world far more complex and dangerous than he could have imagined.
The morning bell rang, signaling the start of first period. Harry, Asha, and Rowan walked together down the bustling hallway, heading towards their first class. The usual school chatter filled the air, but for Harry, the undercurrent of his own secrets and powers was a constant hum beneath the surface.As they rounded a corner, they saw them. Tyler Brock and his gang were huddled near a row of lockers, engaged in what looked like an intense, low-voiced discussion. Tyler, his arm still in a sling, was gesturing animatedly.The moment Tyler looked up and saw Harry, his eyes widened. A sudden, almost imperceptible shift went through the group. Their discussion instantly ceased. Without a word, Tyler turned, and the entire gang abruptly broke off their conversation, turning their backs and walking quickly in the opposite direction, clearly unwilling to be passed by Harry, Asha, and Rowan.Harry watched them go, a faint sense of surprise mixing with relief. It was uncanny. He?d expected anger, revenge, anything but this quiet, almost desperate avoidance.Perhaps they?ve learned their lessons, Harry thought, a faint sense of surprise mixing with relief. The memory of the ruined barn, the unconscious forms of the bullies, and the sheer, uncontrolled power that had erupted from him, flashed in his mind. It had been terrifying, even for him. Maybe that was enough. Maybe the "freak hurricane" story, combined with their own painful experience, had truly scared them straight.Or, a more unsettling thought surfaced, something else happened to them. Something beyond the "hurricane." Something that had truly broken their spirit, or instilled a fear far deeper than any physical injury. The thought lingered, a subtle unease beneath the surface of the quiet hallway.
The morning bell rang, signaling the start of first period. Harry settled into his seat, still pondering the strange behavior of Tyler?s gang. Asha was already at her desk, meticulously organizing her pens, while Rowan was, as usual, doodling furiously in his notebook.Their science teacher, Ms. Albright, a woman with a perpetually cheerful demeanor and a penchant for hands-on experiments, walked to the front of the classroom. Today, she wasn?t carrying textbooks or diagrams. Instead, she had a large tray filled with small, intriguing objects.?Good morning, class!? Ms. Albright announced, her voice bright and enthusiastic. ?Today, we?re going to get a little? charged up!? She winked, and a few students chuckled.She began distributing the contents of her tray to each table group. Harry watched as she placed two small batteries, each no bigger than his thumb, on their table. Then came six short wires, their ends stripped to reveal gleaming copper, and finally, two tiny light bulbs, no larger than marbles, nestled in miniature screw-in bases.?Alright, everyone,? Ms. Albright continued, her hands gesturing excitedly. ?Today, we are going to learn how electricity travels! You?ll be building simple circuits to light up your bulbs.?A murmur of excitement rippled through the room. Harry felt a different kind of buzz, a subtle prickle under his skin. Electricity. His power. He?d only ever experienced it as an uncontrollable surge, a destructive force. Now, he was going to see it tamed, channeled, used to create light.Ms. Albright then began to explain the concepts. ?We?re going to explore two fundamental ways to connect your components: parallel and series connections. Each has unique properties, and you?ll see how the electricity behaves differently in each setup.?She drew diagrams on the whiteboard, illustrating how electrons flowed through a circuit. Harry listened intently, trying to reconcile the orderly, predictable flow she described with the chaotic, explosive energy that sometimes burst from his own body. He wondered if, by understanding these basic principles, he might gain a deeper insight into his own volatile abilities. The thought was both daunting and exhilarating.
The moment Harry stepped off the school bus, his mind was still buzzing, not from the usual schoolyard chatter, but from the morning's science lesson. The simple circuits, the way the tiny bulbs lit up with a flick of a switch, fascinated him. It was a controlled, predictable form of the very power that surged uncontrollably within him. He had a million questions, and only one person who could possibly answer them. He found Stephen in the living room, poring over some schematics spread across the coffee table. The faint scent of coffee hung in the air. "Dad!" Harry exclaimed, practically bursting into the room. Stephen looked up, a smile forming. "Hey, Flash. Rough day at school?" "No, great day!" Harry corrected, rushing over and pointing animatedly at the table. "We learned about electricity today! Batteries, wires, light bulbs! Series and parallel connections! It was amazing how it just... flows." He paused, then his excitement turned serious. "But that's what I don't get. How do I do it? How do I generate electricity from my own body? Is it like a battery in me? How does it travel? Can I make a light bulb light up?" Stephen chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Whoa, slow down, lightning bolt. One question at a time." He patted the spot next to him on the couch. "Come on, sit down. This is a bit more complicated than Ms. Albright's lesson, but it's a good place to start." Harry eagerly sat, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on his father. "Okay," Stephen began, gathering his thoughts. "What you learned today is about external circuits. Batteries create a chemical reaction that pushes electrons through a conductor, like a wire, to a load, like a light bulb. It's a closed system, designed to be stable and predictable." He tapped a finger on one of the schematics. "Now, your body, and indeed all living things, use electricity. Your brain communicates with your muscles using electrical impulses. Your heart beats because of electrical signals. It's a very low-level, biological electricity, generated by the movement of charged ions across cell membranes." "So, I'm like a giant battery?" Harry asked, his eyes wide. Stephen smiled. "In a way, yes, but far more complex. Project David didn't just give you the ability to conduct electricity, Harry. It gave you the capacity to generate and manipulate it on a scale far beyond normal biological processes. Think of it like this: your cells, particularly certain specialized ones, have been engineered to act like incredibly efficient, miniature bio-generators. They can rapidly accumulate and discharge a massive amount of electrical energy." "But how does it get out?" Harry pressed, thinking of the flashes and surges. "That's where your unique physiology comes in," Stephen explained. "Your skin, your nervous system, can act as a conduit. When you're under extreme stress, or when your body is pushed to its limits, that stored energy can be released. It's not like simply touching two wires together. It's a raw, powerful discharge that can interact with the environment around you." He paused, his expression growing serious. "The challenge, Harry, is that this ability is still largely uncontrolled. It's like having a nuclear reactor in your chest without a proper containment system. The more you learn about basic electricity, the more you'll appreciate the fundamental principles, but understanding how to control your specific, amplified bio-electricity... that's a whole different level of mastery. It requires not just scientific understanding, but immense mental and physical discipline. That's what Sam was trying to teach you, and what we'll continue to work on." Harry nodded slowly, the initial excitement giving way to a deeper understanding of the immense, terrifying power within him. He wasn't just a kid who could run fast. He was a living, breathing electrical storm, and learning to harness it was going to be the most important, and perhaps most dangerous, lesson of his life.
The next day, the school cafeteria was a cacophony of chatter, clanking trays, and the general hum of hundreds of hungry teenagers. Harry, Asha, and Rowan had claimed their usual table, a quiet corner where they could eat and talk without too much interruption. Harry's mind was still reeling from Stephen's explanation of his bio-electricity, the idea of miniature bio-generators in his cells both awe-inspiring and terrifying.Suddenly, the noise seemed to dim slightly as Tyler Brock and his gang entered the cafeteria. Harry braced himself, but just like yesterday, they seemed to avoid eye contact, their usual aggressive swagger replaced by a more subdued, almost wary gait. Tyler, his arm still in a sling, pointed towards the large industrial refrigerator near the serving line."Jake, go grab some sodas," Tyler ordered, his voice a low growl. "Bring 'em to our table."Jake, a burly kid with a perpetually sullen expression, nodded and headed towards the refrigerator. Tyler and Vance continued straight to their usual table, while Brody, another member of the gang, lingered behind Jake, perhaps to offer assistance with the heavy drinks.Harry and his friends continued eating their lunch, Harry listening to Rowan recount a particularly outlandish dream involving a talking badger, and Asha quietly sketching in her notebook. The usual cafeteria din filled the background, and their attention was momentarily elsewhere.Then, a sharp, loud CRACK! echoed through the cafeteria, momentarily silencing the chatter. Harry's head snapped up, his enhanced senses immediately zeroing in on the source. He saw Jake, stiffened and wide-eyed, his grip on the refrigerator door handle locked. The heavy door, which he must have opened slightly, had swung back and slammed shut with the sound that had caught Harry's attention. A low groan escaped Jake's lips, his feet shuffling wildly on the tiled floor."Jake!" Brody yelled, rushing forward. Without thinking, Brody grabbed Jake's arm, attempting to pull him free. But the moment their skin made contact, the current arced through Brody. He too stiffened, his eyes bulging, his body locking up in a grotesque dance of uncontrolled muscle contractions. Both boys were now stuck, vibrating violently, their feet beginning to splash in a small puddle of spilled water that had collected near the refrigerator.
Harry's enhanced senses screamed at him. He saw the effects of electric shock, felt the subtle hum in the air, recognized the terrifying, uncontrolled energy. They're in big trouble, he thought, a cold dread seizing him. He knew, instinctively, that this wasn't just a faulty wire. This felt... different. More intense. Without a second thought, Harry launched himself forward, a blur of motion. Asha and Rowan gasped, but he was already there, his hand reaching for the refrigerator door, aiming to break the circuit, to separate Jake's locked grip from the source. The moment his fingers brushed the cold metal of the door, a searing jolt ripped through his arm, then his entire body. He gasped, a guttural sound torn from his throat. The electricity surged through him, a familiar, yet terrifying, sensation. His body vibrated violently, his teeth rattling, and he felt the sickening wetness of the spilled water soaking his sneakers, increasing the electric current. He was in trouble too. Deep trouble. But even as the pain threatened to overwhelm him, a desperate resolve ignited. He had to get them free. With every ounce of strength he had left, Harry focused, not on pulling away, but on pushing through the current, his enhanced muscles straining. He began to pry Jake's fingers from the door handle, one by agonizing one. Each finger was a monumental effort, his own body screaming in protest, the air around him crackling. When the last finger finally released, Jake and Brody collapsed, their bodies limp, falling heavily onto the wet floor with a splash. Harry, feeling utterly drained, his muscles trembling, cold sweat pouring from his skin, rapidly turning warm. A few seconds later, a sharp SNAP! echoed from the electrical panel behind the refrigerator. The humming stopped. The current was gone. Harry felt the last vestiges of energy drain from him, leaving him hollow and exhausted, and fall sitting down on the floor. Tyler and Vance, who had been frozen in horror at their table, now rushed forward, their faces pale with fear, to help Jake and Brody. Simultaneously, Asha and Rowan, their faces etched with concern, ran to Harry's side. "Harry! Are you okay?!" Asha cried, kneeling beside him. He could only nod, his breath coming in ragged gasps. They were all shocked, but fortunately, after a quick assessment by the cafeteria staff and a frantic call to the school nurse, it was clear there was no major physical damage to any of them. Still, the nurse insisted. Harry, Jake, and Brody were all taken to the clinic to get proper medical attention, leaving a stunned and whispering cafeteria in their wake. Later, an investigation into the incident revealed a series of unfortunate circumstances. It was discovered that water had been leaking from inside the refrigerator through a broken seal, creating the puddle on the floor. Behind the unit, the grounding wire was found to be severely gnawed, apparently by rodents, rendering it useless. To make matters worse, a live wire had somehow come into contact with the metal chassis, bridged by a cluster of insects. Aged food splashes were found scattered behind the refrigerator, providing a clear explanation for what had attracted both the rodents and the insects to the area. Electricians were immediately called to the school to fix the hazardous wiring and prevent any further incidents.
The school clinic was a blur of activity. Nurses bustled around, checking vitals, applying cool compresses, and asking endless questions. Harry, Jake, and Brody were all given a clean bill of health, though the lingering tremors and the memory of the shock still made them feel shaky. After a while, they were sent back to class, the incident already the talk of the school. Later that afternoon, after the last bell, Harry found Stephen waiting for him by the truck. Stephen had already heard about the cafeteria incident, his face a mask of concern. As they drove home, Harry recounted the events, focusing on the moment he touched the refrigerator and the sudden, draining surge of electricity. "Sounds like a classic case of a faulty appliance, exacerbated by... well, you," Stephen mused, his eyes on the road. "But I'm glad you reacted. You saved those boys from something potentially far worse." The next morning, the school sent out an email to all parents, explaining the incident. The cafeteria refrigerator had been immediately taken out of commission, and a thorough investigation had been launched. When Harry arrived at school, the area around the refrigerator was cordoned off with yellow tape, and two burly electricians were already at work, their tools spread out on a tarp. During lunch, the cafeteria manager made an announcement, explaining the findings of the investigation. "The circuit breaker powering the refrigerator tripped due to an overcurrent," the manager explained, his voice sounding tired over the loudspeaker. "Further investigation revealed a series of unfortunate circumstances. There was a water leak from inside the refrigerator, likely due to a broken seal that had gone unnoticed. This water had pooled on the floor behind the unit. More critically, the grounding wire for the refrigerator was found to be severely gnawed, likely by rodents, compromising its safety for quite some time." A collective gasp went through the cafeteria. "And," the manager continued, "it appears a live wire had somehow come into contact with the metal chassis of the refrigerator, possibly facilitated by insects building nests or trails that conducted the current. We also found significant amounts of aged food splashes scattered behind the refrigerator, which would have attracted both the rodents and the insects in the first place." Electricians, the manager assured everyone, were working diligently to fix the problem and ensure the cafeteria was safe. Harry listened, a cold knot forming in his stomach. Aged food splashes. His mind immediately flashed back to a few weeks ago, when Tyler and his gang had been bullying Rowan. Rowan?s lunch tray, filled with food, had been knocked from his hands, splattering across the floor, some of it skittering under the very refrigerator where Jake had gotten shocked. Harry had been too focused on helping Rowan, on dealing with Tyler, to think about the mess under the appliance. A grim realization settled over him. The very act of bullying, the casual cruelty, had indirectly led to this. The "freak hurricane" had been a cover for his powers, but this? this was a direct consequence of their actions, a silent, unseen chain reaction. The dark side of truth, indeed.
The bus ride home felt heavy, laden with the day's events. The image of Jake and Brody convulsing, the searing jolt of electricity, and the chilling realization about the cause of the accident, all replayed in Harry's mind. He had saved them, yes, but the cost had been immense, leaving him utterly drained. And the thought that Rowan's spilled lunch, a consequence of bullying, had set this chain of events in motion, was a bitter pill to swallow. As soon as he walked through the farmhouse door, he found Stephen in the kitchen, preparing dinner. The comforting aroma of cooking food filled the air, a stark contrast to the sterile smell of the clinic. "Dad," Harry said, his voice a little shaky, the words tumbling out. "You won't believe what happened at school today." Stephen turned, his eyes immediately assessing Harry's posture, his expression. "Oh? What is it, Flash? You look a bit pale." He wiped his hands on a towel and walked over, his brow furrowed with concern. Harry recounted the cafeteria incident, starting with Tyler's gang, the refrigerator, Jake and Brody getting stuck, and his own desperate intervention. He described the jolt, the vibrating, the struggle to free them, and the final, draining snap from the electrical panel. He even shared the cafeteria manager's explanation about the water leak, the gnawed grounding wire, the live wire, and the aged food splashes. Stephen listened intently, his expression growing more serious with each detail. When Harry finished, Stephen didn't immediately speak. He simply reached out, his hand gently touching Harry's forehead, then his neck, feeling for a pulse, checking his temperature. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, yet firm, a quick, practiced assessment. "You're not running a fever, and your pulse seems steady," Stephen murmured, his eyes scanning Harry's face. "But you're clearly exhausted. That was a significant discharge, wasn't it?" Harry nodded, rubbing his temples. "Yeah. Like, totally empty. Like all the energy just... left me." Stephen's gaze softened, but his voice remained firm. "I need to check you more thoroughly after dinner, Harry. We need to make sure there are no lingering effects, no internal strain. You pushed yourself to your absolute limit today. And what you did... that was incredibly brave. You put yourself in harm's way to save them." He paused, then added, a hint of something darker in his tone, "And the cause of it... the aged food. It's a chilling reminder, isn't it? How seemingly small acts can have unexpected, dangerous consequences. Even for those who think they're above it all."
After dinner, Stephen led Harry to his small study, a room filled with books, technical manuals, and the faint scent of old paper. He pulled out a whiteboard and a marker, a habit from his Project David days when explaining complex concepts. Harry sat, still feeling a lingering fatigue, but his mind was sharp, eager for answers. "Alright, Flash," Stephen began, tapping the marker against the whiteboard. "Let's break down what happened in the cafeteria today. Based on your account and the school's investigation, this is the most probable chronology of events, a perfect storm of unfortunate circumstances and, well, a little bit of your unique physiology." He started drawing simple diagrams on the board as he spoke. "First, you had the initial trigger: food splattered behind the refrigerator. As the cafeteria manager said, this was likely from Rowan's dropped tray, or just general kitchen mess that wasn't properly cleaned." He drew a small, messy blob. "That attracted rodents," Stephen continued, sketching a crude mouse. "And rodents, being rodents, love to gnaw. They found the grounding wire for the refrigerator, a critical safety feature, and chewed right through it. This meant the refrigerator, which should have had a safe path for any stray electricity to go into the ground, was no longer properly grounded." He drew a broken line from the refrigerator to the ground symbol. "Then, you had insects," he drew a few dots. "Attracted by the same food, they likely built nests or simply crawled in a way that connected a live wire to the metal chassis of the refrigerator. Now you have a metal box, the refrigerator itself, that's suddenly electrified." He drew a spark from a wire to a box. "Next, the water leaked through the broken door seal, creating a puddle on the floor. Water, especially with impurities, is a conductor." He drew a puddle under the box. "Now, enter Jake," Stephen said, pointing to a stick figure. "He walks on the wet floor and touches the door handle. Because the refrigerator chassis was live and the grounding wire was compromised, Jake's body became the path of least resistance. The electricity flowed from the electrified handle, through his body, and into the wet floor, which was connected to the ground. He completed the circuit." He drew an arrow through the stick figure. "Then, Brody," Stephen added another stick figure next to Jake's. "He touches Jake, providing a second path to the ground in a parallel configuration. Think back to Ms. Albright's lesson. In a parallel circuit, the current splits. So, now the electricity had two ways to get to the ground through two people, meaning both Jake and Brody were getting shocked simultaneously." He drew two parallel arrows. "And then you, Harry," Stephen looked at him, a serious expression on his face. "You touched the refrigerator door leaf, providing an additional parallel path to the ground. This was incredibly dangerous, Harry. You essentially added yourself to that already overloaded circuit." He drew a third parallel arrow, thicker than the others. "When you finally managed to release Jake's fingers from the door handle, you removed his body from the primary electrical path. This also freed Brody, as his connection was through Jake. It was a heroic, and extremely risky, move." Stephen then tapped the whiteboard where he'd drawn Harry's figure. "Now, here's where your unique physiology likely played a crucial role. You mentioned you were sweating, and it was getting warm fast. When you're under that kind of stress, and your powers are active, your body's electrical resistance changes. Your sweating increased the conductance on your outer skin. This means more electric current flowed outside of your internal organs, through your skin, and into the ground, effectively reducing the amount of current flowing inside your vital internal organs. It acted as a kind of natural, albeit uncontrolled, safety mechanism for you, diverting some of the lethal current." He drew a final, large arrow from Harry's figure to the ground. "The low resistance paths provided by your outer skin and sweat caused the electric current to become incredibly high. It exceeded the capacity of the circuit breaker protecting that refrigerator's line, causing it to trip. That's the 'snap' you heard. The breaker did its job, cutting off the power to the refrigerator, and with it, the electricity was no longer connected to Jake, Brody, or you." Stephen put down the marker, his expression grave. "What you did, Harry, was incredibly dangerous. A normal human wouldn't have survived that kind of sustained shock, especially with the wet floor acting as such a good conductor. You're lucky your unique physiology kicked in, and that the breaker finally tripped." Harry swallowed, the reality of the danger hitting him harder now that it was explained. "So? what's the safer way to save them, then?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. He knew he'd acted on instinct, but he needed to know for next time. Stephen nodded. "Good question. The safest way is always to cut the power source first, if possible. But if you can't, or if someone is already in contact, you absolutely must avoid becoming part of the circuit yourself. That means avoiding contact with the wet floor, as well as direct contact with the electrified object and the person's body." He picked up the marker again and quickly sketched a long, hooked shape. "You'd want to use something non-conductive. A rescue hook made of wood or plastic, for example. Something that won't conduct electricity. You could use it to pull Jake's hand off the handle, or to pull his body away from the refrigerator. Anything that creates an insulated barrier between you and the current." Harry stared at the diagrams, the scientific explanation making the terrifying incident horrifyingly clear. The accidental chain of events, the physics of it all, and the chilling realization of how close they all came to serious harm. And his own body's strange, protective reaction. It was a lot to process.
I said I'd given up reading as it was getting tedious, but for God's sake cut out the stuff about wet skin being safer, or you may find yourself liable for the death of a complete stranger who took this as sound advice!
When you?re under that kind of stress, and your powers are active, your body?s electrical resistance changes. Your sweating increased the conductance on your outer skin. This means more electric current flowed outside of your internal organs, through your skin, and into the ground, effectively reducing the amount of current flowing inside your vital internal organs.
Stephen stood up from the couch, walking over to a tall, dark wooden cabinet in the corner of the study. He ran a hand along the spines of several thick books before pulling out a large, well-worn encyclopedia. He brought it back to the coffee table and carefully opened it, flipping through pages until he found what he was looking for. "You asked about generating electricity from your own body, Harry," Stephen said, his finger tracing a diagram on the page. "While your abilities are far more advanced, nature has already figured out some incredible ways to do this. Take a look at this." He turned the book so Harry could see. The page displayed a vivid picture of an electric eel, its long, serpentine body illustrated with intricate diagrams of its internal organs. "This is an electric eel," Stephen explained, pointing to the diagram. "It's a fascinating creature. It can generate powerful electric shocks, up to 600 volts, to stun prey or defend itself. And it does it all biologically." Harry leaned closer, intrigued. "How?" "Their electric organs," Stephen answered, tapping a section of the diagram. "They've evolved from what were originally muscle tissues. Over millions of years, these muscle cells have repurposed themselves, specializing not for contraction, but for ion transport. Their basic cellular structure is flattened, non-contractile muscle cells, stacked up like tiny batteries in series. When they fire, these cells create a massive electrical potential." Harry looked at the diagram, then back at his dad. "But... why don't they shock themselves?" Stephen smiled, a hint of the scientist in him coming to the forefront. "Excellent question, Flash. That's the key. Electric eels don't shock themselves because their bodies are incredibly well-adapted to direct the current outward into the water, rather than through their own vital tissues." He pointed to different parts of the eel's anatomy in the diagram. "They have thick, gelatinous skin and specialized fatty tissue that act as excellent insulation. Think of it like the rubber coating on an electrical wire ... it keeps the current where it's supposed to be. And, crucially, their vital organs ... their brain, heart, and other essential systems ... are concentrated in the front one-third of their body, away from most of the electric organs which run along the rest of their length." "So, when they generate a shock," Stephen continued, "they coordinate their muscles and these electric organs with incredible precision. It's not just a random discharge. They actively control it, keeping the electric field flowing mainly toward their prey or predators in the surrounding water. It's a marvel of biological engineering." He closed the book, his gaze returning to Harry. "Your body, through Project David, has similar, though far more potent, adaptations. The challenge for you is learning that same level of control and direction. It's about understanding your own internal 'insulation' and how to channel that immense power, rather than letting it simply erupt."
Harry absorbed Stephen's explanation of the electric eel, the concept of biological insulation and directed current resonating deeply. It made a terrifying kind of sense, a scientific blueprint for his own chaotic power. Then, another thought struck him, a memory from his intense training with Sam. "Uncle Sam," Harry began, looking up at his father, "he said he was somewhat resistant to electric shock. He couldn't generate it himself, but he could withstand it. Is the mechanism the same as what you just described for me, or for the eel?" Stephen nodded slowly, a knowing look in his eyes. "Yes, Flash, it is. Sam has an earlier version of the same biotechnology. His enhancements were focused more on durability, resilience, and a heightened nervous system, which includes a significant resistance to electrical currents. He's designed to absorb impact, to withstand forces that would incapacitate a normal human, and that extends to electrical energy." Harry's eyes widened. The pieces were falling into place, revealing a much larger, more complex picture than he had initially imagined. "So... he's also a super soldier?" he asked, the term feeling strange on his tongue, like something out of a comic book. Stephen gave a faint, almost rueful smile. "Yes, Harry. Otherwise, how do you think he could have defeated you so easily back then? How could he have pushed you to your limits, even when you were unleashing raw power? Sam is a product of Project David's earlier, more experimental phases, built for a different kind of battlefield, but with the same underlying principles of human enhancement." The revelation hung in the air, connecting Sam's mysterious past and formidable abilities directly to Project David. Harry now understood that he wasn't alone in this world of enhanced humans, and that the "Uncle Sam" who had trained him was far more than just an old friend of his father's. He was a living testament to the project's long, and often brutal, history.
In the morning at school, Mrs. Patterson, the school nurse, stood at the front of the classroom with a bright red first aid kit. Her expression more serious than usual. The recent incidents... the cafeteria electrical shock, Tyler's gang's mysterious injuries from the 'hurricane'... had clearly prompted this impromptu health and safety session. Given the recent accidents involving our students, she began, adjusting her glasses, "the administration wants to ensure every family is properly prepared for emergencies at home. Domestic common risks like slips, falls, cuts, and traffic incidents, even seasonal flu." She opened the kit, displaying its contents. "Every household should have antiseptic, bandages, pain relievers, thermometer, and any prescription medications family members might need in an emergency." Her gaze swept the room. "I'm sending home a checklist for your parents. Please make sure they review your home first aid supplies this weekend." Harry nodded along with his classmates, but something nagged at him. He'd never really looked through Stephen's medical supplies, despite living in a house with someone who clearly had extensive knowledge of medicine and chemistry. The thought of Stephen's makeshift 'magic mushroom' solution to the barn incident still puzzled him.
Scene 2 That afternoon, checklist in hand, Harry found Stephen tinkering in his workshop corner of the barn. "Dad, the school nurse wants us to check our first aid kit at home," Harry said, waving the paper. "She's worried about swimming accidents next week. "Stephen looked up from his workbench, wiping grease from his hands. "Good idea. The medical cabinet is in the bathroom upstairs... top shelf, behind the mirror. Why don't you inventory what we have and let me know if we're missing anything from that list?" Ten minutes later, Harry stood on his tiptoes in the upstairs bathroom, checking items against the school's list. Bandages, check. Antiseptic, check. Thermometer, check. But as he moved bottles around, looking for the pain reliever, his hand bumped against something hidden in the back corner. Two small, dark bottles with official-looking labels. The first he recognized... Psilocybin, the same capsules Stephen had used during the barn incident. But the second bottle was unfamiliar, its label reading 'Autoclastin' in precise medical lettering. Harry's pulse quickened. He'd never heard the name before, but something about it felt significant. The bottle was nearly full, yet Stephen had never mentioned taking any medication. When he took it, some faint hand written words are seen on the label: 'Project David'. Carrying both bottles downstairs, Harry found Stephen still in the barn, now cleaning his tools. "Dad," Harry began, his voice uncertain, "what's this?" He held up the bottles. "What does Autoclastin have to do with Project David?" Stephen froze, a wrench halfway to its proper place on the tool rack. His eyes fixed on the bottles in Harry's hands, and for a moment, his usual composed demeanor cracked, revealing something that looked almost like fear."Where did you find those?" Stephen asked quietly, his voice carefully controlled. In the medicine cabinet. You told me to check our first aid supplies. Harry set the bottles on the workbench between them. "The Psilocybin, I remember from the barn. But this other one... Dad, you look like you've seen a ghost. Stephen sank onto a nearby stool, suddenly looking older than his years. He stared at the Autoclastin bottle as if it were a loaded weapon. Harry," he said finally, his voice heavy with the weight of another secret about to be revealed, "that's... that's a very long story. And not a pleasant one." He look at Harry, "Do you remember what I said last night about uncle Sam?" Stephen's words about Sam being a super soldier hung in the air, connecting the dots between his formidable trainer and the shadowy Project David. Harry looked at his father, a new wave of questions forming. If Sam was so powerful, why was he gone? Why wasn't he still part of the project? Stephen seemed to read his thoughts. He leaned back, his gaze distant, as if recalling a painful chapter of his past. "Sam... he was the last of his kind, Harry. The last of the original super soldiers, those who were enhanced without any dependency on Autoclastin." He paused, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "In the early days, these champions, like Sam, were incredibly effective. They were deployed on missions to prevent conflicts, to neutralize threats, to achieve the very goals Project David was founded upon. With more and more successful missions, their existence became widely recognized, not just by our allies, but by our enemies as well." Stephen's voice grew grim. "And that's where the problem began. The enemies, the very individuals and organizations we were trying to counter, realized the immense value of these enhanced individuals. They started trying to poach them. With lucrative offerings, promises of freedom, power, wealth... things we, operating within the confines of a classified government program, couldn't always match." Harry's stomach clenched. "Some of them... they switched sides?" Stephen nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Yes. Some of them did. They took their incredible abilities, abilities meant to prevent suffering, and turned them against us, or used them for their own selfish, destructive ends. It was a catastrophic blow, a betrayal that shook the project to its core." He sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. "That's why we paused Project David indefinitely. We couldn't risk creating more champions who could simply walk away and become weapons for our adversaries. It was a painful decision, but a necessary one to protect the integrity of the project and, ironically, the very world we were trying to save." "And that's when Autoclastin came into play," Harry murmured, the realization dawning on him. "Precisely," Stephen confirmed, his voice heavy. "We couldn't afford another defection. So, the research shifted. We developed Autoclastin dependency as a fail-safe, a means to control them, to ensure loyalty and prevent them from ever truly escaping. It was a dark compromise, Harry, born out of necessity and fear, but one that allowed the project to eventually resume, albeit with a much heavier ethical burden." "Why was it called Autoclastin?" Harry asked. "Autoclast simply means self destruction. It refers to a part of cell destroyed by the body's own processes. While Autoclastin means inhibitor from autoclast." Stephen said. The weight of his father's words settled on Harry. The "dark sides of the truth" were far more pervasive than he had imagined. His own existence, his very life, was built upon a foundation of sacrifice, betrayal, and a desperate, morally ambiguous attempt to control power.
Stephen took a moment, gathering his thoughts, the weight of the past clearly heavy on him. "So, long story short, the development of Autoclastin and its dependency mechanism was accelerated. Informally, within the project, we called it 'Operation Warp Speed.' It was a frantic, all-hands-on-deck effort. The stakes were too high to risk another failure, another defection." He paused, a grim satisfaction mixed with sorrow in his eyes. "And in just a few years, we got promising results. The Autoclastin worked. It created a biological tether, a non-negotiable dependency that ensured our enhanced subjects would remain... compliant. With this new control mechanism in place, Project David was gradually resumed." "At first," Stephen continued, his voice softer now, "we went back to the original pool of candidates: solitary disabled veterans. Men and women who had lost so much in service, who were desperate for a chance at a normal life, or even just to feel whole again. They were willing to take risks, just like before the pause." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But word travels, Harry. Even within the most secure, classified programs. When they learned about the planted dependency, about the Autoclastin and the weekly dose requirement, about being stripped of their rights... it was getting more and more difficult to find volunteers. The promise of enhancement, of regaining what they'd lost, couldn't outweigh the cost of losing their freedom, their very autonomy." Stephen's gaze met Harry's, a profound sadness in his eyes. "Eventually, it came to a halt again. No one showed up voluntarily. The ethical compromises had become too great, the price too high for even the most desperate to pay." Harry sat silently, his mind reeling. The implications of what Stephen had just revealed were immense. He had so many more questions ... about the people who did take the Autoclastin, about his mother's role in all of this, about his own unique situation. He opened his mouth, a new question already forming on his lips. But Stephen held up a hand, a gentle but firm gesture. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I can see the gears turning in your head, Flash. And believe me, there's a lot more to tell. But it's getting late, and you have school in the morning." He gave Harry a sympathetic look. "You need your rest. We'll pick this up another time. For now, try to get some sleep." Harry sighed, disappointed but understanding. He knew his father was right. His head was swimming with new, unsettling information. He pushed himself off the chair, the silence of the study suddenly heavy with unspoken questions.