"Let’s see... no, not this one... definitely not that... ah, and this would probably kill you before it helps you..."
Dr. Dan Zarkov muttered to himself while digging through what he proudly called a laboratory, though to Tyler it looked more like a chanical disaster that had sohow survived several explosions and then decided to continue existing out of stubbornness.
tal shelves leaned unevenly against walls packed with cables, loose circuits, cracked monitors, robotic limbs, and half-assembled devices whose purpose Tyler could not imdiately guess. So machines humd softly, others clicked at random intervals, and one corner contained what looked suspiciously like a chanical arm attempting to tighten screws into another chanical arm without much success.
The old man moved through the chaos with complete confidence, pushing aside piles of equipnt as though he alone understood where everything belonged.
One object flew past Tyler’s shoulder and landed on a nearby table.
It was an umbrella.
Dr. Dan did not even look back.
"Not that one," he said. "That sends concentrated sound waves strong enough to rupture eardrums within ten ters. Useful indoors. Very annoying outdoors."
A second object ca next—a miniature electric fan no larger than a hand mirror.
"That one?"
He picked it up, stared at it, then imdiately tossed it aside as well.
"Too unstable. Press the wrong button and it produces wind pressure strong enough to launch a person through a wall. Broke three windows last month."
Another item followed.
This ti it was a narrow tal handle with a folded cable attached to it.
He pressed a switch, and the cable extended instantly into a long whip engulfed in controlled fire.
Tyler’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Dr. Dan admired it for a second.
"No, not this either. Fire leaves evidence."
The whip folded again and disappeared into its handle before being dropped onto a pile of unfinished machines.
Tyler remained silent while the old man continued searching deeper into the clutter, muttering numbers, formulas, and occasional insults directed at objects that apparently displeased him.
At last, after moving aside a small tal box and opening a drawer hidden beneath it, Dr. Dan froze.
Then slowly smiled.
"Ah."
He reached inside and lifted sothing carefully between two fingers.
A coin.
He brought it toward Tyler.
At first glance it looked completely ordinary—a polished 1 Solaris coin, circular, tallic, and stamped with the official Capital insignia on one side.
Tyler recognized it imdiately.
Solaris.
The currency of the Capital.
Sector people almost never touched one directly.
In the lower sectors, everything valuable moved through controlled rations, labor credits, or sector-issued exchange systems. Solaris belonged to the upper world. A single coin could buy things unavailable to entire sector families.
Dr. Dan placed it into Tyler’s palm.
"This," he declared proudly, "is perfect."
Tyler turned the coin slightly under the light.
It looked ordinary enough.
"A coin?" he asked.
Dr. Dan pushed his goggles upward and stared at him as though insulted.
"Yes, a coin. But not a useless coin."
He leaned one hand against the worktable and continued.
"I know what you gave the Embers—the Carbonyx refining process. Genius work. Absolute genius. We spent years sneaking people into Sector 2, stealing fragnts of data, observing extraction thods, bribing workers, losing good people, and still failed to uncover what you understood in one move."
His voice sharpened with genuine irritation.
"Do you know how offensive that is to soone with my qualifications?"
Tyler said nothing.
The old man waved it away.
"Anyway, because of that, they asked to arm you. Not heavily. Not enough to start a war. Just enough to survive cheating inside the Capital Gas if things go wrong."
He tapped the coin.
"So this is what you get."
Tyler studied it again.
"I still don’t understand how this is a weapon."
Dr. Dan’s grin widened.
"Oh, right. Registration first."
Before Tyler could react, the old man snatched the coin back and pressed it directly against Tyler’s forehead.
A faint vibration passed through his skin.
Nothing painful.
Only a strange pulse, like static briefly moving beneath the surface.
After two seconds, Dr. Dan removed it and nodded with satisfaction.
"Done."
Tyler frowned slightly.
"What did you just do?"
"Linked initial command response to your brainwave pattern."
Dr. Dan placed the coin on a nearby table and activated a monitor.
A holographic display appeared.
"Now watch carefully."
The coin on the screen began to shift.
Its tallic surface broke apart—not into pieces, but into microscopic movent so fine it resembled liquid obeying invisible commands.
In seconds it transford.
First into a thin blade no longer than a hand.
Then into a wire whip.
Then into a needle-like spike.
Then into a lockpick small enough to slide inside the narrowest chanism.
Tyler watched without blinking.
"This," Dr. Dan said with clear satisfaction, "is nano technology."
The screen shifted again.
Now the nanobots spread over artificial skin tissue displayed beneath magnification.
The damaged area repaired itself almost imdiately.
Small tears closed.
Surface layers rebuilt.
Internal tissue stabilized.
Dr. Dan folded his arms.
"It can also handle ergency tissue repair. Small injuries, cuts, punctures, limited bleeding control. Not miracles. Don’t expect it to rebuild missing limbs."
Then he added:
"It can keep you alive long enough to avoid dying stupidly."
Tyler looked from the screen back to the coin.
That changed things.
A hidden weapon was useful.
A hidden dical tool was far more valuable.
Dr. Dan continued his explanation.
"Because nanobots are limited, the system has restrictions. Battery capacity is limited. Shape duration is limited. Physical damage reduces total unit count permanently. Every ti you force a complex transformation, so units burn out."
He pointed directly at Tyler.
"And listen carefully—every transformation consus units permanently."
Tyler nodded once.
So this was not infinite.
That made sense.
Dr. Dan lifted the coin and handed it back.
"Try."
Tyler focused.
At first nothing happened.
Then the coin vibrated faintly in his hand.
Its edges softened, surface loosening as though tal had forgotten it was solid.
A mont later it compressed into a small tallic sphere.
Tyler shifted thought again.
The sphere flattened and returned to coin shape.
The response was imdiate.
His expression changed slightly.
Not surprise.
But clear approval.
"It obeys thought?"
"Yes. Simple command pathways only. Shape intent. Size intent. Extension intent. No poetry. Be clear with your brain."
Dr. Dan took the coin back once more and placed it onto a charging pad built into the table.
Thin light spread beneath it.
"These little monsters consu absurd electricity. Charge whenever possible."
He glanced sideways.
"You won’t get a charging station inside the Gas."
The coin pulsed faintly while recharging.
Tyler watched the process.
Dr. Dan lowered his voice slightly.
"One more thing. You can transfer ownership."
Tyler looked at him.
"Transfer?"
"Thought-linked command release. If you willingly hand control to soone else, the coin accepts their pattern."
He adjusted his goggles again.
"But think carefully before doing that. Once transferred, you lose authority completely."
Tyler absorbed that without comnt.
After a short charge cycle, Dr. Dan removed the coin and handed it back one final ti.
"But I only have this one."
The old man’s tone lost so humor there.
"So use it properly. It can beco anything scientifically possible—but only if you understand what you want it to form."
Tyler slid the coin carefully into his sleeve.
It rested near the copper pot.
A strange pairing.
One object beyond logic.
One object built from stolen advanced science.
Dr. Dan turned away already returning to his machines.
"Try not to die, boy."
Then, almost casually:
"Capital always prefers dramatic deaths when caras are involved."
Tyler began walking toward the exit.
Behind him, machinery resud its endless clicking.
Dr. Dan adjusted his goggles, stared at another half-built device, and muttered:
"Still can’t believe a Sector boy solved Carbonyx refinent before trained engineers..."
The robot near the door rolled aside to let Tyler pass.
He climbed back through the hidden staircase, crossed the underground parking floor, and returned toward the mall transit lanes.
The Capital remained beautiful under false moonlight.
Which only made it feel colder.
He boarded the tram again using the servant card, returned to the secured district, and re-entered through service access without attracting attention.
The kitchen remained active.
This ti no one stopped him.
He collected a food tray from the preparation counter, adjusted his servant posture, and entered the participant floor exactly as expected of any ordinary staff mber.
By the ti he reached his own room, surveillance had already accepted him as routine.
He entered, locked the door, changed quickly, and placed the servant uniform back into the hidden tray compartnt.
A minute later, another servant left Tyler’s room carrying the empty tray.
The surveillance guards saw nothing unusual.
Inside, Tyler sat by the window once more.
The coin rested in his fingers under moonlight.
Outside, the false stars still shone in perfect obedience above the impossible Capital.
Tyler studied the coin for a mont before taking out the copper pot. The refined Carbonyx was still inside, resting quietly at the bottom.
"Big," he muttered.
At once, the small copper pot expanded, its size increasing until there was enough space to work comfortably.
Tyler placed the original coin beside the Carbonyx and reached in.
A mont later, he pulled out another coin.
Then another.
Then another.
By the ti he stopped, five identical Solaris coins rested in his palm.
He examined them briefly, then focused.
The coins trembled at once. Their tallic surfaces loosened, lted, and rged together like liquid silver spreading across his fingers before climbing over both hands. Within seconds, the swarm reshaped itself into a pair of fitted gloves that clung tightly to his skin.
Tyler took out a piece of refined Carbonyx and pressed it against the surface.
The nanobots reacted imdiately.
The crystal was devoured in seconds, absorbed into the structure as faint purple lines spread across the gloves like veins beneath tal.
Then Tyler slowly clenched his fist.
A sharp current snapped through the air.
Thin arcs of electricity whistled around his knuckles before fading.
Tyler’s lips curved into a quiet smirk.
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