Blinded By Science Foreigner Novels & Stories

Heads turned to stare at me and that's when I realized I had said that aloud. “What was that young lady?” She called out aloud making me swallow audibly. I contemplated staying quiet but the look on her face told me not to dare. So I got up and cleared my throat, “From your explanation Mrs. Makarov…” “It’s Miss Makarov!” “Right! From your explanation ma’am, you said that in small science we stretch the boundaries of hidden laws of life, and try to manipulate nature. I believe that is witchcraft. Yes, the right word to describe

“As it sounds, this is just a very simple problem you can manage. Deliberate it yourself.” I took my leather military jacket from the headboard and donned it, covering my flexing torso. Gulliard bent his head and made a gruff sound. “With all due respect, sire, I can’t because I do not understand the woman’s language. And she seems...foreign judging by her clothes.” I arched a brow. “Foreign?” I echoed. That piqued my curiosity. Pictures of a distant place flashed in my head. It was unintentional, but I instantly connected the word foreign to it.

I can't even imagine how he was made for I am mesmerized by him. I touched my lips while thinking deeply. I can't even imagine myself working inside a laboratory and making such experiments for the rest of my life. I can't even have one now. I mean, if experimenting is my mother's passion, I'm totally opposed to her. I hate science and everything that revolves around it. It just made the world messy and I don't need any proof for that because anyone can see it in every part of this whole fucking world. I don't even need to find one for I'll see it immediately. I can even see it even if both my eyes are closed. What I'm saying is that this world is already broken whether we like it or not and

With my hands outstretched, I slowly fumbled my way over to the bed and sat down to quietly listen to the noises outside my cell. The sound of footsteps echoed up and down the corridor as the police officers went about their business. I could hear a few of them talking to each other in low voices. "That's the pervert who peeped on that woman showering?" "He looks like such an ordinary man. Who would've thought he would do something so repulsive?" "I heard that he claims to be blind. It must be an act, right?" "Who knows? Either way, he's dead meat. Of all the people he could've offended, it had to be a female white-collar worker."

He wasn't just dying for the sins of the past; he was dying for the actions of a man who hadn't even been born yet—me. "Go back," he whispered. "Go back and tell them that science is the lie you used to hide from Me." I blinked, and the agony of Golgotha vanished. I was back in the sterile, cold air of the laboratory. My colleagues rushed forward, their faces twisted with the frantic, pathetic eagerness of people who still believed they were on the verge of a breakthrough. "Did you see him?" one asked, his hand hovering over a terminal. "The readings! We have terabytes of data! We can explain it all now!"

Why would a blind man choose something so visual? Unless he remembers. Unless he refuses to let the dark win. I don’t know how long I stand there. Then— “What are you doing here?” The voice slices through the silence. Low. Calm. Controlled. I spin around. Desmond Blackwood stands near the door. My heart nearly stops. I don’t hear it open. I don’t hear him move. He stands tall in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His white cane, detailed with subtle gold swirls, rests in his left hand. Dark lenses shield his eyes, his expression unreadable.

"Until I did." "She lies," Margaret said. "It's what she does. She makes you doubt your own perception until her perception becomes the only real one." "How do you know?" Margaret was silent. Then she reached up. Took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were milky white. Cataracts. Blind. But beneath that, or behind it, something else. A scar tissue pattern. Surgical. "I was Y-0," she said. "Before they were numbered. Before she had a system. I was the first. The experiment. The proof that she could do it."

Around us, the tunnel looked like a battlefield. Half the soldiers had been thrown backward by the explosion. Several lay unconscious. Others were struggling to stand. The scientist was still alive. Unfortunately. He was kneeling several yards away, staring directly at me. Not with pride anymore. Not with obsession. With disbelief. “No…” he whispered. Dr. Morrison looked equally stunned. “That’s impossible.” I stood slowly. The silver glow beneath my skin hadn’t disappeared. If anything— It had grown stronger. Tiny veins of light moved beneath my hands.

The Blind Alpha. His eyes were pale and vacant, unfocused, blank, not looking at anything. Across his right brow ran a scar, then followed it into his hair of silver. He offered no reaction when we stopped in front of him. Didn’t have to. The room was beginning to accommodate his presence.. “State your plea,” one of the elders said. I knelt to the ground. The stone dug into my skin. ‎ ‎Cold and hard, The stone cut into my flesh. I buried my forehead in the ground, bowing.

I' m begging you. " Santos was quiet. Then, "You really love him. " "More than anything. " "Alright. I'll make the call. But if this goes sideways, it' " s on you. "I can live with that. " The story broke the next morning. "The Blind Singer and the Dying Billionaire: A Love Story Fighting for Time. " It went viral. Within hours, thousands of people were calling. Offering to be tested. Offering