Noble Experiment Reviews Novels & Stories

Athena made an ugly pout which almost forced Damien to puke 3 liters of blood. "Don't talk shit with me. Come straight to the point." Damien spared a dark glance, freezing Athena on her place. "OK then listen. You want to use me as evidence for what happened two years back. And what make you think I will help you out of this situation?" Athena smiled cunningly. "State your price." Damien leaned back on his chair, with his eyes closed. "The head lady of Romano family." Athena smirked. "You are not qualified." Damien did not open his eyes.

She was surprised to see several people there as well, all looking serious as Fred stood among them. "Well, it looks like everyone's here." Fred glanced at Rhea and gestured for everyone to be seated. "Tomorrow, we'll be conducting a monumental experiment, which you guys have worked so hard for.” Fred looked around and said, "Those who have made it this far have proved to be exceptionally talented and loyal to me. “Rest assured, you will all receive handsome rewards once the experiment succeeds. Furthermore, you will leave your mark in history and be remembered by the entire world!" he proclaimed enthusiastically, spreading his arms.

Hearing Mat and Chen arguing, Naashon directly interrupted them, "Alright, you guys shut up." Chen looked at Naashon with a humble face, "Mr. Naashon, you have just heard our conversation, and from this, it can be determined that the experiment was indeed successful at that time. However, Professor Smith deliberately said that the experiment was not successful in covering up the matter, and also destroyed all those semifinished products. I judged that he must have given the stuff to Kourtney." Naashon sat there with his legs crossed, and after listening to Chen's words, he smiled and said, "Miss Kourtney, just now, you heard all of their conversations?"

That doesn’t go over well. Of course it doesn’t. Because they don’t want logic. They want blood. “Isn’t it true,” another journalist jumps in, “that your fabrics are infused with experimental compounds?” There it is. The angle. The narrative they’re trying to build. “Define experimental,” I say. “Unregulated, untested. Potentially dangerous.” “Then no,” I reply. Flat. Immediate. Unapologetic. “Absolutely not.” A pause. “Are you willing to recall the product?” someone shouts.

His chest rose and fell once, sharply, but his voice stayed cold. “No. And that’s final. The focus of the experiment should stay on the donor sample we already have. I don’t want to introduce unnecessary variables or risks.” The explanation sounded weak and unconvincing, but Dr. Smith had already seen through it. Felix did not want Miranda involved in the experiment as a donor. It was as if he were afraid of something. “Dr. Stone, Mr. Gibson does have a point,” Dr. Smith said. “Ms. Spencer’s sample is showing very strong stability and an extremely high neutralization rate right now. Let’s stay with her sample for the time being.”

The clipboard was still in the sand. She picked it up. The map was gone. Pages blank. Except for one. The last page had fresh ink: EXPERIMENT 402: SUCCESSFUL. MOVING TO PHASE 2: THE CLINICAL TRIAL. June looked up. For a moment, a huge glass wall flashed across the blue sky. Behind it, thousands of people in white coats. All holding clipboards. All watching her. They weren’t deleting the world. They were studying it. A cold shiver ran down June’s back. She looked over at Dante, smiling at the sun, not seeing the wall or the watchers.

"This time is different. Film the students. When you recorded last time, didn't anything feel off to you?" He stopped. I could see the moment it clicked. I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "At the second hearing, I'll say everything. Whatever you recorded, anything unusual, it might matter." He held my gaze for a long time before finally speaking. "Fine." Kyle posted another video. In it, Natalie moved down the line, placing food on each student's plate. They ate the same way, chewing 20 times before swallowing, all in sync. The comments online were still full of praise.

But later, as the session ended and Nolan prepared to leave, Lucas spoke again, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. "The woman. The gardener." He did not say Elara's name. "Does the moonveil... is it...?" He couldn't finish the sentence. He wasn't asking for gratitude. He was asking for a status report on the experiment. "It is thriving," Nolan said simply. "The yield is expected to be higher. The potency, greater." Lucas gave a single, sharp nod. A data point confirmed. After Nolan left, I felt it. A flicker of something that wasn't analytical. It was faint, a whisper against the vast silence of his conditioned mind. It was the satisfaction of a thing working as it should. Not for a s