Decay Rate Algorithm

"It's a last resort... maybe I'll succeed!"

Connors sat slumped in his office. The thought of his life's work slipping away ignited a blaze of fury in his heart. Those bastards in mainstream science mocked him as a mad scientist chasing an impossible dream. Norman Osborn, who had funded and supported him all along, had abandoned him in his darkest hour.

The twisted, jeering faces of those who ridiculed his disability flashed through his mind. The bright vision of flowers and glory had been shattered by cruel reality. Without this research, what future could he possibly have?

A voice echoed deep within him, like the devil in Faust, tempting Connors to take the risk, to make that bold, desperate choice. Maybe Lady Luck would smile on him. The odds of success in human trials were infinitesimal, but when he imagined a life of poverty and scorn from the academic world...

"I won't accept this!"

Connors roared, sweeping papers and files off his desk like a gambler who'd lost everything, betting it all on one last roll.

He stared at his empty sleeve. A surge of impulse churned inside him, erupting like volcanic lava, shattering every shred of reason.

From the lab's cold storage, he retrieved a vial of reagent. Back in his office, he locked the door and prepared for human testing. Gripping the flawed sample, he knew this reckless gamble was nearly suicide. But there was no turning back. Osborn Industries would soon pull funding and reclaim the lab. Then he'd have nothing.

"God help me," Connors murmured, then raised the vial and injected himself.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Dr. Connors, are you in there?" The sudden knock interrupted his experiment.

The one-armed man tensed. He recognized the voice—Sean, the intern. What could that bright young man want?

"I'm in the middle of research. What is it, Sean?" Connors asked nervously.

"Oh, well, I was just talking with Gwen about cross-species genetics. She mentioned the lab's progress is stuck on the Decay Rate Algorithm... I've read your published books and all your papers... Could I come in?"

Sean stood at the door. He knew Dr. Connors had devoted his life to Cross-species Genetics, trying to transplant lizard traits into humans so the disabled could regain full function.

But this project—one that could shake the world if successful—had always stalled at the Biological Equation. Dr. Connors lacked the Decay Rate Evolution Algorithm, and without it, progress was impossible.

The door opened. Connors waved Sean inside. The young man's eyes caught the vial on the desk, and surprise flickered within him. It seemed his own blow to Osborn Industries had pushed the one-armed doctor to the brink, even to testing on himself.

"Do you have any suggestions for my experiment?"

Connors asked dismissively. Sean was talented, sure, but he didn't believe this kid could offer anything meaningful.

He'd spent his whole life stuck at this stage. Countless attempts, and still no correct Decay Rate Evolution Algorithm. Sean was barely twenty, with only a few months of exposure to cross-species genetics. Connors doubted he had any groundbreaking ideas.

"Dr. Connors, I've read your books and those papers on cross-species genetics. It's a brilliant concept. If realized, it would have limitless potential."

Sean's face shone with admiration and reverence, as if he had full faith in Connors' research.

The young man's sincerity moved Connors. He'd always lacked recognition. Mainstream academia called him delusional. No one but Norman Osborn had believed in this project, and even that CEO's support was purely business.

"Thank you, Sean. A lot of people think cross-species genetics is insane." Connors' eyes glistened with gratitude. No one had ever said that to him.

Seeing he'd seized control of the conversation, Sean's lips curled into a faint smile. This doctor, buried in research his whole life, had little skill in navigating people or conversation. Otherwise, he'd have seen that the praise, though sincere-sounding, was hollow flattery.

"Doctor, I've looked at your trial comparison reports and the data... Here's a Decay Rate Evolution Algorithm I came up with. Could you check if anything needs fixing?"

Connors chuckled inwardly. He didn't believe for a second that Sean could crack this problem. But seeing the eagerness in the young man's eyes, he didn't want to crush his passion for science.

He took the notebook with the complex formula, ready to dismiss it—then froze, staring in shock at the calm-faced Sean.

"You... incredible! Sean, you're a genius! A true genius!" Connors stammered, overwhelmed. He couldn't believe the puzzle that had haunted him for years was solved so simply.

"Doctor, this formula isn't perfect yet. I hope you can complete it."

Sean smiled modestly. He didn't want Connors to use this algorithm right away and end up like in the original timeline—a lizard-like monster from conflicting genes.

"But... alright, Sean, I'll be honest. This lab is funded by Osborn Industries, but they're in trouble. They're pulling out, reclaiming the lab. In other words, I don't have much time."

Pain twisted Connors' face. Time was his greatest enemy now. Success was within reach, but everything needed time.

"Doctor, have you forgotten why you started this research? If cross-species genetics succeeds, it could save millions of disabled people, free them from their physical flaws and others' stares. And the potential goes beyond that—merging human and animal genes could be a giant leap in evolution!"

Sean's voice rang with passion, painting a vast, vivid future for Connors.

"This algorithm isn't perfect—it's just a flash of inspiration. It needs someone deeply versed in cross-species genetics to refine it. Dr. Connors, we can do better. We just need a little patience."

The young man coaxed like a Wall Street broker, slowly shaking Connors' resolve.

"What about Osborn Industries..." Connors wavered, thinking of Norman Osborn ready to cut him off.

"Funding won't be a problem. Trust me. Give me two days."

Sean's promise was earnest and firm, carrying a strange power that inspired belief.

Connors looked through his glasses at this miracle-bringing young man. Doubt lingered, but he chose to trust Sean. Perhaps deep down, he too hoped for the perfect results Sean described.

PS: Huh, status changed. Ahem, any Esteemed Readers want to throw in some recommendations or tips to celebrate?