Part 3: The Genesis Protocol
Arjun realized with a jolt of horror that the “shadow” on the camera wasn’t a ghost. It was the ventilation system. Every night at 2:00 AM, the hospital’s central air cycled, creating a pressure drop that caused Rohan’s hyper-altered pores to exude a concentrated, vaporized cloud of the Astra Genesis pathogen. The nurses weren’t being assaulted; they were inhaling a highly airborne, aggressive cellular parasite that triggered spontaneous, localized cellular division in the female reproductive system—effectively forcing a genetically identical clone of Rohan’s DNA to implant itself.
The door to Arjun’s office suddenly burst open.
Chief of Staff Dr. Kulkarni walked in, flanked by two men in dark, expensive suits who definitely weren’t doctors.
“Dr. Malhotra,” Kulkarni said, his voice tense. “I believe you’ve been looking into Room 412-C’s footage. I’m going to need you to hand over that laptop immediately.”
Arjun stood up, backing away toward the window. “You knew,” he breathed, looking at his superior. “You knew what was in Rohan’s system. You’ve been using this hospital as a breeding ground for Astra Genesis!”
“Rohan Mehta represents the future of human repopulation and genetic resilience, Dr. Malhotra,” one of the suited men said, stepping forward. “The airborne pathogen in his system creates children with flawless immune systems and accelerated healing. The nurses were just the perfect, sterile test subjects.”
“They are human beings! Their lives are ruined by fear!” Arjun shouted.
“Their contributions will save millions,” Kulkarni countered coldly. “Now, give us the laptop, Arjun. Don’t make us turn you into a patient here.”
Arjun looked down at his laptop, then at the heavy brass paperweight on his desk. In a split second of desperation, he grabbed the paperweight and smashed it directly into the laptop screen, crushing the hard drive beneath it.
“Security!” Kulkarni yelled.
But Arjun didn’t wait. He lunged past the men, throwing his weight into the side door that led to the emergency stairs. He took the steps three at a time, his heart hammering. He knew he couldn’t save the nurses who had already been infected, but he could stop the source.
He burst into the fourth-floor corridor, sprinting toward Room 412-C. He slammed the door shut behind him and locked it just as footsteps echoed down the hall.
Rohan lay there, serene and peaceful, entirely unaware that his body had been turned into a weapon.
“I’m sorry, Rohan,” Arjun whispered, tears blurring his vision. “Your fight ended in that fire. I won’t let them desecrate your heroism anymore.”
Arjun reached over to the main life-support console. With a trembling hand, he entered the override code and pulled the emergency shut-off lever. The hum of the ventilators died. The heart monitor let out a single, continuous, mournful beep.
Outside, the men were threw themselves against the heavy wooden door, the wood beginning to splinter.
Dr. Malhotra sat down beside the dying firefighter, took out his phone, and uploaded the backup cloud link of the camera footage to every major news outlet in the country. As the door finally gave way, Arjun looked up calmly. The secret of Room 412-C was dead, but the truth was finally free.
