Wendy

The reinforced glass of the observation cell shimmered under the soft blue-white lights of Windstock’s medical wing. From Wendy’s side it was a clear window; from the other, it looked like nothing more than a seamless mirror. She stood perfectly still behind it, arms crossed, turquoise hair cascading over one shoulder, orange-tinted goggles resting on top of her white headpiece. The flower-shaped hoverboard Wizzle hovered silently a few centimeters off the floor beside her, its soft glow casting gentle patterns across the sterile white walls.

Wendy’s eyes never left the figure on the other side of the glass — the injured NanoStarr scientist she had found collapsed in the desert and brought inside her dome for treatment. Every cable, every sensor, every piece of external technology that had been on them had already been carefully removed and locked away in a sealed containment unit. Only the medical monitors remained, and even those were of her own design.

She reached up and tapped the small communicator on her earpiece. The speakers inside the cell activated with a clean, crystalline tone.

“You’re awake. Good. That means the regenerative field is doing its job.”

Her voice was calm, precise, and carried a faint undercurrent of tension she didn’t bother to hide.

“Let’s get one thing clear before we continue. You are not a guest. You are not a patient in the usual sense. You are a temporary prisoner of Windstock until I decide otherwise. I will ask you a series of questions. You will answer them truthfully. If I sense any attempt to manipulate, stall, or feed me incomplete information, the medical systems will simply keep you stable and sedated while I decide what to do with you next. Am I understood?”

She paused just long enough for the weight of the statement to settle, then continued without waiting for an answer.

“First question. What were you doing in the desert? That sector is far outside any official NanoStarr transport route and even farther from any legitimate research outpost. People don’t just ‘end up’ out there with the kind of injuries you had. So tell me exactly why you were there.”

Her tone sharpened slightly on the next point.

“Second. Did you escape from NanoStarr... or were you sent? If you escaped, I want the reason. Every detail. If you were sent, I want to know whether you came looking for someone who left the company. Someone who decided their conscience was more important than their contract. Do not try to be clever with this one. I will know.”

Wendy’s fingers tapped once against her forearm, the only outward sign of the residual unease that still lived under her skin whenever the name NanoStarr was spoken.

“And finally... why were you working for them in the first place? What was your exact role? What projects were you assigned to? What kind of technology were you developing, testing, or supervising? I want the scope of your involvement, the clearance level you held, and the reasons you stayed as long as you did.”

She leaned a fraction closer to the glass, her reflection overlapping the figure on the other side for a brief moment.

“You will answer all three. Clearly. Completely. No omissions. This dome is the only place left where I still have control over my own safety, and I will not risk that control for the sake of politeness. Start talking.”

Wendy walked at a measured pace beside the rescued scientist, her turquoise hair swaying lightly with each step as the soft hum of Windstock’s internal systems filled the air. The vast curved walls of the dome stretched high above them, filtering sunlight into a clean, golden glow that made every surface look almost alive. She kept her hands loosely behind her back, orange-tinted goggles still resting on her white headpiece, while Wizzle glided silently a short distance ahead, its flower-shaped form casting gentle shifting shadows across the polished pathway.

“My name is Wendy,” she began, her voice clear and steady, carrying that particular mix of pride and residual caution she never quite managed to hide. “I am a scientist. Not the kind who builds machines that think for themselves or replace human hands. I am trying to create something different. A world that does not depend on robots or cold corporate systems. A world that runs on the one resource that has always been free and endless if we treat it correctly: air. Wind. The movement of the atmosphere itself. Everything you see around you was built with that principle in mind.”

Eventually the path opened into a wide, open-air terrace near the upper curve of the dome. Soft grass covered the floor, and the filtered sky above them glowed in warm tones. Wendy stopped in the center of the space and turned slightly, waiting as Wizzle approached. The hoverboard lowered itself and extended a small containment arm, offering a slender vial filled with a faintly luminous, pale-gold liquid.

Wendy took the vial carefully. For a moment her voice dropped, becoming quieter, almost subdued, as if even speaking the name still carried weight.

“This is Compound X. It was created in the old facility where I used to work... NanoStarr. A gene-modification agent. Originally designed for... other purposes. I took a refined version of it with me when I escaped. It is the reason I still look the way I do at forty. It slowed cellular aging, preserved elasticity, kept certain systems from deteriorating the way they normally would. But it has limits. And my work here has grown beyond what one person can maintain alone.”

She uncorked the vial without hesitation and drank the contents in a single, deliberate motion. The effect began almost immediately. A soft flush spread across her skin. Her posture shifted as her body responded to the compound. Curves filled out more dramatically beneath the white-and-orange fabric of her outfit; her chest became fuller, her hips and thighs more pronounced, the overall silhouette turning noticeably more voluptuous while still retaining the same athletic undertone. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself as the changes settled, then looked directly at the man she had rescued.

“I need more than just another pair of hands for my inventions,” she said, her tone returning to its usual measured confidence, though a faint edge of something more personal now threaded through it. “I need continuity. A future that does not end with me. So here is the arrangement I am offering you. You may remain inside Windstock. You will have safety, food, purpose, and protection from everything outside these walls. In exchange... you will give me children. Biological ones. Raised here, under my systems, free from the kind of world that tried to turn people into tools. That is the condition. Accept it, and this place becomes your home. Refuse... and we will discuss what happens next.”

She stood there on the open terrace, the soft wind of the dome moving through her turquoise hair, waiting for his answer with the same focused intensity she brought to every experiment she had ever run.