totally meta

chapter four

I was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, staring at the faint scorch marks on the running shoes they'd given me. The track had been cleared, and the fire extinguisher they'd used to put out the remnants of my shirt still sat in the corner, a quiet reminder of just how insane this whole situation had become.

Dr. Harris hadn't said much since the mile test, but I could see her mind working. She stood in front of me, flipping through her clipboard, her lips pressed into a thin line. I could feel her gaze occasionally flicker over me as if she was measuring my very existence against some checklist only she could see.

Finally, she closed the clipboard with a quiet snap and looked up at me. "Henry," she began, her voice carefully controlled, "I think we need to have a conversation about what's happening to you."

I met her eyes but didn't say anything. I already knew. I'd known since the moment my legs carried me across that track faster than any normal person could ever dream of. But I waited for her to say it.

"We've been running extensive tests, and after what we've just seen..." She hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing. "It's clear that the lightning strike did more than we first thought. Your body has changed—adapted, even."

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, as though she wasn't sure how I'd react. "You've gained the ability to move at an inhuman speed, Henry. We're talking about superspeed."

Superspeed. There it was, out in the open. The thing I'd been mulling over in my head but hadn't dared to speak out loud.

I nodded, swallowing the dry lump in my throat. "Yeah, I figured."

Dr. Harris blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "You did?"

"Kind of hard not to when you outrun a fire," I said, motioning to the scorched remains of my clothes. "I've read enough comic books to know where this is going."

She gave a small, tight smile. "Well, this isn't a comic book, Henry. This is real life, and we need to treat it as such."

I sighed. "So what happens now?"

She sat down on a nearby stool, crossing one leg over the other and folding her hands in her lap. Her demeanor softened, more approachable, though I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "Henry, I'm going to be honest with you. What's happening to you is incredible. But it's also dangerous if we don't fully understand it. That's why I'm going to make you an offer."

I raised an eyebrow. "An offer?"

"Yes." She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into a more serious tone. "We'd like you to work with us. Full time."

I blinked. "Work with you?"

"As an employee," she clarified. "We'd be able to monitor you closely and study what's happening with your body. In return, you'd have a stable job, and you'd be able to go home and live your life as normally as possible."

The offer hung in the air between us. I couldn't lie—it was tempting. A job meant I wouldn't have to worry about finding one anymore. Mom wouldn't have to stress over me getting hired somewhere, and I'd actually be bringing in income, helping out.

But this? Working for the people who'd been poking and prodding me for the last two weeks? Something about it felt off, but at the same time... what other option did I have?

"What exactly would this job involve?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"For now, just working with us on a regular basis so we can track your progress," Dr. Harris explained. "You wouldn't be locked down here. You'd go home, live your life, and come in for tests and evaluations. It's all voluntary."

I thought about it. I thought about how Mom had been stressing about bills and my future, how every rejection letter I'd gotten from jobs seemed to weigh more heavily on her than me. This would be a way to finally contribute, to take some of that pressure off her shoulders. And it wasn't like I had many other options.

"Alright," I said, finally nodding. "I'll do it."

Dr. Harris's expression didn't change much, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "Good. We'll get everything set up. You can head home tomorrow."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. A job. A real job. Maybe things were finally starting to turn around for me.

But as Dr. Harris stood and walked toward the door, clipboard tucked under her arm, something about the way she carried herself made me pause. There was something more, something she wasn't telling me. I could feel it in the air. I'd seen that look before—like she had an agenda of her own.

"Is there anything else I should know?" I asked, my voice tinged with suspicion.

She stopped, her hand resting on the doorframe for a moment before she turned back to me, her expression neutral. "No, Henry. That's all for now. We'll speak more in the morning."

I watched as she left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. My gut told me there was more to this, something she wasn't saying. But I pushed the thought aside.

For now, I had bigger things to deal with. Like telling my mom I'd finally found a job—one that came with a lot more complications than I'd ever imagined.