The next morning, Patrick opened the new workshop with the key the general had given him and took a moment to appreciate the quiet. The walls insulated him from the sounds of the base and helped him to focus on what he had to do that day, which was to build a weapon that would end a decade-old war but not cause undue side effects to those who used it. It would be based on a substance no one fully understood and which could screw with the minds of those who were exposed to it too much.
No pressure.
At least he’d kept his leather diary with him, the one that had the notes from the experimentation in Paris with what frequencies were safe and which would cause emotional turmoil, so he hadn’t lost it when whoever it was had ransacked their room in the barracks. Chad had gone outside the “safe
