NOVEL NEXT Chapter 17: Chapter 17
As the sun set and darkness blanketed the outskirts of the village, Zedd's cabin became a sanctuary of focus and quiet determination. Inside, the soft glow of a single oil lamp illuminated the wooden walls, casting long shadows that danced to the rhythm of the flickering flame. Zedd sat at his desk, a cluttered workspace filled with various tools, beakers, and scraps of paper covered in calculations and sketches. Tonight, he was working on something that had consumed his thoughts for months: perfecting his synthetic tissue prototype.
The desk bore evidence of his tireless efforts—thin sheets of silicone-like material lay stacked to one side, next to jars of chemical compounds he'd painstakingly synthesized himself. At the center of the desk was the focus of his work: a small patch of synthetic tissue, pliable and lifelike, but still flawed.
Zedd adjusted the magnifying goggles strapped to his face and leaned closer, examining the tissue under the bright light of a makeshift lamp. The challenge was ensuring the material could mimic not just the elasticity and durability of real human skin but also its ability to bond seamlessly with biological tissue. His latest batch showed promise, but the elasticity still wasn't quite right.
Grabbing a pair of tweezers, Zedd carefully lifted the tissue and placed it under a pressure-testing device he had cobbled together from spare parts. Turning the dial slowly, he watched as the synthetic material stretched. His notes from previous experiments were scattered across the desk, each page filled with precise measurements and observations.
"Still too brittle," Zedd muttered to himself as a small tear appeared in the material under the strain. He jotted down the result in his notebook, his handwriting swift but methodical.
Next, he reached for a vial of translucent liquid labeled Compound X2. This was his latest formulation, a mixture he hoped would improve both flexibility and resilience. Using a syringe, Zedd injected a few drops of the compound into the synthetic tissue, watching as it absorbed into the material.
He placed the modified tissue into a small curing chamber, a device he had built using salvaged components. While waiting for the compound to set, Zedd leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.
The cabin was eerily quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth. Outside, the wind howled softly, brushing against the wooden walls like a ghostly whisper. Despite the isolation, Zedd felt a sense of purpose here. This was where he could focus, where he could create without distraction.
Once the curing process was complete, Zedd removed the synthetic tissue from the chamber and subjected it to another round of tests. This time, the results were more promising. The material stretched further without tearing, and its texture felt more natural against his fingertips.
"Better," he said aloud, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
But Zedd wasn't satisfied yet. He knew perfection was still out of reach, and he wasn't the kind of person to settle for anything less. The synthetic tissue project wasn't just a scientific endeavor for him—it was deeply personal. He had seen people suffer from injuries that modern medicine couldn't fully address. If he could succeed in creating a material that could seamlessly integrate with the human body, it could revolutionize prosthetics, wound healing, and even organ repair.
Reaching for a second syringe, Zedd prepared to test a new compound, this one designed to improve the tissue's thermal stability. He worked with the precision of a surgeon, his hands steady as he mixed chemicals and recorded observations. Hours passed, but Zedd remained engrossed in his work, the outside world fading into irrelevance.
At one point, he glanced at the clock on the wall—it was well past midnight. His eyes burned from the strain of staring at his work for so long, but he didn't stop. This was his passion, his purpose.
As the night wore on, Zedd finally reached a point where exhaustion began to creep in. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the latest sample of synthetic tissue. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was closer than ever before.
The fire in the hearth had dwindled to embers, casting a faint red glow across the room. Zedd removed his goggles and rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of the day settling on his shoulders. Despite the progress he had made, there was still a long road ahead.
"I'll get there," he said softly to himself, his voice filled with quiet determination.
He placed the sample carefully into a storage container and tidied up his desk, setting aside his notes for tomorrow's work. As he stood and stretched, the creaking of the wooden floor reminded him of just how isolated he was out here. But Zedd didn't mind. He thrived in this solitude, where his thoughts could roam freely and his hands could bring those thoughts to life.
Blowing out the lamp, Zedd allowed the cabin to plunge into darkness, save for the faint glow of the embers in the hearth. He lay down on his cot, staring up at the wooden ceiling, his mind already racing with ideas for his next steps.
The synthetic tissue wasn't perfect yet, but Zedd knew he was getting closer. And as he drifted off to sleep, he carried with him the quiet satisfaction of knowing that his work, however small, might one day change lives.