*Chapter 2: The Price of a Man*
The room smelled like bleach and metal.
Elux stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the single steel table between him and the man across from it. No windows. One door. Two guards by the wall pretending not to watch him.
The man was in his late 40s. Black suit, perfectly tailored. Hair slicked back. A thin scar cut through his left eyebrow. He spoke English with a faint Mandarin accent, but his eyes didn’t blink much.
He hadn’t given a full name. Just one word.
“Call me Nanjue.”
On the table: a folder. Inside it, photos of Elux’s mom. Her apartment in Ikeja. Her at the market. Her asleep on the couch with the TV still on.
“You’ve been watching me,” Elux said. His voice came out steadier than he felt.
Nanjue smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “We watch many things, Mr. Smith. You stood out.”
He slid a second folder across the table. Medical charts. Genetic markers. Quantum resonance graphs Elux didn’t understand. A consent form with one line highlighted in red: _Subject will undergo Project ARES. Survival not guaranteed. Dimensional stability not guaranteed._
“Super soldier experiment,” Nanjue said, like he was offering Elux tea. “Pain tolerance. Reflexes. Strength. Regeneration. And... other things.”
Elux laughed. It cracked halfway through. “You want me to die for you.”
“We want you to _live_ for us,” Nanjue corrected. “Across multiple outcomes. But yes. The risk is considerable.”
The AC hummed. Elux could hear his own heartbeat.
His mom’s rent was 3 months late. Her diabetes meds had gone from ₦18,000 to ₦42,000. Last week she’d called and tried to sound okay. “Don’t worry about me, my son. Just focus on your work.”
She didn’t know he’d been out of work for 4 months.
He looked at the photo on top of the first folder. His mom, buying tomatoes, frowning at the price.
“How long do I have to decide?” Elux asked.
“As long as you need,” Nanjue said. “A few minutes.”
So Elux took them.
One minute: thinking about running. Where to? They had his address.
Two minutes: thinking about saying no. What changes? More debt. More hospital calls.
Three minutes: thinking about her face if she ever found out what he did.
Four minutes: thinking about her face if she never had to worry again.
At minute five, he stopped thinking.
Elux picked up the pen. His hand didn’t shake.
“I have terms,” he said.
Nanjue tilted his head. “We are listening.”
“If I do this, my mom gets 500 million dollars. Up front. In an account only she can access. No strings. No organization following her. She lives normal.”
Nanjue didn’t blink. “Specific.”
“That’s the price,” Elux said. “You want my life? Fine. But she doesn’t gamble anything. She gets to be safe. She gets to be free.”
Nanjue exchanged a look with one of the guards. Then he nodded once.
“We can do 500 million. USD,” he said. “Transferred within 24 hours of you signing.”
Elux exhaled. It felt like he’d been holding his breath for years.
He signed. _Elux Smith._
The ink was still wet when Nanjue closed the folder.
“Welcome to Project ARES, Elux,” he said, standing. “The facility is in Yunnan Province, China. Transport leaves at 0600 tomorrow. Eat tonight. Sleep if you can.”
Elux stood too. His legs felt like they didn’t belong to him.
“Will it hurt?” he asked at the door.
Nanjue’s smile finally reached his eyes. And that was the worst part.
“Yes. And no. Depends which version of you we’re talking about.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Outside, Lagos was loud. Danfos honking. Music from a shop. The smell of suya. Normal life going on without him.
His phone buzzed. An unknown number:
_Transfer initiated. Account: M. Smith. Amount: $500,000,000.00 USD_
Elux didn’t cry. He just stood on the sidewalk, watching people walk past, wondering which version of himself would wake up in China tomorrow.
The man who said yes was already gone.