Chapter 38 - First Steps

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The laboratory felt unnaturally quiet the next morning. Ward and Dr. Ashford stood before the large observation window, watching the four volunteers who were now awake, moving freely, and radiating perfect health. Their bodies had been completely restored. But in the fifth isolation chamber, a white sheet had been drawn over the bed—a stark reminder of the price of their success.

"It appears," Ward said, his arms crossed and his tone clinically detached, "that a compromised immune system cannot survive the initial viral assault. The serum becomes useless if the host dies before the healing process can begin."

"Yes..." Dr. Ashford whispered, his voice hollow with defeat. The single failure cast a shadow over the four miraculous successes. The secret hope he had harbored—to use the virus on himself so he could one day walk beside his cured daughter—crumbled to ash. His own frail constitution meant he could never risk the treatment. He could restore his daughter's life, but he was condemned to watch it forever from the prison of his wheelchair.

A week later, final diagnostics confirmed that the four surviving volunteers remained stable with no lingering adverse effects. By every scientific measure, the T-Virus healing serum project was an unqualified success.

True to his word, Dr. Ashford invited Ward to his home as a guest. Carrying a secure case containing the five remaining doses of virus and serum, Ward accompanied him to an imposing estate in the heart of the exclusive Arklay community. As he pushed Dr. Ashford's wheelchair through the castle-like villa's entrance, Ward was struck by the underlying sterility of the place—it felt more like a private medical facility than a family home.

"Angela, darling! Daddy's home!" Ashford called into the house, his voice brightening for the first time in weeks.

"Coming, Dad!" a young voice replied cheerfully. Moments later, a little girl with her father's gentle eyes wheeled herself into the grand living room. She studied the stranger with open curiosity and remarkable poise for her age. "Dad, who is this gentleman?"

"This is my new research assistant, Ward Morey," Ashford introduced, his voice warm with affection.

"Hello, Mr. Morey," she said with careful politeness.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Angela," Ward replied, crouching down to her eye level with a genuine smile and gently touching her hair.

"My father rarely brings visitors home," she observed, her gaze sharp and intelligent beyond her years. "You must have made quite an impression on him."

"Well... we've only known each other for about two weeks," Ward said with a playful wink. "Perhaps my personality is just that irresistible."

"You must be planning something!" she declared with mock suspicion.

"You're entirely too perceptive for your own good," Ward laughed, ruffling her hair again.

"He came here to help treat your condition, sweetheart," Ashford explained, wheeling closer. "He was instrumental in our research. When you can walk again, you must remember to thank Mr. Morey."

"Really, Dad?" The little girl, who had seemed subdued moments before, suddenly blazed with excitement, nearly launching herself from her chair. "You actually developed a medicine to heal my legs?"

"Yes," Ward said softly, opening his case and preparing a syringe with practiced precision. "And it will work immediately. Now, give me your arm."

Angela glanced at the strange, luminescent liquid, hesitated for only a heartbeat, then bravely extended her arm.

An hour later, Angela—who had been confined to a wheelchair for her entire young life—stood on her own two feet, her legs trembling with the effort of supporting her weight. As she attempted her first uncertain step, her balance wavered and she pitched forward. Ward, who had been watching intently, rushed forward and caught her before she could fall.

"Thank you, Mr. Morey," she said, her face radiant with joy. She steadied herself and stood again, then with intense concentration, took another step, and then another, moving with the careful, deliberate movements of someone discovering the miracle of mobility.

Dr. Ashford watched with an expression of pure, overwhelming joy, a single tear of happiness tracing down his cheek as he witnessed his daughter take her first steps in the world.

At noon, Ward joined them for a celebratory lunch. Afterward, a servant escorted Angela out to the manicured lawn, where she walked through the grass with obvious delight, pushing a small scooter as she explored her newfound freedom. Ward and Dr. Ashford sat by the window, watching her play in comfortable silence.

"Morey," Ashford said suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. Thank you for everything you've done." Throughout their collaboration, he had witnessed the young man's tireless dedication, his brilliant mind that could grasp and expand upon the most complex concepts with remarkable speed.

"Without me, I believe you would have developed the serum eventually, Doctor," Ward replied with characteristic humility.

"Perhaps. But your joining my laboratory was the wisest decision I've made in years." He paused, studying Ward's profile. "So what comes next? Will you continue the serum research with me?" His tone carried unmistakable hope.

"That depends," Ward answered carefully. "What are your plans? Will you continue developing the serum, or return to the virus?"

"The serum," Ashford said, his expression growing somber. "The T-Virus is already beyond my control. I have no doubt the company will weaponize it for biological warfare. It is my responsibility—my penance—to create an antidote for the monster I helped unleash."

"I understand," Ward said thoughtfully. He turned to face Ashford directly. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I'm planning to pivot to artificial intelligence next. I was hoping to transfer to Umbrella's computer science division."

"Artificial intelligence?" Ashford asked, clearly surprised. "But you're a biologist."

"I'm interested in many disciplines," Ward explained. "And after working on the T-Virus, I've conceived a new approach—a way to merge our fields." He leaned forward, his eyes bright with visionary enthusiasm. "Why risk altering the entire human body with a virus when we only need to replace a single damaged component? What if we could cultivate organic tissue with the T-Virus's regenerative properties outside the body, integrate it with advanced cybernetics, and create perfect, seamless replacement limbs?"

Ashford stared at him, completely captivated by the concept.

"It would be the optimal solution for the disabled," Ward continued, his voice gaining momentum. "No risk of systemic infection, no reduced lifespan, no possibility of rejection. We could call it bionic enhancement."

Ashford's scientific mind immediately identified the fundamental challenge. "But the T-Virus's side effects—the aggressive instincts, the potential for mutation—you risk creating a limb that could turn against its host."

"Which is precisely why I need to master AI first," Ward countered smoothly. "The aggressive impulses of the viral cells would be contained and controlled by a dedicated security chip—a closed-loop artificial intelligence that ensures the flesh obeys the machine, and the machine obeys its user. A perfect, safe symbiosis." He smiled confidently. "And if the problematic side effects aren't present in the host's body to begin with, they become much more manageable."

Ashford was completely enthralled. The concept was revolutionary—bionic machinery that didn't merely simulate biological function but incorporated actual living tissue. A true fusion of biology and technology, creating a new form of life without the complications of consciousness.

He looked at the young man before him and saw not just a brilliant biologist, but a true Renaissance mind—a visionary whose thinking transcended traditional academic boundaries. It seemed his partnership with Ward Morey was only just beginning.

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