Impractical Concerns

Three months later.

"Everyone, please step onto your respective treadmills."

"I said now, immediately!"

Inside the laboratory building of Blacklight Biotechnology Research Center. A stern-looking researching staff glared pointedly at thirty-three black men.

All thirty-three of them were Ovambo people, dressed in standard white hospital gowns. Though not all of them were particularly enthusiastic, most, if not all of them were healthy at least.

Just three months ago when they had just stepped foot into the research center, they were a bunch of old and frail men. Yet, they had now miraculously become younger than they were.

Judging by appearance, they appeared to be in their forties. It was as if the sands of time ran in the opposite direction.

Most of them appeared somewhat uncooperative in following the orders of the research members.