Chapter 51 52

Chapter 51: A Simple Meal

As the servant slowly and forcefully closed the heavy doors, the swirling storm outside was completely shut out, instantly transporting everyone into a different world—one of warmth, comfort, and splendid luxury.

When speaking of affluent areas in New York, many instantly think of Manhattan's Upper East Side, a typical enclave for the wealthy, synonymous with wealth and elitism. However, Long Island is also a magnet for the super-rich. This temperate northern island, surrounded by the sea on three sides and covered in forests with plentiful rainfall and a humid climate, enjoys mild summers due to its maritime weather, making it one of the most livable places in the world. Notables including the Clinton family and legendary director Spielberg have their luxurious homes here.

The Hearst family tree is extensive, but the younger generations prefer living alone, coming together only during major holidays or significant occasions. Lydia's father, Patty Hearst, chose his villa on Long Island.

"It's an honor to be invited, Mr. Hearst," Bruce said politely as he shook hands with Patty Hearst, then took a bottle of wine tied with a luxurious silk ribbon from Gus and handed it to him. "I've brought a small gift."

"Oh, you are too kind, Bruce," Patty Hearst examined the '82 Pertus in his hand for a moment, smiled, and then handed it to the butler. "Looks like we've got our wine for the evening."

This was clearly just polite chatter, and Bruce responded with a knowing smile before affectionately embracing Lydia, who stood behind her father, kissing her on the cheek, followed by her mother, Laura, and cousin Amanda Hearst. Even at family dinners, this cousin was invited, indicating their close relationship. What did Amanda know about his own matters?

Patty's mansion was a classical Greek Revival style, with heavy eaves and vividly striped decorative moldings, high triangular roofs, and uniform white exterior walls supported by tall columns, easily reminiscent of a Greek temple, right down to the decorative columns on the walls inside.

"I hope the bad weather hasn't dampened your spirits, Bruce," Patty said as he showed Bruce around the mansion.

Hurricanes are one of the primary meteorological hazards in the United States, with the Atlantic hurricane season running from June 1 to November 30, peaking between August and October, and New York is no stranger to their impacts.

Hearing this, Bruce shook his head and replied, "Fortunately, this year's hurricane season isn't too severe, seems like it'll pass soon."

Patty Hearst nodded with a smile, "Oh, yes, we get big storms this time every year. We're used to it. Life goes on."

While dinner was still being prepared, the two made their way to the second-floor study. Patty opened a cigar box on his desk, took out two cigars, and offered one to Bruce.

"Thank you," Bruce took it without hesitation and lit it up as they sat facing each other.

Knowing Lydia's parents had invited him over, Bruce was somewhat prepared; Patty Hearst's curiosity about his close relationship with Lydia provided him a perfect opportunity to connect with the Hearst family, an invitation he gladly accepted.

"So, tell me about yourself, Bruce. I don't know you that well," Patty Hearst said comfortably, smoking his cigar and leaning back on the sofa with a curious look.

"Me? I suppose the media hasn't been too kind to me," Bruce joked before continuing, "Actually, the new company is doing quite well. We're making progress in several labs with projects like gene swapping, synthetic genomes, and precision engineering. We expect some impressive results soon."

"Wow, that sounds incredible. Looks like you're going to make a fortune again. No wonder they call you a genius." Although Patty Hearst tried to appear serious, it's hard to disguise one's true nature; a fool remains a fool, and his personality destined him to never achieve much.

Patty Hearst is famously known as a libertine, radical revolutionary, actor, and writer. Despite his many roles, none have brought him any notable success, leaving him out of the Hearst Corporation, relying solely on the family fortune for a lavish life. It's telling that his niece Amanda has already started to take part in running the Hearst Corporation, highlighting his unreliability.

He doesn't even compare to his own daughter Lydia, who at least knows what suits her, whether as a model, social activist, or fashion designer—she handles each role with grace and competence.

Aware of his true thoughts about Patty, Bruce maintained his composure and casually engaged in conversation, switching topics to the literary style and techniques of Gabriel García Márquez when he grew bored. The writer deftly shifted the conversation to leisure topics, without showing any awkwardness.

Waste of space!

Bruce concluded internally. If he were dealing with Hearst Corporation's helm, Lloyd, or Amanda's father, he might have put in more effort.

 But with Patty, it hardly seemed worth it.

However, his facial expression remained accommodating, even deliberately so: "Patty, my research institute has some really excellent outcomes that aren't available on the market. If you need them, I can arrange for them to be specially prepared for you, guaranteed to be great and absolutely harmless."

Patty Hearst indeed showed an excited smile, his eyes crinkling with joy, clearly thinking of Bruce's famous works. Yet, realizing their respective statuses, he restrained his excitement and casually accepted, unable to completely hide his eagerness.

Bruce also smiled satisfactorily. Although Patty wasn't much use, his status was significant, and he was said to be quite liked by the matriarch of the Hearst family, Yeve Hearst. If he could win her over, Patty could be useful at critical moments.

Americans take their dinners seriously, generally more elaborate, especially when hosting guests.

Sitting at the long dining table, Bruce was next to Lydia, with Amanda and Laura across from him, and Patty Hearst, the so-called head of the family, at the head of the table.

"I propose a toast to welcome Bruce," Patty Hearst said in high spirits, perhaps influenced by some benefits he perceived.

The appetizer was fish soup, and Bruce chose steak for the main course, which was to his liking. Aware that the Hearst family was quietly observing him, he showed no signs of discomfort, faced them openly, and even joined in the conversation with Amanda and Lydia.

Lydia's mother, Laura, couldn't hide her interest in Bruce, and after a few rounds of drinks, she finally couldn't resist asking, "Bruce, you work in biotechnology, right? What they say about Mr. Hawking's research, is that true?"

"Mom!" Lydia interjected with a bit of reproach. "Bruce shouldn't be revealing those things, after all, they involve a lot of secrets."

"Look at this girl, I'll stop asking then," Laura said without getting upset, simply patting her head and laughing in a resigned tone.

"Since it involves Mr. Hawking's secrets and company plans, we really can't disclose them publicly, but talking with you is no problem, as long as it doesn't get out," Bruce reassured, patting Lydia's hand, then openly shared, "We've actually made some progress in treating ALS, there's a good chance we could improve Mr. Hawking's condition, but everything depends on how the next phase of treatment goes."

Everyone immediately showed surprise at his response, even the usually low-key Amanda looked curious. Only the dead can keep a secret, and Bruce was well aware of this. However, since he had spoken, it indicated he didn't mind too much, as occasional leaks would only further pique public and media curiosity, keeping the topic hot and building momentum until it bursts.

"That's absolutely shocking, Bruce, you're a genius. If you can really treat ALS, think of how much pain it would alleviate for sufferers, they should all be thanking you," Amanda Hearst said earnestly, suppressing her astonishment.

"Thank you, Amanda, but I don't care about that. For me, overcoming scientific challenges and unlocking the secrets of life is the most fulfilling," Bruce replied, raising his glass with a smile.

Lydia was very pleased with Bruce's performance at the Hearst home, her slightly anxious heart also eased, seeming that her family didn't particularly reject this playboy.

It must be said, Bruce's articulate conversation and generous bribing played a significant role. Before leaving, he even promised to gift Patty some top-quality cigars. As for Lydia's mother, this woman, well into her fifties but still strikingly elegant, was particularly interested in the body-enhancing biogenetic technologies he described.

"Lydia may be lively, but she's a good girl, Bruce. I hope you won't hurt her," Lydia's cousin Amanda, the most clear-headed of them all, deliberately lingered behind, warning him in a low voice.

A Boston University graduate, Amanda was not only a signed model with IMG agency but also an editor and columnist for several magazines. From her first public appearances, she consistently interacted with celebrities in an unassuming, approachable demeanor, laying a solid foundation for her eventual role in running the Hearst Corporation. Now, as an heir, she's gradually becoming more involved in the company's operations, a perfect blend of intelligence and beauty. At this moment, her words clearly conveyed her meaning.

Bruce's gaze rested on the blonde, blue-eyed, charming beauty, watching her until she showed a hint of discomfort under his scrutiny, then he broke into a smile: "Of course not, Lydia will always be happy."

Chapter 52: Mr. Faraday

Bruce had lied.

Of course, Stephen Hawking wasn't the first to undergo gene replacement at Solar Corona's lab. His treatment was shrouded in secrecy yet still drew public attention.

Another, even earlier, had completed his entire synthetic genome creation and enhancement without any noise.

Under the night skies of Los Angeles, on the bustling Ninth Street in the commercial district.

Calder French, dressed in a plain t-shirt and shorts, walked the street like anyone else, though his posture seemed odd and his expression was wooden, devoid of any spark of life.

In fact, it was no longer quite accurate to call him Calder French. The once-prominent medical researcher had changed beyond recognition—not only had his build become much larger, his facial features had altered drastically too, with pronounced cheekbones and deeply sunken eyes. Even those who knew him best wouldn't recognize him now.

More critically, he had lost all consciousness and most of his memories, operating purely on instinct.

However, compared to "Experimental Subject Number One," Gilbert preferred to call him Faraday. This wasn't out of denial of his past as a scientist. Rather, it was to prevent those in the core lab from recognizing their former colleague, avoiding the hurt and sorrow that might cause. After remaking Calder, he was named after an eminent scientist, as was customary.

Mr. Faraday, as he was now known, walked aimlessly forward, mechanical in his movements. He was unaware of why he was there, where he was going, or even incapable of pondering such questions.

At that moment, Ninth Street was lively with many pedestrians. Mr. Faraday moved swiftly, always narrowly avoiding collisions with others at the last moment—his extreme dodging drew peculiar glances from the bystanders.

After walking aimlessly for what seemed like ages, a rumbling in Mr. Faraday's stomach signaled hunger. He stopped abruptly, catching a young man off-guard who was engrossed in his smartphone. It was too late to avoid a collision with Faraday's back.

But the anticipated harsh impact didn't occur. Mr. Faraday, as if having eyes on the back of his head, suddenly sidestepped and extended an arm, blocking the young man with a seemingly gentle touch that sent him stumbling back several steps. Luckily, he didn't fall, thanks to bumping into another pedestrian.

"Hey! What's your problem?" the young man shouted, standing straight and flushing with anger at Mr. Faraday, who simply gave him his back, ignoring the outcry.

After pushing away the unexpected intruder, Mr. Faraday seemed to feel the threat was over and turned back, peering through the large glass windows at a packed fast-food restaurant.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

The young man, feeling ignored, grew even angrier, but his actions were futile as Mr. Faraday continued to stare motionlessly at the inside of the fast-food restaurant.

Cheap, hearty, and convenient—these were reasons why fast food was popular in the less affluent areas of South Los Angeles.

Before Mr. Faraday was Dan's Charbroiled Burgers, a sizable joint bustling with about sixty or seventy people. A shiny neon sign hung over the door featuring a chubby caricature, likely of the fast-food owner. Despite its tackiness, the red and white sign was undoubtedly eye-catching.

Mr. Faraday watched for a long time, noticing that most people inside were engaged in the same activity: chewing.

Chewing on various kinds of food, mainly burgers and wraps, he suddenly felt as though he too had once performed such actions, even smelling the familiar aroma. Reflexively, his throat moved as he stepped towards the restaurant.

"SHIT!"

The young man cursed a few times, seeing the other enter the restaurant without response, and could only shake his head in resignation. He was just a skinny nerd, no match for the strange, imposing figure of Mr. Faraday. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to leave, a decision he would find the next day to be the wisest of his life.

Mr. Faraday had barely stepped inside when a cheerful waitress approached him, standing by an empty table.

The plump, blonde waitress, Katie, put down her tray and smiled sweetly, "Sir, what would you like to eat?"

Mr. Faraday stared at her blankly, unresponsive.

"Sir, what can I get you? Our food is really good here," Katie repeated, thinking he hadn't heard her the first time.

This time, Mr. Faraday reacted; he turned his head and his gaze fell on a large man at the next table, who was devouring a big burger, juice dripping from his mouth.

"That's a bacon chicken burger, would you like one?" Katie followed his gaze to the man enjoying his meal, and asked.

Mr. Faraday nodded subconsciously.

"Alright, sir, please take a seat. I'll be right back," Katie smiled

 again and turned to head to the kitchen, thinking to herself that he must be a mute.

The fast-food restaurant was highly efficient. Two minutes later, Katie returned, having greeted other customers along the way and taken their requests. Despite the busy atmosphere, she managed to respond to everyone, which delayed her slightly.

When she returned to Mr. Faraday, she paused—the man had maintained exactly the same pose as when she left, expressionless and standing there, not having taken a seat.

This guy is really strange, Katie thought, placing the tray with the burger on the table in front of Mr. Faraday.

"Here's your bacon chicken burger, that's $9, thank you," Katie took back the tray and continued in her sweet voice. "If you need a drink, we have coke and coffee for just $2, and refills are available."

Mr. Faraday lowered his head, grabbed the large burger with his hand, and stuffed it into his mouth, which seemed to stretch to its limits. His jaws moved rapidly, and soon bits of lettuce and cheese flew everywhere.

"$9, sir."

Katie stepped back, shocked by his exaggerated eating manner, a flicker of disgust crossing her face. This strange mute was indeed rude. Yet, she didn't show her displeasure and added, perhaps he hadn't heard her again, thinking maybe he was hard of hearing.

But Mr. Faraday continued to chew on the burger in his mouth, apparently about to finish it in seconds.

Despite the area being mostly inhabited by ordinary folk and the poor, none were as outrageous as this man—at least some hygiene was expected.

Katie began to scrutinize this middle-aged man, feeling something was off. He was dressed in ordinary short-sleeve t-shirts, shorts, and sneakers, with only a couple of saggy pockets in his shorts, which didn't look like they could hold much.

Surely he's not some lunatic here for a free meal...