(4 days before the switch)
Location: Outskirts of San Francisco, California, world of Earth.
Alex returned with Thomas. "We found something interesting." He gestured toward a smaller, separate building adjacent to the main factory. "The old on-site lab. It's still mostly intact, though anything of significant value has been removed."
Vivian's eyes widened. A lab. That could provide even more information on how the arsonists operate. "Why would vandals leave a lab like that alone?" Her gaze then shifted to one of mischief. "If I was a teenager with access to a full-size lab, I'd go nuts experimenting with everything I could get my hands on. Ben would have had to drag me out of there."
"Perhaps it wasn't considered valuable, or it was simply too much of a hassle to strip clean," Alex mused. "Or perhaps, like this factory, it was meant to be reacquired someday. Either way, it's there," he added dryly. "Thomas, Jae, let's head to the lab first."
Thomas and Jae, who had been maintaining a discreet distance, moved to join them. Together, the four approached the smaller building. Unlike the main factory loading bay gates, the lab door was secured with a heavy, rusted padlock. Alex's key did not have the strength to turn the corroded mechanism, but the lock was easily bypassed by a swift, powerful kick from Jae after receiving a nod of approval from her boss.
Inside, the lab was a tableau of industrial decay. Benches lined the walls, scarred with old chemical stains. Broken glassware lay scattered on the floor, glittering like shattered jewels in the faint light filtering through grimy windows. The air was thick with the lingering scent of stale chemicals and dust. Vivian checked everyone's masks again to ensure they were properly sealed.
"An on-site textile lab," Alex began, gesturing around the room. "These were crucial for quality control and product development. Here, they'd test everything from fiber strength and dye fastness to fabric shrinkage and flame resistance. They analyzed raw materials, ensured consistency in the dyeing process, and even developed new blends or finishes. They designed tests for tensile strength, using machines to pull fabric until it breaks; colorfastness, to see if dyes bleed or fade; or even flammability tests, where small samples are exposed to flame to measure burn rates." He paused, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "They were always looking for ways to make the textiles more durable, more resistant to... well, everything."
Vivian nodded, already moving through the lab, her eyes scanning the shelves and benches. This was her element. She pulled a fresh pair of nitrile gloves from her kit. "And they would have used a variety of chemicals for those tests, for dyeing, for finishing processes." Her flashlight beam danced across the surfaces, illuminating faint residues, discolored patches, and the ghostly outlines where containers once sat.
"Here," she pointed to a stained section of a workbench. "Looks like traces of sodium hydroxide, commonly known as caustic soda. It's used to strengthen cotton fibers and improve dye uptake. It is highly corrosive, and if mixed with certain organic materials, can generate significant heat."
She moved to another area, her light catching a faint, crystalline residue. "And this could be sodium carbonate, or soda ash, used in dyeing as a pH regulator to fix dyes to fabric. Relatively harmless on its own, but in combination with other chemicals, it can have very different reactions."
She picked up and turned over a broken tool in her hand, her gaze sharp, analytical. "This is another striker, but it makes more sense that it would be in the lab. And it's also broken."
Then her gaze fell upon a series of small, rusted metal trays. "The discoloration on and around these trays is likely from hydrogen peroxide. It is used for bleaching textiles, but it is also a strong oxidizer. In high concentrations, especially if contaminated, it can become unstable and contribute to rapid combustion—though it is difficult to control."
As she looked closer at the trays, rather than the rust, her eye was drawn to what had settled in the very corners—a fine, silvery dust that entirely lacked the dull look of oxidation.
Vivian leaned in, her flashlight beam narrowing. "This residue..." She reached out with a gloved finger. As her digit approached, the dust seemed to shiver, arranging itself into tiny, sharp geometric patterns, almost like iron filings reacting to a magnet. Yet, there was no magnet present.
"That's odd," she murmured. "Is it reacting to the static charge of the glove? No, that's not right. It's almost... vibrating."
She pulled a small swab from her kit. "I've never seen an industrial byproduct move like that. It looks metallic, but the structure is..." She hesitated. "It looks like it's trying to form a lattice."
"Let me see that," Alex said. His voice was sudden, entirely stripped of its casual charm. He stepped closer, crowding her space, his eyes locked on the tray. "It's probably just a conductive alloy," he said quickly—too quickly. "My mother was experimenting with conductive threads for heated garments. Primitive smart-fabrics."
Vivian looked at him. "Smart fabrics don't self-organize at a molecular level, Alex. And they don't vibrate." She could barely hear it, but a faint, high-pitched resonance was emitting from the dust, like a tuning fork vibrating at the very edge of hearing. "You can't hear it humming?"
Alex looked at her face. "You hear… humming?"
"You don't?" Vivian asked as she moved to bag the sample. "I need to get this to the lab. If they were using experimental alloys, it might explain the heat intensity."
Alex's hand shot out, catching her wrist. Though devoid of aggression, his grip was undeniably firm.
"Vivian," he said, his voice dropping to that confidential, persuasive tone he wielded so well. "If that is a proprietary alloy my parents developed, it constitutes intellectual property. It belongs to GIG." He gently took the swab from her hand.
"You don't think it will be safe in police custody," Vivian stated, already anticipating his reasoning.
Alex nodded. "I simply cannot risk someone stealing it and reverse-engineering it. May I?" He gestured toward the evidence bag Vivian was holding. "I will have my private lab analyze this one. I'll share the results, of course. However, I hope you understand that I have to protect what is left of my parents' legacy."
Vivian searched Alex's face. The logic held up—corporate espionage was a real threat—but his reaction felt incredibly visceral. Intimate. Is he genuinely just protecting a patent? Regardless, she could understand the fierce desire to protect a family's memory.
"Fine," she said slowly, watching him pocket the swab. "Please ask your lab to provide a full breakdown, no matter how unimportant it may seem. And Alex?" She had one more thing to add. "If I suspect these results have been falsified, I will fight to have the sample seized for our own analysis."
"I would expect nothing less," Alex said, the charm sliding back into place like a well-worn mask. Instead of meeting her gaze, his attention remained fixed on the exact spot where Vivian had removed the dust. He pulled a piece of cloth from his other pocket, carefully wiping the tray to collect any possible traces of the residue, inspecting the area to ensure it was completely clean.
Vivian made a mental note of his extreme thoroughness, then crouched to examine a section of the concrete floor beneath a heavily corroded pipe. "And this dark, almost greasy stain... possibly a sulfuric acid reaction. The factory probably used it to remove impurities from wool, or as a catalyst in finishing processes. It's extremely corrosive, and highly exothermic when mixed with water. It can create a massive, destructive impact."
She continued her meticulous search, documenting every observation while explaining her process out loud for the others. "The presence of these specific residues, combined with the types of damage we're seeing in the main factory, suggests a sophisticated understanding of industrial chemistry. If there were little or none left here, then they may have been using the very chemicals common to textile production, but manipulating them for destructive purposes."
Alex listened as Vivian explained the things she was seeing and what they could mean. At the same time, a wave of nostalgia washed over him as he thought back to asking his mother, who led the lab team, about various processes and paraphernalia. In the back of the lab was a singular window pane that looked into an office. Alex could still picture his father taking occasional breaks from work just to watch his wife absorbed in her experiments.
"They made a really good team," Alex said, his voice so soft it was barely audible.
Vivian noted his expression. It seemed so genuine and warm, a stark contrast to the mask of charm he typically kept on display. "Did you remember something, Alex?" Vivian asked gently, not wanting to jar him out of his thoughts abruptly.
Alex looked back at her, regaining his composure, though the memories still played openly on his face. "Too much. But I don't think most of it is useful," Alex said, looking almost embarrassed as he gave a soft chuckle.
Then Alex paused, as if an important detail had suddenly flashed before him. "Oh. I remember doing a walkthrough right after I offered to buy the factory back. I wasn't looking for anything specific, but I am entirely sure the burn sites weren't there. My property inspector would have noted any damage, including fire, before the sale was final. I can look back over the report just in case."
Vivian nodded. "When did you reacquire it?"
A small smile appeared at the corner of his lips as he came to a sudden realization. "It was not quite three years ago." He looked directly into Vivian's eyes with a hint of admiration. "Your test-site theory and timeline seem even more plausible now, don't they?"
"Even more so because the fire fuel—the wood pallets, random furniture, etc.—was brought here from the outside. It wasn't here when you walked through after purchase, right?"
Alex nodded. "The only things still on the main factory floor were things bolted or directly attached to the building. And those things were metal," Alex shared.
Vivian took some additional notes on her phone. She then walked over to where Alex was and looked through the window into his father's old office. "Do you think we should look in there next?"
Alex hesitated, then quietly said, "Yeah."