The Evolution of Genius: Every Night, I Get Smarter!

Entering the laboratory, I noticed that the walls were a mix of sleek metallic surfaces and glass panels, revealing intricate machinery and instruments.

Shelves made of polished metal held an array of herbs and chemicals, neatly organized in labeled containers.

The air was filled with the distinct scent of various compounds.

The laboratory was divided into different sections, each dedicated to a specific aspect of drug synthesis.

My eyes were drawn to a state-of-the-art gas chromatograph-mass spectrometer, quietly humming in one corner.

Nearby, an automated liquid handling system stood ready, equipped with syringes and vials, indicating a meticulous approach to drug synthesis.

High-tech apparatus, glass beakers, and tubes adorned the countertops.

Adjacent to the high-tech apparatus, a sophisticated rotary evaporator stood. Its precisely controlled rotation and vacuum system spoke of efficient distillation processes, essential for purifying substances.

The bubbling sounds emanating from a series of advanced reflux condensers suggested that the process was ongoing.

As I explored the laboratory further, I couldn’t help but marvel at the complexity of the setup.

Clearly, the original Maximilian had access to cutting-edge equipment and resources, making this operation highly sophisticated.

Suddenly, his mom walked in and gave me a serious look. "What are you doing here at this time of the day?" she asked.

I tried to come up with a reason and said, "I was just thinking about how to make things even better."

She raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh! You’ve got more ideas?"

I nodded and replied, "Yes. But I’ll need a couple more substances to make it happen."

My mom sighed and said, "Today there will be a delivery, so there’s no time to change the products. Maybe next time we can mention something." I

wasn’t sure who was making these deliveries. Was it connected to my father? Was he still around, or maybe he was dead? Was the mom secretly the boss of this whole thing? So many questions.

I glanced around the lab, noting all the products on display.

I recognized almost all of them.

After taking mental notes of everything, I decided to leave the laboratory and head back upstairs to my room.

I entered the room, pondering how people made notes in this world. I hadn’t spotted any pens or pencils around.

But as soon as I took a seat in front of the holographic display, my questions were answered.

The display brightened up, revealing numerous small icons.

I wondered how to use it, and as I instinctively reached my hands forward, the icon I had been looking at lit up.

To my surprise, a notes-like app opened.

Was it controlled by my thoughts?

I was about to start typing in the names of the compounds, contemplating if merely thinking about them would be sufficient.

However, a sudden realization struck me – if this technology existed, couldn’t the government spy on whatever people wrote on their devices?

The idea made me uneasy, and I hesitated, reevaluating my plan.

Opting for caution, I moved away from the holographic screen and chose to just sit on the bed instead as I began thinking.

My thoughts swirled around the idea of enhancing the drugs.

It occurred to me that a surefire way to make them more addictive was by incorporating a high dose of dopamine and accelerating the reaction within the organism.

I mused on the reason why drugs directly delivered into the bloodstream tended to be more addictive – the rapid impact on the brain’s reward system.

To take it a step further, I contemplated adding a component that would temporarily boost neural activity, intensifying the overall experience.

A ring on the door abruptly stopped me in my tracks while I was deep in thinking.

My mother swiftly called out, "I will open!"

From the corner of my eye, I noticed a man who looked nearly skeleton while wearing the popular black-and-white clothes.

Stepping through the threshold, he was silent and imposing.

My mother hurriedly ascended the stairs and returned with a black bag, presumably filled with the pills.

She handed it to the man silently and without saying a single word, he departed.

This mysterious figure was likely a dealer, and the exchange spoke volumes without the need for words.

A moment later, the woman called me, "Maxi! Come, eat something..."

I stood up, made my way into the kitchen, and took a seat at the table.

The food... wasn’t exactly appealing.

Mousses seemed to be the main course. A piece of dry meat accompanied by an orange and green mousse lay before me.

With a hint of hesitation, I decided to taste it. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad.

After spending some time in my room, another ring echoed through the house. This time, as my mother opened the door, she exclaimed, "Maxi! Help us."

I got up and went outside with her, to find a lorry that had been parked on a sidewalk.

The man standing beside it seemed like an ordinary truck driver, but the contents within were far from average.

Everything was strategically packed to avoid suspicion, but it was clear that vast quantities of different compounds filled the interior.

Methodically, we began moving the containers one by one into the empty part of the basement.

The man paused at the door once everything was inside and asked my mother, "Next time... same thing?"

She responded, "Actually... my son had something on his mind."

Both of them turned to look at me, and I said, "Yes... Is it possible to get powdered domaine, Cytochrome P450, and polysorbate 80 or sodium lauryl sulfate?"

The man regarded me with a puzzled expression, asking, "Can you repeat? I need to remember this; I’m not gonna be writing it down anywhere."

So, I repeated the list a couple more times.

After the man drove away, my mother said, "Okay. Let’s make some of the blue ones."

I followed her into the basement where she began opening boxes, revealing neatly closed bags of powder and herbs.

This would be my first time making drugs, but luckily, I was familiar with the use of all the equipment.

Inside the lab, the mother and I took safety precautions.

By putting on special masks and blue protective clothes, we made the area super clean.

I worked efficiently, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that my mother might notice something was off with me.

We began the intricate process of creating the blue pills. I carefully moved compounds between various pieces of equipment.

Precise amounts of the powdered compounds. The distinct scent of each substance filled the air as I delicately transferred them into a glass beaker.

The color, however, wasn’t the vibrant blue; that came later.

We introduced a colorizer, a small vial containing a vivid blue liquid.

As it blended with the other compounds, the iconic shade of blue showed up.

The concoction then underwent a distillation process.

I observed the careful separation of components as they vaporized, condensed, and collected.

With precision, I transferred the finished liquid into small molds, where it solidified into the distinctive blue pills.

After creating over a thousand pills, I went upstairs.

Just when I thought the woman hadn’t noticed anything unusual, she remarked, "You were faster today than usual. Are you on drugs?" She chuckled.

Well, it appeared that my counterpart wasn’t as adept as I had thought.

With the task complete, I retreated to my room and settled in for the night.

As I woke up the next morning, my mother handed me another purse, this time containing even more of the blue pills than the day before.

Now, my focus must shift to expanding this operation.

The small lab beneath our house wasn’t sufficient, and it seemed to be the sole destination for deliveries.

I couldn’t let it end there. I needed those drugs to be produced in the millions.

The next delivery would come in three days. I had to devise a plan to scale up the operation, ensuring that the demand for the drugs could be met on a much larger scale.

Sitting in front of the holographic screen once again, I felt a surge of curiosity. I needed to check something—his bank account.

Was this guy rich? With a few deft movements on the holographic interface, I accessed the financial details, and to my surprise, the man had 29 million LUVR in his bank account.

I had no idea how much that equated to in dollars, but it couldn’t be an inconsequential amount.

Leaving the holographic screen behind, I headed to my car, it looked cheap. Probably to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.

On the way to school, I made a pit stop at a shopping mall, aiming to gauge the local value of money.

The prices seemed to be about twice as high as those on Earth.

It raised an intriguing question—how did he amass such wealth without catching the attention of the government?

Finally, I arrived back at the university. This time, I knew exactly which class I needed to go to.