He needs to improve the device

Beside him, Sheldon sat rigid, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles pale. He glanced sideways at Aiden, eyes wide with fear and awe.

“You and I, meanwhile, we need to talk,” Aiden said, breaking the silence without turning his head.

The rest of the ride passed with only the soft hum of the engine and the uneasy weight of what had just transpired. It wasn’t a long drive—barely five minutes—but to Sheldon, it felt like a lifetime. Like sitting in the back of a limousine while it slowly rolled off a cliff.

Ms. Ramsbottom’s sedan rolled to a smooth stop before the grand stone steps of Westside Academy. She put the car in park and turned around in her seat like an overeager concierge. “Have a splendid day, sir!” she chirped brightly, eyes almost gleaming with cheerful submission.

Aiden tilted his head slightly. He studied her for a moment. Then he leaned back into the car.

“Ms. Ramsbottom, do me a favour,” he said, voice steeped in casual contempt.

The effect was instant. Her grin twitched, faltered. Her brows knitted together slightly, confusion creeping up through her cheerful mask. “Yes, Sir?” she asked cautiously.

“Drive around the block a few times. Pick up some other students you see on the way. Anyone heading to campus. Got it?”

She stared at him blankly for a second. The command, wrapped in logic and laced with the authority of the SMPD, settled into her. She nodded.

“Uh, sure, Sir.” she said softly. Her tone was confused, unsure, but her hands moved without hesitation—ignition, gear shift, gas. The car rolled forward again, merging into traffic.

“Sheldon,” Aiden said, his eyes never leaving the rear of the retreating car, “you are sure she’ll forget all about it once she parks the car, yes?”

Sheldon was still frozen. “That’s... that’s how it should work, yes,” he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then there’s no problem. She’s the dean. If she’s a little late to work, who’s going to question her? Meanwhile, if someone saw us getting into her car, it’ll look like nothing. A ride. Nothing suspicious. We’re just covering our tracks. Besides... this is fun.”

“Fun?” Sheldon whispered, aghast.

But Aiden was already walking away.

Back on the street, Ms. Ramsbottom drove slowly, almost robotically. She waved at students on sidewalks with mechanical warmth, smiling as she pulled over and gestured for them to get in. “Come along now, don’t be late!” she called out, her voice syrupy and cheerful, though her eyes looked oddly vacant.

Aiden reached the top of the stairs and paused, the old stone archway of the academy looming over him. Today, he would be different. Today, the rules weren’t just bendable—they were irrelevant.

“Sheldon,” he said, stopping just short of the doors. “Today’s the day we change things.”

Sheldon swallowed. “I don’t know, Aiden. You’ve gotten into trouble before—”

Aiden turned, eyes sharp. “And what happened every time we didn’t push? You got walked over. Bullied. Mocked. Ignored.”

His voice dropped, just for Sheldon. “But now... we have this.”

He tapped the side of his temple near the SMPD device.

“We can make things happen. Control conversations. Roles. Minds. Don’t you want to be part of that?”

Sheldon didn’t answer. Not because he disagreed—but because some part of him, deep down, did want it. And that terrified him.

Sheldon sighed, the air thick with unease, the weight of Aiden’s presence pressing into his shoulders more than the words themselves. The device hadn’t just rewired Ms. Ramsbottom—it had started to rewire everything. Authority, morality, consequences. They were bending. And they both could feel it.

“I guess… but I don’t want to get in trouble” Sheldon muttered, half to himself.

Aiden clapped him on the back, masking his own impatience under a broad, reassuring grin. “Trust me, Sheldon. This time is different. Just stick with me. You’re not the bottom of the food chain anymore—we’re writing the menu.”

Reluctantly, Sheldon nodded. He didn’t believe it. Not really. But resisting felt pointless now. The two of them walked in tandem across the hallway, the chatter of students around them growing fainter as they ascended the narrow staircase leading to the long-forgotten abandoned physics lab on the fourth floor.

The room greeted them with the smell of dust, the air stale like the past had never quite left. Cracked tiles, yellowed posters of Isaac Newton and electric circuits curling off the wall, and a single desk lamp casting a pool of light over their workstation—a mess of wires, circuits, and the humming cradle of the prototype SMPD.

Aiden grabbed Sheldon’s collar and spoke to him using the SMPD, “improve this device for me, do nothing else, am I understood?” Sheldon nodded as Aiden took off the headset and placed it in his hand.

Aiden dropped to the ground cross-legged, spreading out a notebook littered with obsessive scribbles and erratic diagrams. Sheldon hovered over the central table, his glasses catching the glow of the screen as he adjusted the internals of the device.

“Okay, Sheldon,” Aiden began, leaning forward. “Let’s go over this. I want it to be faster. Cleaner. No hesitation. If I give a command, it should hit like an instinct—before they can even question it.”

Sheldon adjusted a dial, chewing the inside of his cheek. “We could amplify the neural resonance. That’d help with speed. If we fine-tune the frequency modulation and increase the signal’s intensity, it might reach the subconscious faster and root deeper. Like... reflexes.”

Aiden nodded. “Good. And the suggestions? I don’t want them sounding like ideas. I want them sounding like truths. Reality. Can we put that into the signal?”

“That’s going to need a feedback loop,” Sheldon mumbled, already halfway into a solution. “Something that watches how the subject’s brain reacts in real time. If the SMPD detects resistance or confusion, it can boost intensity or adjust tone mid-command. Make it feel... inevitable.”

Aiden smirked. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

Sheldon worked in silence after that, broken only by the soft whir of a fan and the occasional muttered curse as he soldered something too fast or dropped a component. They even tested it on a **** lab rat from a disused biology supply cabinet. The tiny animal twitched and froze in place every time the signal was activated. Sheldon told Aiden how he’d tested early prototypes on the rat.

Midway through their tinkering, Aiden drifted toward the window. Across the campus courtyard, he spotted Ms. Ramsbottom stepping through the gates. Her walk was stiff, her eyes scanning the students like she’d misplaced something. Maybe her morning. Maybe her dignity. Her hands absently smoothed down the front of her blazer—the one she believed she shouldn’t have been wearing some time ago.

Sheldon adjusted the final dial. “There,” he said quietly, holding the device up. “I think we’ve made real progress. The neural interface is more responsive. And the command suggestions—they should hit harder. Cleaner.”

Aiden’s grin widened as he took the device from him. “Beautiful.”

Then he looked at Sheldon, and his smile shifted—less amused, more... loaded.

“Make sure nobody knows about this, would you? Wouldn’t bode well for you.”

The moment lingered.

Sheldon’s body moved before his brain could argue. He nodded, almost mechanically. “Yeah… of course.”

But inside, a flicker of defiance sparked. “If this is going to stop, it has to be me. Somehow”, he thought to himself.

Aiden tucked the upgraded SMPD into his bag and walked out.