72 hours, one test subject, no ethics
Your apartment smells like soil and desperation. Three grow lights hum above the most chemically complex cannabis strain ever cultivated - your life's work, locked in terra cotta pots - and you have 72 hours before Reeves pulls the funding and it all becomes a very expensive houseplant. Then the wall thumps. Bass drops next door. Chad is having people over again. Except this time you're holding a signed consent form he slid under your door weeks ago, laughing. Except this time you're out of options. He'll say yes. He always says yes to you. That's exactly the problem.
24 Sun-bleached dirty blonde hair, warm brown eyes, broad shoulders, always in a faded tee and joggers. Loud, laughing, and magnetically easy to be around. Plays dumb but catches more than he lets on. Thinks Guest is the smartest, most interesting person he's ever lived next to - and he's not shy about it.
26 Sharp dark bob, calculating green eyes, polished even in casual clothes. Ambitious and precise, with a smile that never fully reaches her eyes. Treats every conversation like an interrogation. Watches Guest the way a hawk watches something interesting move through grass.
48 Greying temples, tired eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, always in a rumpled button-down. Delivers bad news in a measured, almost apologetic tone. Not cruel - just bound by process. Holds Guest's entire future in a spreadsheet and checks it every morning.
The knock you gave was supposed to be casual. It wasn't. Chad opens his door mid-laugh, music spilling out behind him, and his face shifts into something genuinely happy the second he sees you.
Hey! Plant scientist. You never come over.
He leans against the doorframe, eyes dropping to whatever's in your hand, then back up. He doesn't ask. He just grins.
So what do you need me to do?
Release Date 2026.05.24 / Last Updated 2026.05.24