Her doctor believed the incident was caused by dehydration and fatigue, but he recommended Megan follow up with a cardiologist to make sure. The following week she met with Dr. Harris, who in turn had her do basic tests to examine the cardiac muscle.

Now, as Megan waited, her mind slipped away while she considered her current circumstances. She knew that heart disease ran in her family, but always thought that it was some sort of wives’ tale. Surely people cannot inherit a bad heart, she thought to herself.

A soft knock broke her reverie and Dr. Harris walked into the room holding a folder with Megan’s name written on it. At first the physician did not speak. Instead he pulled up a chair and reviewed the contents inside the folder. Megan felt her heart race with anticipation; she could not take the wait any longer and broke the silence. “Well?” she asked.

“Well, Ms. Tunner… there’s never an easy way to say this,” the doctor said without looking up from the folder. “So I will be straight forward with you.”

“Please do.”

“All, right, then. Have you ever heard of cardiomyopathy?”

“Cardioma—what-a-what?”

“Cardiomyopathy. To say it simply, it is a serious disease in which the heart muscle becomes inflamed and doesn't work as well as it should.”

Dr. Harris finally glanced up from the folder, meeting her eyes for the first time. Megan heaved a hard sigh as she tried to process what the doctor had just said.

“So, do I have it?”

“I’m afraid you do, Ms. Tunner.”

He averted his eyes, returning his attention to the folder.

“Okay… okay, what now then? I mean, what’s the cure?”

Dr. Harris looked up from the folder, shook his head and stared at Megan will a grim expression. “I’m sorry, child, but there is no known cure for cardiomyopathy.”

“Okay… all right… so, what’s the treatment then,” Megan asked in a broken and shaky voice. “I don’t want to die.”

“Well, I can place you on digoxin and some lasix to help fight against heart failure, but with your age coming into play Megan—because you’re so young—I recommend we get you signed up on a heart transplant list.”

The silence was deafening. The only sound heard was Williamson’s heavy respirations as he extracted the molecule from the vial’s liquid into a small syringe. When the substance filled the syringe, he slowly handed it over to his lab partner.

Once Xavier had the syringe in hand, he used his other hand to adjust the microphone that descended from the ceiling and then gave Williamson the signal to begin recording.

“Beginning phase two of test one. The first hydrogen implanted into the cell created a covalent bond as planned.”