Loop

The hum of quiet excitement filled the lounge at The Villain’s Lair. This wasn’t a space that often played host to casual gatherings. Usually, the multidisciplinary research teams worked in near silence, their focus unbroken by outside noise. Today, though, a small crowd had gathered in front of the screen, watching a rare news broadcast.

It was unusual for anyone on the island to watch the news. Most preferred to avoid the relentless fearmongering and propaganda. But this morning was different.

“…and for the first time in its history, the Synapse Prize for Neurochemical Research has been awarded to a scientist working outside traditional institutional systems,” the reporter announced.

The room erupted into applause and good-natured jeers when the screen shifted to show Dr. Mira Ellison, standing at a podium in her signature leather pants and a white lab coat. She looked both utterly professional and completely irreverent, exactly as they’d expect.

“Sometimes, innovation means stepping outside of the boundaries set for you,” Mira began, her voice steady and commanding. “Sometimes, it means ignoring rules entirely. That’s what we do on the island—well, when we’re not having coffee arguments with Marcus.”

The room dissolved into laughter.

Marcus, leaning casually against the wall, held up a tray of steaming mugs as if to punctuate Mira’s remark.

“Coffee arguments are foundational,” he said with a grin.

Someone shouted, “To Mira!”

“To Mira!” the rest chorused.

The celebration continued, drinks raised in tribute. But as the screen shifted back to the newsroom, a new headline wiped the smile from Marcus’s face: “Overdose Epidemic Worsens: Loop Claims More Lives.”

The image changed to an aerial view of a grimy alleyway lined with paramedics loading limp figures onto stretchers.

“In other news,” the reporter said, “authorities are reporting a dramatic rise in overdose deaths attributed to a powerful synthetic drug called Loop. Designed to induce prolonged euphoria and mental clarity, it has quickly become devastatingly addictive. Tragically, the homeless population has been hit hardest…”

Before she could finish, Marcus stepped forward, set down the coffee tray, and clicked the TV off.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” he said with forced brightness. “This is Mira’s day. No gloom and doom, okay?”

The room was quiet for a moment. Then someone held up their drink. “To Mira!” they shouted again, and the rest joined in, though their enthusiasm was muted now.

Marcus picked up the tray and started weaving through the crowd, handing out mugs. He never arrived at any room on the island empty-handed, especially when someone needed help. Somehow, without fail, he showed up just in time—always with fresh coffee.

Later, Marcus found himself back in the small kitchenette, rinsing mugs and cleaning up. He had come to the island as a chemist, though it had been years since he’d worked on a project of his own. His own research had been competent but unremarkable. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that his real value lay elsewhere.

He became the assistant to everyone, a perpetual second pair of hands or an easy ear to bounce ideas off. People said strange things happened when Marcus was around: sudden insights, unexpected solutions, breakthroughs seemingly born from nowhere. It wasn’t his knowledge or expertise that made him valuable—it was his presence, his energy. The scientists on the island had started to treat his visits like good omens.

“Marcus Magic,” they called it jokingly. And yet, no one doubted it.

“Hey,” a voice interrupted.

Lily, one of the physicists, stood in the doorway. She leaned against the frame, studying him as he cleaned up.

“You skipped the second round of toasts,” she said lightly.

“I figured I’d let Mira have her moment without me getting in the way,” Marcus said. “Besides, someone had to make sure there’s coffee when this crowd sobers up.”

“Uh-huh.” She stepped inside, her tone shifting. “So… Loop, huh?”

Marcus stiffened for a moment before recovering his easy, affable demeanor. “It’s always something,” he said. “Every time there’s a breakthrough like Mira’s, society comes up with something just as ugly to counter it. Gotta balance the scale, I guess.”

She crossed her arms. “Do you really think it’s that simple?”

“No,” he admitted, rinsing the last mug. “But simple is all I’ve got right now.”

She hesitated, then asked, “You turned off the TV for us, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because today isn’t about that. Today’s about Mira, about the stuff we’re doing here. The world’s broken, sure, but we’ve got the best minds on this island. They’ll figure it out eventually—after their coffee.”

Lily didn’t answer right away. Then she nodded. “You know, Marcus,” she said quietly, “you’re right. But don’t think you’re off the hook. We’ll talk about this again.”

He gave her an easy smile. “Looking forward to it.”

As Lily walked away, Marcus sighed, leaning against the counter. There was always something to fix, some new crisis that demanded attention. But for now, his job was simpler: to keep people going. To keep the coffee brewing, and the breakthroughs flowing.

The lab buzzed with the familiar sounds of activity—keyboards clicking, machinery humming, and Lily’s muttered curses directed at a finicky piece of equipment. The walls were plastered with equations, rough sketches of mechanisms, and pinned-up research papers. Marcus walked in with his signature tray of steaming coffee mugs, a bright contrast to the sterile intensity of the lab.

“Delivery!” he called out, as if he were just another cheerful barista.

Lily spun her chair toward him, rubbing her temples. “You’re a lifesaver. I’ve been stuck in a feedback loop all morning.”

“Don’t you physics types like loops?” Marcus asked, setting a mug down on her workbench with a grin.

Lily glared at him but didn’t bother to retort. She grabbed the coffee and took a long sip. “Ah, Marcus magic.” She sighed and gave him a sidelong glance. “Speaking of, you’ve got pretty good timing, as usual.”

“I aim to please,” Marcus said, leaning against the bench. “So, what are you working on?”

Her expression shifted at the question. She gestured toward the holographic diagram hovering above her workstation—a complex molecular structure slowly spinning in three dimensions.

“It’s about Loop,” she said, her tone cautious.

Marcus blinked, then chuckled nervously. “That’s, uh, outside our jurisdiction, don’t you think?”

Lily tilted her head, studying him over the rim of her coffee mug. “Maybe. But it’s been bothering me since that news segment this morning. Especially with the way you…” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing as if trying to focus on a thought that kept slipping away.

Marcus held up his hands defensively. “I just didn’t want to ruin Mira’s big day.”

“Uh-huh,” she muttered, squinting at him. “You’re not normally so… tense.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Lily—”

She raised a hand to cut him off, staring hard at him now. Then her expression sharpened like a blade. “Wait.”

Marcus froze.

Her voice was quiet but firm, each word a pinpoint strike. “You’re involved, aren’t you? With Loop?”

The room felt heavier suddenly, the distant hum of machinery turning oppressive in the silence that followed. Marcus opened his mouth, searching for a dismissal, an excuse—anything—but Lily leaned forward, cutting him off.

“Don’t lie to me, Marcus. Is this why you’re always showing up with coffee right before we have breakthroughs? Why every lab has breakthroughs when you’re around?”

Marcus exhaled and scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s complicated, Lily.”

“Then uncomplicate it,” she snapped.

For a moment, he considered deflecting again. But this was Lily. She wasn’t going to let it go, and honestly, she deserved the truth.

“Okay,” he said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “Yeah. I’m involved. But it’s not what you think.”

“Then start explaining.”

Marcus took a deep breath. “It started years ago, when I first got here. Back when I was still trying to keep up with everyone else. You remember? My own work wasn’t groundbreaking, not like you guys. I got frustrated, felt like I wasn’t good enough. Then I stumbled across an idea—a little chemistry experiment. Something to… heighten curiosity.”

“Curiosity,” Lily echoed, her tone flat.

“And remove assumptions,” Marcus said quickly. “It helps people see past their preconceptions, look at problems from completely fresh angles. It’s like taking a crowbar to mental roadblocks.”

Lily frowned. “That’s… not a terrible concept. But what does this have to do with Loop?”

Marcus hesitated. “The compound has a side effect. Short-term amnesia.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Just a little,” Marcus said, holding up his hands. “Enough that you lose track of the false assumptions. You stay curious, intuitive—but forget the rigid framework you were stuck in.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You’re dosing us, aren’t you? Through the coffee.”

“…Yes.”

Lily’s voice rose. “Marcus, are you serious? You’ve been drugging us?”

“It’s not like that!” he protested. “You’ve seen the results, Lily. The breakthroughs. It works. It’s not dangerous if you don’t overdo it.”

Lily’s grip on her mug tightened. “And Loop?”

Marcus swallowed. “The compound I use…it got picked up by another lab. They refined it, mass-produced it. They started calling it Loop on the street. I didn’t even know about it until the overdoses started showing up in the news.”

Lily’s expression darkened.

“The problem is,” Marcus continued, “Loop’s users don’t know what it does. They take it, get curious, then forget they already took it. They just keep dosing themselves over and over until…”

“Until their bodies give out,” Lily finished coldly.

Marcus nodded, guilt weighing down his shoulders. “It’s a mess, Lily. I never meant for this to happen. I thought I was just helping people here—people like you. And it does help. But out there? It’s a disaster.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then she set her mug down deliberately.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You made a drug to trick us into having breakthrough ideas, which does work, but now it’s killing people because it was taken out of your control?”

“Pretty much.”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “You’re lucky you’re good at making coffee.”

Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. “I’m going to fix it, Lily. I have to. But I can’t do it alone.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Damn right you can’t. I’ll help—but we’re doing this my way. No shortcuts, no more games.”

“Deal,” Marcus said, relief washing over him.

The faintest flicker of hope sparked inside him. He’d started this mess—but maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t entirely alone in cleaning it up.