Chapter 1: William Hork

Book of Joshua   Present Day♁

Television Affiliate, Denver, CO, USA

“Dr. Hork, sir, are you ready?” Sarah asked, her voice laced with the quiet tremor of one standing at the edge of history. She was modestly alluring, her eyes bright with the earnest fire of youth, swallowing the rush of adrenaline as she met his gaze. “We’re live in one minute.”

Though this morning’s satellite link to New York was routine in its mechanics, nothing about today felt ordinary. The world watched, breath held collective, for Dr. William Hork’s first words since revealing Regeneration—the breakthrough that promised to duplicate not merely flesh, but the very essence of a being. It fell to Sarah, the young floor manager, to shepherd this moment without flaw.

William’s eyes drifted across the studio, absorbing the controlled chaos. Crew members in headsets moved like shadows, relaying cues; executives in sharp suits clustered in the wings, murmuring with veiled excitement. He sat relaxed in the chrome chair, a beacon of calm amid the storm.

“Yes, my dear,” his voice warm and unhurried, finally settling upon her. “I’m ready.”

“Excellent.” Sarah forced a professional smile, clutching her clipboard tighter, knuckles paling against the plastic. “Just remember the satellite delay—let Cameron finish his questions before responding. We don’t want overlap.”

“Got it.” William inclined his head, sensing her nerves as thunder feels the coming rain. His confidence was a quiet force, easing the room without effort. A loose, regal posture filled the seat; his gaze wandered the set before returning to her with gentle approval. “And Sarah—thank you. This place would fall apart without you.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks; she hugged the clipboard closer, pride blooming within. To be seen, truly seen, by such a man—it lifted her spirit like unexpected grace. “It’s my honor, Dr. Hork. Always a pleasure.”

“Live in twenty!” boomed a voice from the control room.

“Break a leg,” Sarah whispered, retreating from the camera’s eye. She found an awkward spot among the executives, reluctant to part around her. William’s gray beard lifted in a youthful smirk aimed her way—he knew the gift of his attention, and offered it to her freely.

“Five… four…” The cameraman counted down with fingers. Silence fell; monitors flickered to life as First Light returned from break. William’s earpiece hummed with Cameron Jenkins’ polished greeting.

“We welcome back to First Light the renowned biological engineer and Nobel laureate, Dr. William Hork. Good morning, Doctor.”

“Good morning, Cameron. Thanks for having me.”

“Dr. Hork, Regeneration has dominated headlines these past days. Could you summarize your discovery for our audience?”

“Of course. Simply, we’ve unlocked secrets in mammalian DNA, fused with insights from quantum biology, allowing full regeneration of a subject—beyond mere reproduction. A complete duplication, body and essence intact.”

“Cloning, then? But cloning has existed for years, Dr. Hork. What makes your discovery different?”

“Traditional cloning replicates only the physical form—a body with matching traits, but its own unique personality. The new helix, through quantum advancement, captures the original’s memories, emotions, essence. The being itself, reborn.”

Cameron leaned forward, eyes sharpening. “So you’re claiming to replicate a soul?”

William’s brow furrowed faintly, irritation flickering like distant lightning. “I’d avoid ‘soul,’ Cameron. The media has sensationalized this, invoking spirituality to condemn what isn’t yet understood.”

“You just said ‘essence.’ Isn’t that semantics?”

“I suppose you should ask a priest,” William countered evenly. “Science has mastered the body. Now, in theory, we can replicate thought and feeling. The soul—if it exists beyond that—remains beyond our measure.”

“Yet personality shapes who we are. Wouldn’t you concede the soul is intertwined?”

“Would you say a schizophrenic has a tarnished soul?” William’s reversal was resolute. “If personality and soul are the same, then mental illness tarnishes divinity. This is biology, Cameron—not dogma.”

Cameron pressed on, undeterred. “Setting religion aside, aren’t you troubled by the implications? Eternal tyrants, overpopulation, power in ruthless hands—this could endanger humanity more than any weapon.”

A subtle smile touched William’s lips, the look of one who has witnessed empires rise and fall. He straightened, presence filling the feed.

“Every great discovery has carried good and bad. Fire cooks food and burns crosses. Ships carry explorers and conquerors. Regeneration is no different—what if the wisdom of Einstein was still here today, DaVinci’s enlightenment… likewise, all the tyrants we dare not name. Good and evil dwell in us, not the tools. As the saying goes: with great power comes great responsibility.”

He paused, sincerity deepening his tone. “Humanity has developed as a species to start facing such problems, ready or not.”

Cameron shifted, pen tapping. “Some call this Pandora’s box. Who decides who regenerates—the elite alone?”

“I don’t have all the answers,” William admitted. “But progress waits for no one. If we didn’t discover it, another would have—like nuclear fission.”

“Comparing this to the atom bomb is hardly reassuring…”

“You mean the energy powering the lights in this studio?” William replied with sharp wit, then softened. “The Internet connects billions daily, stores the entirety of human knowledge at fingertips—yet it breeds hatred, propaganda. Could you imagine life without it now? Light and shadow always walk together.”

Tension eased; Cameron yielded the moral ridge. “To your knowledge, are others pursuing this?”

William relaxed, a modest gleam in his eye. “I’m sure they are now… Two days ago, this was unthinkable. The helix is quite complex; true application remains distant—lifetimes away, perhaps.”

“How distant for human trials?”

“Far indeed,” William said, the lie smooth as marble. “Like teleportation—a quantum possibility, but not yet reality.”

Cameron glanced at the prompter. “An astonishing leap nonetheless.”

William nodded, sensing the close.

“Thank you, Dr. Hork, for illuminating this profound scientific shift.”

“My pleasure, Cameron.”

“Please come back as research unfolds.” The feed cut; the studio exhaled into motion once more.

“Amazing, Dr. Hork. Truly amazing,” Sarah breathed, her voice trembling with genuine awe as she helped remove his earpiece and microphone. “You explained it so clearly—made Regeneration feel almost… hopeful.”

“Thank you, young Sarah.” William rose, his hand brushing her shoulder in quiet benediction. “Exciting times lie ahead. Don’t fear what you can’t control—embrace it.”

At his touch, energy coursed through her like distant thunder rolling across open plains. Gooseflesh rose; a spark raced her spine, igniting every nerve. Her soft blue eyes lifted to his, curious, lips parting in unspoken wonder. William felt her surrender, and savored the moment’s gentle power.

“Hork!” boomed a voice from across the studio. Wayne Sherman lumbered forward, disheveled suit straining, coffee-stained grin leering. “Good one, buddy! You gave Jenkins a real run for his money!”

William arched a brow, unimpressed by the approaching boor of mediocrity.

“Not my intent, Mr…?”

“Sherman, Wayne Sherman—Executive VP, Midwest.” He thrust out a meaty hand.

“Of course.” William shook it briefly. “Defending Regeneration wasn’t about scoring points. I guess I’m beginning to find the gotcha talking points tiresome.”

“No skin off my ass!” Sherman bellowed, oblivious. “Views through the roof! Money!” He punched William’s shoulder playfully.

William’s eyes rolled toward heaven. “Glad to boost your ad sales…”

“Regen-er-a-tion—sounds like a hell of a deal,” Sherman slurred. “Wouldn’t mind a few more Shermans running around! Just pity the fool still stuck with my wife!” His laugh echoed alone, crude and hollow.

Sarah’s jaw tightened in silent horror. She stepped back, apology in her glance, but William had already turned away.

“So how’s it work?” Sherman pressed. “Semen sample, bake a baby in a robot? Inject my blood into some John Doe?”

“Thank you again for the invitation,” William cut in smoothly. “Sarah’s escorting me back to the dressing room—busy day ahead.”

“Ohhh!” Sherman winked at Sarah, leering up and down. “Full service—guess I should’ve gone into science!”

William froze. His gaze settled on the balding man like snow on a mountaintop. “Pardon? Would you like to try that again?”

Sherman snickered, awaiting camaraderie that never came.

“Anyone with eyes can see Sarah’s beauty; only a schmuck misses what she’s capable of.”

“Take good care of ‘em, sweetheart,” Wayne bobbled toward Sarah. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

“Now listen here, Mr. Sherman!” William stepped closer, finger leveled like a decree. “By my next visit, Sarah runs that control room—or you’ll be out of a job.”

Sherman recoiled, face twisting. “Excuse me?”

“Test me,” William said softly, eyes unyielding. “Just dare and test me.”

The executive huffed, fists clenching, but defiance withered under that steady gaze. No one challenged such quiet thunder.

“Apologize.”

“It’s not needed, Dr. Hork,” Sarah whispered. The studio had fallen silent, every eye fixed.

“Apologize,” William commanded, voice low as an approaching storm.

Sherman scanned the room—no allies. A mediocre career flashing before him. He wiped his mouth. “Ma’am… I’m sorry. Out of line. You’re a fine asset.”

Sarah nodded, voice caught.

“I appreciate the effort,” William was dry. Then, louder to all: “My apologies for the disruption… A bit of humility for all of us. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He turned to Sherman once more. “Don’t forget the control room.”

William’s hand rested lightly on Sarah’s back, guiding her away. They walked in silence before she spoke. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hork…”

“You?” He softened. “It’s not your fault. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

“Embarrass?” A faint laugh escaped. “That man’s vile. Thank you. No one’s ever stood up for me like that.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true. Years of late nights, hard work—yet no respect.” She shook her head, biting her lip against rising shadows.

William halted, meeting her eyes. “Every morning you face the chaos in this studio, yet you rise to it. The world beyond these walls is no different. Respect comes from hard work – sure – but also compassion and wise choices. That man holds a title, yet commands no respect.”

Tears welled; she nodded fiercely.

“You give your all each time I visit,” he continued. “You inspire by never underestimating intelligence and expecting excellence. You’ve earned my respect, Sarah.”

Unable to hold back, she surged forward, arms wrapping tight around him with her face buried in his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, tears dripping like rain from a tin roof.

In his embrace, her doubts dissolved—washed away like impurities in sacred waters. For that moment, his full presence restored her faith in herself.

He gently released her, holding her forearms. “Another successful interview,” he teased lightly.

“Stop…” She wiped tears with her sleeve, a smile breaking through. She led him onward to the dressing room. “Thank you again. The network was thrilled to have you—and so was I.”

William chuckled. “As long as I made your day…” He winked.

“Anything else? Coffee? Water? Man of the Year award?”

“They still give those out?” he bantered.

“I am…” She rose on tiptoes, peaking past him for privacy.

He closed his eyes, exhaling as her nearness brushed him. “Back to your post, my dear. They need you.”

She hesitated, then smiled—their familiar, harmless dance untangling as it had each time he visited the studio. Adoration filled her, along with a fear of wishing for anything more.

Her hair flipped as she turned, bounce returning to her step. She glanced back with a subtle wave. William nodded.

Releasing a deep breath, he entered the dressing room. The plush leather couch beckoned, a stage for temptation’s havoc. Fantasies flickered—passion, power, surrender. Yet always, the vision ended with the wrath of his queen, the ruin of forbidden fruit.

“Perhaps,” he smirked to himself, “when I was a bit less wise.”

He gathered his briefcase and stepped into the hall.