The afternoon brings a different energy to our improvised interview space. Snake Oil has consumed enough coffee to power a small aircraft, his irritation with substandard candidates reaching levels that would be concerning if I weren't accustomed to his particular brand of scientific elitism. Three more interviews have come and gone – Dr. Foster showed promise but revealed uncomfortable questions about our organizational structure; Thomas Wright possessed excellent technical credentials but demonstrated the philosophical flexibility of concrete; Sarah Martinez asked too many questions about reporting hierarchies and oversight protocols.

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  I consult my notes, cross-referencing technical competency against ideological alignment against psychological compatibility. The pattern emerging suggests we're looking for a unicorn – someone with advanced scientific training who's simultaneously willing to work outside traditional frameworks and capable of functioning under Snake Oil's management style. We might just have to settle.

  The door opens without a knock, which immediately catches my attention. Most candidates have approached this interview with the nervous deference appropriate to a high-stakes professional evaluation. This one simply walks in like she owns the place.

  Aurora Reyes, according to her application. Also known as Pyrausta, according to her criminal record (which makes for fascinating reading – property damage, unlawful assembly, suspicion of arson, but remarkably little violence against persons). Mid-twenties, no formal education beyond high school, but extensive self-taught expertise in explosive chemistry and pyrotechnics.

  She's striking in the way that naturally confident people tend to be – not conventionally beautiful, but possessed of the magnetic energy that draws attention regardless of aesthetic standards. Dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, work clothes that have clearly seen actual work, callused hands that speak to hands-on experience rather than theoretical knowledge. The thing that catches my attention the most, though, is those gauged ears, stretched down low like a Buddha. Impressively painful looking.

  I can't imagine making myself look like that - even Dead Drop's aren't big enough to stick more than a screwdriver through.

  "Aurora Reyes," she announces, settling into the folding chair with casual ease. "Though most people know me as Pyrausta. Hope you don't mind the informality – figured if we're talking about working together, might as well skip the corporate theater."

  I find myself immediately intrigued. She's treating this as a peer consultation rather than a supplicant's appeal for employment. Either remarkable confidence or complete ignorance of professional hierarchies.

  "Ms. Reyes," I begin, "tell us about your background with enhancement chemistry."

  "Call me Aurora. I've been fucking with your stuff for as long as it's been on the streets, but obviously there's no substitute for the real thing. Been practicing trying to strip all the junk you hook to it off so I can synthesize a liquid formulation, maybe get past that pissant 3 hour limit. Moved on to more complex formulations once I got the hang of molecular structure."

  Snake Oil's attention sharpens immediately. "You've been manufacturing Jump independently?"

  "Not exactly. But I've been stripping off whatever the molecule breaker parts are, uh, the microscope breakers, I mean, which just leaves the prodrugs. Once you get those separated from each other you can really do whatever delivery method you want. I've been experimenting - extremely unsuccessfully - with aerosols, or things I can feed to my fire."

  This is genuinely impressive. Independent research, reverse engineering, successful synthesis without access to our proprietary methodology. Snake Oil leans forward, his usual dismissive attitude replaced by scientific curiosity.

  "What equipment are you using? Academic lab access, industrial connections?"

  Aurora grins, and I notice the temperature in the room seems to increase slightly. Not uncomfortably, but perceptibly. "Kitchen table, camping stove, stuff I ordered online or picked up from hardware stores. You'd be amazed what you can accomplish with basic equipment if you're willing to get creative."

  "Show me," Snake Oil demands, sliding his tablet across the desk.

  Without hesitation, Aurora begins sketching molecular diagrams directly on the screen, her movements quick and confident. The structures she draws are recognizable – simplified versions of our Jump compounds, at least from my understanding, but fundamentally sound from a chemical perspective. Crude implementation, perhaps, but demonstrating genuine understanding of the underlying principles.

  "Whatever chemical you have doing the enhancement part doesn't respond necessarily to ingestion. I've tried feeding some to insects. I don't know if it's from the organ differences or what but they don't get it, no matter how much I inject into their mealworms. But my pyrokinesis responds to it to an extent, which is weird. You'd think if I'm making a tulpa out of fire and it eats something then I shouldn't be getting any biological... you know, transfer from it, but he gets some too, especially if I mix it with gunpowder. I really don't know who on your team you're sourcing the enhancement chemicals from, but I'd love to pick their brain. Non-lethally, I mean."

  As she speaks, small wisps of flame begin dancing around her waist, leaking out of a small, dimly lit oil lantern dangling off her belt. I notice they seem to move with independent intelligence, occasionally forming shapes that suggest a larger presence, a sort of swirling, wave-like sort of thing.

  "And this one," she continues, sketching a second structure, "is, well, if you hook up the enhancement chemical to enough gunpowder it does weird things when you burn it. Makes explosions that shouldn't happen. I have a feeling whatever you're sourcing is valuable and non-replenishable so I haven't been experimenting too much, but I've made a bomb that releases an explosion that purely lights anything flammable on fire with the pressure wave - and doesn't do anything else, or make any heat in the process. Really cool stuff."

  Snake Oil studies her diagrams with growing excitement. "These synthesis pathways are completely different from our standard methodology. You've essentially developed parallel chemistry for similar effects."

  "Had to. Couldn't exactly walk into a university lab and ask to borrow equipment for illegal drug synthesis." She laughs, and the flames around her fingers flicker in response. "Though I gotta say, your stuff is much more elegant. Cleaner reactions, better yield ratios, more stable end products. I'd love to learn your techniques."

  I observe the interaction with professional interest. Aurora possesses the rare combination of technical competence, practical experience, and genuine enthusiasm for the work itself. Her methods may be crude, but her results demonstrate both intelligence and creativity.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "Tell me about your philosophy regarding enhancement research," I interject. "How do you view the role of regulation, oversight, ethical limitations?"

  Her expression shifts, becoming more serious. The playful flames around her fingers intensify slightly. "Honestly? I think the whole regulatory framework is bullshit designed to protect pharmaceutical profits rather than advance human potential. You've got bureaucrats who've never synthesized anything more complex than coffee dictating what research can and can't be conducted. Meanwhile, people are dying from diseases that could be cured, living with limitations that could be overcome, all because some committee decided the risks outweigh the benefits."

  "And individual choice in enhancement decisions?"

  "Should be exactly that – individual choice. You want to take something that might give you superpowers but also might kill you? That's your decision to make, not some government agency's. As long as you're not hurting other people, society has no business interfering with personal enhancement choices."

  The flames around her waist suddenly coalesce into a more defined shape – something serpentine, with distinct features that suggest intelligence. Not quite a dragon, but definitely more than random fire patterns, looming over her shoulder.

  "Espada agrees," she adds, gesturing to the flame construct. "My little friend here has strong opinions about freedom and self-determination."

  Snake Oil stares at the flame entity with undisguised fascination. "That's not simple pyrokinesis, is it?"

  "I mentioned the tulpa, didn't I? That's how I do my pyrokinesis. He does it for me."

  The flame dragon (because that's clearly what it is, despite Aurora's fascinatingly opaque description) turns toward Snake Oil, regarding him with what appears to be intelligent assessment. No hostility, but definite evaluation.

  "ATTENTION CUSTOMERS, TOYOTA-THON FEATURES SPECIAL TRADE-IN VALUES ON ALL QUALIFYING VEHICLES. BRING YOUR CURRENT CAR FOR PROFESSIONAL APPRAISAL."

  Aurora glances toward the door with amusement. "Gotta love the ambiance. Really sets the mood for discussing illegal enhancement chemistry."

  After forty-five minutes, we conclude the interview with standard pleasantries. Aurora leaves with the same casual confidence she brought, Espada dissipating into wisps of residual heat.

  Snake Oil waits until the door closes before expressing his assessment. "Technically limited but conceptually sound. Self-taught synthesis demonstrates genuine aptitude. The independent research pathway suggests innovative thinking rather than rote memorization."

  "But?" I prompt, sensing his hesitation.

  "Educational limitations. No formal training in advanced organic chemistry, pharmacokinetics, quality control protocols. She's operating on intuition and trial-and-error rather than systematic methodology. Teaching her proper techniques would require significant time investment."

  I nod, making notes on my legal pad. "Though her enthusiasm and ideological alignment are exactly what we're looking for. Plus, someone with her hands-on experience might offer perspectives that traditional academic training doesn't provide."

  "True. And the flame construct is fascinating from a research standpoint."

  "Add her to the promising candidate list," I decide. "Educational limitations can be addressed through mentorship. Enthusiasm and alignment are much harder to cultivate."

  Snake Oil returns to his tablet, reviewing technical notes from the interview. His expression shifts, becoming more speculative. "You know, speaking of fascinating thermal manipulation capabilities, we should have reached out to Dr. Necrosis. You were paying attention to what Pyrausta was doing with the gunpowder, right?"

  I look up from my notes, surprised by the non-sequitur. "The bioterrorist? From Germany?"

  "Biomedical researcher," Snake Oil corrects with the pedantic precision he reserves for technical distinctions. "His work with viral vectors and targeted cellular modification is extraordinary. If we could combine his viral engineering with our enhancement compounds..."

  The possibility hangs in the air between us, and I can practically see Snake Oil's mind racing through potential applications. Dr. Necrosis represents the pinnacle of biological manipulation – viral engineering, cellular modification, systematic disease deployment. The combination of his capabilities with our enhancement chemistry would create possibilities that border on science fiction.

  "Imagine," Snake Oil continues, his excitement building, "a retroviral vector carrying Jump enhancement properties. Permanent rather than temporary modification. Targeted distribution through normal disease transmission vectors. We could enhance entire populations without requiring individual consent or distribution networks."

  The concept is simultaneously brilliant and terrifying. Weaponized evolution, essentially – enhancement capabilities spreading through communities like a beneficial plague.

  "Also," I point out, "completely insane."

  "Scientifically challenging, certainly. But not impossible. Necrosis has already demonstrated viral modification of human cellular structure. Adapting those techniques for enhancement delivery would be technically complex but theoretically feasible. Especially with what our last candidate just showed us."

  I set down my fountain pen, considering the implications. Dr. Necrosis operates from Chicago, where he's currently engaged in what news reports euphemistically describe as "systematic dismantling of for-profit medical infrastructure." His methods involve engineered diseases that specifically target pharmaceutical executives, hospital administrators, and insurance company leadership. Elegant, focused, ideologically consistent.

  "Have you read his Times interview?" I ask.

  Snake Oil nods. "The manifesto about medical equity and profit elimination. Impressive clarity of vision."

  "Exactly my point. He's even more ideologically focused than we are. Single-minded dedication to destroying the for-profit medical system. No flexibility, no compromise, no consideration of alternative approaches. He'd probably view our market-based enhancement model as another form of medical capitalism."

  "But surely the potential for collaboration..."

  "Would be exactly zero," I interrupt. "Necrosis isn't interested in reforming the system or creating alternative markets. He wants complete elimination of profit motives in medical treatment. Our entire operation represents the kind of entrepreneurial innovation he's actively trying to destroy."

  Snake Oil's enthusiasm deflates slightly. "You think he'd be hostile to our research?"

  "I think he'd view us as another target. We're creating enhancement markets, charging fees for chemical modification, operating for profit rather than universal access. Everything he opposes in his current campaign against medical corporations."

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  The announcement provides convenient punctuation to our theoretical discussion. Dr. Necrosis remains an interesting possibility from a purely scientific perspective, but the practical reality of collaboration seems remote at best.

  "Plus," I add, "geographical considerations. He's in Chicago, we're in Philadelphia. Different operational theaters, different target priorities. Long-distance collaboration introduces security risks and communication challenges we're not equipped to handle."

  Snake Oil nods reluctantly. "Still, the scientific potential..."

  "Would be extraordinary. But potential doesn't override practical constraints. We need to focus on candidates who can actually work with our operation, not fantasize about impossible collaborations with ideologically incompatible researchers."

  I return to reviewing candidate files, but find myself periodically considering the Dr. Necrosis possibility. The combination of viral engineering and enhancement chemistry would indeed represent a revolutionary advancement. The ability to permanently modify human capabilities through controlled disease vectors could reshape society in ways that make our current market disruption look incremental.

  But Snake Oil's scientific enthusiasm consistently outpaces his assessment of interpersonal dynamics. Dr. Necrosis isn't just another researcher who happens to disagree with our methodology – he's an active enemy of market-based approaches to medical treatment. Approaching him for collaboration would be like asking the Unabomber to consult on postal service efficiency.

  "Back to the candidate review," I say, shuffling through resumes. "We still have six more interviews this afternoon, and I'd like to identify at least three finalists before end of business."

  Snake Oil sighs, setting aside his tablet. "Fine. But I'm putting Necrosis collaboration on the long-term research wishlist."

  "You do that. Right after we hire someone who can actually help with current projects rather than hypothetical ones."

  The door opens, admitting our next candidate. The afternoon continues, each interview adding data points to our assessment matrix. Technical competency, ideological alignment, psychological compatibility. The intersection of these requirements continues to prove challenging, but Aurora Reyes has demonstrated that our ideal candidate profile isn't entirely mythical.