Morning had arrived, but Dr. Hubert Quarks' laboratory remained trapped in a state of eternal twilight, illuminated only by the flickering lights of the monitors blinking around him. Dust particles danced in the narrow beam of a lonely desk lamp, while the monotonous hum of the machines sounded like a nervous tinnitus ringing in Hubert's ears.
He wiped his forehead and took a deep breath. The floor beneath his feet felt sticky, as if the coffee he had spilled the night before had decided to create its own miniature adhesive ecosystem. “Another day like any other,” he muttered, taking another sip of cold coffee from a mug that had definitely seen better days.
The chambers of Legion Beta slowly opened, accompanied by a synchronized hiss that shattered the silence of the room. It was a moment Hubert had lived through countless times in his dreams—a moment when his creation would finally awaken, ready to shape the world according to his vision.
But within those first few seconds, he already sensed that something was wrong.
One clone—the first in the sequence, whom he had named “Chuck”—stepped forward. His eyes fell upon a dusty mirror leaning crookedly against one of the workbenches. With a self-satisfied grin, Chuck moved closer and looked at his reflection. “Wow,” he murmured. “I had no idea I looked this good.”
Hubert's eyebrows shot upward. “That... wasn't programmed,” he whispered, while his mind feverishly struggled to understand what was happening. A clone wasn't supposed to know vanity, let alone possess a sense of self-image. Yet Chuck seemed completely unconcerned by any of this. He was far too busy striking a pose that looked like something straight out of a second-rate action movie.
While Hubert was still trying to figure out how a clone could develop such behavior, another clone—“Alpha-13”—stepped forward. He crossed the room with a precise calmness that made Hubert uncomfortable and picked up a blank sheet of paper lying on a table.
Without hesitation, Alpha-13 began folding the paper. He seemed completely absorbed in his task, as though nothing in the world could possibly be more important. “A paper airplane?” Hubert muttered. “Why... and how...?”
Alpha-13 completed his creation with a satisfied smile. “I call it ‘Chuck's Wings,’” he announced before sending the airplane sailing through the air. It flew in an elegant curve before disappearing directly into one of the ventilation shafts.
“Great. Exactly what we need—blocked ventilation shafts,” Hubert muttered as he watched the spectacle. “Maybe I should start an airline. ‘Air Paradox’—flights into the unknown, no refunds.”
But the absurdity of the morning was only beginning to gain momentum. While Hubert was still trying to process the unexpected loss of his ventilation system, Chuck stepped toward the coffee machine—the heart of the laboratory. This machine was more than just a coffee maker; it was Hubert's lifeline, the only reason he was still functioning.
“Time for a cup of the finest coffee the world has ever seen,” Chuck announced in a tone that allowed no disagreement. Yet an ominous feeling was already bubbling inside Hubert.
“No, wait!” Hubert shouted and lunged forward, but it was already too late. Chuck had pressed the start button—with such force that the entire machine began to shake. A deep groan escaped from the device as it trembled under the sudden pressure, until it finally exploded in a spectacular blast of steam, coffee beans, and plastic debris.
Hubert stumbled backward, still feeling the heat of the explosion on his face, while the other clones watched in fascination. It was as though they were witnessing an especially entertaining spectacle. “I warned him,” Hubert muttered as he stared at the remains of his once-loyal coffee machine. “Of course it had to be the clone who thinks he's invincible.”
While he tried to collect his thoughts, Beta-42 stepped forward. He inspected the disaster that had once been a coffee machine with the expression of a general surveying a battlefield. “Chuck Norris doesn't need coffee. Coffee needs Chuck Norris,” Beta-42 declared in a tone that conveyed not merely imitation, but absolute conviction.
The synchronized laughter that erupted from all the clones filled the laboratory with an eerie, almost mechanical sound. It was as if they had all simultaneously heard the most ridiculous joke in the world—and Hubert had the unsettling feeling that he was the punchline.
“Great. This is going to be a long week,” Hubert sighed. He grabbed his trusty “Lucky Screwdriver” and set about somehow repairing the remains of the coffee machine—or whatever was left of it. But as the smoke began to clear and the first pieces of debris were removed, the paradox he had unknowingly unleashed seemed to be sinking ever deeper into the reality of the laboratory.
As Hubert tried to scrub the coffee stain from his white lab coat, he suddenly heard the familiar—but at this moment completely unwelcome—beeping of the smoke detector, announcing that something somewhere deep inside the ventilation system was burning. Probably a piece of the paper airplane. “Oh, wonderful. Just what I needed,” Hubert groaned, rubbing his temples.
“Air Paradox” suddenly didn't sound quite so ridiculous anymore.
The chapter came to an end, but Hubert knew deep down that this was only the beginning. The awakening of Legion Beta had begun—and with it came the beginning of a paradox that threatened to drag Hubert Quarks into a spiral of madness and an unpredictable fate.