It might have purely been taken from personal bias, but Troy believed the world to have grown more sadistic as time passed by. Again, such ideas might have been construed through personal experiences. Experiences that were not always the same for everybody. Being shot in the back wasn't the same scenario for both parties.

Likewise, it was impossible to say that everyone agreed with these beliefs. Some would even dare say that the world was growing better, that everything in it was slowly being moulded into something that works best for humanity. And that was true, in a way.

Slowly but surely, there were few creatures left on the planet that had not yet been touched by the hand of scientists. With the many other changes that people were putting the planet onto so that they could live in the perfect weather on the perfect altitude with the perfect view, it was hard to expect that every animal would be able to instantly adapt. Forests had been removed for the sole reason being that plains would be better to have in a garden. When the British monarchy still existed, these acts of terraforming had become common for the royalty to order for.

Yet these changes did not take into account those who flew in the air, those who walked on the earth, and those who swam in the water. And why would they? Birds couldn't complain to the police, so there was no risk for humans to change a few sacred habitats.

Others had different ideas. There was this peculiar thing called biological diversity. It was based on how diverse the organic life on earth was when it came to its genetic structure. Now, almost all life that had lived on earth had died, mostly due to the environment not letting them live sustainably. It could have been due to being too easy prey, or it could have been that there needed substance just didn't exist in the needed quantities. It didn't matter much, really. Those species were not around anymore.

What mattered was that there was always something to replace those creatures. One would fall, another would take its place. It was a continuous cycle of being renewed into something better, something greater, and most importantly something different. It would always be something different, the genetics being on another scale. It didn't matter how much of a change it would be from the one before it, as long as it had changed enough to be sustainable.

It was the constant terraforming that proved to be this process’ undoing. People would change a habitat, forcing the animals to survive in lower numbers in another area or just die out by a few years' time. Most species chose the latter, any efforts for the first not working as much as it should have.

If the environment was changed once, it might just have been fine. A few square kilometres of living space being eradicated was a mere trifle, something that would go away by itself given a century or two. However, when these changes happened constantly, near-always in a different location, the animals began having trouble keeping up.

The problem got to the point where species went from common to critically endangered, only a small percentage ever being killed directly. It was the terraforming that killed them, and people were beginning to see the problems with that. Biological diversity hit lows that were normally classified as being seen in extinction events, like a meteor rain hitting large parts of the world.

People were forced to begin genetically engineered wild-life so that they would be able to live in the areas that they were used to. Such practices were usually hit-or-misses and had to be planned ahead of time. But, they did somewhat work, slowing from falling as quickly as before. Even in the current decade, when the countries that originally started this standard had all but disappeared into obscurity, the tradition of allowing the wild-life to life had remained. With technology at the level that it was, modifying creates into being able to live in a new environment was still hard but much more doable than before.

These animals were not really the same as what they started with. That was to be expected when you made creatures used to living in plains used to instead of living in a forest. It took a toll on the animals mentally, their instincts not working in tandem with the lives they lived. This stress took more than a few years of their lifespan, but that didn't really matter. They were alive, they continued their species, and nobody could see their psychological issues when taking cute pictures of them, so there were no problems with the actions done at all.

Was that a perfect world? The mental issues were well documented, the problems with the act of forcing animals into living in their normal place, even if the area had been terraformed. There had been so many news articles about it, detailing the horrors inflicted on the animals. The creatures never understood what was happening to them, so how was it fair that they were the ones to feel all the pain?

Nobody cared, honestly. There was a protest or two, but half of those were orchestrated by some local politicians in the hopes of gaining a bit more renown, their names being known to a few more people. Almost everybody on the planet fully understood just how messed up the practice was. They just… didn't really care about it. There were loads of other things to be angry about. Slave camps, a constant revolution of bad dictators, even a few executions of serial killers. There was also the rare evil cop, but that had been getting harder to find as time went on. They were being phased out after all.

People just didn't have the mental space to feel bad about it. Was that terrible? Was the fact that they felt nothing about it good, or would it have been better that they felt some satisfaction from the pain that the animals got out of it?

The end result would be the same, really. Areas still being terraformed, animals forced into submission. It was only on paper that they were even wildlife anymore. Most could be legally taken in by the corporations that helped them survive.

Maybe that was the best. If people didn't like it, then they wouldn't advocate for it. Neither would they strike down on it, though, yet that was a small price to pay. Troy was sure it would backfire at some point.

Though, that indifference. Being on the end of it, seeing the gazes of people that were silently judging you for being so helpless, it was not an enjoyable role at all. Troy could not help but see a few upturned lips at the far reaches, even if they did not exist. That paint, his arms being weaker and weaker, it was mortifying. He was expected to hold on, yet it was seeming more and more impossible. Not so long ago, it had looked so easy, just following along with the predetermined movements. Those same movements that had been drilled into him time and time again. Why were they so hard to do now?

Would it really be so wrong to just… let go? To let the bar fall, to let himself be released from this world of tension? He ached, and it would only ache the longer he lasted. It was a system built to maximize that, to bring him to the point of breaking. Yet it never reached past that, never did something that he would not be able to overcome, as long as he tried his best. It was a system meant to break a soul, to make the person feel despair usually reserved for those falling with regret.

"Dammit," Troy forced out, as he finally gave up on lifting the bar a twelfth time. Whatever people might have thought in the past about how grandiose humanity was becoming, it was clear that true sadism still lied in the population, waiting to strike at the opportune time. Whoever had created a bench-press designed towards stressing those muscles to the maximum was clearly one such sadist. Troy had never been one to use many machines earlier in his life, sticking with free weights. It was not due to him favouring dumbbells or anything, being closer to him not being able to afford to join a gym with advanced equipment. "Really thought I could do one more."

"You could have," Charlie corrected, looking like roses and sunshine as he did the same workout on an identical bench. Instead of being on a constant brink of stress, the muscular man was doing a work-up, where the bar would continually gain more and more weight. Troy had not known about this setting, not knowing there was any way to change settings at all, to begin with. "It was only your lacking willpower holding you back."

Not that he would have ever done such a thing though, once he realised just how much weight was being added. Instead of being regulated by something reasonable, like the weight being added after each repetition, the total number increased by one kilogram every second. It started at twenty and two full minutes had passed since the man had started. It took about five seconds for a repetition, and the weight increased every second, which when put into a graph would show that Charlie was currently lifting a shit ton of weight, and had been doing so for quite some time. It was only through the nonchalance of the people around them that Troy did not applaud the showing of the human physique. Already, the total weight was double what the young weighed at all, and the one lifting it did not seem deterred at all yet.

"Easy for you to say, you muscle-bound freak," Troy said, getting up in a sitting position. With each repetition, the corded muscle could be seen through Charlie’s shirt. The sheer muscle mass on the chest was astounding. "Honestly, are you sure that there aren't any steroids involved?"

Charlie did not answer instantly, beginning to grow more focused on his breathing. That was fine, really. The young man would have fallen long ago if that was the kind of weight bearing down on him. It was perfectly reasonable that one wouldn't be able to sustain a normal conversation while lifting numbers that would have broken a multitude of records a hundred years ago.

It took another minute and a half before the man gave in. By that point, his head was red, his arms having a similar colouration. Those automatic benches really were exceptional machines, when ignoring the clearly sadistic nature they had attached. When using them correctly, there was next to no chance of being damaged by the machine. It wasn't like the bar could fall and break the ribs. The moment the person would stop trying was the same moment that the machine would remove all the weight. Troy wasn't sure how that really worked, but the results spoke for themself.

"I don't have anything other than good genes… and some very advanced physical therapy," Charlie said, adding that last part as nothing more than a common afterthought. Troy took it as the man trying to downplay a very important part of his regimen. "I have no need for such paltry things when I have hard work and dedication on my side. Maybe you could look up to me as a mentor, and allow me to help-"

"I have to refuse, while I still have the chance. Not really sorry at all about it, but it just sounds a bit too much like you are going to try selling me vitamin supplements in a few seconds," Troy cut in, not even letting that man finish. There were moments where he felt bad for those who didn't read the contracts. It was a sad reality, pyramid schemes taking advantage of those who didn't know how to realise how bad some people wanted to earn money.

"... I was just thinking that you would want to join me in those therapy contraptions. Otherwise, we’re gonna have to scale down any training you do. Your body can't handle the stress otherwise, and you will begin losing mass instead of gaining it. That isn't a mistake anybody would want to make, let me assure you of that."

Oh?

"Am I to guess that these things are your own creations?"

"Eh, I would say that directly," Charlie said, waving away a small bit of hope. "Its more like… I have slightly modified a couple that I permanently loaned from one of the failed projects. Purely professional, of course. I even signed a document stating that it was my doing."

Troy had been hoping for something a little more… secretive. A shame. But, what could one hope for when the two were talking out in the open? Not like Charlie was brazen enough to say anything truly incriminating.

"The things were supposed to be destroyed, but I just forged a few documents. The things are just sitting behind one of the walls in my laboratory. I have a few, but I only ever use one of them. Do you want to try?"

… Guess some people were just more open than others.

"Sure. Sounds fun."

And, it was the opportunity he had been looking for.