Gemotions

The patent lawyer, a slick man named Harding, kept smiling, a gesture that felt like a personal insult to Elias. His own work, months of sleepless nights and scrapped prototypes, now reduced to a footnote in someone else's triumph. "Unfortunately, Mr. Thorne," Harding began, his voice smooth as oil, "The 'kinetic energy harvesting sock' is already… covered." Elias clenched his fists, the blood draining from his knuckles. He could practically smell the audacity of the other inventor, that pompous fraud.

He slammed the file shut, the sound echoing in the sterile office. "Covered? By what, divine intervention? That moron's sock barely moves! Mine... mine is a revolution!" He wanted to scream, to rip the patent application to shreds, to show Harding the raw, unadulterated brilliance that had been stolen. But he knew it was a futile exercise. The system, as always, favored the well-connected, the lucky. He just wanted to go home and kick something.