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Aiden’s been touched by the Gods, and I’m envious as all hell. He is sitting across the table from me, looking like he just strolled down from Mount Olympus. He’s put on at least thirty pounds of muscle over the last five months; his arms explode from his polo shirt, and cephalic veins run down his biceps like ridgelines. Our company logo, nGen, is stretched taut across his left pectoral. He’s so lean I could measure the angles of his jaw with a T-bevel. He and I are wearing identical shirts, in the same size, but mine looks like a