POV: Time Variance Authority

Whoosh-!

A surge of scorching heat hit Elias like a wall. Instantly, his face felt ablaze, sweat beading on his forehead.

"God, it's hot," he muttered, squinting in the blinding glare.

The deafening buzz of cicadas assaulted his ears, and the sun beat straight down—his shadow a tiny puddle around his feet. He lifted his gaze skyward. Above him loomed an immense sun, dominating the half of the horizon, so bright he had to look away; black spots flickered across his retinas.

Rubbing his eyes, Elias murmured, "It's been ages since I dreamed in daylight. Not used to this heat." He estimated it was pushing 40°C—quite the contrast to the wintry chill of his real-world morning.

Dashing to the nearest patch of shade, he caught his breath. Then he spotted the big electronic billboard at the plaza:

[August 28, 2624]

[13:33]

"Barely after one thirty, lots of time left," Elias mused, wiping the sweat from his brow. He craved the library's air conditioning already. Probably thanks to the midday heat, the normally bustling plaza stood deserted.

He wove his way to the bus stop under the canopy of leafy branches, then hopped onto the route leading to the city's grand library. Over the past 23 years of dream loops, he rarely visited—time in the dream was always too precious for "boring" research when he could do something more adventurous. In earlier attempts, he had come to this library only a handful of times, trying to figure out why technology was stalled.

During that younger quest, he discovered numerous reports, history books, and editorials blaming society for the stagnation. They all pointed fingers at dysfunctional education systems, misaligned incentives, academic gatekeeping, and a cyclical exodus of young talents to more lucrative pursuits instead of pure science. But Elias, even as a schoolboy, doubted such factors alone could halt progress for six entire centuries. Yet no one in his dream offered a different explanation. Eventually, he let the matter drop, attributing it to dream logic.

But now, he had a new reason to revisit this library: to search for clues on human cryonics. Professor West was the pivot of his "rewrite the future" strategy. Perhaps this dream's future world might hold some partial breakthroughs that West could exploit centuries ahead of schedule in reality—thus generating the temporal butterfly effect Elias sought.

Stepping off the bus, Elias entered the library's spacious lobby on the first floor. Here, a small area contained internet terminals for searching the library's catalog. Perfect.

Sitting down, Elias typed into the clunky search engine: "Have we invented cryonics by now?"

Tap.

He hit enter.

The aged machine whirred and clicked. A half-dozen antivirus icons popped up in the corner, swirling like an eternal digital battlefield. Slowly, the screen refreshed.

The top search result stated in bold:

[To this day, the human cryonics chamber has not been successfully developed.]

He sighed. As expected, the dream world's technological stagnation meant no massive breakthroughs. Still, no reason to despair. He clicked on the link, and a long article opened. It read like a patchwork piece from some generic news aggregator, but still held hints of real info:

"Due to humanity's sluggish or even regressive scientific progress post-21st century, global research into cryonics started late. Officially, it first moved from sci-fi into mainstream scientific discourse in 2477, when an American scientist named Bill Mykson developed a high-oxygen liquid able to maintain human cellular activity while preventing the formation of ice crystals. This substance was proven suitable as a cryonics chamber filling liquid.

"For the first time, humanity saw genuine hope for conquering cryonics. Many nations allocated huge manpower and resources to dedicated research centers, all in pursuit of the dream of winter-sleep. But in the following century, no further breakthroughs appeared, leaving humanity still far from cryonics. Hence, although Mykson's discovery ignited the spark of cryonics research, it would also stand as the pinnacle. In tribute, later generations honored Mykson as…'The Father of Cryonics.'"

Elias leaned closer to the screen. "So there is a father of cryonics," he murmured, verifying that, indeed, even in 2624, a fully functioning chamber remained elusive. No real surprise.

But at least that "Father of Cryonics" had developed a viable fill fluid—comparable, presumably, to the magical compound West had glimpsed in his own attempts. "So Mykson's the guy who lit the flame," Elias thought. "But after that, progress stalled."

He gently patted the screen. "All right, Dr. Mykson. On behalf of Professor West, I owe you one."

Exiting the article, Elias turned to the library's digital catalog interface. He typed in "cryonics." A long list of results popped up—some were sci-fi novels, some were mainstream pop-science overviews, others academic. He scrolled until he found a promising title:

"An Analysis & Outlook on Cryonics Technology," Author: Bill Mykson.

Jackpot!

"Location: 3rd Floor, Science Nonfiction Section C, Shelf 67, 7th row."

Elias headed upstairs. Sure enough, the An Analysis & Outlook on Cryonics Technology was a slim, dusty volume shoved near the top of the shelf, looking barely touched. He lifted it carefully, scanning the battered cover.

"Let's see if Dr. Mykson's writing is half as 'simple and accessible' as the summary claims," Elias muttered, settling by a window. He flipped through the first pages, pleasantly surprised at the clear, concise explanations.

It discussed the fundamentals of human winter-sleep: drastically reducing all cellular and metabolic activity to near zero without actually stopping them. Typically, the best approach was to freeze the body to below negative 120°C. Yet, water inside the cells risked forming ice crystals—spiky formations that could destroy cell membranes.

Sure, "flash freezing" might avoid ice crystals at the moment of freezing, but thawing remained the real problem. At some point, the body would pass again through the 0°C range, letting crystals form on rewarming, shredding cells and ensuring certain death.

Elias turned the page eagerly, scanning line by line, enthralled by the logic and clarity. "So how do we solve the ice crystal issue?"

He flipped to the next chapter.