POV: Time Variance Authority

Turning the page, Dr. Mykson explained how to resolve the challenge of ice crystals forming in a cell's internal liquids under ultra-low temperatures.

His solution was the same high-oxygen fluid that had earned him the title "Father of Cryonics."

This fluid's molecular compounds entered a subject's bloodstream through the respiratory system, permeating every cell and bonding with intracellular water molecules at a deep chemical level. Even at -200°C, those bound water molecules remained in a liquid state, dramatically lowering cellular activity in the cold.

Hence, Mykson's chemical overcame the "ice crystal dilemma" and marked a key breakthrough in cryonics research.

"That's impressive," Elias Crane thought, scanning the text.

He kept reading. On the following page, Dr. Mykson wrote that overcoming ice crystals brought scientists close to success in creating a viable cryonics fill-liquid. Yet achieving a fully functional cryonics chamber was still an arduous, distant goal.

"No wonder Professor West said it's a world-altering technology—something no single institute or country can finish alone," Elias noted, echoing West's sentiment: only a massive, unified global effort could produce breakthroughs in a matter of years or even decades.

Elias sighed, peering out through the library window. Scientific progress demanded slow accumulation, possibility of dead ends, or misaligned "tech trees."

"Could that be why the dream's world saw six centuries with no development—maybe they diverged onto the wrong tech path?"

He had no immediate answers.

***

Two hours flew by as Elias pored over the crucial parts of the cryonics fill-liquid production. The deeper chemistry left him mystified—he was no scientist, after all—but his purpose wasn't to master it. Rather, it was to "scan and copy" so he could reproduce something for West's eyes in reality.

"How much West can decode is up to him," Elias mused, aware of his own academic limitations.

Eventually, a library worker announced it was nearly 6 p.m.—time to close. Elias quietly slipped the book under his jacket, sneaking it past the staff. He found a cozy seat in a nearby café with free Wi-Fi, continued reading until the dream's midnight reset, trying to memorize as much as he could.

Sure enough, at 00:42, the white flash engulfed him. He awoke back in his real bedroom, just after midnight, with fresh recollections swirling in his mind.

Wasting no time, he transcribed all the theories, formulas, and chemical equations from memory onto paper. Over the next four days, Elias repeated this routine—daydream sessions in the library, nights spent transferring data to real notes.

It was exhausting. Elias was no scholar, and the text was riddled with chemical reaction schemas, advanced notations, and specialized symbols. He often had no clue what it truly meant—only that it might be relevant for Professor West. All he could do was replicate it like an artist copying a painting.

At last, on the fourth morning, he finished. Twenty-plus pages of carefully scribbled references now lay on his desk. He hoped West might glean fresh insight from them.

"Better get these to him ASAP," Elias thought, stapling the pages together. He stuffed them in a protective folder and hailed a taxi for the university.

Although he'd graduated only half a year ago, it was strangely nostalgic to see the campus gates. The last time he'd come was in September to settle some final transcript issues, glimpsing new freshman recruits in their orientation parade.

"Here, kid—stop's right across from the main entrance," the cab driver announced, pulling over and collecting payment.

Elias stepped onto the sidewalk. Opposite the campus gates sat three sleek black vehicles. Each was flanked by two men in black suits and dark glasses, looking every bit the classic "bodyguard."

"Some movie set?" Elias wondered.

Two large black SUVs stood at the front and rear, menacing in their tinted windows, while the center was occupied by a regal, pitch-black Maybach. Elias didn't know the exact model, but recognized it as a discreet hallmark of extreme wealth.

"Some VIP's attending the university?" he mused, warily eyeing the bodyguards.

Just then, the Maybach's rear door opened. Out stepped a tall, powerful man with a sharp gaze. He smoothed his suit jacket and surveyed his surroundings.

"Wait… that's…"

Elias recognized him from the science fundraiser gala. The man who donated two hundred million to the city's development—a revered figure and the Commerce Chamber President of East Harbor: Chase Rivers.

"Why is he here?" Elias murmured.

He recalled at that gala, Miranda Harrington had mentioned that West, having burned all other bridges, was only supported by Chase Rivers in his cryonics research.

Now Rivers had arrived at the University… presumably heading for West's lab?

Elias's mind flashed to the wax seal—the TVA crest—a right hand pointing skyward. He recalled the fundraiser scene when Rivers donated a flamboyant sum. He had pointed an index finger high into the air.

Suddenly, everything clicked. If Ms. Harrington had an invitation from the TVA, certainly the formidable Chase Rivers, a hundred times more influential, would have received one as well.

Elias gripped the folder of cryonics notes, watching from across the road as Rivers prepared to enter the campus.

"Why am I only realizing this now?" he thought, heart pounding.

Of anyone, he told himself, Rivers is the prime candidate to join the TVA.

And here Rivers was, apparently meeting West.

"What does he want from West?" Elias wondered.

A chill raced up his spine. "This might be dangerous."