Margin of Error

[USSExplorer]

Not sure where you're going with this but at this point, tone it down. When you've got a one in a trillion child prodigy among prodigies, who also becomes a high profile individual that has a lotta eyes on him, the go to reaction is not being turned into a labrat. You could maybe get one mad scientist or zealot and his cult to clamor and scheme for it but the standard government reaction is to lock that shit down and keep the golden goose laying eggs.
Right now Id chalk it up to MC's heightened paranoia resulting from his highly unusual circumstances and how he feels isolated due to his knowledge. While Okafor's comment sounds more like a really jealous colleague grasping for something to throw at someone with whom he's in a one-sided rivalry.

Click to shrink...

The only thing I would say is frustrating is how he is constantly looping back to how he must hide his abilities and how it makes him so lonely. I get that it's a major plot point but it's frustrating to constantly have it brought back up in every conversation or inner monologue he has.

Click to shrink...

I've gone back through the early chapters carefully, and (I hope) toned down as much paranoia and melancholy as possible so as to not have it all be so glaring. It's still there, as it's part of his character (for now), but it shouldn't be so glaring.
Nor should other characters come out and state that he's not human/needs studying, or the like.

Probably not worth re-reading the early chapters, given how early on the story is, but it should be heavily toned down going forward.

MC could potentially be a driving force behind uniting the space agencies. If he's willing to be... generous with whom he shares his innovations and developments with. Im hoping he aims for that. The sooner and more cohesively he helps bind Earth's nations together, the better off they'll be should something like the First Contact War happens.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, that's a logical pathway to head down once he realises he's in Mass Effect.
And boy, was that an enjoyable chapter to write

 

[USSExplorer]

A/N: So, I've reworked the chapters before this one. The paranoia is softened to not be so in-your-face, with a reason for the foundation of it given in 0000. The melancholy had been dialled back, and any hint that other characters know what's different about Marcus has been removed. In some cases, altering scenes enough to need decent rewrites. Don't think this warrants a full reread, but that's up to you, the readers, to decide.
That'll be the limit of the reworking I'm prepared to do, as otherwise it'll take time away from writing my other stories.

---

0009: Recognition and Confusion
…​

It took less than a week after my paper was published for my world to go crazy. The day after the publication was confirmed, I celebrated again with friends. Then, by the end of the third day, my inbox was full of offers from education centres, companies large and small, wide-ranging and highly focused, system-wide conglomerates, think tanks, research institutions, and all manner of scientific foundations. The offers came from around the world, and even included governments in the European Federation, UNAS, and beyond.

All of them wanted to meet to discuss terms and commitments, though by the end of that week, I'd whittled the list of those worth meeting down to thirty. There were another fifty or so that merited at least a comprehensive response, and more than two hundred more that deserved at least something in reply.

Everyone was chasing the tail of the comet that my paper had created, and while I'd expected the increase in visibility and attention, this had gone beyond my expectations.

The offers from universities and colleges around the world were remarkably similar to the one Edinburgh had given before the paper had been approved. A fully funded doctoral study position with private research allocation and freedom to pursue what I wanted and how. Those offers, coming from as far afield as MIT, IIT, and Tsinghua, would make me the youngest doctoral student worldwide; in some cases, the youngest they'd ever accepted.

Some of those offers had been polite, such as from Dr Richard Caldwell, Head of Theoretical Physics at Cambridge, and worded to appeal to my character. Others, such as from Stanford and ICL, amounted to little more than "Name your terms. We want you here."

The offers from the private sector mirrored those terms, and outside of a few rare cases, such as Cord-Hislop Aerospace, were ones I didn't even have an indirect connection to. Those who did have some connection were because of Edinburgh or ESA.

Dr Thomas Ashford, the Chief Technology Officer of Cord-Hislop, knew Dr Larsson at ESA, which he confirmed by copying her in on his offer to me. Their offer wasn't merely to consult but to become the Chief Theoretical Advisor for propulsion. It came with full laboratory access and manufacturing resources. And that was before the compensation, which would have made me financially independent within a year.

It, and other offers like it, were hard to reject completely. Beyond the finances, I'd need the connections in the coming years and decades. The ideas that remained locked away in my mind, beyond my reach, would require testing in ways I felt weren't currently even considered possible, to say nothing of being practical.

The various organisations exploring space came for me as well. NASA, CNSA, PASA, and ESA all reached out, but currently, only ESA's offer made sense. It came through Dr Vetter, his offer more measured than others but just as insistent.

The Mars situation was evolving faster than even I, with my current access, had realised. ESA was establishing a dedicated propulsion research division at ESTEC, and my recursive field framework was directly applicable to mission planning. Dr Vetter, understanding that I'd likely not take an outright offer to join ESA, brought a secondary offer of expanded consulting, with the potential for it to evolve into a formal position in the coming years. Other agencies were also advancing my work in preparation for joint and solo missions to Mars.

ESA's consultancy offer was appealing and had helped shape my responses to various companies, conglomerates, and other space agencies. If I could get in the door at several of them, I'd be able to plot my course forward with more clarity.

Other offers came that didn't fall neatly into the boxes I'd expected. One of those, and the closest to home, came from the Hague Institute for Advanced Study. Their offer, like that of other such places, promised intellectual freedom. A two-year research fellowship that came with minimal obligations and maximum autonomy.

There would be no teaching or assisting positions, which was a good thing, as I was uncertain if most students would like to be lectured by someone younger than them. The Hague's offer also came with no administrative burden. All they, and offers like theirs, wanted was to let me work and see where it led.

Every one of the top eighty offers brought something worthy to the table. Prestige and academic legitimacy from universities. Potentially unlimited resources and rapid application came from the companies and conglomerates. The agencies and governments brought access to data on Mars and beyond, and a truly solar scope. Those like the Hague offered freedom with maximum flexibility, and in several cases, no exclusivity.

After a week of going through the offers and having several respond to my counterproposals, I felt the choice was becoming obvious. Still, I wouldn't rush into anything; I had to consider everything.

I had barely stood from sending off the latest round of responses, as several of those places were willing to negotiate away from their initial offers, when there was a knock at my door.

"How many?" Dr Okonkwo asked as I let her in, referring to the current round of offers and proposals that had come in after I'd replied to almost every offer in some form.

"Fourteen formal and thirty inquiries."

"What are you thinking?"

I was silent for a long moment, as I considered how much to reveal. "I'm thinking that every offer wants to own a piece of me. Some want exclusive rights while others want commitment, but all of them want control."

"And you want to keep control for yourself."

It was an accurate insight, which I'd expect from her after how long we'd spent working together and how she'd taken to wanting to protect me at every step of the journey I was just beginning. At least this time she wasn't asking about the risks of visibility.

"The Hague offers the most freedom," I said. "At least while maintaining connections with ESA and allowing me to keep options into the private sector."

"It also offers the least structure," she added, making clear she knew what the Hague Institute offered.

"I can still work with ESA as a consultant if I'm at the Hague," I replied, a wry smirk forming on my lips, "and form a connection to Cord-Hislop in an advisory role. It'll also allow me to keep my links to Edinburgh and you." It would also let me build a portfolio of influence that wasn't tied to a single institution or location, something that felt wise given what I believed I knew about the knowledge in my head and the dangers that lingered far beyond the Earth.

Her smile grew. "You've already decided."

"I decided the moment I saw what they all wanted. I've just been making sure that my choice was the right one."

"Whatever you choose, I'll support you." She took a step closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're destined for something great, Marcus. Just don't lose sight of the world while grasping the stars."

I nodded and smiled in thanks.

***

​

By the end of the next week, I'd sent all the final acceptances and rejections. Cambridge's response arrived within the hour: they were disappointed, but the door remained open for me if I wished. Most were like that. Dr Ashford from Cord-Hislop was different, choosing to appear before me via holographic call.

"You're making a strategic choice," he said, his voice suggesting he understood the manoeuvring I was making and might well know about my choice before it became official. "Maintaining your flexibility, which I understand. But know this: when you're ready for resources at scale, we'll still be here."

"I appreciate that."

"You're sixteen years old, yet you seem more aware of what you want than many twice your age."

"Thanks, I think."

He laughed at that, and I caught a hint that he was disappointed that I wasn't coming to work with him currently. However, he seemed to understand that the path I was taking was the one I wanted, and since I planned to do some work with Cord-Hislop as a consultant, mainly through the ESA, he likely planned to make other attempts to entice me into the company at some point in the future.

It was the smart play for him to make. Keep me on the line, then slowly reel me in with better, more tempting bait. The problem for him was that he wasn't trying to catch salmon or even tuna. No, I was something far larger, more intelligent, and in many ways, more dangerous.

---***---

​

By the end of April, my path was set. The Hague awaited me in the autumn. Until then, I had to complete my Master's, finish the security project with David, and assist Dr Okonkwo with another paper she was preparing. Today, my focus was on the security project.

The lab we were using was a private one, where no one else could work. David had arranged it for us, gaining exclusive access because my name was attached to the project. The university no doubt hoped that what I was working on would grant it more prestige when it was completed.

Sadly for them, this wasn't something I was prepared to share with the world. Not for a long time, if ever.

The system we'd designed was beautiful. Distributed architecture, along with quantum-resistant encryption, that carried no single point of failure. It was air-gapped by design and networkable by choice, bringing the kind of security that would make intelligence agencies the world over nervous if they knew it existed. If all went well, they never would.

"Run the penetration suite one more time," David said, his fingers hovering over the haptic interface. "If it holds against the VI attack patterns, we're done."

I did as he requested, and we sat back, watching. Assault after assault from three dedicated VIs came at the system. It didn't matter how they attacked: brute force, quantum decryption, and everything else, including several methods David had devised after the program was designed. They all failed. Nothing broke through the security we'd crafted; the architecture held, elegant and unbreakable.

"It's perfect," David commented quietly, something like awe in his voice. "I mean genuinely perfect. This shouldn't exist outside classified military systems."

I smirked, understanding the sentiment and knowing some of the ideas I'd had him implement weren't known to anyone outside this room. They might never have existed if the knowledge in my mind hadn't revealed just enough to let me see. "It likely doesn't exist there either. I think we've built something new."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with that expression I had come to know well. The one that said he was about to ask something he'd been holding back, and with the project all but completed, I sensed today he would finally stop restraining himself.

"Can I ask you something? And will you give me an honest answer?"

"You can ask," I replied with a teasing smirk. He grunted out his amusement.

"Why do you need this? I mean, really need it. A sixteen-year-old physicist doesn't build unhackable systems for fun."

I took a moment to consider my response. I could give him the same half-truths I'd used before and with others, but I felt David deserved more than that. No, I knew he did. Not only had he built this with me, asking a few questions along the way about why I wanted it made, but he'd trusted my intentions.

More than that, he was, as Elena had said before Christmas, a friend. One I felt I wanted to keep in my life, in some way, even after I left Edinburgh and he continued with his studies. Studies that, based on the front project we had crafted to hide the creation of this unbreakable system, should see him gain enough extra credits that he could finish his Master's sometime in the next two years.

Currently, I wasn't sure if I would bring him fully on board with my plans, mainly as even now they remained uncertain. However, when the time came to craft a team around me, he would be one of the first I would ask. I just hoped he would accept.

"I need to be able to work without anyone accessing what I'm doing," I answered after the moment of contemplation was over, hinting at my intentions for the future. "To communicate with others without those who can't or shouldn't know realising I'm doing so, and to store data that can't be seized or examined."

His eyes narrowed. "That sounds less like an answer and more like someone who plans to do something nefarious."

"It's the answer I have and the truth."

He studied me for a while, the glow of the displays as the VIs kept trying and failing to break into our creation casting shadows over his face. I could almost see the thoughts dancing in his mind and felt I could predict the patterns of ideas that were forming there.

"I've known for a while that you're always braced for something," he said quietly. "I don't mean the prodigy thing. That's obvious. I mean the way you carry yourself. You move through the world like someone who's expecting it to turn hostile."

I stayed silent, letting him continue. He was right that I stayed guarded, always watching for the exit; I just hadn't realised he'd been reading it off me all this time.

"I'm not asking you to tell me what it is. I'm just saying I see it. I've seen it since we first started working together, though it took time for me to realise it, and this," he gestured at the screens around us, "is about keeping yourself safe, isn't it?"

"Yes," I admitted after a long pause. There was no point in denying what he had already deduced.

"Okay."

I blinked, faking confusion at his acceptance without challenge. "That's it? Just 'okay'?"

"What do you want me to say? That I understand? I don't. That I'm not curious? I am." He shrugged, a small smile touching his lips. "But you're my friend, Marcus, and friends don't force answers that aren't freely given."

I smiled, pleased he saw me as the friend that I felt he was.

"Besides," David continued, reaching into his bag, "if you ever do need to disappear, this gives you a tool to hopefully do so." He pulled out a small device, no larger than his thumb, and set it on the desk between us. "A custom encrypted comm unit that'll use the program we've just created. Unhackable and untraceable. And right now, only two units exist. This one, and the one I'm keeping."

I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It was elegantly crafted and a lifeline if I ever needed one.

"Thank you," I said, allowing myself to be fully genuine for once.

"Don't thank me. Just don't disappear without saying goodbye, yeah?"

"I won't."

We spent the next hour finalising everything for the project. The VIs failed to break into it, and after installing the software on the devices David had built, we wiped the workstation and the VI systems several times to remove any trace of the project. The core data would be held by David on a secure datapad, well away from any server that might be accessible by others, and when I departed Edinburgh, this project would be remembered only as a theoretical exercise that never developed beyond that.

"What are you planning after you finish your degree?" I asked as we packed up. "Another two years, right?"

"Yeah. Then, probably a PhD here at Edinburgh. AI safety research." He smiled slightly. "Someone needs to make sure we don't build something we can't control."

I had plans regarding AI, though I couldn't tell anyone about them, not even David. The laws and controls around AI, true AI, not mere VIs pushed to their current limits, meant the creation of one was outright prohibited. Warnings from various media over the centuries, along with instances where advanced VI had caused chaos during their initial wide-scale implementation a century ago, had made the world rightfully cautious.

"Ironically, I think we already did," I countered. "Just not with artificial intelligence."

He paused, looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

"Look, whatever happens, stay in touch, alright?" he said, gesturing at the comm unit in my hand. "Even if you can't tell me anything, even if you don't want me to help, just let me know you're alive."

"I will," I replied, closing my fist gently around the device. "I will."

---***---

​

The first days of May, as I was preparing for my final exams as a student at Edinburgh, brought a surprise.

Dr Annelise Bergmann, a Senior Research Fellow from ESA, had arrived in Edinburgh. She'd come to contact Dr Okonkwo and me, passing along information too sensitive to be transmitted over secure communications.

Promethei Planum was generating gravitational distortions that made no sense, along with readings that fluctuated in ways that simply didn't fit any current understanding. It was the sort of illogical behaviour that drove scientists insane, or granted them the spark their genius needed.

Which was part of why I was allowed to see the data.

Dr Bergmann, as cover for her arrival, was giving a guest lecture, and while she did that, I sat at the back of the lecture hall, going over the data. The other students were interested in her work, more so than most guest lectures, because it was known she was involved in ESA's work on Mars.

"The Promethei Planum region has become our primary focus," Dr Bergmann said, gesturing at the orbital imagery that filled the wall behind her. "The mass concentrations detected three years ago haven't dissipated. If anything, they're becoming more pronounced. Recent orbital surveys suggest subsurface structures of considerable scale."

A student near the front raised her hand. "Could it be volcanic activity?"

"The magnetic signatures don't match any known volcanic process, and the structures appear symmetrical." She paused, letting the implication settle. "Too symmetrical for natural formation."

I was only half-listening to the lecture, making sure that I didn't miss anything that might be of note. My mind was focused on the data Dr Bergmann had brought. Beyond the admittedly insane ways Mars was behaving, I felt there was something more to it: something linked to my memories that meant I knew Mars was even more important than the world realised.

A faint, floating memory, one I didn't fully recall ever having, suggested there was something buried in Promethei Planum. Something ancient and important. I was certain of that, even if I didn't have the faintest clue as to what it was.

***

​

The day after Dr Bergmann had departed, I was with Dr Okonkwo, going over the data brought for us to examine. In truth, neither of us had any connection to the research. However, to further their connection with me, Dr Vetter and Dr Larsson had convinced the Director General of ESA, Dr Henrik Lindqvist, to allow me to access the data, and I'd made it clear that Dr Okonkwo should see it as well.

"Look at this." She rotated the image, revealing geometric patterns beneath the Martian surface. "These aren't random formations. This is architecture."

"How deep?" I asked, leaning closer. I already knew the answer; she probably knew I knew. Still, we went over it like this to ensure nothing was missed.

"Fifty metres minimum, and likely deeper. The imaging can't penetrate further without dedicated surface equipment."

"What are they planning?"

"A manned mission." Her voice was quiet, as if weighed down by the significance of the moment. "ESA, NASA, and China are cooperating on this. They're targeting a landing late 2148 or early 2149, and they want your propulsion work for the transit systems."

"They're expecting to find something," I said softly, ignoring how my work was to become part of the project.

"Yes. And they want to be ready when they do."

***

​

By Friday, with recordings of her lecture spreading across the university's networks, Dr Bergmann's talk and what Mars represented were, once again, all anyone was talking about.

"My supervisor is talking about preparing xenobiology protocols," Lars said, shaking his head in disbelief as I sat with him and others in a pub in Edinburgh. "Xenobiology! Like we're actually expecting to find life. Not just primordial creatures, but aliens!"

"Dead aliens, you mean," another student offered. "If there was something there, it's been buried for millennia."

"Still counts. First evidence of true extraterrestrial life, even extinct? That changes everything."

"What if it's not extinct?" I'd been listening absently and didn't realise I'd spoken until the words slipped out.

Everyone present turned to look at me. They didn't know I'd met Dr Bergmann, but they knew she'd spoken with Dr Okonkwo; thus, they assumed that I knew more than they did.

"The anomalies are active," I continued, committed now. "Mass concentrations are appearing and disappearing, and the magnetic fields are shifting. That's not something dead technology would do."

Everyone stayed silent. My words had been taken in, and the implications shifted.

Lars raised an eyebrow. "You think something's still running? The area's been dead for thousands of years."

"I think we don't know enough to rule anything out."

***

​

On Sunday, I was in my flat. Before me were multiple screens displaying the Mars data. Everything that was publicly available, along with everything that ESA and others had gathered over the last few months, was all cross-referenced in the hope that it would bring answers to what I should already know.

There was something artificial beneath Promethei Planum. I could feel the knowledge in my mind shifting, and words that held no obvious meaning came forth.

Prothean. Beacon. Cache. Fifty thousand years.

"Prothean," I muttered aloud. The word meant nothing to me; it was just a sound my mind produced without reference. Yet, I felt as if I should know what it meant, as if I already did but couldn't grasp the memory I needed.

The riddle of how I seemed to know more than I should was more confounding than the data before me. It was like I was remembering something I shouldn't have forgotten.

---***---

​

 

[loki98065]

welp getting closer. am guessing Q/Rob sectioned of his memory's for a more fun reveal

 

[Gordian_Knot]

Zero-day exploits make no sense in this context.

A zero-day exploit refers to a vulnerability in the code that the initial designer did not recognize before release, and hence has had 'zero days' to patch out.


If there are supposedly no flaws in the code, then there would be no zero-day exploits for anyone to find.


That whole section reads like someone dumping buzz words without having any idea how network security actually works.

 

[USSExplorer]

Zero-day exploits make no sense in this context.

A zero-day exploit refers to a vulnerability in the code that the initial designer did not recognize before release, and hence has had 'zero days' to patch out.


If there are supposedly no flaws in the code, then there would be no zero-day exploits for anyone to find.


That whole section reads like someone dumping buzz words without having any idea how network security actually works.

Click to shrink...

Which I admit was the case. That stuff's outside my understanding, so I just went with what sounded good.
If you can suggest a fix/reworking of that paragraph, I'd be happy to take it and apply it.

 

[Gordian_Knot]

Which I admit was the case. That stuff's outside my understanding, so I just went with what sounded good.
If you can suggest a fix/reworking of that paragraph, I'd be happy to take it and apply it.

Click to shrink...

The thing about digital security is that it's always a trade off. The more secure a system is, the less usable it is.

An air gapped system with no network connections is effectively immune to hacking without physical access, but then you have to be physically present to add or remove files.

A system that wipes itself clean on a failed password is immune to brute force attacks, but one mistake in input, or one hostile agent who cares more about fucking you over than enriching himself, and you lose everything.

You can make it extra resilient by using a 6 million character password, which means brute force attacks take thousands of years even with quantum assistance, but then you have to memorize and input 6 million characters. Which your character could probably do, but that would take literal hours just to type.

You can do specific passwords at specific times, demand it be a different code depending on some biometric data, tie it to the random movements of a wall of lava lamps (real thing Cloudflare uses to generate its encryption keys). There are a hundred ways to keep people out, but the more of them you use the harder it is for you yourself to get back in for what you need.


Honestly? Your best bet? Make a special encryption program that changes its own password every twenty seconds using some sort of higher dimensional math thing that your protagonist can do but VI's can't. Then make a physical device that can automatically generate the password, put another code on top of that output, and keep it on his person at all times.

 

[abominable]

All of them wanted to meet to discuss terms and commitments, though by the end of that week, I'd whittled the list of those worth meeting down to thirty. There were another fifty or so that merited at least a comprehensive response, and more than two hundred more that deserved at least something in reply.

Click to shrink...

Other agencies were also advancing my work in preparation for joint and solo missions to Mars.

Click to shrink...

Might be interesting to just publish certain tech freely, "for all mankind" and build up that political and public good will.

No, I was something far larger, more intelligent, and in many ways, more dangerous.

Click to shrink...

Holy shit, calm down Free Willy. We dont need a cringy teenager phase from ya.

 

[Reynard69]

I had plans regarding AI, though I couldn't tell anyone about them, not even David. The laws and controls around AI, true AI, not mere VIs pushed to their current limits, meant the creation of one was outright prohibited. Warnings from various media over the centuries, along with instances where advanced VI had caused chaos during their initial wide-scale implementation a century ago, had made the world rightfully cautious.

Click to shrink...

they... didn't though? AU element? AI's were banned after learning about the citadels laws, and even then, there was the mission where you have to go in and kill the AI who took over the moon.

Unless you're meaning they're restricted to military, after, say, the someone like the modern corpos ruined the global economy with the VI (ai) bubble?

Oh, and the mass effect revelations book, with Sidon and it's AI.

A system that wipes itself clean on a failed password is immune to brute force attacks, but one mistake in input, or one hostile agent who cares more about fucking you over than enriching himself, and you lose everything.

Click to shrink...

Seems like a bad plan to start with. Why not one that air-gaps itself after bad login's? Then you only have to go reset the connection, when the attempt is over.

 

[Gordian_Knot]

Seems like a bad plan to start with. Why not one that air-gaps itself after bad login's? Then you only have to go reset the connection, when the attempt is over.

Click to shrink...

Still a risk if the intruder has physical access.

Physical access is the second biggest risk in computer security, below only social engineering the human element.

 

[eien]

Welp, if my guess holds true then two more chapters before the crash out.

 

[abominable]

Should expect orgs, corps and other entities to try getting further access into the Hague. If the institute is gonna give the MC a free hand at deciding his projects, then theyre gonna want regular updates.

 

[USSExplorer]

0010: Resolutions
…​

As May rolled along, the days grew warmer, and the end of my time at Edinburgh University grew closer. I'd come home, so I could consider the options put forth by the Hague Institute regarding my accommodation.

The Institute was already taking care of my clearance to live and work within the European Federation, not that the process was difficult due to the strong historical and political ties between the Federation and the United Kingdom. All I had left to do was choose which of the offered apartments I wanted, and then let them know when I'd be arriving.

A knock at my door drew me from those thoughts, and I walked over to it. As it opened, my eyes widened for a moment; genuine surprise appeared on my face.

"We need to talk about what happened," Elena said as she moved past me, once more letting herself into my flat.

"I know," I replied, closing the door and then turning.

I watched as she looked around, taking in the various boxes that constituted my belongings. It would be a few months before I moved out, but I was already starting the process. There was little that was keeping me tied to the university. Just my final exams, Dr Okonkwo, and my friends. And Elena and our unresolved issues.

"Not just the sex," she continued, turning to face me, a smile slipping almost unwanted onto her lips. "I mean, it was good. Better than good, if I'm being honest." I didn't bother to hide my pride at her words.

She glared at me for that, but there was no heat in it, suggesting her mind was on other matters. "It is just… during that. You were there, but you weren't. Like your mind was thinking about numbers while your body was… enjoying itself."

I stayed silent, as she was right. For all I'd enjoyed that night and morning, I'd been holding back.

"I thought it was emotional distance at first," she continued, settling down onto my sofa. "I mean, for all your brains, you're still young. I thought you feared intimacy and commitment. The sort of things all guys worry about."

"Maybe I do."

The words, as intended, made her laugh, though it faded almost as soon as it had come.

"Maybe you do," she repeated. "But I think it's more than just that." She looked up at me, her eyes gesturing for me to sit, though not next to her. "Your issue wasn't emotional; it's physical. You don't want to let me in, as if doing so would somehow hurt me."

"Elena–"

"Let me finish," she cut in, her tone sharpening but not to the point of anger. I pushed aside thoughts about how her mind worked and how it was that, as much as her looks, that had drawn me to her. "I've been thinking about this for weeks… months. It feels like you're hiding something, or you're just not ready for anything serious when I am. Either way, it makes it impossible for me to get close to you like I want to. No, like I wanted to."

I didn't respond because there really wasn't anything I could say that would ease her concerns, not without them being another lie to add to the piles I'd already told via omission. I was keeping my distance, because I felt I had to, not because I wanted to.

She stared at me for a long moment, and then her shoulders dropped slightly. In defeat that I wouldn't answer, or weary acceptance of the same.

"I'm not angry," she said quietly. "I'm not even hurt, not really. I just need to know if I'm going mad. If I'm seeing things that aren't there."

I stayed still, letting her continue.

"So what is it? Why won't you let me in?"

I pondered my response for a few moments. "I'm not ready for… what you want." It hurt to say that, but it was better than feeding any idea that I was hiding something. She was grasping at straws, looking for a reason, so I'd give her the obvious one, and let her forget about the more insane, but accurate, answer.

Her shoulders slumped at my words. "I expected that," she said quietly, looking away for a moment. "I mean, why would you be hiding anything?" I chuckled, deflecting further.

"What would I have to hide?"

"Better skills in bed than are fair?" she shot back with a lopsided smile. That fell a moment later. "But that doesn't mean we can't stay friends, right?"

"Is that what we are? Friends?" I found myself hoping she said yes. Like David had.

"I think we're people who saw each other clearly for a moment. That's rarer than romance." Her lips shifted, a smile I thought was genuine coming to them. "I'll take it if I can't have more."

All I could do was nod, and I was sure that relief was clear in my eyes. I held back, as I always did, but enough genuine emotion was showing as I found another person I could trust with at least some of the truth of who and what I was.

"I'm leaving Edinburgh."

The sudden shift in topic caught me by surprise. She laughed gently at my reaction. "I'm transferring to Spain to work on my PhD. You know that my plans changed because of you?" I nodded. "That's why I can't stay here. The university and the city, they remind me of you."

"They'll be lucky to have you," I commented honestly.

She wasn't as smart as David and those like him, but she wasn't dumb. Her mind was sharp, and she was able to see things quicker and clearer than others; something proven by how she understood I was different without, until today, realising why. She was brilliant without being exceptional, and part of me was jealous of her because of that.

"So, your graduation, it's goodbye," she continued slowly, not responding to my comment. "At least for a while."

"I know."

She leaned closer, reaching over the table between us to take my hands. I enjoyed the moment, memorising the feel of her skin against mine as if I knew it would be the last time she held me like this.

"Stay in touch, Marcus. Even if it's just occasional messages about physics. I'd like to know you're okay."

"I will."

She nodded and then stood, letting my hands slip from her grasp.

I followed, escorting her to the door. Once it was open, she turned back, looking up at me. "One more thing. Whatever the reason you have for keeping everyone at arm's length, I hope it's worth it. And, god help me, if you're right, then whenever the reason for you doing so happens, I hope you'll win."

"I will."

She smiled, then, after leaning close, placed a last parting kiss against my cheek. I watched her walk away, standing in the doorway of my flat. I wasn't heartbroken as we'd never been in love. But I was aware that, even while gaining a real friend, I'd potentially lost one of the few people who had seen me clearly and chosen to stay anyway.

---***---
​

As May ended, it brought with it my final examinations. The culmination of more than a year's worth of work towards my Master's. As I walked out of the last exam, one centred around advanced Quantum Mechanics, I allowed myself a rueful chuckle. Even if I failed all the exams, I'd still graduate. The two papers I'd published, along with other projects that I'd continue to consult on while elsewhere, were more than enough for me to gain my Master's and the University wouldn't let me go without having the degree that linked me to them. All these exams did was allow me to graduate with top marks in the Physics department, if not across the university.

As I emerged from the examination hall, I watched as other undergraduates walked past. All girls, who, based on the way they whispered and pointed at me, knew who I was. That wasn't unexpected given my rapidly growing fame, nor were the little smiles, movements of hair, and other slight signs of interest they displayed as they passed.

I offered them a warm smile back, though my mind was comparing them all unfavourably to Elena. All of them were physically appealing, yet I had no time nor interest in pursuing them. Even a simple one-night moment didn't hold the appeal it might've had a few months ago. My mind was already elsewhere, on my new life in The Hague after the summer.

Behind me, the rest of the students, all in their early twenties, taking the exam, remained. There were still ninety minutes of the one-eighty allotted for the exam to go, but I'd not needed half that time. In truth, I'd barely needed an hour, while the last thirty had been spent on confirming I'd not made any mistakes, even when I knew I hadn't. That wasn't to say the paper was easy, far from it, it was just that what it challenged me on was far beneath the levels my mind and the knowledge within worked on.

That sounded arrogant, but it was the truth, as did saying that Edinburgh University had served its purpose. It had brought me the credentials and connections I'd wanted, and now it was almost time for me to depart for my next adventure.

***
​

A week after the final exam, I found myself standing before a board primarily composed of senior members of the faculty of Physics and Engineering. Four members of the faculty, three from the Physics department, one from Engineering, sat before me along with an outside member, Professor Malcolm Reeves from Imperial College. Dr Okonkwo, as my advisor, was at my side, yet she was unneeded.

I was here today to defend my thesis, "Unified Framework for Field-Based Propulsion: Recursive Geometries and Acceleration Dynamics", but everyone knew this was a mere formality. The work had already been published, so there was little the board before me could do to reject it. However, the process had to be observed, otherwise there would be questions of favouritism. Or more of them, at any rate.

"The fundamental insight underlying this work," I explained in a clear and concise voice that, I hoped, didn't carry any hints of arrogance, "is that propulsion isn't about thrust. It's about field manipulation. This framework unifies approaches previously treated as separate disciplines. More significantly, it provides theoretical foundations for technologies we haven't yet developed, but which the physics allows."

Professor Reeves leaned forward. "Your recursive field geometry framework predicts propulsion capabilities we can't currently achieve. Why include theoretical work that can't be experimentally validated?"

"Because the mathematics is consistent, and the physics allows it. Whether we can achieve it practically depends on real-world issues, not on whether the theory is sound."

Dr Keating, from the Engineering department, followed up with a more pointed question. "Some reviewers have questioned how a student your age could develop these insights independently. How do you respond?"

I chuckled, amused that they were using reviews of my paper to challenge the thesis.

"Mathematics doesn't care about the age of the mathematician. The framework is sound, and the experimental validation supports it. My age is irrelevant to whether the physics is correct."

***
​

Ten minutes later, I was called back inside. I'd only left the room five minutes ago after being asked to do so to allow the board to deliberate. That it took them five minutes was shorter than I'd expected, but not by much.

"Mr Sinclair," Dr Henderson, the Head of School for Physics, began once I was standing before them again with Dr Okonkwo at my shoulder, "this is among the strongest theses this department has seen in decades. The work is original, the validation rigorous, and everyone here is already aware of how significant the implications of it are." He paused. "The only concern is over the pace of your work, and, as is to be expected, your age. To produce this level of insight is something everyone seated here is jealous of. However, those concerns aren't relevant to your thesis. That is why it is our recommendation that not only are you to graduate, but to recommend you for the Robertson Medal."

I smiled and nodded. The Robertson Medal was the top recognition given each year to a student from one of the traditional three sciences. That I was up for the award wasn't unexpected; Dr Okonkwo had mentioned it to me before. Still, hearing I was to receive it was nice; another feather in my cap to help defer questions that were only going to increase about my age and insight.

Dr Okonkwo walked at my side as I left the room, likely proud that I'd earned the Medal. It added to her reputation as well, and she would no doubt use it and my name to help gain funding in the coming years. If she needed more help, be that a personal appearance or a letter of support, I'd offer that freely. If it wasn't for her accepting me over a year ago, I'd not be where I was today.

***
​

Later that day, I was enjoying a coffee in one of the numerous shops around the campus, where one could get a drink and relax. My eyes scanned everyone moving around, taking it all in for one of the last times.

"May I?"

Looking up, I saw Professor Reeves. The man was in his sixties, at a guess, yet carried himself with vigour that belied his age.

"Of course, Professor."

He smiled and then sat, waving away the barista before she came over. Such work could be done by mobile VI systems, but the universities preferred if it was done by students. A chance for those who chose to work to gain experience, though with clear limits in place as to how long they could work so their studies weren't affected. I'd never chosen to do so, because of my age and the full scholarship I'd gained, but I understood why others did.

"I know genius when I see it," the Professor began without any foreplay. "I've supervised Nobel laureates, and, frankly, you're different from them. They were brilliant but comprehensible. You… I think you might be a genius for our age." His eyes were sharp, assessing. "I don't know why that is, but I want to see what you accomplish in life; and what wonders you unlock for mankind."

"But know this: You've caught attention beyond Edinburgh. The sort of attention that sees your genius and that you're special, and wants to harness you for its, or their, goals instead for the benefit of all." He held my gaze. "Be careful, Mr Sinclair. The world doesn't let people like you remain anonymous. You can't hide genius, and genius that appears too early and impresses as you have draws predators."

"I appreciate the warning."

"It's not a warning. It's a fact."

---***---
​

A week before my graduation, when I was expected to give a speech upon receiving the Robertson Medal, I was with my family. Mum, once she heard about the medal, had insisted on dinners with the other members of the family.

Currently, we were with Uncle Robert and his wife, Sandra, their kids, and my grandmother from my mother's side, Margaret. Robert was a lecturer and medical researcher at the University of Glasgow and my Dad's older brother, while my grandmother was retired and in her eighties, content, as always, to take on the role of the wider family's elder matriarch.

"The Hague Institute," Uncle Robert said over the main course after I'd told him and the others about my plans for after the summer. "That's quite prestigious."

"It offers what I need. Freedom to research without institutional constraints."

"Or connections," Mum countered. "Or support structures. Marcus, you'll be in a foreign country, alone, at sixteen."

"It's only a short flight from here, and I'm ready for it," I replied, seeking to assuage her concerns.

"Are you?" Her voice sharpened. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've been ready for everything except being a person."

The table froze there, with only Callum and my younger cousins failing to understand the issue.

"Fiona–" Dad started.

"No. Someone needs to say it." Mum's eyes didn't leave mine. "Marcus, you've achieved extraordinary things, and we're all incredibly proud. But you're also sixteen years old, and you're about to move to another country to work with people twice your age. When do you get to just... be?"

"I don't know how to 'just be,' Mum." The words slipped from me without restraint. "I never have."

My words, more truthful than I had intended, created a response. Pain and concern flashed in her eyes, and I sensed that she felt she'd failed in some way as my mother.

"We're not trying to hold you back, son," Dad said gently, easing the topic onwards. "We just want to make sure you're okay, and that you're not losing yourself in the work."

Callum, entirely unaware of the reason for the tension, and easily distracted by talk of my work, cut in. "Will you really work on spacecraft? Like, actual ships that go to Mars?"

I smiled, grateful for the shift in the conversation, and his simple, youthful acceptance of what I was doing without questions, like those from my parents, that I couldn't answer properly. "Theoretically, yes. The propulsion systems I'm developing could make missions faster and more efficient."

"That's brilliant! Can I visit you at The Hague?"

"Absolutely. Anytime you want." I looked at Mum, smiling. "All of you can," I added, hoping to further ease her worries about me, where I was heading, and what I would do.

I didn't know if it would work, but I wanted them to be happy. I was moving on with my life, even if my Mum wanted to hold on to me for a while longer. That didn't mean I would cut them out of my life. It was just that my path was taking me away from them.

I could only hope that it wasn't forever.

***
​

After dinner, I walked back to my flat by myself. My Mum had wanted to come with, likely to continue the conversation she'd begun over dinner, but Dad and Uncle Robert had stopped her. My grandmother had then put her foot down, saying, "Let him be his own man."

Mum had agreed, but I knew she wouldn't let the matter rest. Her fears about me growing up too soon, and leaving for another country, moving out of her reach, would remain for some time. Yet she had relented, at least for now.

Dad had made clear before I departed that Mum only worried because she loved me, and I assured him that I knew that. I promised that I'd stay in contact and come home as often as I could. It was just that I was moving forward in my life, something I knew I had to do, even if I didn't yet understand what drove me to keep moving so quickly.

Once I understood why the drive was there and why the knowledge was hidden in my mind, I'd try to repair anything that was damaged.

---***---
​

 

[Axios_Kaier22]

I'm loving the pacing of this story. At first it feels rushed but as we go on it slows down a bit to a more natural pacing and I love it.

I can't wait till the Prothean Archives are unearthed and he gets access to all that knowledge to do with as he pleases.