Y'know, being prepared is great and all, but the world really has a way of surprising you anyway. It's kind of funny, if you really want to know. Even when you think you've got everything figured out, predicted every single thing that could happen, something new crawls out from the cracks in your perfect little plan. Our brains are pretty good at finding patterns, but they're also really good at being completely wrong.

'I woke up restless. Not that it mattered much, but the stuff from my wall socket was spread all over my desk: this leather journal with what looked like my handwriting, and some USB drive. The journal was...well, it was a problem. '

Through my window, I could hear gunfire from the tactical range, beating away like some kind of twisted metronome. 4:47 AM. Campus would be dead quiet for another hour at least – perfect time to look into our mysterious jumper. The suicide itself wasn't what bothered me – we lost people every semester. What bothered me was that I hadn't seen it coming. My notebook had every single at-risk student written down, every little thing they did mapped out. He wasn't there. That should’ve been impossible.

I pulled up his file on my laptop from my record-storing USB Drive. Richard Thaileasy. Some third-year transfer from MIT, specialized in quantum computing. Perfect scores everywhere you looked, combat training that would put a marine to shame, cleared for all the classified stuff. Nothing in his file even hinted at being suicidal. No changes in how he acted, no breaking from his routine. Every single time I'd watched him over the semester played back perfectly in my head – how he'd always pay attention in lectures, the way he'd line up all his stuff before class started. The kind of person who does everything by the book, which made his experiment with gravity even more suspicious.

'A sharp pain shot through my head like someone had stuck a hot poker in there. For a moment, I saw/remembered/dreamed something weird:'

A different desk, a different file, but the same face staring back at me. “Subject demonstrates remarkable adaptive capabilities. Recommend immediate transfer to—”

The thought, if that's what you could even call it, slipped away just like that. But I couldn't shake what it meant. Richard Thaileasy had fallen for at least 3.2 seconds before impact, which meant he'd jumped from the at minimum, the ninth floor. Didn't hesitate, didn't leave a note, didn't do anything that made any kind of sense.

Look, to make this clear. In my three years here, I'd written down every single person who might be a risk. It wasn't just watching people–it was seeing patterns that most people would call me crazy for noticing. How well they did in class, down to the decimal point. Changes in how they acted around others. Tiny little shifts in behavior. I remembered all of it, organized it, and cross-referenced it. Richard Thaileasy hadn't just slipped through–it was like he existed completely outside everything I knew about predicting people.

Which meant either my pattern recognition had failed for the first time in my life, or there was something about Richard Thaileasy that I just wasn't seeing. Neither option was exactly comforting, if you really want to know the truth.

'The sun was starting to come up. I gathered all my stuff, each movement something I'd done a million times before. As I reached for my bag, that familiar white noise started building up in my skull again. It wasn't like I was losing memories–I can't lose memories–but it was something else. Like new information was trying to force its way into my head, a familiar feeling, the same kind when I try to cram an entire textbook in my memory the night before a less vocal teacher’s major exam.'

'What Ayana had said eight hours and forty-two minutes ago played back in my head: "In the next forty-eight hours you will experience certain changes to your personality and mental state." The exact way she'd said it, how her eyes had locked onto mine, that little tilt of her head – I could remember it all perfectly, but somehow it felt like I was missing something important, like there was context I should've had but didn't.'

The admin people had handled the whole thing like they always do–efficiently. Within hours, maintenance had cleaned up the impact site like nothing had ever happened. Their report was precise, methodical – exactly what you'd expect from a place like this. They'd definitely collected way more data than they'd told the rest of us about. Standard procedure: control what information gets out to keep everything running smooth.

Scene Insert: (1001)

I pushed through the morning air, watching my breath turn to fog in the cold. The impact site looked perfect – maintenance had done their usual thorough job. They'd replaced the whole surface – standard procedure would've been to document every little detail before cleanup. Photos, samples, measurements – all stuff way above what they'd let a student see. The administration was probably knee-deep in their investigation by now, which made me being there either pointless or presumptuous. Maybe both.

The sun was starting to reflect off the ninth-floor window. Richard Thaileasy's lab space. Everything about his work had been documented properly, all progress noted. The official report said there were "no anomalies"–the kind of phrase that sounds suspicious exactly because it's trying not to be.

But things had shifted since he fell. Little changes in how research teams did their work, subtle differences in their methods. The kind of stuff that seems like nothing unless your mind autistically catalogs every little detail. Which, coincidentally, I am. I have to be careful about that, though. With stuff like this, it’s easy to get carried away with false narratives and nonsensical connections. Years of experience being in my own body has taught me to be practical, reasonable,and stick to first principles. I have to gather concrete evidence before being sure of anything.

Dr. Warren would be starting her shift at the physics building soon. She always seemed to be right where important information flowed through, which made her perfect for asking the right questions. Sometimes the best data isn't in what's classified, but in looking at how they classify things in the first place.

As I rounded the corner, there she was at the front desk – three minutes early, like always. She sat there without moving, making that austere lobby feel like some kind of stage. A few researchers hurried past, moving just a bit too carefully to look natural.

I walked up to the desk with my research request form already out. Dr. Warren's smile didn't change at all as she looked up. That was the thing about her–she didn't just watch you, she made sure you knew you were being watched.

"Good morning," I kept my voice flat. "Looking to check out some quantum computing stuff."

Dr. Warren: "Of course. Though it's rather early for research, isn't it, Abel?"

The way she said my name made it sound like she was testing out a theory.

"Advanced Geological Topography in an hour. Figured I'd make good use of the time."

Dr. Warren: "Efficiency is important. Though sometimes the scenic route yields unexpected discoveries." She took my form, moving like some kind of robot. "Professor Kavka's class should be interesting today. He's been quite focused on topology mapping recently."

Something about how she said “topology” caught my attention. Kind of like how Richard Thaileasy's notes emphasized certain quantum states. Little patterns that might mean nothing. Or might mean everything.

"You seem to know a lot about what's being taught."

Dr. Warren: "Information flows through predictable channels. We simply have to observe where it pools." She stamped the form. "Section 4B, shelf 23. Do mind the classification markers."

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

'As I headed toward the stacks, I could feel her eyes following me. Those numbers she'd given–4B, 23 – matched something I'd seen in Richard Thaileasy's notes. Could be a coincidence.'

'The shelves in section 4B rose up like canyon walls, all filled with perfectly organized books. I found shelf 23 and started scanning titles. 'Advanced Quantum Decoherence Theory' caught my eye–it had been in Richard Thaileasy's last paper. As I reached for it, that damn white noise came back, along with... something else:'

Rows of identical books, but the words inside kept changing. “The observer effect applies to more than just particles—”

I pushed whatever that was aside and checked my watch. Twenty minutes until Kavka's class. Time to see what all this topology stuff was really about.

Scene End

The lecture hall was already half-packed when I got there. Advanced Geological Topography was weird like that–you got the hardcore geology nerds and then people who thought they could coast through what they knew intuitively was a difficult subject.

Professor Kavka had been studying this stuff for most of his life, and it took him almost 20 years before it reached my ears. His class was always crack-of-dawn early, but you'd never guess it from how excited he got about random plateaus, the best ways to navigate them, and all the math behind it.

All the unique material, his teaching style, the awards and praise that came with it–it was a lot. But, like usual, his super-difficult graduate class went in one ear and out the other.

About an hour later, it was over. As everyone filed out, I walked up to his desk.

"Professor Kavka?"

He looked up from his papers, eyebrows doing a little dance.

Professor Kavka: "Abel. I was starting to think you'd gone mute this semester."

"Just practicing selective participation. Actually, I was hoping to discuss something with you. Over lunch, maybe?"

He paused, hand hanging over his briefcase. A little smile crept across his face.

Professor Kavka: "Now that's interesting. You know, I'd have better odds winning the lottery than predicting you'd ask that today."

"Is that a no?"

Professor Kavka: "On the contrary. Cutler at two?"

"Works for me."

As I turned to leave, he added:

Professor Kavka: "And Abel? Whatever this is about–I trust it's more compelling than last semester's discussion on the ethics of teaching plate tectonics?"

"Considerably."

The hours between morning class and lunch gave me plenty of time to dig through that quantum computing text from Dr. Warren. The book itself was pretty standard stuff–decoherence theory, quantum states, all that measurement problem jazz. But someone, probably Richard Thaileasy, had left little breadcrumbs in the margins. Subtle marks most people wouldn't even notice. Numbers and symbols that looked a lot like the patterns in his research notes.

Campus was getting busier as morning crawled toward afternoon. Students moved between classes like they had somewhere important to be, talking about theoretical physics and tactical scenarios. A group from Advanced Combat Tactics was arguing about the best angles for urban warfare.

'I found an empty spot in the quantum physics building's study area to keep picking apart the text. The tinnitus in my head, which I resolved to get checked out later, had settled into this dull background hum, like an old TV nobody bothered to turn off. As I started comparing Richard Thaileasy's margin notes with his research data, something started to click. Not in what was there, but in what wasn't – the spaces where information should have been but just...wasn't.'

At 1:45, I packed up my stuff and headed to Cutler. The dining place was smack in the middle of campus, built to blend in with everything around it while giving clear views in every direction. They said it was for looks. Just like how they said the reinforced walls were for "structural integrity"–yeah, right.

'Professor Kavka was already sitting at a corner table when I got there, nursing a half-empty coffee cup. He didn't look up when I walked over, too busy marking papers with these precise red lines.'

"Grading the topology midterms?"

Professor Kavka: "Attempting to decipher them, more accurately. Did you know someone tried to prove you could map a mountain range using only prime numbers?" He put his pen down. "But I doubt you asked me to lunch to discuss creative interpretations of mathematical geography."

I sat across from him. The corner table let us see everyone in the dining hall while keeping most people from seeing us too well. Perfect spot for a private chat–which Kavka had undoubtedly chosen deliberately.

"Richard Thaileasy cited your work on topology mapping in his last paper."

Kavka's face didn't change, but his hand drifted away from his coffee cup like it might bite him.

Professor Kavka: "Ah. I was wondering when someone would notice that. Though I didn't expect it to be you, given your spectacular lack of interest in my class."

"I pay special attention to what isn’t trivial."

Professor Kavka: "Yes, you do. Very selectively, I've noticed." He leaned back a bit. "What else have you noticed, Abel?"

"His paper connected geological topology mapping to quantum state observation. Not exactly something you'd expect to go together."

Professor Kavka: "Most breakthroughs aren't obvious until after they're made. Though I admit, his approach was...unconventional."

"Was?"

Kavka picked up his pen again, turning it between his fingers like some kind of nervous habit.

Professor Kavka: "You'd have to ask his research supervisor about the specifics. I only consulted him on the theoretical framework."

"Dr. Warren mentioned you've been focusing on topology mapping recently."

His pen stopped spinning for just a second. You'd miss it if you weren't looking.

Professor Kavka: "Did she? Interesting. Tell me, Abel, why do you think we teach and require Advanced Geological Topography at an institution like this?"

"Because understanding terrain is crucial for military operations?"

Professor Kavka: "That's the obvious answer. The safe answer." He put his pen down exactly parallel to the edge of the table. "But consider this: what if the principles of mapping complex, ever-changing landscapes applied to more than just physical terrain?"

'Before I could respond, this sharp spike of white noise shot through my head like a bullet. For a second, the dining hall looked all wrong, like someone had taken all the angles and twisted them just enough to make you sick.'

Professor Kavka: "Are you alright?"

"Fine." I forced my eyes to focus. "You're suggesting Thaileasy was applying topology principles to quantum mechanics."

Professor Kavka: "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm having lunch with a student who's showing an unexpected interest in a dead classmate's research." He gathered his papers. "Though if I were suggesting something, I might point out that sometimes the most interesting discoveries come from mapping the spaces between established knowledge."

He stood up.

Professor Kavka: "Unfortunately, I have another meeting. But Abel..." He paused. "Be careful what patterns you go looking for."

'I watched him weave between the tables toward the exit. The dining hall had filled up while we talked, students and faculty everywhere. Everyone moving just so, talking just right, keeping their distance like it was choreographed.'

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean...?” I huffed under my breath.

'My head was still buzzing, not just from the white noise thing but from what Kavka hadn't said. The spaces between established knowledge. The same gaps I'd noticed in Richard Thaileasy's research notes. The same weird feeling that I was missing something in my own memories. It was something that has never happened to me before.'

'I looked at the quantum computing text from Dr. Warren's library. Section 4B, shelf 23. Numbers that felt important in ways I couldn't put my finger on, like coordinates in some system I was just starting to see. Maybe that was the point.'

'As I gathered my stuff, something clicked: how carefully everyone was positioned. Kavka hadn't seemed surprised by my questions. Neither had Dr. Warren. Like they'd been waiting for me to start asking them. Dr. Warren at her desk exactly when I showed up. Kavka's carefully chosen words. Ayana's warning about the next forty hours. Each of them watching, waiting–not for answers about Thaileasy, but for something else entirely.'

'The white noise hummed at the edge of my mind, and for a moment I caught myself wondering: in this whole mapping of complex topographies thing, was I really the one making the map, or just another piece of the landscape being charted?'