John stood at the large, glass window of his newly repurposed mountain research base, the distant peaks of snow-capped mountains serving as a stark contrast to the frenzy unfolding behind him. The base had been operational for less than 24 hours, a once-abandoned R&D site now transformed into the epicenter of his quest to crack the Brettell equations. People were rushing around, equipment was being installed at a frantic pace, and the low hum of construction vibrated through the air. It was controlled chaos.
He liked it that way.
In the reflection of the window, he saw engineers darting between rooms, workers laying cables, and scientists hauling crates of equipment through half-assembled labs. They were all trying to keep up with his impossible timeline, their movements frantic, their faces etched with stress. John could feel the weight of their unease—he had demanded the impossible and was paying for it. But that’s what money was for, wasn’t it? To make the impossible happen.
He turned to face them, the hurried pace of activity behind him pulling at his mind. It wasn’t just the facility that was under pressure; John’s thoughts raced, swirling through variables, calculations, and the nagging uncertainty that had been plaguing him since the shift in reality. He knew there wasn’t time to slow down, not for anyone or anything—not even himself. The problem gnawed at him like a festering wound he couldn’t ignore.
“Sir, we’re still running behind on the clean room for the liquid oxygen,” one of the engineers said, breathless as he jogged over, clipboard in hand. “We can have it done, but not in your original timeframe. If you want this up and operational, we’re looking at... well, at least tens of millions to fast-track it. But even then—”
“Get it done,” John interrupted, his tone sharp, unwavering. “I told you there’s an open checkbook for this project. Time is the only thing I can’t afford to waste.”
The engineer blinked, taken aback by John’s cool indifference to the staggering costs. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded quickly and scurried off, shouting orders to his team.
John's jaw clenched as he watched the engineer disappear into the chaos. Money, time—everything was being thrown into this project. It had to be. The cost was irrelevant compared to what was at stake. But as he stood in the middle of this whirlwind of activity, he couldn’t ignore the growing tension tightening in his chest. He was pushing everyone, pushing himself, and he could feel the weight of it all starting to press down.
You’re running out of time, John, a voice whispered at the back of his mind. He could dismiss his team’s concerns easily enough, but he couldn’t shake his own growing anxiety. The Brettell equations were the key—he was sure of it—but the answers felt like they were just out of reach. And each second wasted brought him closer to something he couldn’t define but knew he feared.
“Mr. Wilder,” a voice broke through his thoughts. It was Vince Bowman, his Vice President and the one person John could trust to keep the rest of the operation running smoothly.
“Vince,” John greeted him, nodding slightly. “Everything going as planned?”
Vince shrugged, glancing around the room with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression. “If by ‘as planned’ you mean a total madhouse, then sure. But we’re getting there. Slowly.”
John cracked a rare smile, his eyes scanning the sea of people scrambling to meet his expectations. “It’s not supposed to be easy. That’s why we’re doing it.”
Vince chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough. But don’t expect anyone to get much sleep until this thing’s operational.”
John’s smile faded as he turned back toward the window, his gaze distant again. “I need you to handle everything for a few days. I’ve got... some personal problems to deal with.”
Vince frowned, his tone shifting to something more serious. “What kind of problems?”
John didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let his eyes linger on the mountains beyond the base, their stillness a stark contrast to the storm building inside him. He wasn’t just running an operation anymore. He was fighting against something much larger, something that threatened to unravel the very fabric of his existence. But he couldn’t explain that to Vince—not yet.
“Just... problems I need to figure out,” John said finally. “I’m counting on you to keep things moving here. Whatever they need, make sure they get it. No more delays.”
Vince nodded, though his eyes flickered with concern. “You know I’ve got your back. But if something’s going on, you should tell me.”
John waved him off, turning back toward the chaos of the lab. “I’ll handle it. Just make sure this place runs like clockwork. I’ll be in and out, but I need to focus on something bigger right now.”
Vince didn’t push further, sensing the edge in John’s tone. He nodded once more and moved off, already barking orders at the overwhelmed staff.
John let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He needed the space to think, to work through the equations that haunted his every waking moment. The facility would run without him, for now. But the answers he sought—those were things no amount of money could buy. And with each passing day, the pressure to find them grew heavier.
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He turned toward one of the empty rooms, now partially set up as his private lab. It was where he planned to immerse himself in the Brettell equations, in the mysteries of the Bose-Einstein condensates, and in the elusive solution that felt maddeningly close but still beyond reach.
A clean room, liquid oxygen, millions in cost—it all felt trivial in the face of what he was truly up against. Time wasn’t just slipping away; it was hurtling toward him like an oncoming storm. And no amount of money, no army of engineers or scientists, could stop what was coming.
“Get it done,” he had said. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something coming that he couldn’t get done, no matter how hard he tried.
John stood by the large interactive screen, waiting as the door to the lab slid open. Dr. Peter Brettell walked in, a curious but somewhat reserved smile on his face. The professor was older than John remembered from the few pictures he’d seen, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that belied his age. Despite the chaos of the facility still being set up around them, Brettell seemed entirely at ease.
"Mr. Wilder," the professor greeted, extending his hand. "Thank you for the helicopter ride. Quite the impressive facility you have here."
John shook his hand firmly, offering a polite smile in return. "Thank you, Doctor. I’m glad you could make it on such short notice."
Brettell’s eyes roamed the room, taking in the half-assembled equipment and the teams of engineers still buzzing around the facility. "Well, I must admit, I’m more than a little curious. Your request was... rather cryptic."
John gestured to the sleek desk where a holographic display was already set up, projecting a series of intricate equations in mid-air. "It’ll make sense soon enough. I wanted your expertise on something called the Brettell equations."
The professor's polite smile faltered, and his brow furrowed. "The Brettell equations?" he repeated, clearly caught off-guard. "That’s the second time today someone’s asked me about them. But I’ve never even heard of such equations, let alone ones that bear my name."
John raised an eyebrow. "Second time today? Who else asked you about them?"
"A man named Peter Briggs," Brettell said slowly, glancing at John for a reaction.
John couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking his head. "Of course. Peter’s in the game." The professor looked puzzled, but John waved it off. "Don’t worry about him. Let’s focus on what’s in front of us."
He tapped a few buttons on the screen, expanding the holographic display until the room was filled with floating symbols, lines, and calculations. Brettell’s eyes widened as he stepped forward, examining the equations. For a long moment, he said nothing, his fingers twitching slightly, as if tempted to reach out and interact with the display.
"These..." Brettell began, his voice low and almost reverent. "These equations... are you trying to build a Bose-Einstein condensate?"
John nodded. "Not just build it. Encapsulate something inside it."
The professor’s eyes flickered with astonishment, his mind already working through the implications. "No, no... this goes further than that. You’re not just trying to encapsulate something. You’re trying to..." Brettell hesitated, clearly struggling to articulate what he was seeing. "No, that can’t be right."
"Try me," John pressed, his voice calm but insistent.
Brettell looked at the equations again, his mind racing. "You’re trying to determine the observer," he said slowly, almost as if testing the words.
John’s eyes sharpened. "Go on."
The professor glanced at him, a mixture of disbelief and fascination in his gaze. "You know that observing an event—especially at a quantum level—can change the outcome of that event. The observer effect. What these equations suggest... is that you’re trying to create a Bose-Einstein condensate as a shield or a bubble. If you succeeded, you could theoretically isolate an event within it. But not just isolate it—you’d be the sole observer of that event."
John crossed his arms, waiting for more.
"Think about it," Brettell continued, pacing slightly as he explained. "If an event happens inside that bubble, and you’re the only one observing it, you’re effectively outside of that event’s reality. You’re the sole observer, which means you could control how that event is perceived, possibly even change its outcome. It’s... it’s like being outside of existence itself, watching everything unfold without interference from the outside world."
John nodded, his expression unreadable. "And what would it take to maintain such a bubble?"
The professor ran a hand through his graying hair, his mind clearly racing. "Well, based on these calculations... You’d need an enormous amount of energy. Something in the range of 3,000 to 3,500 megawatts per hour, just to maintain a stable bubble the size of, say, a few inches across. That’s like the power consumption of a whole city. To sustain it for any length of time? You’d need to commandeer your own power plant."
John smiled faintly, the gears in his mind already turning. "Good news, Doctor."
"Good news?" Brettell echoed, looking incredulous. "This is theoretically possible, but we’re talking about an astronomical amount of energy. You’d need to divert—"
John cut him off with a slight wave of his hand. "I can handle the energy. I’ll have a desk set up for you right here in this lab. You and I are going to get to work immediately."
Without waiting for Brettell’s response, John tapped the intercom button on his desk. "Vince," he said, his tone calm but commanding. "I need to buy a power station. Actually, make it two, and have all of the energy diverted to this facility."
There was a stunned silence on the other end before Vince’s voice crackled through the speaker. "John... that’s going to cost billions."
John didn’t hesitate. "I know. Release five percent of my shares in Montera Industries. That should give us about sixty-five billion pounds to play with. And Vince—"
"Yeah?" Vince replied, still sounding a little shocked.
"I want it done yesterday."
Vince sighed audibly over the intercom, but John could sense his grin on the other end. "I’m on it."
John turned back to the professor, who still seemed stunned by the sheer scale of the operation John was putting into motion. "Shall we get started, Doctor?"
Brettell blinked, then nodded slowly, the weight of what they were attempting settling in. "Yes," he said quietly. "Let’s get to work."