Norman was standing on the platform once again, waiting for the next iteration of the train. A month had passed, and since then, Arianna's irrigation project had moved forward significantly.

Norman's own dissertation was not progressing well, though. His plan had been to look at some of the open-contract projects proposed by industrial guilds that routinely sought assistance from the academy. While Norman had been delving into a few of these open problems, none of them seemed impactful enough for an annual dissertation.

His relationship with his companion had also gotten less intense over time. After Norman set aside his attempts to get rid of it, it had grown less invasive. It also seemed to have gotten the hint that the dreams were not having their desired attempt, and for the last few weeks his sleep had improved.

Getting on the train, Norman contemplated his plans for the future.

A career with the Protectorate increasingly looked like a bleak prospect because effectively all roles required a full medical examination, and Norman was no close to gaining any insights on how to get rid of his companion. So, he was looking for career options that were adjacent to the Protectorate. He just didn't see himself fitting into commerce or something very theoretical.

The project he had spent the most time in happened to be a proposal by Zenith Fidaeus. He told himself that it was because the problem domain was interesting and the contract paid well, and Arianna's association with them did not factor in at all.

He arrived at the meeting complex twenty minutes earlier, thinking he would have a few minutes to get some light refreshments at the station before heading in. Too busy ironing out numerous last-minute details, he had missed both the previous day's dinner and today's breakfast. Instead, as soon as he stepped out of the train onto the platform, a blonde woman clad with sleek, polished hair in a professional dark red suit and fitted, ankle-length skirt approached him - "Norman Ferus, yes?"

Norman coaxed out a smile and recalled the name of the person he had been communicating with virtually over the last week, "Mrs. Claudia, I presume."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance in person." Claudia smiled, shaking his hand. "I was hoping we could have a quick chat before we head in. Would you like to get some snacks?" The smile on Norman's face was no longer insincere. He hoped that she didn't hear the grumbling in his stomach.

They headed towards the cafeteria and settled on a pair of wraps.

She was straightforward and got to the point directly. "I was just wondering what motivated you to take up this project for your dissertation. If you could walk me through your next plans, we could explore potential sponsorship opportunities."

"Actually I haven't yet decided whether this is something I want to take up for my dissertation." Norman hadn't expected to be getting into this so soon.

Claudia was taken aback by that, "So, this project..."

"...is something I picked up because it looked interesting."

The color of her face changed in a matter of seconds. After tapping her fingers on the desk thoughtfully over the next couple minutes, she continued with a frown, "Mr. Norman, given that you are not serious about pursuing this as your dissertation, I am not sure having this meeting is worth it."

Norman was now beginning to get exasperated, "I thought this was supposed to be a preliminary evaluation call. I don't see why my dissertation is relevant for this."

Her fingers continued to move with a subtle, almost unconscious, motion. "Yes, well, you see I saw your profile and took the liberty to invite a few high profile executives."

"Alright, I still don't see what the issue is." Norman really wanted to get this over with.

"No, you don't get it. If our executives find out that you were not serious about this dissertation, I'd look like..."

She was interrupted by a gray-haired man wearing an immaculately tailored dark suit who had just entered the platform. "Ms. Claudia, we good to proceed?" His voice was gravely and laced with authority - someone who appeared causal but yet commanded attention and respect.

Norman, suddenly feeling a little underdressed in his casual shirt, got up. Claudia, too, didn't protest any further, though the frown stayed on her face.

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Norman had expected this to be a casual presentation call with some two or three people from their engineering team. But as he followed the elderly executive into the large conference room conveniently situated right next to the station, some twenty folks, all similarly well dressed, stood up. What had Claudia told these people? It was like all the senior leadership of Zenith Fidaeus had shown up for his contract project presentation. Just to be sure he confirmed, "We are meeting here regarding the presentation of the aegis contract project, yes?"

The man they had followed had taken his seat at the head of the table. He answered with a fatherly smile, "Yes, Mr. Norman. We are familiar with your past works. We are excited to discuss and understand your proposed solution."

He introduced himself as Rothfurd Zenith, one of the founders of the guild. The other executives too followed suit. The next was Malcolhm Westworth, who led the industrial research division - a completely bald old man of pale complexion. His associate Miera Sluthers was an old lady in her sixties. Zanus, Maridoth and Ronikov were middle-aged men who managed specific subdivisions within the umbrella.

Pulling back his focus, he tapped on his tablet and connected it to the networked projector in the room. A large, translucent holograph of a deep space research complex popped over the table. Norman straightened his posture, and addressed the group, "I am sure everyone here is familiar with the problem - deep space mining and research vessels often need to spend years in deep space in isolation. Space is not kind - especially in asteroid belts and locations prone to flares." He steeled himself for the next part, "In fact recently my friend Remus met a tragic accident in a scenario that was completely avoidable." Internally he kicked himself for bringing this up, but he needed to connect with the group. And as his sponsor had advised him, there was no better instrument than sympathy. He saw a sad smile form on Miera's face while the others maintained their stoic expression.

"The current generation of state-of-the-art shielding tech has evolved in militia. They are expensive for prolonged usage, especially for mining or research expeditions, which already operate on very low margins." That was something that resonated with pretty much all the group, and he saw the division leads nod.

"My solution to this is a diffusion matrix dual-layer shield that operates at a power level of only 30% of comparable military shields. The trade-off for the outer layer is increased sensitivity at the cost of much reduced durability." On the note of a reduction in durability, a frown formed on many of the faces. Rothfurd, too, leaned forward.

"However, the idea is that as soon as the outer layer detects an anomalous intrusion, the inner layer begins to draw power and starts to aggressively re-route repellent charges around the area of suspected impact. So for these short bursts of strenuous situations, we can afford to pull in more power, and the durability of the inner layer is raised to 300% of the current norm without compromising on cost or power usage."

Claudia summarized with a smile: "So effectively, the two layers work in tandem to improve both the sensitivity and durability of the overall system." Her frown had disappeared.

"By how much?" Rothfurd asked. The man's demeanor had changed. His smooth smile was gone, and a look of intense concentration transformed his appearance from that of a slick salesman to something akin to that of a stern academic researcher.

Norman pulled up the results of his last ten simulation runs. "Durability by 40% and sensitivity by 25%."

The members looked at each other incredulously.

Zanus was the most forthright. "I have spent a decade in this industry and I am one-hundred percent confident that these claims won't hold up." Rothfurd silenced him with a glare.

Ronikov took a more measured stance: "Mr. Norman, these projections are rather optimistic—path-breaking even. What is your estimated time frame for productionizing this?"

Norman casually waved his hand, "I'd consider my submission production ready - I am submitting it for your evaluation."

Rothfurd's expression transformed, "Wait a second - You mean to say this is your final submission?"

"Yes," Norman continued confidently, "my simulations verify that it meets all your proposed benchmarks."

"So what do you plan to do for the rest of the year?" Ronikov was equally surprised.

Claudia, too, was taken aback by this revelation, but quickly regained her composure and connected the dots from the conversation before: "I think there was some confusion here. The academy also offers its students short-term contracts sponsored by industry. Mr. Norman apparently assumed that the time limit for submitting the initial prototype was the contract duration."

Norman was dumbfounded to hear that they had intended this contract project itself to be a whole-year dissertation project.

Zanus had been scrolling through the results of Norman's benchmarks. "You claim all of this is already production-ready. We can start our real-world evaluations on this?"

"Yes," Norman kept his posture straight and tone modest.

"But Norman has already been thinking of a couple of future enhancements to further improve this design..." Claudia looked towards him expectantly. Norman had mentioned a few possible extensions in their correspondence.

"Yes, we can explore a couple of tangents, but those certainly need further exploration and evaluation..."

Rothfurd got up; apparently he had heard enough, "I think we can meet again once the initial design has gone through a full verification by our team. Mr. Zanus, would you be willing to take a point on that?" His tone was still casual, but there was an undertone of determination now. And maybe a hint of a challenge?

"Would be my pleasure, Sir." The middle-aged, tall man answered with a smile. Norman had no doubt he would try every possible way to find some or other flaw in his design. He didn't look like a person who knew how to gracefully accept defeat.

Rothfurd turned his attention towards Norman again, "This has been an incredibly productive discussion, Mr. Norman. We look forward to your next innovations," he shook Norman's hand. "The proposed sum of the contract will be credited to you as soon as Mr. Zanus here verifies that the design is sound. Claudia will be in touch to discuss future extensions - we will extend the contract terms to accommodate them."

Rothfurd moved to exit the room, but the moment his back was turned away, Norman saw something familiar that shattered his composure. "Sir, " he stammered, "I do not want to intrude, but have you recently been diagnosed with a liver condition?" A translucent red outline of a human liver, with a very precise depiction of internal details, was overlaid on top of his suit. And with a sinking feeling, Norman felt like he knew what the source of that projection was.

Rothfurd turned back. His demeanor was no longer calm. A grim expression was etched on the wrinkles of his face. "How could you possibly know that?" In the distance, the gentle whirring sound of the train opening its doors could be heard.

"I am sorry, I need to run." Norman pushed past him and ran towards the track. He could not wait for another hour for the next iteration. His companion had shown him similar markers before. Outlines overlaid on a person - Mervin. At the time, they had been too blurry and vague to be meaningful, but now suddenly Norman knew what they meant.

"I'll be in touch," were his parting words to the group of shocked executives.

None of them knew it at the time, but the meeting rooms in the Academy were also perpetually recorded, and this conversation too was recorded in the institution's digital records.