AutumnXd
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CHAPTER 9
🕑 Added 2025-06-17 15:40:00 +0000 UTCLater that night, driven by a strategic impatience, Ward made his way to Professor Callaghan's office. He knocked softly on the heavy wooden door. Inside, Callaghan sat in the dim glow of his desk lamp, his gaze lost in a worn photograph. For a brief second, Ward could see the image of a smiling man and a young woman before the professor, startled, quickly placed it face down on his desk.
"Come in!" Callaghan called out, his voice now composed, his face a mask of academic professionalism.
"Professor Callaghan, it's me, Ward," he said, stepping into the quiet office, which smelled of old paper and stale coffee.
"Ward. It's late," the professor observed, though not unkindly. "Shouldn't you be resting?" He gestured to the chair opposite his desk.
"I was hoping you might have some preliminary materials I could look at," Ward said, taking a seat. "I'm eager to get started."
A faint, weary smile touched Callaghan's lips. "So impatient. Very well. Before we delve into my research, tell me… what is your understanding of space?" He leaned back, steepling his fingers in a classic gesture of intellectual inquiry.
Ward didn't recite a textbook. He performed. "Space is a form of objective existence, defined only by its relationship to time. They are two sides of the same coin, born from the Big Bang when the universe fractured from a single point. We measure the difference between objects and call it 'space.' We measure the change in that difference and call it 'time'." He spoke calmly, his tone that of a philosopher, not just a student.
Callaghan nodded, impressed. "You have a solid grasp of the fundamentals. Now… the relationship between them. The malleability."
This was the hook. "I think of the Miller's Planet paradigm," Ward said, referencing a piece of popular sci-fi that had been a cultural touchstone in his own world. "One hour on a planet deep within a gravity well is equivalent to seven years on Earth. It demonstrates that time is not a constant. It's relative, asymmetrical." He leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. "If time can be dilated so dramatically relative to an observer, it stands to reason that within the chaotic, high-energy environment of an unstable portal, linear time could cease to exist altogether. For an object trapped within, time could be frozen, or slowed to a near-infinite degree, even as decades pass on the outside."
The words struck Callaghan like a physical blow. He gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white. "...Why didn't I think of that?" he whispered to himself, his professional composure cracking. A tiny, dangerous sliver of hope, long since buried under a mountain of grief, began to stir. It was just a theory, a wild conjecture from a boy genius, but it was more than he'd had in years. He looked at Ward with new, complicated eyes. "You study physical space, then."
"And mathematical space. Theoretical space," Ward confirmed.
Their intense discussion was interrupted by a soft knock. It was Tadashi, come to say goodnight. The spell was broken. As Ward got up to leave, Callaghan stood as well, his eyes clearer and brighter than they had been before.
"Go and rest," the professor said, his voice imbued with a new energy. "I'll get the materials for you tomorrow. But I must warn you, this is a difficult path. It could cost you your entire life's work. Are you certain you wish to proceed?"
"I am," Ward said with a serious nod.
"Good," Callaghan said, a hint of his old fire returning. "For… personal reasons, I cannot continue this research myself. I will give you everything I have. What you do with it will be up to you."
Before he knew it, the day of the SFIT Tech Showcase had arrived. Ward was reviewing Callaghan's old notes—dense, brilliant, and tinged with a tragic obsession—when Tadashi poked his head into his lab space.
"Hey, Ward. Not interrupting, am I?"
"No, just reading. What's up?" Ward asked, closing the folder.
"The showcase is tomorrow. I was wondering if you wanted to come with us? To support Hiro." Tadashi's hopeful expression made the answer obvious.
"The showcase… right, your brother," Ward said, a knowing smile touching his lips. "I don't have any experiments scheduled. Count me in. Pull me along when you're ready."
"Awesome! We'll be there to cheer him on!" Tadashi said, beaming, before rushing off to invite the others.
Brain-computer interface, micro-robotics… Ward thought, a flicker of genuine excitement running through him. Hiro's invention is a legitimately powerful piece of black-ops tech.
The next day, Ward found himself in the back of Wasabi’s meticulously clean electric car. Wasabi drove with an infuriating precision, obeying the speed limit to the decimal point and using his turn signal on an empty road. In the seat next to Ward, Gogo vibrated with impatience, her arms crossed tightly. "Adrenaline is a myth," she muttered under her breath, a phrase she'd repeated three times since they'd left. Honey Lemon, seated beside her, tried to engage them in cheerful conversation, a futile effort at peacekeeping.
They arrived and found a parking spot. Tadashi and Hiro pulled up moments later on a moped. Then came a large van with the logo of Fred's father's company on the side. The back was a boxcar, clearly transporting Firebrand. Fred, in his street clothes, hopped out, waved to his father—a sharp-suited man who was already on his phone—and ran over.
"Hey, guys! Sorry if you waited long," he said.
"Is that you?" Tadashi asked, pointing at the massive van.
"Yep! Dad's bringing Firebrand. He's got a meeting with Alistair Krei from Krei Tech today, thought a live demo would sweeten the deal."
"Hope you get a good consulting fee out of it," Ward joked.
"You have no idea," Fred said, bumping his fists together.
"The showcase is starting! Let's go!" Wasabi said, clapping an arm around Hiro's neck. "It's your big debut!"
The team pushed Hiro's invention—hidden innocently in a rolling trash can—through the dazzling exhibition hall.
"Don't be nervous, Hiro," Tadashi encouraged, pushing the cart.
"Nervous? Please," Hiro scoffed, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. "This is what I do."
"He's totally nervous," Gogo stated mercilessly from behind him.
"You've got this, little man!" Fred cheered.
"I'm fine…" Hiro whimpered under his breath.
They found their spot and waited. On the main stage, set up in front of the exhibition hall, a series of inventors presented their work. Ward saw Professor Callaghan in the front row, an invited guest of honor.
"Next up, from our 14-year-old early entry program… Hiro Hamada!" a voice boomed from the speakers.
"That's you! Go get 'em!" Honey Lemon said, snapping a quick group photo.
Hiro took a deep, shaky breath, grabbed a microphone, and walked slowly toward the stage. The glare of the lights, the sea of faces—it was overwhelming. He brought the mic too close to his mouth, and a harsh squeal of feedback made him flinch.
"Uh, hi. My name is Hiro," he stammered. "I… I made a thing. I think it's pretty cool. I hope you like it." He put on a neural headband and took a single microbot from his pocket. He tossed it. It clattered to the floor and did nothing. He looked panicked.
From the crowd, Tadashi gave him an encouraging nod and took a deep, calming breath, motioning for Hiro to do the same. Hiro followed his brother's lead. He breathed. And his confidence returned.
"It may not look like much," he said, his voice suddenly stronger, "but when it's with its partners…" At his command, the contents of the trash can swarmed out—a river of tiny black robots that flowed through the crowd and up onto the stage, reassembling at his feet. "…things get interesting."
The growing spectacle drew the attention of everyone in the hall, including Alistair Krei, who paused his conversation with Fred's father to watch.
"These microbots are controlled by this neurotransmitter," Hiro explained, tapping his headband. "They can do whatever I can imagine." The swarm rose up, formed a massive hand, and waved to the crowd. The audience gasped, then erupted in applause. The rest of the presentation was a dazzling show of Hiro's genius.
The control method, Ward thought, an amused smile on his face, it's not so different from Yondu's arrow.
When Hiro's spectacular exhibition ended, a slick, smiling man in an expensive suit immediately approached him. It was Alistair Krei. "Incredible, son! Truly incredible! Krei Tech would be honored to acquire this technology…"
Hiro looked star-struck, but before he could respond, Professor Callaghan appeared at his side.
"Mr. Krei," Callaghan said, his voice cold. "This boy is a scientist, not a salesman. Your reputation for cutting corners and disrespecting the purity of scientific pursuit precedes you."
Hiro looked from Krei's greedy, smiling face to Callaghan's stern, protective one. He trusted his mentor's mentor. "Uh, no thank you, Mr. Krei," he said firmly. "I'm not selling."
Krei's smile vanished. Thwarted, he shot Callaghan a look of pure venom before turning on his heel and stalking away.
