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Chapter 634
Chapter 634:
She turned away from the crowd and walked down a quiet, glass-walled corridor connecting the main hall to the administrative wing. It overlooked the Hudson River, the grey light casting long shadows across the floor. She leaned against the cool glass, pulled out her phone, and began reviewing the DARPA field test parameters Arland had emailed her.
Ten minutes passed in absolute silence.
Then she heard it.
Tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap.
It was a sharp, rhythmic sound, like someone striking a hard object against the floor tiles. It sounded suspiciously like Morse code.
Isolde lowered her phone. She followed the sound further down the corridor.
Near the corner, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside a large potted plant, was a young boy. He appeared to be about nine years old, dressed in a meticulously tailored navy blue suit, a crisp white shirt, and a silk tie. He had neat, dark hair and wore thin, gold-rimmed glasses.
He was holding a yellow number two pencil. He was not tapping it randomly. He was using the graphite tip to inscribe complex mathematical equations directly onto the grout lines between the floor tiles.
Isolde stopped a few feet away and studied the equations. Her eyes widened slightly.
He was mapping a fluid dynamics model for turbulent flow. It was university-level physics.
𝗪𝗁𝘢t 𝗲𝗏𝘦𝘳yoո𝖾 𝗶𝗌 𝗋𝘦𝗮𝖽𝘪ո𝗀 𝗼n
She stepped closer.
“Are you lost?” Isolde asked softly, careful not to startle him. “The exam started twenty minutes ago. You missed the entry window p>
The boy stopped writing. He did not flinch. He turned his head slowly and looked up at her.
His eyes were a striking, pale blue — holding a level of cold, analytical intelligence that was deeply unsettling in a child’s face. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger.
“I’m not lost,” the boy replied, sounding less like a child and more like a bored prodigy. He let out a long, dramatic sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a hundred uninteresting lectures. “I finished the exam ages ago. I handed in my optical mark sheet and left because the air in that room was too stuffy to think straight. It was slowing my calculations, and frankly, the ventilation system in this building is a joke. I’d rather be out here where I can actually hear myself think p>
Isolde studied him. The exam was designed to take two full hours and was notoriously difficult even for high schoolers.
“You finished in twenty minutes?” she asked, her skepticism showing.
“Twenty-two, actually,” the boy corrected her with a slight pout of impatience. “The questions were entirely derivative — rehashed versions of the same logic puzzles I solved when I was six. There was absolutely no point remaining in that room once I was done p>
Isolde felt a sudden, sharp jolt of recognition.
She recognized the cadence of his speech. She recognized the absolute, unapologetic certainty of a mind operating on a completely different frequency from the rest of humanity. It was the exact way she herself had once spoken, before she learned to conceal it.
She did not offer him a patronizing smile. Instead, she reached into her briefcase, withdrew a sealed bottle of cold water, and held it out to him.
“Hydration improves cognitive efficiency,” Isolde said simply.