Chapter 279

Chapter 279

Among the thousands of applications from every corner of the globe in the new quarterly submissions to 'Starlight Foundation,' 'Athena' performed preliminary screening, classification, and highlighting, presenting them in their purest form before Diana.

Her gaze swept rapidly across complex models and formulas representing physics, chemistry, and biology. Most received less than a second of her attention.

Her mind worked like the most precise filter, automatically screening out 'excellent' research that circled within existing frameworks, searching for something more essential.

Suddenly, her gaze locked onto an application coded 'SN-734.'

Project title: 'Neural Spike Coding Compression Theory Based on Information Entropy Reduction and Implementation Possibilities Under Non-Von Neumann Architecture.'

A name so lengthy it bordered on clumsy.

The application materials were extremely crude, with neat handwriting marred by rushed scrawls.

The applicant hadn't even conducted a proper simulation experiment—only used near-obsessive logic attempting to prove an insane proposition.

The way the human brain processes information isn't transmission, but 'decompression.'

Everything seen, heard, and perceived is merely 'compressed files' the external world leaves on the retina and eardrum, and the essence of 'consciousness' is the brain using some unknown, hyper-efficient algorithm to decompress these files in real-time.

This theory completely overturned neuroscience fundamentals.

It resembled philosophical speculation more than a scientific project.

Julian's team had long ago marked it 'low priority' with the comment: 'Lacks experimental foundation, pure theoretical fantasy, zero commercial value, recommend rejection.'

But Diana's fingertip paused on those scrawled annotations.

"...If this theory holds, then the essence of 'Alzheimer's disease' may not be neuronal death, but damage or loss of the 'decompression algorithm.' Treatment direction should shift toward algorithm repair rather than delaying apoptosis..."

Diana's pupils contracted slightly.

This approach overlapped with a core algorithm she'd designed when building 'Athena' to solve memory redundancy issues.

That algorithm was one of her core secrets, never made public.

She pulled up the applicant's background information.

Fallon Ramirez, twenty-four years old, Ravenford City University neuroscience PhD candidate.

The profile was so brief it filled only one page. The girl wore black-framed glasses, eyes clear, radiating student-like stubbornness.

No substantial published papers. Her only 'academic achievement' was anonymously posting several threads about neural signal encoding on a half-abandoned open-source biology forum.

Three minutes later, Fallon's true situation was fully reconstructed.

A year ago, Fallon had submitted the embryonic form of this project as her doctoral dissertation proposal to her advisor.

Two months later, her advisor rejected it as 'too speculative, lacking research value.'

Six months after that, the advisor published a paper in a top international journal about 'neural information redundancy and aging.' The paper's core viewpoint highly resembled Fallon's report.

Except it removed the most 'heretical' parts, packaging it to align with mainstream academic recognition.

Fallon attempted to appeal, but the academic committee ultimately ruled that because her theory lacked experimental data support, it couldn't constitute 'plagiarism.'

With nowhere else to turn, she submitted this manuscript—rejected by everyone, in its most original form—to the 'Diana York Prize for Science.'

She hadn't even applied for prize money. In a tiny footnote, she'd written: "If anyone can understand this, please tell me—am I crazy?"

Diana closed the light screen. The study returned to silence.

She thought of herself.

Remembered being in the 'Nest,' when she first proposed using bacteriophages to modify gut flora to influence central neurotransmitters—the contemptuous looks from those 'authorities.'

They were all the same.

Clutching embers alone in darkness, only to be told it was an illusion.

Rupert walked in, placing a glass of warm water by her hand.

"What is it?"

"I found a diamond," Diana said, "but it's about to be trampled like broken glass."

She didn't elaborate further, only pulled up the light screen again and connected to a video conference with Julian, Isabella, and Oscar.

Three holographic images appeared in the study.

"Application SN-734," Diana spoke directly. "Approved. Initiate highest priority support."

The three on the other end froze.

Oscar was first to react, pulling up the materials for a glance before showing that familiar pained expression.

"Dr. York, this application... according to our evaluation model, it has a 99.9% risk index. It doesn't even have a verification experimental design."

"I'll provide it." Diana's answer stunned Oscar again.

"What?"

"I'll personally guide her through the experimental design and build the complete theoretical model."

Diana's tone was calm, but the content dropped like a depth charge.

The conference channel fell into ten seconds of silence.

For three years, Diana had controlled everything through thought and judgment.

She had never personally entered the field to guide any specific project.

Her time was managed by Julian with near-pathological efficiency. Every minute meant astronomical 'opportunity costs.'

For the first time, Julian's voice carried incomprehension. "Your time should be spent evaluating a hundred 'Chimera Projects,' not tutoring a doctoral student. From an investment return perspective, this..."

"Since when does this fund evaluate investment returns?" Diana cut him off.

Julian was speechless.

"I understand." Isabella actually laughed, her booming voice breaking the deadlock. "The Queen is personally conferring honors on a new recruit. No problem. Ravenford City University's lab is too shabby for this project anyway."

Oscar adjusted his glasses, considering another level of the issue. "Dr. York, your security... having you personally go to Ravenford City University—my team will collectively resign."

"Then bring her out." Rupert's voice suddenly rang out.

He'd been standing nearby, only speaking now.

All eyes focused on him.

"Bring Fallon, along with everyone she believes necessary to complete this project, to 'Eden.'"

Rupert's tone brooked no argument. "It has the world's best equipment, fastest network, and absolute security."

He looked at Diana, gaze profound. "Your command center can also be a classroom."

Oscar exhaled in relief, then grew tense again. "Mr. Russell, this means we'll be 'poaching' an enrolled doctoral student from Ravenford City University. This will cause considerable diplomatic and public opinion waves."

Rupert spoke casually. "Tell them the Russell Group is prepared to donate funds to help them build a new life sciences institute. The only condition is that Fallon's project must serve as the institute's first core project, jointly managed by 'Starlight Foundation' and the university."

Oscar's mouth opened and closed before he silently noted this on his terminal.

The meeting ended.

Diana looked at Rupert. "You knew this day would come."

"I was only waiting for you." Rupert walked to her side.

...

Greyharbor City, a white vessel with hull number 'Noah-01' sat quietly moored at the private deep-water port.

When Fallon first stepped aboard this ship, she nearly thought she'd wandered onto a sci-fi movie set.

From the fully automated sterile isolation corridor to the biological reaction matrix that could simulate all hydrological environments from Dreadspire Trench to the Dead Sea, to the supercomputing center occupying three entire decks maintained at constant low temperature by liquid nitrogen cooling systems...

Everything here exceeded the limits of her imagination for the word 'laboratory.'