Chapter 280
Chapter 280
Oscar said only one thing to her: "The equipment here has only one purpose—to verify your theory. Unlimited budget, no time constraints. You only need to submit a requirements list."
Over the next six months, Fallon lived the life she'd dreamed of.
She no longer maneuvered for equipment access rights or worried about her insights being plagiarized.
Her world was reduced to three things: eating, sleeping, thinking.
Diana never appeared in person, yet was everywhere.
When Fallon's research hit a wall, an email at three in the morning delivered a line of critical algorithm.
When she needed key data, Isabella's team could procure databases within twenty-four hours that others waited a year to access.
Fallon knew someone was clearing all obstacles on her path to forbidden intellectual territory.
With Athena's computational support and Diana's occasional guidance, she and her team achieved more breakthroughs in six months than in the past decade.
They successfully constructed the first 'neural decompression' model and observed the theoretically predicted 'unpacking' phenomenon in mouse brain neural networks.
This discovery triggered a silent tsunami in neuroscience circles.
In the Ravenford City University president's office, Fallon's former professor watched the international symposium recording with an ashen face.
Scholars from Ravenholt School of Technology were presenting Fallon's team's achievements—the theory he had once denounced as 'insane' was now opening a new scientific era.
He attempted to claim 'inspirational contribution,' but received a letter from Starlight Foundation lawyers requesting discussion on 'academic ethics and intellectual property delineation.' He knew his academic career was over.
...
On the top floor of The Russell Group Building, Diana watched neural signals flowing across the screen.
Rupert's voice came from behind. "Beautiful."
"The beauty of logic," Diana answered. "It proves the brain's efficiency far exceeds imagination."
Rupert handed her two collaboration requests. "Blackridge Institute and Kraeven Institute both want to participate in follow-up research."
"Let them access the 'Athena' database directly."
"I declined." Rupert pulled up an agreement.
Core clauses clearly stipulated: all derivative technology's ultimate rights belonged to Starlight Foundation and chief scientist 'DY.'
He gazed at her. "I built high walls not to hide you, but to let you sign your own name without reservation."
Diana fell silent for a moment.
"Notify Fallon," she finally spoke. "Coordinate data with Blackridge Institute. Phase One project topic: 'Alzheimer's Disease Algorithm Damage Hypothesis.'"
She paused.
"First author: Fallon Ramirez. Corresponding author: DY."
Four months later, Nature published a paper destined for the history books as its cover article.
'Neural Decompression: A Unified Model of Cortical Information Processing.'
Authors: Fallon Ramirez, Alan Feynman
Corresponding Author: DY.
Within the first hour after publication, the world's largest physics preprint server crashed.
Tens of thousands of scientists from different fields tried to simultaneously download and cross-verify the core formula in the paper, concise to the point of arrogance.
In the second hour, all Sterling Row stocks involving neural pharmaceuticals, artificial intelligence, and high-end chips began violent, illogical fluctuations.
Traders frantically typed 'DY' into search boxes, only to get a pile of irrelevant results.
In the third hour, in The Russell Group Building's top-floor conference room, three 'Miracle Logistics Officers' convened an emergency meeting with the agenda: how to respond to the sensation Her Majesty the Queen had inadvertently caused.
"Last week, the foundation received seven thousand four hundred new applications." Oscar's face bore two heavy dark circles. He pointed at the waterfall of data refreshing on the light screen before him, his tone lifeless.
"At least half include keywords like 'entropy,' 'compression,' 'deconstruction' in their project titles."
"I strongly suspect they just randomly arranged and combined these words, hoping to scam funding. The most ridiculous one wants to use 'neural decompression' theory to analyze dolphin calls to crack their language."
"His requested budget is two hundred million dollars to buy a research vessel and fifty dolphins."
Julian remained calm as always. He closed the financial report before him, leaving only one summary line. "Within seventy-two hours of the paper's publication, the cumulative investment by the world's top ten pharmaceutical companies in Alzheimer's-related drug development was essentially rendered worthless."
"Their total market cap evaporation is enough to build three more 'Chimera Project' floating fleets. The legal department received dozens of inquiry letters from these companies wanting to know when 'DY's' patent licensing will open."
The three gazes finally converged on the consistently silent figure at the end of the conference table.
Diana was reviewing a document, seemingly uninterested in the world-shaking impact they were discussing.
"The dolphin project—approved." She suddenly spoke.
Oscar froze. "What?"
"Give him two hundred million dollars. We'll provide the vessel and dolphins." Diana didn't look up. "Add one condition: if he can't effectively communicate with dolphins within a year, he personally dives to collect all fecal samples for flora analysis."
Oscar noted in his terminal: Dolphin project launched.
Addendum: Prepare diving and sampling equipment. He felt his job dimensions were expanding.
"Additionally," Diana turned to the light screen, "the European Brain Project invited 'DY' to serve as honorary advisor to the Frontier Theory Evaluation Committee."
Julian's eyes brightened.
This meant controlling the discourse on European brain science for the next decade.
"Weekly online meetings, eight PM Central European Time," Diana added.
Oscar calculated and frowned. "Three AM. Your sleep schedule..."
"No matter." She closed the communication.
The study returned to silence.
Rupert emerged from behind the bookshelf, placing a schedule at the table corner.
All his cross-timezone meetings for next week had been adjusted to late night and early morning.
He didn't explain, only sat down to handle emails.
...
One week later, 2:50 AM.
Diana wore headphones, debating 'consciousness uploading' pathways with a dozen white-haired scientists on screen.
Rupert sat on a nearby sofa, working on a muted laptop.
The meeting ended at four.
Diana removed her headphones, rubbing her temples.
A perfectly timed cup of honey black tea was handed to her.
"A Swedren academician wants to use 'decompression' theory to analyze runic symbols, believing they're information packets." She said, watching the steam rise.
"We can sponsor," Rupert picked up the meeting notes, "provided he first proves his ancestors met aliens."
Diana's lips quirked slightly.
"They all want to meet 'DY.'"
"Then they wait." He set down the notes, looking at her. "Until you're willing to stand atop the lighthouse, I'm your firewall."
Diana lowered her head to sip tea.
Outside the window, dawn hadn't yet broken, but in her world, someone accompanied her, waiting for daybreak.
He had transformed his time into her time—this mattered more than any financial commitment.
The 'European Brain Project' online meetings were just the beginning. Three weeks later, an encrypted email from Velmora City arrived at Diana's terminal.
The email came from the HBP Executive Committee Chair, dispensing with pleasantries to deliver a direct notification.
A closed-door strategic symposium in Velmora City one month hence—'DY' must attend in person.
This concerned the allocation of hundreds of billions of euros over the next five years.
The email concluded: "We look forward to charting the future with you, not your digital projection."
Oscar nervously prepared a dozen response plans.
Diana only walked out of the study calmly. "Book the flight."
"Velmora City, then Breswick," she added. "HBP's neuromorphic computing center is there."