The morning light filtered through the blinds of Nick's dorm room, casting thin golden lines across his bed as he sat at his desk, surrounded by notes and documents. He'd spent half the night in a rabbit hole of research after Tuesday's Business Leaders Association meeting, the mysterious message from Eidolon still haunting his thoughts.
Who is M.E., and how does he know about my investments?
His secure laptop displayed dozens of browser tabs—corporate registries, financial databases, news archives, and social media profiles. The Eidolon Corporation had proven surprisingly difficult to trace, existing in the shadowy edges of the business world, visible only through careful examination of subsidiary relationships and patent filings.
"A ghost company," Nick muttered, rubbing his tired eyes.
What he'd uncovered was fascinating. Eidolon Corporation appeared to be a technology investment firm specializing in neural interface research and quantum computing—fields that overlapped directly with Callahan Industries' interests. But unlike Callahan's public-facing corporate empire, Eidolon operated almost entirely through shell companies and silent partnerships.
The most intriguing discovery had come from a footnote in a patent dispute three years earlier. Callahan had attempted to acquire exclusive rights to a breakthrough in non-invasive neural scanning technology. The patent examiner had rejected their claim, citing "prior art" from a researcher whose funding traced back to Eidolon subsidiaries.
"They're competitors," Nick realized, the pieces clicking into place. "Eidolon is positioning against Callahan in the neural interface space."
The implications were significant. If Callahan had a corporate rival with similar technological capabilities but different objectives—especially with Harrington’s neural interface lecture looming tomorrow—it created potential leverage. Or additional danger.
The most promising lead had come from a tech conference attendee list from two years ago. Marcus Eidolon had been listed as a keynote speaker on "The Future of Thought Interface Technology," though mysteriously, no video or transcript of his presentation had ever been released. The only photo Nick could find showed a tall man in his fifties with silver-streaked dark hair and intense blue eyes that seemed to evaluate the photographer through the lens. Something about his expression triggered a sense of familiarity that Nick couldn't place.
His phone vibrated with an incoming message—a secure communication from Maggie: "Need to meet. New information on R. Library, special collections room, 11 AM. Bring the drive."
Nick checked the time: 9:17 AM. He was late for Biology. He quickly gathered his materials, cursing silently. Missing class would disrupt the normal patterns he'd established, potentially alerting his watchers that something had changed.
He closed the laptop and began preparing for the day, his mind continued processing the Eidolon mystery. The company's interest in his investment patterns suggested they had surveillance capabilities comparable to Callahan's—a concerning thought, yet potentially useful if they were truly rivals rather than allies.
The electronic hum from the ceiling vent was a constant reminder of his monitored state. Nick maintained his routine precisely, giving whoever was listening nothing unusual to report. He was careful to keep his laptop screen angled away from where a camera might be positioned, though his enhanced senses had detected only audio surveillance devices so far. A small mercy—they could hear him, but not see what he was researching.
He would need to be even more careful until he could secure his off-campus apartment. The Westlake Arms unit wouldn't be ready until Friday according to Gloria Reynolds, though he hoped to expedite the process with his newly secured funds.
The Biology classroom was already half-full when Nick arrived, slipping in as quietly as possible. Professor Godrudson paused momentarily in her lecture, her silver-streaked hair pulled back severely, her intense gaze finding him before returning to her presentation without comment.
"...as we continue our exploration of cellular adaptation to environmental stressors, focusing on neural tissue specifically," she was saying as Nick took his seat.
Nick's interest sharpened immediately. The timing seemed too convenient to be coincidental—a lecture on neural adaptation the day before Harrington's presentation on neural interfaces. He noticed several students he hadn't seen before sitting at the back of the class, their attention focused more on the other students than on Professor Godrudson's slides.
More observers. The surveillance is expanding.
As the lecture progressed, Nick participated strategically, demonstrating knowledge without revealing the full extent of his understanding. When Godrudson displayed electron microscope images of neural mitochondria responding to various stimuli, Nick found himself absorbing the information with unusual clarity—seeing connections to his newly discovered abilities that he hadn't previously recognized.
"The human nervous system contains remarkable adaptation mechanisms," Godrudson explained, highlighting a particular image. "When subjected to consistent stimuli over time, neural pathways can fundamentally restructure themselves, creating entirely new response patterns."
The implications for Nick's own situation were striking. Was his connection to Arlize the result of some fundamental neural restructuring? Had his death and rebirth somehow created pathways that allowed cross-dimensional consciousness transfer?
When class ended, Nick gathered his materials efficiently, noting one of the observers in the back row making notes about which students spoke with Godrudson after class. He deliberately avoided lingering, instead heading to the library to prepare for his meeting with Maggie.
The library's Special Collections room occupied the eastern wing of the third floor, housing rare manuscripts and archived materials that required controlled access. Nick had reserved a private study room there for "historical research," providing a plausible reason for his presence while ensuring minimal surveillance.
Maggie was already waiting when he arrived, her casual student appearance—oversized hoodie, messy bun, coffee thermos—belying the intensity in her eyes as she glanced up from a stack of archival materials.
"You weren't followed?" she asked without preamble as he slid into the seat across from her.
"Not directly," Nick replied. "Though there's increased attention today. New observers in Biology class, and the surveillance in my dorm has intensified. The listening devices in my ceiling vent have been upgraded, probably more audio bugs I haven't spotted yet."
Maggie's expression darkened. "Audio surveillance is standard procedure for initial monitoring. They're listening but not watching—which gives us a small advantage. We can still communicate through written notes if necessary."
"I've identified a student named Jordan who appears to be reporting on me," Nick continued. "He lives across the hall, conveniently befriended me the first day, and has been monitoring my movements and academic performance."
"They've assigned a dedicated handler already," Maggie muttered, clearly disturbed by this escalation. "That's typically reserved for high-value targets or significant threats."
"There's more," Nick added. "They're escalating beyond Jordan. I've noticed a military-postured observer following me between classes, and yesterday someone attempted to access my room while I was out."
Maggie tapped her fingers nervously on the table. "This goes beyond standard monitoring. They're treating you as a priority acquisition target." She reached into her bag, pulling out what looked like an ordinary pen. "The spectrum analyzer I gave you covers electronic signatures, but this detects focused audio surveillance specifically. It vibrates when directional microphones are actively targeting your position—completely passive detection so it won't trigger countermeasures."
Nick accepted the device, recognizing its value. "Perfect complement to what I already have."
"It also contains a white noise generator," Maggie added. "Twist the cap clockwise three times to activate. Creates a sound barrier that confuses audio surveillance without being obvious enough to trigger suspicion. Makes it sound like mundane background noise to listeners."
"They're definitely escalating monitoring across the board," Maggie continued. "Three more surveillance cameras were installed on campus overnight, all covering paths between academic buildings." She slid an archival folder across the table. "But that's not why I needed to meet."
Nick opened the folder carefully. Inside was a printout of an academic journal article from fifteen years ago, authored by Dr. Francisco Valiente—his grandfather—and co-authored by Dr. Marcus Eidolon.
"Your grandfather and someone named Marcus Eidolon worked together," Maggie explained. "The paper was published in an obscure Colombian neurophysiology journal, never translated to English. I only found it because I was specifically researching your family connections after learning your parents worked for Callahan."
Nick scanned the Spanish text but his mind caught on one name—Francisco Valiente.
Grandpa.
He hadn't heard that voice in two years. He could almost smell the tobacco and pine of the old study in Bogotá, where his grandfather used to mutter through his research, swatting Nick away with a gentle hand and a smile.
“He was working on this back then,” Nick murmured, voice thick with something he didn't have time to name.
Scanning the paper again, his mind refocused. The paper discussed theoretical approaches to measuring "bioelectric potential in hereditary neural pathways"—academic terminology that could potentially describe aspects of what he now knew as mana.
This must be who sent me that message, Nick realized silently, careful not to reveal his earlier contact from Eidolon. He worked with my grandfather on research related to our family abilities.
"There's more," Maggie continued, turning to her laptop. "I managed to access some of my brother's secured files. He had a folder labeled 'Competing Research Initiatives' that contained dossiers on both Callahan and Eidolon."
She turned the screen toward Nick, showing a complex relationship map. "Callahan and Eidolon have been competing for decades in neural interface technology, but they're approaching it from fundamentally different directions. Callahan's approach is mechanical—external technology interfacing with neural tissue. Eidolon's research focuses on awakening and enhancing innate capabilities already present in certain genetic lineages."
Nick felt his pulse quicken, though he kept his expression neutral. This aligned perfectly with what he was discovering about his own family heritage.
"According to my brother's notes," Maggie said, her tone measured, "some researchers started with Eidolon’s philosophy—natural enhancement, non-invasive pathways."
She tapped the folder. “But they defected. Joined Callahan. Or at least... pretended to.”
“They used Callahan’s resources,” she continued after a beat, “but behind the scenes, they were pursuing something else entirely.”
"Like my parents might have done," Nick suggested carefully, watching her reaction.
Maggie nodded, unsurprised by his deduction. "Their names appear in my brother's files as part of a research group that moved from Eidolon-funded projects to Callahan Industries about seven years ago. The notes suggest they were trying to prevent certain Callahan research projects from being weaponized."
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
"But something changed about three years ago. Callahan discovered a test subject—referred to only as 'Colombian Subject 27'—whose neural patterns revealed something revolutionary."
"What happened to Subject 27?" Nick asked, already suspecting the answer.
"The subject died during testing," Maggie replied, her expression grim. "At least officially. But my brother's notes suggest the reality was more complex. He believed the subject's consciousness somehow... transferred... during the experiment."
"Transferred where?" Nick pressed, his heart racing as pieces began falling into place.
"That's unclear. The notes mention something called 'cross-dimensional consciousness mapping' and 'resonant neural patterns across timelines.'" Maggie's eyes met his with unusual intensity. "It sounds almost like—"
"A soul or consciousness from another world," Nick finished, his voice barely audible.
Maggie studied his face, her gaze penetrating. "You don't seem surprised by this."
Nick chose his next words carefully. This was the moment to decide how much to reveal to Maggie. She had proven herself resourceful and seemingly trustworthy, but full disclosure about Arlize would sound insane without concrete evidence.
"I've been experiencing... an unusual memory phenomena," he admitted. "Flashes of knowledge I shouldn't have, skills I never learned, abilities that seem to awaken under stress."
It wasn't the whole truth, but it was enough to establish connection without revealing everything about Arlize or the full extent of his mana capabilities.
Maggie processed this information with remarkable composure. "That tracks with my brother's theories about neural resonance. He believed certain genetic profiles could act as... receptors... for consciousness patterns beyond normal human experience."
"And Callahan wants to control this technology," Nick said, the implications becoming clearer.
"While Eidolon seems to be pursuing a different approach," Maggie added. "From what I can gather, they're not trying to create artificial interfaces, but rather awaken natural capabilities through some combination of genetic predisposition and targeted stimulation."
"Like Nexus Virtual Technologies was attempting in my previous—" Nick caught himself, but not quickly enough.
Maggie's eyes narrowed. "Your previous what?"
The slip had been inevitable, Nick realized. The complexity of maintaining partial truths eventually created contradictions that couldn't be explained away.
Nick hesitated, fingers twitching over the edge of the folder. What would Arlize have done? Trusted no one. Not after Serenne. Not after Kadros.
But Maggie wasn’t like them, for her, the stakes were real. She was already in the fire.
He looked her in the eye. "This is going to sound insane," he began, making a calculated decision to trust her with more of the truth. "But I've experienced this timeline before. I lived through this period once already, was betrayed and killed, then somehow awakened two years in the past with all my memories intact—plus memories and abilities from someone else, someone from what seems like another world entirely."
He expected disbelief, even mockery, but Maggie simply nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful rather than dismissive.
"Consciousness transference across temporal dimensions," she said, as if confirming a hypothesis. "My brother theorized it was possible under specific circumstances. The neural architecture would need to be compatible—genetically predisposed to form certain patterns—and there would need to be some catastrophic event to trigger the transfer."
"Like being murdered," Nick offered grimly.
"Or like dying during a neural interface experiment," Maggie added, her eyes widening with sudden realization. "Colombian Subject 27—what if they didn't die in the conventional sense? What if their consciousness transferred temporally or dimensionally during Callahan's experiment?"
The implication hung between them, both fascinating and terrifying.
"But why would Callahan be watching me specifically?" Nick asked, deliberately playing devil's advocate to test her theories.
"That's the question," Maggie agreed. "Unless..." Her eyes widened slightly. "Unless they already had reason to monitor you before your academic performance changed. Your parents worked for them. What if they've been watching their children all along, looking for inherited traits or abilities?"
The possibility sent a jolt through Nick's system. It would explain so much—the ease with which surveillance had been established, Jordan's immediate placement across the hall, the extensive resources dedicated to monitoring him.
"When did your parents die?" Maggie asked suddenly.
"Two years ago," Nick replied. "Car accident on a mountain road. At least, that was the official story."
Maggie's expression darkened. "According to my brother's files, there was a major security breach at Callahan's research facility around that time. Several key researchers disappeared or died in 'accidents' within the same month."
"So tomorrow's lecture with Professor Harrington..." Nick began, processing the implications.
"Is almost certainly a screening process," Maggie finished for him. "They'll be watching your reactions, possibly exposing you to stimuli designed to trigger responses that would confirm their suspicions."
"Then I need to be prepared," Nick decided. "Not just to avoid their traps, but to gather information of my own."
Maggie pulled a small case from her backpack, opening it to reveal what looked like ordinary glasses with slightly thicker frames than usual.
"Already on it," she said with a hint of pride. "These contain a micro-camera and audio recorder, with local storage rather than wireless transmission to avoid detection. They'll capture everything you see and hear."
Nick took the glasses, examining them with appreciation. "Perfect. But what about countermeasures? If they're planning to trigger responses through specific stimuli..."
"I thought of that too," Maggie said, reaching into her bag again. She produced what appeared to be a normal wristwatch. "This monitors your vitals. If it detects significant spikes in heart rate, body temperature, or other stress indicators, it vibrates—subtle enough that only you'll notice, but enough to alert you that something's affecting you."
"You've thought of everything," Nick said, genuinely impressed. "Why are you helping me this much, Maggie? This goes beyond finding your brother."
Maggie's expression hardened. "My brother wasn't just researching neural interfaces. He was documenting Callahan's ethical violations—human experimentation, coercion, corporate espionage. When he disappeared, all his evidence disappeared with him." She met Nick's eyes directly. "You're not just a connection to my brother's work—you're potentially living proof of what Callahan has been doing. If your consciousness really was transferred, if you really do have unexplained abilities..."
"You need me as evidence," Nick concluded.
"I need an ally who has a personal stake in exposing them," she corrected. "And you clearly have abilities or knowledge that make you valuable to them. That makes you dangerous to them. That makes you useful to me."
Nick nodded slowly. The pragmatic honesty was refreshing—and made more sense than pure altruism.
"There's something else we should consider," Maggie continued. "If Eidolon is the competitor to Callahan that my brother's research suggests, they might have resources we could use. But corporations don't help people out of kindness."
Nick considered telling her about Eidolon's message but decided to hold that card close for now. "I need to know more about Eidolon before making any moves in that direction. Starting with why my grandfather worked with them and what exactly they're after."
Still, the timing gnawed at him.
Eidolon had stayed silent all this time—until after he bought Helios stock, after he triggered Callahan's attention, after he'd demonstrated just enough potential to matter.
It seems they’d been watching him longer than he realized...
And the market move had finally flipped a switch.
He checked the time—nearly noon. "I have Calculus at 2:00. And I need to work on moving some essentials to a secure location soon." He didn't mention the apartment directly, not wanting to reveal too much, even to Maggie, until he had established it as truly secure.
"Smart move," Maggie approved. "Your dorm is definitely compromised. Jordan's assignment is clearly to monitor you directly."
"How do you know about the new surveillance?" Nick asked, genuinely curious about her sources.
Maggie's expression darkened. "After my brother vanished, I found encrypted files on a backup drive he'd hidden. They contained detailed counter-surveillance techniques developed during his work with Callahan. He knew they were watching him toward the end." Her fingers traced an invisible pattern on the table. "I spent months learning everything in those files—not just to find him, but to protect myself when I did. I've been running sweeps of campus buildings since our first meeting, using passive scanners at key locations that alert me to new electronic signatures."
Her competence was impressive—another reason to consider her a valuable ally.
"I'll maintain the dorm as a decoy," Nick explained. "Keep up appearances while conducting real work elsewhere."
Maggie nodded, then hesitated before adding, "There's one more thing. These 'unusual memory phenomena' you mentioned. Have they manifested in any physical ways?"
The question caught Nick off guard. "What do you mean?"
"My brother's research indicated that subjects with certain neural patterns sometimes displayed unexplained physical capabilities—enhanced reflexes, heightened senses, even alleged telekinetic events during periods of extreme stress." Her eyes studied him carefully. "Has anything like that happened to you?"
Nick considered how much to reveal. She clearly suspected something beyond memory transfer, but telling her about mana manipulation seemed premature.
"I've experienced some... enhancements," he admitted cautiously. "Quicker reflexes, better retention, sensory perception beyond what I had before. Nothing I can fully explain yet."
"That tracks with my brother's theories," Maggie said, her expression neither surprised nor skeptical. "Whatever Callahan did with Subject 27 might have created a template for consciousness transfer that included physical capabilities. If they discover the full extent of these enhancements—"
"They won't just want to study me," Nick finished. "They'll want to replicate or weaponize the process."
"Exactly. Before my brother disappeared, he was conducting tests on neural enhancement through non-invasive stimulation. His results showed promise—subtle improvements in reaction time, sensory processing, cognitive function. Callahan immediately classified everything." Maggie's voice tightened. "They brought in test subjects—people from outside the university system. My brother refused to continue without proper oversight and threatened to go public. Three days later, his lab was shut down and he was gone."
As they prepared to leave the library separately, Maggie paused, fixing Nick with an intense gaze. "You still haven't told me everything, have you?"
Nick kept his expression carefully neutral, though he felt a flicker of surprise at her perceptiveness. He'd been careful with his words, but Maggie's eyes had narrowed slightly when he'd mentioned "enhancements" without elaboration, and it seems that she noticed his hesitation when discussing his family heritage—the momentary tightening of his fingers on the table edge, perhaps, or the calculated way he'd chosen his words.
"What makes you say that?" he asked, buying time.
"Three things," Maggie replied, ticking them off on her fingers. "First, your explanation of these 'enhancements' was deliberately vague. Second, when I mentioned telekinetic events, your pupils dilated—classic physiological response to recognition. And third," she leaned closer, "you've been subtly scanning the room in patterns identical to those my brother documented in subjects with heightened sensory awareness. Something beyond normal perception."
Nick met her eyes steadily. "No," he admitted. "Some things I'm still working to understand myself."
"Fair enough, I won’t push you," she said quietly. "But withholding critical information could get us both caught—or worse. The more I know about what we're dealing with, the more effectively I can help."
"I understand," Nick said. "And I appreciate your help more than you know."
As Maggie left first, disappearing into the library's stacks, Nick remained in the study room for a few more minutes, reviewing what they'd discovered. The competition between Callahan and Eidolon placed him in a dangerous position, but also created potential opportunities. If he could understand each organization's true objectives, he might find a way to leverage their rivalry to his advantage.
More importantly, the connection between his grandfather and Marcus Eidolon suggested there might be allies with deeper understanding of his family heritage and the nature of mana. If Eidolon had been researching ways to awaken innate abilities rather than create artificial interfaces, their approach aligned more closely with Nick's family tradition.
But trusting either side remained premature. As Nick finally gathered his materials to leave, his phone vibrated with a message from an unknown number: "Westlake Arms application expedited. Apartment ready tomorrow afternoon rather than Friday. Keys available for pickup after 3 PM Thursday. The welcome packet includes information about secure parking options. —GR"
The unexpectedly accelerated timeline was welcome news, though the convenience raised a flag in Nick's mind. The timing felt almost too perfect. He would need to thoroughly sweep the apartment for surveillance devices before fully trusting it as a secure location. Still, having his own space sooner rather than later would give him a critical advantage. Gloria Reynolds had likely expedited the process after his funds cleared—but it wouldn't hurt to verify her motivations as well.
With Harrington's neural interface lecture tomorrow evening and his apartment becoming available the same day, the pieces were falling into place faster than anticipated. Nick would need to balance maintaining his classes, preparing for Harrington's potentially dangerous lecture, and establishing his secure base of operations—all while continuing his investigation into the tangled relationships between his family, Callahan Industries, and Eidolon Corporation.
As he left the library, Nick's enhanced senses detected the familiar presence of the military-postured observer from his Statistics class, lingering near the entrance, his face hidden behind a newspaper.
The newspaper twitched. Not from wind—there wasn’t any. Nick didn’t look, but he felt the man's attention lock onto him like a pressure behind the eyes. His breathing changed, syncing with Nick’s pace. A calculated rhythm.
They’re not just watching me anymore, Nick thought.
They’re waiting for me to move.
Nick maintained his casual pace, giving no indication he'd noticed the surveillance. The watchers were growing bolder, their presence more overt. Time was becoming a critical factor, and Nick couldn't shake the feeling that events were accelerating toward some predetermined confrontation.
