01-17-2025, 01:27 AM
Danika barely noticed when Allan left. Her mind was too consumed by the simulation spinning endlessly in front of her, taunting her with its imperfections. Every failure only fueled her determination to fix it, to find the missing piece. She had tweaked the parameters a dozen different ways—adjusting the energy flows, recalibrating the Casimir boundary, reconfiguring the quantum lattice—but nothing worked.
The wormhole throat still collapsed, every single time.
Her hands hovered in midair, hesitating over the projection controls. A flicker of doubt crept into her thoughts, but she shoved it aside. Doubt wasn’t useful. Focus was. Her fingers twitched as she pulled the energy lattice tighter around the throat, narrowing the boundaries of the simulation. The violet glow of her magic pulsed faintly at the edges of her vision, reacting to the intensity of her thoughts.
The math is sound. It’s the structure that’s wrong. It’s... the framework.
She stepped back from the table and rubbed at her temple, frowning as the failure report flashed across the hologram. Her pacing began again—small, tight circles that matched the rhythm of her thoughts. “A framework,” she murmured to herself. “Not physical. Not rigid. Something adaptive. Maybe a hybrid energy system? Electromagnetic fields could stabilize the boundary, but that won’t stop the throat from collapsing...”
Her voice trailed off, and she slowed to a stop, staring at the spinning projection. The equations glowed softly, mocking her with their elegance. She sipped the dregs of her water bottle, barely tasting it, and stared harder. Somewhere in the chaotic dance of quantum foam interactions and exotic energy flux, the answer was waiting. She just needed to see it.
Danika wasn’t sure how much time had passed—her concept of time always blurred when she was in deep focus. The lab felt like its own universe, sealed off from everything else. The hum of the machines was a constant comfort, grounding her in the familiar order of her space. She ran another simulation, then another, watching each one collapse in seconds.
Her stomach growled faintly, pulling her from her thoughts for just a moment. I forgot to eat again, she realized, her lips pressing into a thin line. It wasn’t the first time. She pushed the thought away, refocusing on the hologram. Food could wait.
The laboratory’s door hissed open, breaking her concentration.
She flinched violently, nearly spilling the half-empty water bottle she’d left balanced on the edge of the table. Her head whipped around, eyes wide. “Allan!” she blurted, her voice sharp with surprise.
Her chest rose and fell quickly as her heart raced, and she pressed a hand to her collarbone, willing herself to calm down. It was just Allan. She exhaled, her muscles relaxing, though her hands still trembled slightly from the jolt.
And then she saw it: the drink.
Her eyes widened, her expression softening almost immediately. “You got me a mocha Frappuccino,” she said, her tone light with genuine delight. She crossed the room quickly, grabbing the cup with both hands. Her fingers curled around the chilled plastic, and she grinned as she took a long, noisy slurp through the straw.
The familiar rush of sugar and caffeine filled her senses, and her entire body seemed to sigh in relief. “Thank you,” she said, looking up briefly with a small, grateful smile.
She turned back to her equations, the drink cradled in one hand as she tapped at the projection controls with the other. The combination of the cold drink and the new spark of energy it brought seemed to sharpen her focus. “I’ve been thinking about the framework,” she said aloud, half to herself. “It needs to be adaptable—something that can shift dynamically as the throat fluctuates. A quantum lattice is too rigid. Maybe if we add an oscillating harmonic...”
She trailed off, her brow furrowing as she adjusted the hologram. The equations rearranged themselves, the simulation pulsing faintly in response. She leaned closer, sipping absently as she tinkered with the boundary conditions. The drink was already halfway gone by the time she paused, her thoughts catching on an idea that felt half-formed but promising.
Before she could test it, she heard her name.
The sound startled her so much that she inhaled sharply through the straw, the last bit of whipped cream shooting into her throat. She choked, coughing violently as the cup clattered against the edge of the table. Her eyes watered as she tried to recover, and she waved a hand vaguely behind her.
“I’m fine!” she rasped, though her voice came out hoarse. She coughed once more for good measure before straightening, her face warm with embarrassment. She turned, still clutching the now-empty drink, and froze. Allan was holding something in his hands—something small, round, and plastic. Danika tilted her head, her curiosity overriding her lingering embarrassment. “What is that?” she asked, stepping closer.
Her gaze shifted between Allan’s hands and the hologram behind him, and something about the way the light refracted through the objects made her breath hitch. Her fingers twitched, already itching to grab the strange little rings and figure out what he was doing.
“Wait,” she said quickly, her tone sharper now. She moved closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied the way the light bent and warped. “Do that again. Hold them like that.”
Despite the request, she didn’t wait for him to respond, plucking the rings out of his hands without hesitation. Turning them over in her fingers, she squinted at the way the projection flickered and shifted through their centers. It was subtle, but the distortion wasn’t random. It was aligned—almost like a resonance pattern.
Danika’s mind raced, the gears clicking into place as she turned back to the hologram. “This... this could work,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. She pulled up a fresh simulation, her hands moving rapidly as she adjusted the parameters. “If I can map the distortion field around the keyring, and anchor it to the lattice... it should stabilize the throat temporarily. Long enough for the resonance to build. But.. but how did you do it?”
The wormhole throat still collapsed, every single time.
Her hands hovered in midair, hesitating over the projection controls. A flicker of doubt crept into her thoughts, but she shoved it aside. Doubt wasn’t useful. Focus was. Her fingers twitched as she pulled the energy lattice tighter around the throat, narrowing the boundaries of the simulation. The violet glow of her magic pulsed faintly at the edges of her vision, reacting to the intensity of her thoughts.
The math is sound. It’s the structure that’s wrong. It’s... the framework.
She stepped back from the table and rubbed at her temple, frowning as the failure report flashed across the hologram. Her pacing began again—small, tight circles that matched the rhythm of her thoughts. “A framework,” she murmured to herself. “Not physical. Not rigid. Something adaptive. Maybe a hybrid energy system? Electromagnetic fields could stabilize the boundary, but that won’t stop the throat from collapsing...”
Her voice trailed off, and she slowed to a stop, staring at the spinning projection. The equations glowed softly, mocking her with their elegance. She sipped the dregs of her water bottle, barely tasting it, and stared harder. Somewhere in the chaotic dance of quantum foam interactions and exotic energy flux, the answer was waiting. She just needed to see it.
Danika wasn’t sure how much time had passed—her concept of time always blurred when she was in deep focus. The lab felt like its own universe, sealed off from everything else. The hum of the machines was a constant comfort, grounding her in the familiar order of her space. She ran another simulation, then another, watching each one collapse in seconds.
Her stomach growled faintly, pulling her from her thoughts for just a moment. I forgot to eat again, she realized, her lips pressing into a thin line. It wasn’t the first time. She pushed the thought away, refocusing on the hologram. Food could wait.
The laboratory’s door hissed open, breaking her concentration.
She flinched violently, nearly spilling the half-empty water bottle she’d left balanced on the edge of the table. Her head whipped around, eyes wide. “Allan!” she blurted, her voice sharp with surprise.
Her chest rose and fell quickly as her heart raced, and she pressed a hand to her collarbone, willing herself to calm down. It was just Allan. She exhaled, her muscles relaxing, though her hands still trembled slightly from the jolt.
And then she saw it: the drink.
Her eyes widened, her expression softening almost immediately. “You got me a mocha Frappuccino,” she said, her tone light with genuine delight. She crossed the room quickly, grabbing the cup with both hands. Her fingers curled around the chilled plastic, and she grinned as she took a long, noisy slurp through the straw.
The familiar rush of sugar and caffeine filled her senses, and her entire body seemed to sigh in relief. “Thank you,” she said, looking up briefly with a small, grateful smile.
She turned back to her equations, the drink cradled in one hand as she tapped at the projection controls with the other. The combination of the cold drink and the new spark of energy it brought seemed to sharpen her focus. “I’ve been thinking about the framework,” she said aloud, half to herself. “It needs to be adaptable—something that can shift dynamically as the throat fluctuates. A quantum lattice is too rigid. Maybe if we add an oscillating harmonic...”
She trailed off, her brow furrowing as she adjusted the hologram. The equations rearranged themselves, the simulation pulsing faintly in response. She leaned closer, sipping absently as she tinkered with the boundary conditions. The drink was already halfway gone by the time she paused, her thoughts catching on an idea that felt half-formed but promising.
Before she could test it, she heard her name.
The sound startled her so much that she inhaled sharply through the straw, the last bit of whipped cream shooting into her throat. She choked, coughing violently as the cup clattered against the edge of the table. Her eyes watered as she tried to recover, and she waved a hand vaguely behind her.
“I’m fine!” she rasped, though her voice came out hoarse. She coughed once more for good measure before straightening, her face warm with embarrassment. She turned, still clutching the now-empty drink, and froze. Allan was holding something in his hands—something small, round, and plastic. Danika tilted her head, her curiosity overriding her lingering embarrassment. “What is that?” she asked, stepping closer.
Her gaze shifted between Allan’s hands and the hologram behind him, and something about the way the light refracted through the objects made her breath hitch. Her fingers twitched, already itching to grab the strange little rings and figure out what he was doing.
“Wait,” she said quickly, her tone sharper now. She moved closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied the way the light bent and warped. “Do that again. Hold them like that.”
Despite the request, she didn’t wait for him to respond, plucking the rings out of his hands without hesitation. Turning them over in her fingers, she squinted at the way the projection flickered and shifted through their centers. It was subtle, but the distortion wasn’t random. It was aligned—almost like a resonance pattern.
Danika’s mind raced, the gears clicking into place as she turned back to the hologram. “This... this could work,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. She pulled up a fresh simulation, her hands moving rapidly as she adjusted the parameters. “If I can map the distortion field around the keyring, and anchor it to the lattice... it should stabilize the throat temporarily. Long enough for the resonance to build. But.. but how did you do it?”
"Magic is just science we don't understand."