Chapter 31 - Study

Kusuo rubbed his eyes before putting the glasses back on his face. He took a break to slouch in the office chair before sitting back up.

He was at the Psi Industries' temporary corporate office which was an aircraft hanger that was equipped with the necessary equipment, cubical space, and offices.

As the boss, his workspace was upgraded to a second-floor office that overlooked the cubical space. The office itself was like a giant fishbowl, with wall-sized windows that faced the airfield and cubicle space. There was one large white desk with monitors that surrounded the work desk like a semi-sphere. The floor was a smooth metal plate decking. There were no decorations outside of a potted plant on the desk.

The monitors that surrounded the work desk broadcasted information nonstop, computer code, news coverage, stock prices, and whatever else flashed on those screens, casting a mosaic of colors on Kusuo's pale face.

The white desk was empty except for a spare keyboard and one of Kuusuke's journals.

In studying Kuusuke's handwritten journals for about a couple of weeks, Kusuo quickly figured out a really big problem.

Kusuo did not fully understand the mathematics contained in the journals.

The sections of the journals where Kusuo's contribution was denoted were simple. Memories of methodical study, the reasonings, the logic pathways, came back easily. A minute glance was all he needed.

The sections of the journal that were Kuusuke's work, which was the majority of the work, proved to be far more tricky to understand. Kuusuke came up with the foundational recursive backbone and integrated the theories. Much of the integration required an understanding of complex algebra, non-linear number theory, and non-euclidean geometry.

These were topics that Kusuo did not have a lot of in-depth knowledge. Nevermind that he was never taught these in school, which was now was at beginner topics of calculus, statistics, and trigonometry. Most of his highest level of theoretical mathematic understanding was pretty much whatever he had to do back when he worked with Kuusuke to come up with the first generation limiters and that had been nearly a decade ago.

Kusuo hated to admit it, but mathematics was not his favorite subject. He wouldn't have even gone through that mental exercise if not, according to a couple of psychometric memories in the journals, for Kuusuke offering to make desserts and saying yes to everything their parents had forbidden to Kusuo. It seemed like Kuusuke was able to get Kusuo to intensely study a generally dull topic in exchange for the privilege of drinking coffee before bed, getting and playing a new gaming console and the accompanying slew of shitty games, and watching TV into wee hours of the morning on a school night.

Since when did Kusuo need anyone's permission to do those things?

Good news though; based on the conclusions in the journals, Kusuo was able to assemble a version of his first-generation limiter.

It just didn't work as well as the one that Kuusuke built years ago.

General everyday nuisances such as strength, telepathy range, x-ray vision, teleportation did seem to reduce, just not as much. Strength reduced enough but he still broke things. Telepathy range also reduced, but now it was at a kilometer range and the loudness of people's inner voice gave him a constant migraine on top of the current ones from his other problems. People became immediate walking meat bags.

The robustness of the limiter was also confounding.

Kuusuke's limiters operated pretty much the entire possible range of Kusuo's pyrokinesis and cryokinesis skillset, which was comfortably below -10 C and well above 150 C. Past those temperatures, Kusuo would naturally engage one or the other ability to protect himself and thus the limiters.

The limiters that Kusuo built did not do that. Anything under 5 C and over about 40 C would start to make the limiter malfunction. Instead of creating a whole host of wack out of powers or even easing up on psychic power control, the malfunction only left him with an intense, blinding headache that lasted nearly an hour. He discovered this while trying out pyrokinesis to burn off infections to maintain his general health. "Damn" was probably the mildest term he used once he recovered.

The routine checking his body temperature while using the limiter that he assembled indicated that his version was not keeping the burning down consistently, which meant going back to problem number one, eventually. A newly assembled limiter generally lasted about three days it starts to malfunction and he had to switch it out.

He also realized that being awake when his body temperature reached the critical temperature was a very unpleasant experience. His body seemed to have a narrow range of where it decided between normal ESP use and ESP damage. Normal ESP usage might mean sweating and experiencing a level of discomfort similar to being in a humid, sweaty gym. ESP damage usually meant all his nerves feeling like they're suddenly on fire and physically so painful that he nearly wished he combusted to make the sensation stop.

Luckily, switching out the control devices back to the ones that Kuusuke had assembled immediately brought the temperature back to a normal range.

Kusuo was able to determine that the problem lied in the usage of compact programming in the limiter that modulated the electrical impulses sent into Kusuo's head. Translating from handwritten mathematical proof to computer programming language in a microprocessor that had to fit inside a matchbox and a golf ball, along with whatever other gadgets was near impossible without serious study.

Nevermind how Kuusuke was able to miniaturize all of it into the size of a sewing pin and increase its effectiveness in the third-generation limiter.

Kusuo did consider reverse engineering the limiters, though that would mean deliberately disassembling the limiters that Kuusuke built with the hopes that he could successfully reassemble them. He could rely on his Restoration powers to them back to a usable state but it was not a guarantee. His temporal abilities had a tendency of messing up due to the butterfly effect if he adjusted events too far in the past. So reverse engineering was not exactly something Kusuo was willing to try until he completely exhausted all other options.

Progress was slow, too. Judging by the amount of time he had left to study the journals after a full day of dealing with 'a lot of stuff,' it could be years before he could fully duplicate Kuusuke's work and only to the first generation of limiters.

At least the immediate threat of flashover if he ever broke the limiters that Kuusuke built was mostly off the table. That in itself was an immense relief. His parents and grandmother Risa would be pleased to know that.

He just had to avoid telling them about the likelihood of an ultra shitty quality of life if he could not fully duplicate Kuusuke's work.

Kusuo did start swearing again that he was going to make Kuusuke pay in the next life, though that phrase was a little less serious than before.

Knowing, irrefutably, that Kuusuke cared did mollify what felt like an eon of foul mood.

Kusuo felt that even though mom was still grieving and was getting only slightly better, that his parents were still fighting, that his memories had been screwed with and the stress of everything was probably going to give him a psychotic break at some point, that he could somehow overcome this.

According to the dates in the journals, it took both them, he and Kuusuke, about two years to come up with the first generation limiter. If they were able to peck at the problem for that long to come to a solution as two bumbling children, then Kusuo should be able to fix this, as a determined adult.

Alone.

Kusuo allowed himself to frown more than typical as he felt the unusual stinging in the eyes.

That was the real problem all along, wasn't it?

Kusuo had never been alone in dealing with his psychic powers, even if he felt like he was alone. He always had his first playmate there to challenge him, to irritate him, to understand him, to help him when no one else could. With both of them, nothing could go wrong. If something did go wrong, it was always controlled.

And now...

There was a polite knock on the glass door.

The bobbling beared red-headed William slid the glass door open.

"Hey Mr. Psi," greeted the corporate lackey. "Ready to go to your welcome party?"

The said Mr. Psi immediately shot down the idea. "No."

"We even got Andy from the Board of Directors to commit," enticed William, not easily deterred. "He's not far behind me."

"Some other time."

"You know that we'll just keep on having your after-work welcome happy hour every other day until you showed up, right?" reminded William, completely undeterred. "We'll do a toast to the late Mr. Psi."

"I'll pass."

Still not discouraged, William entered the office with an unusual boldness that was likely derived from not being fired for his more colorful remarks. He took a moment to look outside the large glass window to the airfield. The sky was dark with clouds and drizzling rain. Large heavy droplets steadily tapped at and trail down the windows like tears.

Damn English weather. It was overcast only a few hours ago. How were they going to have that fun outdoor binge-drinking party when it rained nonstop?

The boss has that glazed look of someone not completely present. It was a look that William was used to since the previous boss was always contemplating one thing or another. The only difference was that the old boss always plastered on an inviting half-smile when someone came into his presence while the new boss didn't bother. Some say that mannequins showed more emotions than the new boss.

Once William gotten close enough, he saw that the boss was looking through what appeared to be a composition notebook with some complicated-looking mathematical proof and some diagrams. The glow of the monitors reflected on the boss man's face like some sort of twisted light show.

"Woah, what is this?" asked William from across the desk, genuinely curious.

Surprisingly, the boss answered him. "My brother's journal."

At the risk of being too familiar, William picked up the notebook that the boss was looking at.

"Hum...Taylor series with complex and imginary integration and subsequent derivations," observed William as he casually flipped through a few pages. His training in mathematics and statistics was not totally useless. "Wow. This is some serious theoretical math stuff. You understand this?"

"Which part?"

William placed the journal back down on the desk pointed to the specific spot in the notebook.

"This is simple. I came up with that and he wrote it down," said the boss. He turned a couple of pages where there was an unrecognizable Kanji denotation. "My brother authored this section."

William shuffled over to stand next to the boss man so he could better see and read the journal. He completely ignored the stiff body language that indicated that the boss man was uncomfortable with the sudden close proximity. William did not care. There was some theoretical math to be looked at! As William read further, his eyes slowly widen. "What the heck is this? It's a brilliant proof! Really complex and I don't completely understand it."

"That's not the complex part," corrected the boss as he flipped a few more pages. "This concatenation here is mystifying."

William followed along with the notation and logic for the first three or so lines before the mental leap became too complicated to follow. "When did the late Mr. Psi come up with this?" asked William, fascinated.

"That section that you're looking at was completed when he was twelve," said the boss man.

William's jaws dropped. "Are you having a laugh?"

Without changing facial expression the boss man shot back, "Are you a blonde?"

It took a moment for William to catch on to the joke. "Ha ha. Very funny, Mr. Psi," said William dryly. "You know it's so hard to remember that your brother was a genius with a doctorate from Cambridge University; he was always so down to earth and normal when you interact with him."

Oddly enough, the boss man seemed intrigued by the off-handed comment, not that William paid much attention to notice.

"I mean, a few years ago," William continued. "Violet and I caught him skateboarding and graffitiing at an abandoned industrial park with a bunch of delinquents on the east side of London. He was in ripped jeans, a sleeveless hoodie T-shirt, earbuds, metal spike bracelet, and chains, looking like one of those stereotypical punks you'd meet in the tube. You know, the type who is in and out of juvie. He spoke cockney to his skateboard bluds, played handheld consoles with them, doing skateboard tricks on concrete where he could've easily broken his neck if he fell. He didn't look or act any different from one of those dumb teenagers with too much time on their hands.

"The next day, he went to his morning university classes, then right back to work and was busy making Saiko Colgomerate's negotiators sob over a licensing deal by the afternoon. Then he took half the office to a football game that same night. He bumped into a couple of his skateboard pals again and disappeared halfway through the game. We thought he got kidnapped but he showed up to a strategy meeting bright and early the next day."

The boss man took that in thoughtfully but said nothing.

William guessed it was to be expected. It's only been a few weeks since the late Mr. Psi perished in that office fire and any talk of the late Mr. Psi must be hurtful.

"So, what was your brother trying to do in these journals?" asked William. "This seemed pretty complicated for your ordinary diaries."

Before the boss man could respond, another person walked by and, this tim,e did not even bother to knock before entering the office.

It was Doctor Andrew Wiles, the skeletal university professor who happened to sit on the Board of Directors. Doctor Wiles had endorsed the formal acceptance and reaffirmation of Kenneth Psi as the new Chairman of Psi Industries a few weeks back. Andrew shuffled a bit, seemingly galumphing. He wore large square glasses, the usual long-sleeved white collard shirt, a vest, slack, and leather shoes. "William Conrad. Are you being impertinent?"

"Of course not, Dr. Wiles," said William easily. He did work directly for the aged professor. "I'm getting a rare peek at the late Mr. Psi's work from back when he was twelve years old. You know, before he came here."

Andrew's interest was piqued and he approached the desk, completely ignoring the minor twitch of the boss man's lips that indicated that the boss man did not welcome the intrusion. With that similar invasive familiarity, Andrew turned the notebook toward himself and began flipping.

Meanwhile, William continued to be himself, which was run his mouth with endless questions. "So back to my original question, Mr. Psi. What was your brother trying to do in these journals? It seemed something to do with electrical impulses."

There was a brief moment of silence as the boss man seemed to struggle to find the right words. "It was for a personal medical device."

"To do what?" inquired William further.

The boss's expression never changed. "To keep me alive."

William's expression blanched at the naked term. He ended up smiling hesitantly. "Oh...I get it. That's what all medical devices do. To keep people alive. Clever. Wait. To keep you alive?"

There was a shrug. "Amongst other things," the boss man added.

William stared at the boss man incredulously.

"I trust that you can keep that fact in confidence," said the boss man.

"Yes. Of course. But..." William trailed off. He looked at the boss man's unassuming posture, looking like any normal, healthy young adult. "you don't look sick."

"Not right now. My brother's device is working, for the moment." He looked to the notebook that Andrew was placidly flipping through. "If it breaks, I estimate it'll take about five days."

"Before what?"

The boss man gave another shrug. "My untimely end."

William stared at the boss man with a deep frown. How can someone this young bo so calm about dying? "And the late Mr. Psi didn't make spares for you?" asked William.

"He made plenty of spares for me. He gave me a box of them two months ago. It should have been enough to last me a lifetime," said the boss man, looking contemplative. "But they were accidentally destroyed. I only have two working sets and one set is old."

"Why don't you see another doctor?" William asked. "Surely there's got to be another medical professional who can check you out."

"It's...a very rare condition," revealed the boss man. "My brother already inquired and got so frustrated that he didn't bother pursuing that avenue. Replicating his work is the fastest way. I have done so, it's just not as effective and it has some significant... drawbacks. It's why I'm studying this now."

There was an uncomfortable pause before someone spoke up.

"Well, these are certainly doctoral thesis material," said Andrew after about five minutes of glancing over the notebook. "These are some very different takes on some classical approaches. Some of it is more direct. Some of it more roundabout." Andrew turned the notebook around so that the text was facing the boss man again. "I assume that these sections are your work."

The boss man blinked and nodded barely.

"I suspected as much," said Andrew. "Kuusuke usually took the unconventional routes in his reasoning to come to the same conclusion." Andrew pointed to a section that the boss man had previously indicated to be his contribution. "These particular sections are almost too clean, to the point, brute-forced. The logic flavor is too direct." Andrew seemed contemplative. "When did you come up with this?"

"About a decade ago," said the boss man. "The subject isn't beyond me. I just haven't the desire or motivation to study this topic before"

"And now, you're very much motivated to do so," muttered William.

Andrew, the skeletal professor, seemed contemplative. "Do you know what Kuusuke studied while he was at my alma mater, Cambridge University"

The boss man shook his head.

"Mathematics."

The boss man blinked and frowned at that, sitting further back in his chair. That seemed like an unexpected fact.

"Oh. People are always surprised whenever they hear that," said Andrew. "They always thought that he studied the sciences, chemistry, or one of the applied sciences like engineering, materials, organic chemistry, geology, medicine, even botany, subjects that would allow a person to touch and feel the effects of nature.

"Mathematics seemed too much of an abstraction for an inventor and mathematic itself is a liberal arts degree. But it is exactly what is called for here." Andrew pointed to the notebook again. "What you have here is artwork, an attempt to flawlessly mimic the natural world and blend the boundary between the human construct and natural chaos. I see the backbone of the entire work resembles the Julia Set. Have you seen it?"

The boss man shook his head again.

"When you get the time, plot out the initial conjecture. It's unique," said Andrew.

The boss man seemed to take that recommendation, but his expression seemed ambivalent to the idea.

Andrew studied the boss man's body language and seemed to have come to a decision. "Come study under me," said Andrew. ""I head the the world most respected mathematics program."

The boss man tilted his head, curious.

"I will pull some strings and get you into Oxford," said Andrew. "Once you're in, you should be able to access its resource and be with academicians who can challenge and further your understanding to bridge the logic gap in this work. As far as I can tell, your weakest subject area is number theory, which is one of Kuusuke's strongest subjects. That happens to be my specialty and of interest to several of my doctoral candidate. They'll be able to help you."

The boss man's lips twitched downward slightly, obviously unhappy of having a favor that he might not even want to be imposed upon him.

"Do not reject," said Andrew in that steady, nearly monotone dull professorial voice. "Consider it as a way for me to pay back a debt to him."

"Debt?" echoed the boss man.

"The details are not important," said Andrew. "But yes. I owe him several favors and all favors are debts that must be repaid. Since he is no longer around for me to repay that debt, helping you is the only repayment available."

At that reasoning, the boss man's expression seemed to soften.

"I should note that it's not completely an honest repayment," mentioned Andrew. "Kuusuke happened to think that you're even more intelligent than him. I think that you'll only further advance the prestige of Oxford, especially my department."

"Dr. Wiles, you're having the new owner of Psi Industries attend your classes," reminded William. "I think that's going to get everyone all giddy."

"I don't like attention," stated the boss man. "If I'm to attend, I don't want people to make a big deal out of it."

There seemed to be a brief stalemate before Andrew answered. "Duly noted."

With that, Andrew turned to leave the office. "Come along, William. You've said something about a Scottish pint?"

Before William could respond, however, Andrew stopped in his tracks again. He turned back to the boss man. "I should also note that the admission office will want to see a high-school diploma within a year of acceptance. You're still a high schooler, are you not?"

At that question, the boss man made the slightest twitch of his eyebrows. "I withdrew. It was taking up too much time."

Andrew clicked his tongue. "Ah. Well, you could always obtain a general education degree, but the admission office typically likes to see a traditional high school degree. You'll also have to arrange to take and ace the A Levels. Near perfect academic record or academic test scores are expected for all prospective students at Oxford. Anything less would..."

"...bring attention," finished the boss man. "I know what you're saying. It's the details. "

Andrew nodded. "I expect nothing less from Kuusuke's sibling."

With that, Andrew left the boss man's office, in that slow shuffle of an old ivory tower intellectual.

William, however, lingered. He waited until Andrew was out of an earshot to get in one last attempt. "You sure you don't want to come, Mr. Psi? You gotta let me make good at my offer for a round."

The boss man stared at him. "I'm not of legal age," said the boss man with a deadpan.

Again, William's jaw dropped for the second time that day. When he finally could think about what he heard, he immediately facepalmed. Seriously. He really was trying to get himself fired.

"Tsch. Nothing like that. Give it less than a month," the boss man offered as if telepathically hearing William's thoughts.

At that William grinned. "It's a date, boss man. I'll teach you to pick up chicks and all types of bloody awesome drinks!"

William turned on a heel, ready to go off to a party. Before he slid the office door open though, he heard something.

"Was..." the question seemed to die in boss man's throat as the rest of the words were garbled, and sounded even...hallow?

"Pardon?" echoed William.

"Was my brother happy here?" asked the boss man, clearly, this time.

William seemed surprised by the question. He looked to the boss man, who seemed, for the first time since William had known him, to have emotions. "I supposed so. He never seemed to have a bad day. Even when he made some poor decisions that caused massive losses to Psi Industries, he was never upset about it. He smiled all the time. But I think it's more to put people at ease rather than a reflection of how he felt though."

The boss man seemed to consider that. "How can you tell?"

"Well...do you remember your parents were here, at London, a while back?"

The boss man nodded.

"I happened to be there when he took them around the old test bunkers, where I worked at the time. That was the only time that he seemed to see people, you know."

The boss man blinked.

"I mean, you two might look very different," said William, "but your mannerisms are eerily similar. You two never seemed to be completely present. Even now, I get the feeling that you're looking right through me. The late Mr. Psi was like that all the time, except that one time he was taking your parents around. It was the only time he seemed like he was all there. Now that I think about it, I guess the bloke chooses to be happy, rather than have experience impact his opinion of life, you know." William scratched his head nervously. "I'm rambling now. Did I make any sense?"

The bosses snorted a bit as if he had just heard the most preposterous logic there ever was. His answer, though, was soft. "Yes."

"Seriously?! I'm relieved!" cheered William. "Err. What's the great revelation here?'

The boss man, however, seemed to have decided to dismiss the beared red-head. "I'll tell you another time."

"Okay," acknowledged William. He smiled when he casually noted the weather. "Whelp, looks like the rain had stopped! Time to party on! They have a live outdoor band!"

With that, William left the office building, blissfully unaware of the boss man's critical gaze at the sky.