Over stacks of pancakes and refills of coffee, Elliot and I immersed ourselves in lively debate over Grey Matter's blueprints and business model.

"I'm telling you, outdoor green spaces will create the right vibe for open innovation," Elliot insisted, sketching courtyard designs between bites. "Plus it's been proven to boost productivity."

I stirred creamer thoughtfully. "You may be on to something there. But the labs still need to take priority in square footage. What about a multi-level design with workshops above offices?"

We scribbled reams of notes, arguing constructively over each perspective. Employeeship structure, intellectual property policies, funding projections - no stone went unturned.

By dawn our pancakes had long since gone cold, but the vision was coming into focus. Grey Matter would be a haven for ambitious science unrestrained by bureaucracy or traditional barriers. A space to transform wildest theories into reality.

Refilling our mugs with fresh caffeine, Elliot and I chuckled at how far we'd come since late-night college debates. This was only the beginning, and our potential still knew no limits.

The predawn sky was just starting to lighten as Elliot and I packed up our notes, emotionally and mentally drained but charged with purpose.

"We've got the framework nailed down," Elliot affirmed. "But Grey Matter still needs a clear vision statement to rally people behind."

I stared into my empty coffee cup, seeing not dregs but limitless possibility. A proclamation rose to my lips: "We are going to take the world by storm."

Elliot's brow quirked, a smirk forming. "Bold. I like it."

Our waitress arrived then, and I hurriedly threw down a five for the endless refills. "Think about it," I told Elliot before turning to go, spent yet driven beyond exhaustion. This was it - we were on the cusp of rewriting the rules.

The sun breached the horizon as Elliot joined me atop our building, eyes bright with purpose once more.

"So," I prompted eagerly. Elliot took a breath. "Okay, Walt. I'm in."

I smiled, handing him a celebratory cigar. "You're making the right choice."

As we lit up, he detailed initial assets - promising colleagues from our graduate program willing to join our founding. Farley, Hansen, Milton - a strong start.

I exhaled smoke rings, recalling difficult family conversations to stake my future here. "Mother understood. It's the right thing."

Elliot nodded, then sobered. "Now we have to start small - get supplies, equipment..."

I cut in, full of new day's optimism. "Then we get to work." With that pledge, I tossed my spent cigar into freefall, watching its dying embers meet the ground far below.

Here, the first rays of dawn anointed our endeavor. Grey Matter's rise was only just beginning.