The Evolution of Genius: Every Night, I Get Smarter!

The atmosphere in the crowded Princeton lecture hall was buzzing with excitement.

Professor Emily Thompson, a seasoned mathematician with a penchant for chalk dust, strolled back and forth in front of a chalkboard that looked like it had seen better days.

The equations scrawled across it weren’t just random symbols; they were the result of nights spent in the company of strong coffee and relentless determination.

"As many of you know, just two month ago, Professor Maximillian Sullivan proved the Riemann Conjecture," Professor Thompson began, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "This breakthrough has opened doors we could only dream of, and today, I am thrilled to present a potential revolution in prime number generation."

he room fell silent as she unveiled a large poster containing a series of equations, each line building on the elegance of the last.

The audience leaned in, trying to absorb the brilliance unfolding before them.

"With Sullivan’s confirmation of the Riemann Hypothesis, we now possess a deeper understanding of the distribution of primes. Leveraging this insight, I propose a novel algorithm for generating prime numbers at an unprecedented pace."

"As I delved into the prove, I saw a guide to utilise prime numbers with remarkable efficiency. The implications for cryptography, data security, and computational efficiency are immense," she declared, her eyes shining with the weight of the discovery.

...

The Oxford lecture hall was a venerable space steeped in centuries of academic tradition.

Professor Alexander Harper, a distinguished figure with salt-and-pepper hair, stood before a mix of eager students and esteemed colleagues.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gents!" Professor Harper boomed, his enthusiasm contagious. "Now, you’ve all heard about Sullivan’s Riemann feat, right? Well, buckle up"

He unveiled a sleek presentation. The screen flickered to life with diagrams.

"With Professors Sullivan’s gift to humanity, we’ve got ourselves a shiny new framework for understanding prime numbers. But, my friends, I’ve been tinkering with something that goes beyond that. Imagine effortlessly translating algorithms between different number systems without the need for days of meticulous optimization."

"It’s about making that computer fluent in every number system. We can save any data without the need of finding ways of conversion. The compuer will do that for us."

...

In a cozy office at Stanford, bathed in the warm glow of desk lamps and scattered with circuit diagrams, Michael Reynolds, a seasoned electrician, was engrossed in a research paper by Maximillian Sullivan.

The paper, titled ’Optimizing Electronic Signal Processing Using Analytical Exploration of Inversion Functions through Fourier Partial Series’

"Alright, Max, let’s see what you got there," Michael muttered to himself as he delved into the intricacies of Fourier Partial Series.

As he read, a series of ’aha’ moments flickered across his face. Sullivan’s analytical exploration of inversion functions ignited a spark in Michael’s mind.

A breakthrough hit him like a bolt of electricity. He grabbed a pencil and started scribbling on a notepad, connecting the dots between Sullivan’s analytical methods and circuit designs.

Hours passed, but to Michael, it felt like minutes.

The room, filled with the scent of solder and the soft hum of equipment, witnessed the birth of a practical breakthrough.

...

During Jenuary, I ventured into The Lab once again, but I wanted to appear as if I had no issues with The Lord or Therion.

I asked The Lord to make things easier for Olivia and me regarding what he had done.

I stated clearly that for me to continue assisting him; he needed to ensure that there were no repercussions from the events surrounding our arrests.

At the end of January, I remained reclusive, seldom leaving my house. The only visitors I welcomed were Oliv, Rick, and Alex, who paid me a visit once.

My primary focus remained on delving deeper into Quantum Physics.

In early February, I made the decision to start sharing some of my research with the world.

However, I wrote research papers on topics that were comprehensible to those without the specific knowledge stored within the USB.

’Muon and Baryon Substructure and Quantum Chromodynamics’

’Muon-Neutrino Interactions in Quantum Field Theory’

’Baryon-Photon Interactions in Quantum Electrodynamics’

Those were just a few of the papers I released during that time, and many more followed suit until the beginning of March.

I was almost done with Layer 1.

...

As I sat in front of my PC, engrossed in writing another research paper and sipping on my coffee, I noticed a series of missed messages on my phone.

It was on silent, and I had overlooked calls and messages.

To my surprise, my father had called me multiple times. I remembered that I had promised him a visit last week.

I dialed his number, and made the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dad! It’s me. Sorry, I saw your missed calls. I’ve been buried in work."

"No worries. When are you coming home?"

"I can actually make it tomorrow. I’m just finishing up a paper."

"That’s great news. Your mother has been asking about you every day."

"I’ll book a flight for tomorrow then."

"Perfect. And hey, it seems like we have something to celebrate, right?"

I was a bit confused, "Hmm? What is it?"

My father said with an excited tone, "You won the Abel Prize, son. Congratulations!"

"What? I won the Abel Prize? I didn’t even know."

"Well, you should stop working all the time and check the internet or your mail more often. I don’t really know what the price is about, but I think you are the best mathematician."

It wasn’t about being the best, but rather the most influential during a particular year.

I didn’t say anything about the specifics of the Abel Prize, deciding to leave that conversation for another time.

"Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you tomorrow."

After ending the call, I leaned back in my chair, contemplating the news.

Apart from the Abel Prize, I received confirmation a couple of days ago that my nomination for the Nobel Prize in Physics had successfully made its way through the rigorous selection process.

I wonder how will my family react to this.

Professor Hayes, the bearer of this remarkable news, also shared updates on the project’s progress.

While the facility wouldn’t be completed until mid-year, she expressed a strong desire for me to visit soon.

With those thoughts in my head, I opened my mailbox, and there it was—a message from the advisor of the King of Norway.

The contents bore the weight of a formal invitation to the upcoming ceremony in Oslo, scheduled for May, where I would be honored with the Abel Prize.

I swiftly booked a flight to Chicago and then dialed Olivia’s number.

"Hey, Olivia, quick question. Do you want to fly with me to Chicago for a bit?"

"Oh, Max, I’d love to, but I can’t make it this time. Listen, we’ve been together for a while, and I was thinking it might be a good idea for you to meet my parents first, you know? I already met yours."

"Hmm, fair point. When should we plan that?"

"Well, how about you go to Chicago first? But, hey, how long are you planning to be away?"

"I thought about a week or two. Leaving tomorrow at noon."

"Two weeks?! Wait, Max, when are you leaving exactly?"

"Tomorrow, around 12 o’clock."

Oliv paused for a second, "Oh, okay. Can I come by today then? Just to say goodbye and all."

"Absolutely, why not? I’ll be here. See you then."

"See you, Max"

After the chat, it hit me that my kitchen was in desperate need of some cleaning.

I’ve been on a takeout spree for the past week, and the trash bin was probably feeling neglected.

Sure, I hung out with Oliv two days ago, but that was outside.

I jumped into action, tackling the kitchen chaos head-on. Just as I was triumphantly carrying bags of trash outside, Olivia rang the doorbell.

There I was, trash bags in hand, when I opened the door to her.

With a casual yet cheeky demeanor, Olivia stood at the door rockimg a slim-fit pair of faded jeans that hugged her curves just right.

Topping it off, she sported a breezy, oversized graphic tee with a playful design, giving off a relaxed vibe.

As she eyed the trash bags in my hands, she said, "Well, well, Max, is this your way of telling me I’ve got some competition with the garbage for your attention?"

With a smirk, I retorted, "No way, Oliv. Just wanted to make the place clean for you. Come on in, I will just throw the trash away."

As we settled upstairs, I asked, "What do you feel like eating, Olivia?"

She responded with her typical flair, "Same as always, Max." Then, with a mischievous smile, she added, "But I’ve got something better than food."

Olivia revealed a bag full of beer and asked, "What do you say we crack one open together?"

After a brief pause, I chuckled and replied, "Well, let me order some food first."

I knew that this wouldn’t end at one beer.