The $128,160 in Xavier's account wasn't just money; it was fuel. But in the world of high-tech, cash alone was a low-level resource. To build a true empire, he needed allies in high places and proprietary hardware that no one else could replicate.
By 8:00 AM, Xavier had checked out of 'The Grid.' He didn't head back to the university dorms. Instead, he took an Uber to an industrial district on the outskirts of the city—an area filled with medical surplus warehouses and "e-waste" recycling centers.
"You're looking for what?" The warehouse manager, a man with a thick beard and grease-stained coveralls, squinted at Xavier.
"Siemens-Alara 2022 high-frequency transducers. And the discarded cooling units from the decommissioned MRI machines in Section 4," Xavier said, handing the man a stack of hundred-dollar bills. "I also need every Nvidia A100 chip you've pulled from those 'broken' server racks."
The manager chuckled, pocketing the cash. "Kid, those sensors are obsolete. Their signal-to-noise ratio is garbage, and those chips are fried. That's why they're in the scrap heap."
Xavier didn't argue. He knew something this man didn't. In 2042, a paper was published by a rogue researcher proving that the "noise" in these specific 2022 transducers wasn't garbage—it was Quantum Interference. If processed with the right AI algorithm, these "obsolete" sensors could see through solid matter with 100x the resolution of a modern $2 million CT scanner.
"I like garbage," Xavier said simply. "Load them into the truck I rented."
The First Base of Operations
Xavier rented a small, high-security lab space in a private "bio-tech incubator" downtown. It was expensive—$15,000 a month—but it provided the one thing he needed: Anonymity and industrial-grade power.
For the next forty-eight hours, Xavier didn't sleep. He lived on caffeine and adrenaline.
He stripped the "broken" Nvidia chips, using a precision laser he calibrated himself to bypass the burnt-out circuits. He was essentially "surgical-patching" the silicon. He then submerged the entire cluster in a custom-built liquid-cooling vat filled with a non-conductive fluorocarbon liquid—a technique that wouldn't go mainstream until 2030.
Next, he integrated the "scrap" medical transducers.
Code: Initialize 'Vanguard' Imaging Suite.
Algorithm: Sub-Atomic Reconstructive Mapping.
As the Oracle processed the data, a holographic image began to form on Xavier's secondary monitor. It was a scan of his own hand, but it wasn't just bone and muscle. He could see the blood flow, the oxygen saturation in his cells, and even the micro-fractures in his knuckles from years of typing.
"Total cost: $12,000," Xavier whispered. "Performance: 10 years ahead of the world's best hospital."
The Face-Slap: The Dean's Crisis
Monday Morning. Royal Institute of Technology.
Xavier walked into the Engineering Hall. The atmosphere was tense. Students whispered as he passed. News of his "attack" on Leo Sterling had spread, but oddly, no police had arrived. The "Sterling Blackmail" was holding.
However, a new obstacle appeared.
"Mr. Thorne! My office. Now."
It was Dean Halloway, a man known for his ties to big pharmaceutical companies and his love for university "donations." Standing next to him was a man in a lab coat—Dr. Aris, the head of the University Hospital's Radiology department.
"We've reviewed your 'incident' with Mr. Sterling," the Dean said, his voice dripping with fake concern. "But more importantly, we've seen your recent 'purchases' from the university's affiliated surplus vendors. You've been using university-linked accounts to buy medical-grade hardware. Under your scholarship contract, any 'invention' you create using university-sourced materials belongs to the Institute."
Dr. Aris stepped forward, looking at Xavier's backpack. "We heard you were building a 'scanner.' Give it to us for 'safety testing,' and we might overlook your expulsion."
Xavier almost laughed. They weren't trying to punish him; they were trying to rob him. They smelled money.
"You want to see the scanner?" Xavier asked, pulling a sleek, handheld device from his bag. It looked like a futuristic smartphone with a strange, glowing lens. "Fine. But let's test it on someone who actually needs it."
Xavier pointed the device at the Dean.
"What are you doing?" Halloway snapped. "Turn that toy off!"
"Dean Halloway," Xavier said, his voice turning ice-cold. "Your last physical exam was three months ago, right? They told you that the pain in your lower back was just 'stress' and 'age'?"
The Dean froze. "How did you..."
"In three... two... one..."
Xavier flipped the screen of his device so the Dean and Dr. Aris could see it. A high-resolution 3D map of the Dean's kidney appeared. In the center was a small, dark mass, barely 2 millimeters wide, wrapped around a major artery.
"It's an Early-stage Renal Angioma," Xavier stated. "In 2026, your current hospital scanners won't be able to detect this for another six months. By then, it'll be inoperable. You'll be dead by Christmas."
Dr. Aris gasped, leaning in. "That resolution... that's impossible. No ultrasound or CT can see that deep into the vascular structure without contrast dye!"
"It can if you know how to talk to the atoms," Xavier said, pulling the device back.
He looked at the Dean, whose face was now the color of ash.
"Now," Xavier said, leaning over the Dean's desk. "Are we still talking about 'contracts' and 'expulsion'? Or are we going to talk about how much you're going to pay me for the license to use this 'toy' to save your life?"
The power dynamic in the room shattered. The "scholarship kid" was no longer a student. He was the man holding the Dean's life in the palm of his hand.