April 6th, 2026.
The "Thorne Tower" was a hollow shell of steel and glass, but inside the lead-lined basement, Xavier had created a sanctuary that was more advanced than any laboratory on Earth.
"Xavier, the raw materials you ordered... they're here," Claire said, pointing to crates of lead, apatite, and a rare isotope of copper he'd sourced from a Russian mineral dealer. "But the scientific community says Room-Temperature Superconductors (RTSC) are a pipe dream. Even the best labs can only achieve superconductivity at -150°C under massive pressure."
Xavier didn't look up from the vacuum-sealed forge he'd built. "That's because they're trying to force the electrons to behave using pressure. I'm going to make them want to behave using Lattice-Resonance."
In 2050, the secret wasn't a new element; it was the geometric arrangement of the atoms. Using a specialized laser-pulse (an upgrade of his Vanguard tech), Xavier began 'stitching' the copper and lead atoms into a hexagonal honeycomb structure that prevented electron scattering.
He wasn't just making a material; he was making 'Thornium-1'.
"Oracle," Xavier commanded. "Finalize the synthesis."
[ORACLE]: Synthesis complete. Stability: 99.8%. Meissner Effect active at 25°C. Master, the global energy giants have detected the 'Spectrum License' request you forced the Dean to sign. They are sending observers to the Tower.
"Let them come," Xavier said, a cold glint in his eyes. "It's time to flip the world's power switch."
The Impossible Demo
Outside the Thorne Tower, three black Mercedes-Benz S-Classes pulled up. Out stepped Sir Alistair Vaughn, the CEO of Global Power Grid, and a small entourage of Nobel-prize-winning physicists.
"This is a waste of my time," Alistair snapped, looking at the unfinished skyscraper. "A student claiming to have solved the Holy Grail of physics in a construction site? It's a PR stunt."
"Mr. Thorne is ready for you," Claire said, meeting them at the entrance. She looked professional, her nerves hidden behind a mask of cold corporate efficiency Xavier had coached her on.
They were led to the basement. There, sitting on a plain wooden table, was a small, grey ceramic disk. Beside it was a standard car battery and a spool of wire so thin it was almost invisible.
"Is this the joke?" one of the physicists laughed. "You expect us to believe that—"
"Silence," Xavier said. He didn't turn around. He was looking at a monitor. "Sir Alistair, your company loses 10% of its generated electricity every year just through 'heat waste' in your transmission lines. That's $40 billion a year literally vanishing into thin air."
"Physics dictates resistance, boy," Alistair said.
"My physics doesn't," Xavier replied.
He clipped the car battery to the spool of 'Thornium' wire. The other end was connected to a massive, industrial-grade 500-pound iron weight.
"Oracle, initiate 'Magnetic Levitation'."
Without a sound, the 500-pound weight didn't just move—it shot upward, hovering exactly six inches above the table. There was no heat. No hum. No liquid nitrogen.
The physicists gasped, one of them rushing forward with a thermal camera.
"Room temperature..." the scientist whispered, his voice cracking. "It's... it's cold. There is zero resistance. This wire is carrying enough current to power a city block, and it's not even warm!"
Alistair Vaughn's face went from annoyance to absolute shock. He realized instantly what he was looking at. This wasn't just an invention; it was the end of the oil industry, the end of the coal industry, and the beginning of a new era.
"How much?" Alistair asked, his voice shaking. "How much for the patent?"
"I'm not selling the patent," Xavier said, finally turning around. "I'm selling the Infrastructure Rights. Thorne Dynamics will manufacture the wire. You will pay us a 5% 'Efficiency Tax' on every kilowatt your grid carries using our tech."
"5%? That's billions!" Alistair roared.
"And you'll save $40 billion," Xavier countered. "But here's the catch, Sir Alistair. If you don't sign today, I'll offer the same deal to your biggest rival. And I'll give them a six-month head start."
The Slap: The Hidden Enemy
As Alistair reached for his pen, the basement's lights suddenly flickered.
Xavier's eyes narrowed. He's back.
[ORACLE]: Warning. High-Energy Pulse detected. The Fixer has bypassed the lead shielding using a 'Ghost-Phase' neutrino burst.
Suddenly, one of the physicists—a quiet man in the back—pulled a sleek, white cylinder from his pocket. It wasn't a tool; it was a Data-Vacuum.
"Xavier Thorne," the man said, his voice overlapping with the static on the intercom. "The Council of Aether does not permit the democratization of Superconductors in 2026. You are accelerating the civilization index too fast."
The "physicist" pressed a button on the cylinder. A localized black hole of data began to suck the code from Xavier's laptop, trying to erase the 'Thornium' formula.
"Claire, get them out!" Xavier shouted.
As the billionaire and the scientists scrambled for the exit, Xavier didn't run for his laptop. Instead, he grabbed the spool of 'Thornium' wire.
"You think I'm democratizing it?" Xavier growled at the assassin. "I'm not. I'm using it to build a cage."
Xavier threw the wire. With the zero-resistance current still flowing from the battery, the wire acted as a perfect Electromagnetic Lasso. The moment it touched the assassin, the magnetic field was so intense it pinned the man against the steel support beam of the building.
"You're not a 'Fixer'," Xavier said, walking up to him as the man struggled against the invisible force. "You're a 'Chronos-Guard'. Which means Marcus Volkov is already the CEO of Aether in the future."
The assassin spit out a tooth. "You can't win, Xavier. We have the entire 2050 database. You're just one man with a laptop."
"I'm not just a man," Xavier whispered, leaning in so only the assassin could hear. "I'm the man who programmed the 'Chronos-Guards' back in the original timeline. I know your 'off-switch'."
Xavier reached behind the man's ear and pressed a specific sequence of pressure points. The assassin's eyes rolled back as his neural-link—a tech that shouldn't exist for decades—short-circuited.
Xavier turned to the remaining laptop. The 'Data-Vacuum' had failed. The formula was safe.
[ORACLE]: Master, Sir Alistair Vaughn has signed the digital contract. The first wire-transfer of $500,000,000 as a 'Goodwill Deposit' has just hit the Thorne Dynamics offshore account.
Xavier looked at the unconscious assassin, then at his bank balance.
"Half a billion," Xavier muttered. "Now... let's see them try to 'delete' a man who owns the world's power grid."