Chapter 25: The Gala of Grand Delusions
The atmosphere was an eclectic mix of expensive perfume, cheap champagne, and the kind of suffocating intellectual pretense that could only be found at a university gala. The guys, dressed in ill-fitting tuxedos, looked like a mismatched set of action figures that had been dropped into a high-end department store. Leonard was fidgeting with his bow tie, Raj was cowering behind a potted plant, and Sheldon was cataloging all the things that were "suboptimal" about the event's design.
Adam, surprisingly, was in his element. As a transmigrator from a different universe, he'd seen enough high-society drama in movies and TV shows to know how to navigate it. He was a chameleon, blending in with a smooth ease that made him look like he belonged. Paige, in a simple but elegant dress, was a vision of quiet, understated confidence, a cool intellect in a sea of hot air.
"You know, for a bunch of guys who can build a quantum computer, they sure are terrible at social interactions. It's like watching a bunch of penguins try to fly. Adorable, but fundamentally wrong. My 'Social Engineering' skill is just humming with data right now. This place is a goldmine of fragile egos and unspoken anxieties."
As they were trying to find a corner to hide in, a pompous, balding man in a tweed jacket approached them. Professor Alistair Finch. Adam's internal display, running on the "Social Engineering" skill, flashed a warning: [TARGET: PROFESSOR ALISTAIR FINCH. ARCHETYPAL EGOIST. WEAKNESSES: OVER-RELIANCE ON OUTDATED THEORIES, SENSITIVITY TO MILD CRITICISM, A DESPERATE NEED FOR ACCOLADES.]
Professor Finch, a man who clearly believed his own farts were a form of intellectual discourse, looked Howard up and down with a sneer. "And who is this?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "An engineer? How… quaint. I suppose someone has to design the toilets and the paper towel dispensers. It's rather trivial work, but I suppose it's a living."
Howard, who normally would have fired back with a snarky comment, just stood there, a flash of genuine hurt in his eyes. His over-the-top personality was a defense mechanism, a suit of armor against a world that often saw him as a joke. Finch's comment had pierced it.
Paige, seeing the look on Howard's face, moved forward. Her voice was calm but held an edge of steel. "Actually, Dr. Wolowitz is an aerospace engineer. His work on the guidance system for the Deep Space Probe is groundbreaking. It's hardly trivial."
Finch laughed, a short, barking sound. "Oh, a guidance system? How adorable. I suppose one has to start somewhere. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go discuss my new theory on quantum entanglement with someone who matters."
He walked away, leaving Howard looking like a kicked puppy. The armor was gone. Adam felt a surge of genuine, Stiles-level anger. This wasn't a joke, it wasn't a game. This was a bully being a bully, and his friends were not going to be treated that way.
"Alright, Finch. You just poked the wrong bear. Or, you know, the wrong sarcastic guy with a cosmic cheat code. You don't get to come in here, insult my friends, and walk away clean. That's not how this works. I'm about to ruin this man's entire evening, and he's not even going to know how it happened. This is going to be beautiful."
Adam, with a quiet intensity, turned to Paige. "I'm going to need your help with this."
"How?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.
"Simple. You get him to talk about his work. His 'new theory on quantum entanglement.' He'll do it, he loves to hear himself talk. While he's rambling, I'll be over here," he said, pointing to a small data terminal near a food table. "I'm going to look up his work. The System already gave me his weaknesses. Now I'm going to exploit them."
As Paige engaged the Professor in a conversation, subtly leading him to talk about his new theory, Adam worked his magic. His "Social Engineering" skill, combined with a quick System-based database search, gave him the information he needed. He found a minor, but crucial, flaw in Finch's last published paper, a flaw that would completely undermine his new theory.
He then sent an anonymous message to a renowned physicist who was at the gala, an old rival of Finch's, a man Adam's System had identified as "Vengeful and Observant." The message was a simple, single line of code, highlighting the flaw in Finch's old paper.
A few minutes later, as Finch was pontificating to a group of professors, his rival, Dr. Henderson, walked up to him. "Alistair," Henderson said, his voice dripping with condescension. "I was just rereading your paper from last year. I was particularly amused by your equation on page 42. It's a rather... creative use of the Dirac equation. It's almost as if you forgot to carry the one."
The entire crowd, including Finch, froze. His face went from pale to a brilliant, furious red. The flaw, minor as it was, had been publicly exposed. His new theory was now, by extension, built on a shaky foundation. The gossip spread like wildfire.
Adam watched it all unfold from a distance, a small, satisfied smirk on his face. He walked over to Howard, who was now being comforted by Leonard and Raj. "Don't worry about it, man," Adam said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Some people are just all talk. Besides, I'm pretty sure your toilet-designing skills are better than his physics."
Howard, with a genuine smile, laughed. "I don't even design toilets, dude. I'm an engineer. I build rockets."
"Exactly," Adam said. "And some of us just have to deal with the paper-pushers. Come on, let's go get some snacks. I think I earned it."
"And that, my friends, is how you deal with a bully. Not with a fistfight, but with a perfectly timed, anonymous jab that exposes their deepest, darkest intellectual insecurity. I'm pretty sure I could get a Ph.D in being a passive-aggressive hero. And that, in a world of super geniuses, might be my most valuable skill yet."
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