He arrived at the laboratory at 9:55.
Not early enough to seem anxious. Not late enough to seem casual. The precise middle ground that professional situations called for.
The laboratory was part of a research building attached to a private medical college in the university district — modest by international standards but well equipped for the specific work being done inside it. He had researched the building layout the previous day. He knew where the genetics department was before he stepped inside.
The receptionist directed him upstairs.
He knocked on the open door of the laboratory.
One person inside. Working at a bench with the focused intensity of someone who had been at the same problem for a very long time and was close enough to see the finish line.
She turned when he knocked.
Subha.
In person she was sharper than he had expected — not just intelligent but the specific kind of intelligent that produced a quality of focus so concentrated it was almost physical. The kind of person whose mind was always slightly ahead of the conversation. Not impatient — just faster.
She looked at him for one moment — the professional assessment of someone deciding in the first ten seconds whether a meeting was worth the time.
"Aditya Thomas?", she said.
"Yes", he said.
She gestured him in.
"Sit", she said. "Tell me how you know what you know."
No small talk. Straight to it.
He sat down.
He already knew everything about her before he walked in.
Not from research — from the film. He knew she had discovered Bodhidharma's book two years ago, had built her entire research on the genetic connection it suggested, had visited Aravind's village a year ago and collected DNA from his hair samples without his knowledge. He knew the DNA matched at over eighty percent. He knew she had proved it privately but had not yet presented to the department — that was two months away.
He knew the department would dismiss it when she did present. He knew exactly why — an ancient book as the source of a modern genetics research project was not something any serious academic institution was going to accept without a fight.
He also knew about the professor.
300 crore rupees from the Chinese. A straightforward transaction — his cooperation in facilitating Operation Red in exchange for more money than most people saw in several lifetimes. He was feeding information about Subha's research directly to Dong Lee's handlers while maintaining the appearance of being her supportive mentor.
Aditya noted all of this without reacting to any of it.
'Not my problem', he thought. 'Not yet. Maybe not ever.'
He was here to collaborate on the research. To enjoy the experience. To let the story move at its own pace.
He had taken NZT that morning.
Not because he needed it for the basic material — his Siddha Medicine level 8 meant he understood the relevant biochemistry more deeply than anyone alive in this timeline. But because the calibration required to give her exactly what was useful without giving her everything he knew was a precision task that benefited from full capacity.
He told her what he knew in the way a researcher tells another researcher — specifically, technically, with references and mechanisms rather than conclusions. Giving her the framework to reach the answers herself rather than simply handing her the answers.
She was good. Genuinely, impressively good. She took what he gave her and pushed it further in real time — making connections he had not explicitly stated, asking questions that demonstrated she was not just receiving information but actively building on it.
At one point she stopped writing and looked at him.
"The compound interaction you described in your email", she said. "I have been working toward that conclusion for eight months."
"I have been working in this specific area for a long time", he said simply.
"The ancient text you referenced", she said. "Where did you find it?"
"Through a private collection", he said. "I have had access to some unusual sources through my research."
She looked at him steadily for a moment.
Then returned to her notes.
The professor arrived mid morning.
Aditya recognised him immediately — not from having met him but from knowing exactly who he was and what he had done. The man who had helped Subha build her research from the beginning. The man who had accepted 300 crore rupees from the Chinese and was now quietly working against everything he appeared to support.
He moved through the laboratory with the ease of someone who had been in academic institutions long enough to be comfortable everywhere within them.
Subha introduced them.
"This is Aditya Thomas", she said. "Independent researcher. He has been working on related material."
The professor shook his hand.
"What institution are you affiliated with?", he asked.
"Independent", Aditya said. "Previously University of Madras."
The professor nodded.
Aditya shook his hand and felt nothing in particular — because he already knew everything there was to know about this man and none of it required the Seventh Sense to understand.
He smiled pleasantly.
'Enjoy your 300 crores', he thought without particular heat. 'It won't end well.'
The professor stayed for twenty minutes and left.
The conversation with Subha continued through the afternoon.
By the time the light outside had shifted from morning to late afternoon they had covered more ground than she had covered in the previous three months alone. Not because he was giving her answers — because having another serious mind in the room changed the quality of the thinking.
She worked through problems differently when she was talking through them. He could see it — the way articulating something to someone who genuinely understood it produced connections that solitary work didn't.
He asked questions that pushed her in useful directions. He offered observations that opened new angles. He never gave her more than she could receive at one time.
Two months before her department presentation her research was already strong. With his contributions it was becoming bulletproof — or as bulletproof as research built on an ancient book could be in a department that had already decided what it thought of ancient books.
'They will still dismiss it', he thought. 'The source is the problem. Not the science.'
He said nothing about this. It was her journey to make.
At the end of the afternoon she closed her notebook and looked at him.
"You should come back", she said. Simply. Directly.
"When?", he asked.
"Monday", she said. "Same time."
He nodded.
He stood up, shook her hand and left.
Outside the research building the Chennai afternoon was loud and warm and completely indifferent to what had just happened inside it.
He walked back toward his apartment thinking about nothing in particular.
'Good', he thought simply. 'That went well.'
He checked his stats that evening.
"Khushi."
"Yes, host."
"Show me my current stats."
[Host : Aditya]
[Species : Human]
[Gender : Male]
[Age : 22 (Bio) — 24+ (Exp)]
[Stats]
[Health : 21]
[Energy : 12]
[Strength : 20]
[Speed : 19]
[Endurance : 22]
[Intelligence : 18]
[Attributes : 0]
[Skills : Driving (level 2), Swimming (level 5), Coding (level 4), Hacking (level 3), Krav Maga (level 6), Kalari (level 8), Varma Kalai (level 7), Nokku Varmam (level 4), Pranayama (level 8), Dhyana (level 6), Seventh Sense (level 5), Siddha Medicine (level 8), Multilingual (+)]
[Equipment : Modified NZT-48 (x2172), Cash ($2,000,000)]
[Points : 17240]
Points climbing from the first proper interaction with Subha — a main character in this timeline generating significant accumulation.
He put the phone away.
Outside Chennai moved through its evening.
Monday, he thought.
He went to make dinner
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