The lab was quiet, save for the soft hum of cooling systems and the rhythmic clicking of keyboards. After Dora left for her study in Itulia, Elena welcomed a new team member in her place. She still missed Dora, as the two had shared several moments together during their brief time working side by side. Pierre joined to assist with the cryobiology research.
Under the clear, white glow of overhead lights, Elena and Pierre stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the simulation screen. It had been nearly two weeks since Elena first shared her research with him, and they had been collaborating ever since. Elena and her team had refined the trehalose-to-cryoprotectant ratio, while Pierre focused on upgrading the simulation software used to model the cooling and rewarming processes. On the screen, a 3D model of a human brain rotated slowly, layers of tissue glowing in red and blue, marking the boundaries between damage and preservation.
"We've minimized ice crystallization during the initial freeze," Elena said, pointing to a zone where blue dominated, "but the rewarming phase is where we still lose too much." Her voice carried a note of frustration.
Pierre crossed his arms, analyzing the data. "The cryoprotectant mixture is working, but the gradient during rewarming is uneven. The thermal shock might be rupturing the more delicate neural structures."
Elena nodded, already a step ahead. "Exactly. I've been thinking of modifying the rewarming phase—introducing a nano-heating grid layered around the brain tissue to allow a smoother thermal response."
Pierre turned toward her, intrigued. "Distributed induction heating? That could work—if we can maintain uniform conductivity." He walked over to a nearby terminal and began typing. "But we'd need a biocompatible conductor that doesn't interfere with neural integrity."
"Gold nanowires," Elena suggested, her eyes lighting up. "We tested them in peripheral tissue last month. Minimal toxicity, stable across a wide range of temperatures."
Pierre smirked. "Brilliant. And if we integrate the sensor array directly into the nanogrid, we could monitor internal temperatures in real-time, adjusting the current dynamically."
The simulation rendered a new model, this time incorporating Elena's layered grid around the brain. The rewarming sequence ran more slowly now, but the spread of damage was reduced by over 60%.
"Not perfect yet," Elena said, though her smile betrayed her excitement. "But closer."
Pierre leaned on the console beside her. "We're getting there. With refinement, this could finally make human neural revival viable."
They stood in silence, watching the simulation complete. The red zones had shrunk dramatically, and neural signals pulsed weakly but consistently across the digital cortex.
Elena exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. "One step closer to bringing a brain back without killing the mind."
Pierre glanced at her, his voice quiet. "And one step closer to something far greater than either of us imagined."
Pierre adjusted a few parameters on the console. "Let's test the new grid across multiple cycles—cooling and rewarming—to see if it maintains structural integrity."
Elena nodded and launched the simulation. The screen displayed a time-lapse: the brain cooled to 4 Kelvin, stabilized, then gradually rewarmed. Vital parameters like pressure, conductivity, and molecular cohesion flickered across the screen.
As the loop repeated for the third time, the results held steady—no additional cell death, no system spikes.
"It's holding," Elena whispered, stunned. Pierre smiled, satisfied. "Let's save the data and grab lunch." Pierre glanced at his watch, which was blinking red, indicating his blood sugar level was at 50%. He scrolled to another panel displaying Elena's name and status: her blood sugar was at 55%, stress at 60%, and focus at 65%.
"Yeah," Elena grinned, "this time, we actually made progress."
At the canteen in the NRE, Pierre and Elena chose pizza for lunch: Pierre's Neapolitan and Elena's six-cheese. They sat across from each other, their plates half-full, with colleagues spread across nearby tables chatting cheerfully. The atmosphere felt lighter than in the cold lab, yet Elena's mind drifted back to their work.
"You know," Pierre said, slicing into his pizza, "if we had a consistent supply of human brains, we could accelerate our testing curve by at least 300%. Plus, we wouldn't need the simulation."
Elena paused. "You mean more donations? Those are heavily regulated, Pierre. Every sample we get comes with mountains of paperwork and ethical questions."
Pierre waved a hand dismissively. "Ethics are relative, Elena. Most of those brains are already beyond saving—nearly dead tissue with legal waivers. What does it matter? If someone disappears or ends up in a lab bag and no one's claiming them, wouldn't it be more useful to science than rotting?"
Elena frowned, her appetite diminished. "That's not how this works. Consent matters. People have the right to decide what happens to their bodies, even after death."
Pierre leaned back, his hand pausing over the pizza plate. "Sure, in theory. But do you want to wait a decade for a perfect revival? What if we're delaying breakthroughs because we're too busy waiting for moral permission?"
She studied him carefully. "Are you saying you'd take a brain without consent if it meant progress?"
"If it's for the greater good?" Pierre smirked. "I wouldn't rule it out."
Elena didn't reply immediately. She looked down at her fork, then up at him again—disappointed but not surprised. "You scare me sometimes, Pierre."
He chuckled. "Only sometimes?"
Their colleagues listened closely to the heated conversation between the two leaders. As the discussion shifted to more casual topics like the weather, local gossip, and the missing cadet, the tension eased.
"Have you heard any updates about the missing cadet?" one of Elena's team members brought up. Elena stared at Pierre, observing his reaction. Pierre remained still and calm, acting as if the topic didn't concern him. Her colleague continued in a hushed voice, "I've heard a rumor that the cadet was actually murdered." The table fell silent. Murder on Granitz was exceedingly rare, as the island had only a few thousand residents. If a murder had occurred, suspects or culprits would likely be identified quickly. "That sounds terrifying," Pierre replied, his tone feigning fear. Elena narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing his forced reaction.
After lunch, Elena, Pierre, and their team returned to the lab in the left wing. They went straight to check the latest simulation results. The screen showed that all parts of the brain had sustained less than 5% damage. Elena and Pierre exchanged glances with their team, their excitement palpable, eager to test the results on a real sample.