Leopold Broderick found himself in a hospital waiting area, reflecting on the strange events of the day. An unexpected meeting with a stranger on the street had disrupted his long-standing routine, leaving him curious about how to express his gratitude. He was relieved that he had been instrumental in saving the man's life; however, he wondered how he would have reacted if things had turned out differently.

At nearly one forty in the morning, a nurse called him, saying, "Mr. Singh is awake now and has been asking for you." Leopold had intended to make a quick visit to ensure the man was alright before heading home.

She guided him through a maze of hospital corridors until they reached the recovery room, where he found Adam in Bay 12, surrounded by an array of wires and monitors. To his surprise, Adam was alert and waiting.

"I wanted to thank you for saving my life, Professor Broderick. What a strange coincidence that we should meet like this," Adam said, pausing briefly to cough.

Leopold was taken aback by how Adam knew his name, but before he could inquire, Adam continued. "I was actually on my way to see you when this incident occurred."

"Why would you want to see me?" Leopold asked, intrigued.

"Please, have a seat, Professor. What I’m about to tell you is something you may find hard to believe," Adam replied.

Leopold hesitated but eventually took a seat at the edge of a chair.

"I’m a graduate student in Physics at Cambridge, and I believe you know my mentor, Michael Doyle."

"Yes, I know Professor Doyle," Leopold said, beginning to feel more comfortable.

"Two weeks ago, a man approached me about a group called Omega. He told me it was my duty to protect you, even at the cost of my own life. When I asked why, he explained that your name was on a list of individuals marked for elimination in an impending purge, and that your role was crucial for a forthcoming transformation. Before you dismiss this as nonsense, he instructed me to give you this." Adam retrieved a blood-stained envelope with a bullet hole and pointed to the spot near his chest where he had kept it.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Leopold questioned incredulously. "It defies logic."

"I wish it were," Adam replied. "But there's more, once you read the letter."

He handed the envelope to Leopold, who took it reluctantly.

"I don’t need to know what it says," Leopold insisted.

"Do you have any idea who shot you?" he then blurted.

"No, I didn’t see the shooter. I was walking to your office when I heard a gunshot. I felt a sharp pain in my chest and collapsed. How soon did you arrive?" Adam inquired.

"Just a few minutes after," Leopold replied.

"Then I suppose fate was on my side. I could have been dead before I even started my mission," Adam said.

"You must understand, it’s hard for me to accept what you're saying. It sounds outrageous," Leopold admitted.

"Check my wallet," Adam urged. "It’s in my trousers. You’ll find my student ID and papers. You can confirm my relationship with Professor Doyle at Cambridge."

"Who was the person who informed you about Omega?" Leopold pressed.

"That I cannot disclose. I promised to keep it confidential," Adam replied.

Leopold hesitantly opened the envelope, revealing a letter and a business card. One side bore a large Omega symbol, and the other displayed a London phone number. He carefully unfolded the letter, which began with the same Omega symbol and read:

"Professor Leopold Broderick,

Greetings.

This message comes from our group known as Omega. The individual who delivered this to you has vowed to protect you, as your existence is vital to humanity's upcoming transformation. Our adversaries aim to thwart this evolution, but they will not succeed. Your acceptance of our safeguarding is crucial. We take this obligation seriously and will do everything necessary to shield you, short of taking lives. Please keep this letter confidential; no one around you can be trusted. The enemy is everywhere.

Your ally, OMEGA."

"This is utterly absurd. It feels like an elaborate prank," Leopold said, pausing. "I’m aware that I have had some rivalry with Professor Doyle in the past. Has he orchestrated this?"

"This has nothing to do with Professor Doyle. If you have questions, use that number but only on a disposable phone. Don’t use your personal cell," Adam cautioned. "They anticipated that you would be skeptical at first, just like the person who recruited me. To underscore the gravity of my words, I was asked to relay something you would understand. This was the most challenging part for me to memorize."

He paused, appearing slightly dazed. "I apologize; the pain medication has me feeling a bit off. Let me recall."

"In the plains of Scotland on a warm summer’s night, We pledge ourselves, though beaten, to never give up the fight. And though the enemies may be rushing through our gates, We’ve already lost the battle if we become the one who hates. Rally together with our banners flying high, For even though in the night many will die. It is seldom the aggressor who understands winning, For even in death, resurrection is beginning."

"My stepfather wrote that poem," Leopold responded, visibly shaken. "Those were the last words he spoke to me twelve years ago on his deathbed, when he told me of a war in heaven that had descended to earth. I am not a religious person, but he was. He once told me that I would be called to join this war, and then recited that poem as his final words. How could they possibly know about it? I was the only person there to hear it."

"Because someone was indeed there with you, as unbelievable as it may sound," Adam replied.

Leopold sat at the foot of Adam's bed, grappling with the weight of the revelations. He felt both overwhelmed and strangely energized. He comprehended the significance of the day's events and recalled his friend David Bohm’s theories about the implicate order, the hidden connections that interlinked events and people across the universe.

"Who is this person who perceives such things, like my father?" he asked.

"My mentor described him as the most inconspicuous person, someone the world would regard as powerless and insignificant. I also inquired about Omega's size. He said it would be large enough to create an impact," Adam explained.

"You know, I’ve never been interested in secret societies, though someone once attempted to recruit me. I’m not fond of secrets," Leopold remarked.

"Some secrets are worth preserving," Adam countered.

"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Singh," Leopold prompted.

"Please, call me Adam. I was born in London, but my parents are from Mumbai. I completed my undergraduate studies at Cambridge and am now pursuing a doctorate under Professor Doyle," Adam shared.

"What are your plans?" Leopold asked.

"I'm nearing the end of my studies, and I can come to assist you if that’s possible," Adam replied.

"But what about your shooter?" Leopold pressed.

"I'm not afraid, Professor. For the first time, I feel no fear," Adam stated confidently.

"I wish I could say the same," Leopold admitted. "For the first time, I feel anxious about the future."

He reflected on his father's final words about a heavenly war manifesting on earth. At the time, he had dismissed such notions as typical religious hyperbole, but now, the weight of those words resonated with a deeper significance. If Adam’s claims were accurate, the idea of a transformation was profoundly unsettling. It challenged the very foundations of his understanding, pushing the limits of his self-imposed framework. Yet, that was precisely why he had chosen this path for himself—he was both open to new ideas and cautious enough to question everything.

"Alright, Adam. By Monday, I will speak to the higher-ups to arrange an interview. Perhaps we can find a way forward," Leopold said.

"There’s one more thing my mentor asked me to share, which I almost forgot," Adam added. "He said all your skills and talents will be crucial for solving a mystery in the near future."

"You must recognize how absurd this sounds from an outsider's perspective," Leopold said.

"Of course," Adam replied.

Shortly thereafter, Leopold departed the hospital and began his walk back to his flat.

By six in the morning, Leopold arrived at his flat near the University, exhausted and confused yet exhilarated. Despite his busy schedule for the day, he was eager to return to the hospital after classes for further discussion with Adam about Omega. He had never anticipated such intrigue entering his life. He considered sharing the events with his wife but decided to only mention that Adam worked with Michael Doyle and wished to collaborate with him, in an effort to protect her from unnecessary worry.

Maxine was asleep when he got home, and he saw no reason to wake her. Instead, he left a brief note on the breakfast table, showered, and changed for his classes. Alongside his various laboratory projects, he taught two graduate-level courses: one in Quantum Physics and another in Cosmology. He also facilitated a biennial seminar on superstring theory, a paradigm he found particularly fascinating, though he seldom admitted it. This morning, he had an interview scheduled with a science writer regarding current trends in Physics. Nevertheless, none of these topics held as much allure as what Adam had revealed in the early hours.

As he prepared to leave their flat, Maxine surprised him.

"You should have woken me," she said.

"I suspected you were up late as well. I wanted you to rest," he replied.

"How is the young man?" she inquired.

"He's doing well. In an odd twist of fate, he's a graduate student with Michael Doyle at Cambridge," Leopold explained.

"So who shot him? Do the police have any leads?" she asked.

"I don’t believe they do yet," he responded.

"It was fortunate that you happened to be there at that moment," she noted.

"Yes, it does seem like a stroke of serendipity for him," Leopold acknowledged.

"I hope it wasn’t a personal attack, just a random act of violence," she remarked.

"I think it was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time," he replied.

"Did you manage to get any rest?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, no. But I might take a quick nap between classes today," he said.

"And what are your plans for today?" she inquired.

"I intend to see the young man again this evening. You’re welcome to join me," he offered.

"This evening, I promised to visit Ingrid Richards. I don’t want to disappoint her," she replied.

Their relationship was characterized by routine and polite discourse, punctuated by unshared secrets. Although Leopold had no knowledge of who Ingrid Richards was, he never felt the need to ask.

"Then I’ll see you later tonight," he said, leaving the flat to begin his familiar three-block walk to the University. It was a path he had traversed countless times over the past decade, though he rarely paid attention to such details. As he walked, he unconsciously retraced steps he had taken many times before. Physics revolved around numbers and their relationships, and he spent his days exploring the symmetries in the motions of his senses, perceiving patterns in threes, fours, and beyond. Numbers defined every aspect of his life, existing in subtle rhythms akin to windswept waves. Even chaos held hidden patterns if one dared to look closely.

However, he walked with an automatic familiarity, his body trained by years of repetition, much like a disciplined athlete. If he had been able to measure the time it took him to walk from his front door to his office, he would have been surprised at how consistent it had become. Everything in his life operated like clockwork, but the gears were about to shift.

"Good morning, Professor Broderick," his assistant Maxwell greeted him as he entered the lab. "The journalist is here to see you. I’ve let him wait in your office."

Leopold glanced at his watch and noted it was fifteen minutes until nine.

"He’s a bit early," he remarked.

"Would you like a coffee?" Maxwell offered.

"Thank you," Leopold replied.

Entering his office, he found the journalist sitting uncomfortably in a wooden chair.

"Good morning, Professor Broderick," the man said, rising to greet him. "I apologize for coming a little early; I was eager to start our conversation. I’m Reginald Butler from Science Frontiers Magazine."

He extended his hand for a handshake, but Leopold chose to ignore it.

"What is it you wish to discuss?" Leopold asked directly.

"I appreciate your straightforwardness. I hope you don’t mind if we dive into a controversial topic—I’d like to know your stance on the holographic theory," the journalist said.

"If you’re referring to my former colleague David Bohm’s theory, I disagree. I don’t believe the universe is a hologram or that our physical reality is an illusion, as the Hindus suggest. I maintain that there is a tangible universe that adheres to fixed and unchangeable laws. To be fair, I know David didn’t embrace the idea of illusion, but his so-called followers seem ready to surrender to magical thinking. I cannot simply conjure a rabbit out of thin air, although I do like rabbits," Leopold responded.

He had little fondness for journalists, having faced misquotes in previous interviews. He resolved to be cautious in his replies—polite, yet avoiding unnecessary controversy.

"I won’t take up too much of your time, but I have several questions. First, what do you consider the most significant breakthrough in the past year?" the journalist asked.

Leopold disliked such queries, as many breakthroughs didn’t lend themselves to simple slogans easily grasped by the public. Science was full of paradoxes. After a moment's thought, he replied, "I would say advancements in our understanding of subatomic particles, like positrons and gluons. These new insights have profoundly altered our comprehension of the universe's behavior."

"What are your thoughts on the various multiverse theories? Do you believe in alternate timelines?" the journalist pressed.

"Again," Leopold countered, "while there may be multiple physical dimensions in superstring theory, the mathematics indicates they must be exceedingly small. I see no evidence suggesting the existence of such timelines."

"One last question, Professor. Looking ahead, what do you predict will be the key scientific questions in ten years?" the journalist asked.

"I believe the critical issues will revolve around humanity’s relationship with the environment and whether technological advancement can continue at its current pace given our ecological footprint," Leopold answered.

"Thank you, Professor Broderick. As I mentioned when I called last week, I only needed about fifteen minutes of your time."

"And what was the purpose of this discussion?" Leopold inquired.

"It’s for an article about the future of science. I plan to speak with Michael Doyle at Cambridge next. Thank you again," Mr. Butler said as he left.

Relieved that the interview had been less taxing than anticipated, Leopold hoped his words wouldn’t be misconstrued.

Maxwell entered his office. "I hope that was a painless discussion, Professor. I know you dislike interviews."

"If these science writers had even a basic understanding of science, that would be a good start," Leopold complained.

With just eight minutes left to reach his first class, he began to feel the fatigue of a sleepless night. Yet, there was still a thrill about the days ahead!