Genius Club

As Lin Xian stepped into the dream, a wave of intense heat enveloped him. The sudden rise in temperature made his skin tingle, and sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“It’s so hot!” Lin Xian muttered, blinking against the bright light. The loud chirping of cicadas filled the air, and the sun blazed fiercely overhead, causing the shadows at his feet to shrink away.

He squinted up at the sky. The sun dominated, too brilliant to gaze into without seeing spots. Rubbing his eyes, Lin Xian dropped his gaze. “I haven’t had a daytime dream in ages. Not used to this heat at all.”

He guessed the temperature soared above 40 degrees Celsius, a sharp contrast to the wintry chill of the real world. He hurried to the shade of a nearby tree, welcoming the slight relief from the sun.

Glancing at an electronic bulletin board, he noted the date and time: August 28, 2624, 13:33

“Only half past one. Plenty of time left,” Lin Xian thought, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. He was keen to reach the library, anticipating the comfort of its air conditioning.

The normally bustling square was eerily quiet, likely due to the oppressive heat. Lin Xian walked in the shade to the bus stop and caught a bus to the library.

Despite spending 23 years visiting this dream, Lin Xian rarely frequented the library. With only three to four hours of dream time daily, he preferred engaging in more thrilling activities or tackling significant challenges rather than browsing through books.

The few times he had visited, it was to investigate why technological advancement seemed stalled in this dream reality. He had first noticed this anomaly in middle school and had since attempted various approaches to uncover the truth.

Numerous reports, historical records, critiques, and news articles later, he found a common scapegoat: societal issues. Complaints like “A flawed education system fails to recognize true genius” and “Schools don’t teach anything useful, wasting potential talent” were rampant. Other criticisms pointed to the lack of young scientists and how academic cliques often sidelined talented scholars.

Though many echoed these sentiments, Lin Xian remained skeptical. He couldn’t accept that not a single genius would rise above systemic constraints over six centuries.

With a shake of his head, he dismissed these thoughts. “There’s more to this. I’m determined to uncover the real reasons behind this technological stagnation.”

Upon entering the library, Lin Xian headed straight for the electronic reading room. At a computer, he typed into the search bar: “Has the hibernation pod been developed yet?”

The computer whirred as it processed his question, and soon, a multitude of results appeared. The first one caught his eye: “To date, the hibernation pod has not been developed.”

Lin Xian wasn’t surprised; the technology in his dream world had long been static. He clicked on the article, which, despite being cluttered with marketing fluff, provided valuable insights:

“Post-21st century, global research on hibernation technology lagged significantly. It wasn’t until 2477 that American scientist Dr. Michaelson developed a high-oxygen fluid that maintained vital body functions and prevented ice crystal formation in cells during cryopreservation. This breakthrough inspired hope but remained the pinnacle of hibernation research for the next century. Dr. Michaelson is now revered as the ‘Father of Hibernation.’”

Lin Xian smirked, almost as if he had predicted this outcome. “Thank you, Dr. Michaelson, from Professor Xu Yun and myself,” he quipped to the computer screen, feigning a bow.

“Next, to find Dr. Michaelson’s related papers and academic reports,” Lin Xian murmured, closing the webpage and accessing the library’s book management system. He searched for “hibernation” and quickly located several relevant titles.

His eyes settled on one particular entry: “An Analysis and Prospects of Hibernation Technology” by Bill Michaelson

“That’s the one,” he said, noting the location: 3rd Floor, Science Literature, Section C, Shelf 67, Level 7.

He ascended to the third floor and found the book precisely where it was supposed to be.

“‘An Analysis and Prospects of Hibernation Technology,’” Lin Xian read aloud, hoping the material would be comprehensible.

The book was old yet well-preserved, indicating it was seldom read. Lin Xian settled into a seat by the window and began to read, intently focusing on retaining crucial information for Professor Xu Yun.

The text simplified complex terms and chemical processes, making them accessible. It explained that human hibernation involved reducing physiological and cellular activities to a minimum, utilizing low-temperature freezing techniques. However, the primary challenge was preventing ice crystal formation, which could destroy cell structures during freezing.

As he turned the page, Lin Xian pondered, “How can we overcome the ice crystal issue?”

He continued reading, eager to find a solution that could revolutionize hibernation technology.

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