Behind her, a child sat crying. A normal child, scraped knee, snotty nose. And for the first time, Aris saw her not as a chemical reaction or a probabilistic outcome.
“They had IQs of 180, 190,” he said, pulling free. “I have 267. They saw the truth but couldn’t integrate it. I might be the only one who can look at the complete proof and survive. Because I’ve never believed in the illusion in the first place.” iq 267
Aris paused. For the first time in his life, he felt something he couldn’t name. A pressure behind his eyes. A whisper at the edge of his own internal monologue—and it wasn’t his. Behind her, a child sat crying