Adrian opened the cover.
The first page contained equations.
The second had diagrams.
The third showed failed prototypes.
The fourth contained measurements.
Page after page.
Adrian flipped faster.
The boy had documented everything.
Every failure.
Every adjustment.
Every mistake.
Every improvement.
This wasn't schoolwork.
It was an engineering journal.
Adrian reached the middle.
And stopped.
His face changed.
Eli noticed.
“What?”
Adrian didn't answer.
He stared at a diagram.
Then another.
Then another.
The machine wasn't simply designed to generate electricity.
The boy had created a modular system.
Something that could potentially be scaled.
Adrian looked at him.
“Where did you get this idea?”
Eli shrugged.
“Thinking.”
“That's not an answer.”
“I read a lot.”
“What books?”
“Whatever I can find.”
“Where?”
“The library.”
Adrian looked at the notebook again.
Then something caught his eye.
A symbol.
A small hand-drawn triangle with a line through its center.
He had seen it before.
Years ago.
On a research proposal.
Adrian's heart skipped.
He turned another page.
There it was again.
The same symbol.
Then another.
And another.
“Eli.”
“Yes?”
“Who taught you this?”
“No one.”
“Someone helped you.”
Eli shook his head.
“My mom.”
Adrian froze.
“What does your mother do?”
Eli looked down.
“She used to be an engineer.”
“Used to be?”
“She died.”
Adrian's fingers tightened around the notebook.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“How?”
Eli didn't answer.
Adrian looked at the boy.
“Eli.”
“My dad says it was an accident.”
The words landed differently.
An accident.
Adrian looked back at the symbol.
Suddenly, he remembered.
A conference.
A young engineer.
A prototype.
A woman arguing that small-scale renewable systems could transform emergency infrastructure.
He remembered her name.
Claire Mercer.
His stomach dropped.