"Simulation ended. You may retain one of the following:
Knowledge at age 26
Experience at age 26
Skills at age 26"
"I choose option three: Skills."
Tony Snow didn't hesitate.
Just like last time, he chose skills over knowledge or experience.
From the simulation's summary, Tony had already anticipated the future would offer him little downtime. He would spend most of his time extracting future knowledge from memory, running a company, navigating global attention, and possibly defending himself against unknown threats.
There would be no time to slowly study textbooks or learn through trial and error.
As for experience—option two—it offered mostly contextual memories and textual narratives, which Tony already had plenty of from his previous simulations.
What he needed now were hard skills—instinctive capabilities—the kind you don't need to recall, because your hands and brain already know them.
Just as Tony was reflecting on his simulated self's intense investment in the company—despite his original intention to downplay its role—the simulator displayed the unlocked skill:
"You have acquired the skill: Paper."
"…'Paper' skill? What even is that?" Tony muttered to himself.
He blinked at the message in confusion. Was this writing skill? Publishing skill?
But rather than dwell on it now, Tony decided to do what he always did—test it later.
For now, he shifted focus.
"I want to conduct another simulation."
[To access the simulator again, complete the following task:]
Task Name: Physical Fitness II
"You, who were destined for brilliance, were ambushed once again in the simulation—your weak physical condition rendering you helpless, despite available medical attention. This proves your body remains far too fragile. To survive, you must strengthen it."
Objective: Exercise at least 1 hour per day for 180 consecutive days.
(Current progress: 0/180)
Only one interruption allowed; any second interruption resets the progress and counts as failure.
Failure penalty: No access to the simulator for 1 full year.
Tony exhaled sharply.
"Six months… Every single day…"
He knew what this meant. The simulator had judged his death in the previous run—stabbed during a routine jog—not as unavoidable fate, but as preventable with better physical conditioning and reaction time.
He had been intentionally targeted. Twice.
And if he wanted to live long enough to reach the future he'd already seen, he'd need to start training to survive, not just to study.
If he had a powerful mind, then he'd need a body to protect it.
Tony made a mental note: In the future, when I have the money, I'm hiring bodyguards. Until then—I need to react fast, run faster, and fight back if needed.
Since he'd already completed his 10-kilometer run earlier that day, Tony didn't push himself further. He would officially start the six-month task tomorrow.
Still, there was no harm in planning ahead.
By the next morning, March 16, Tony had mapped out his routine.
One hour of exercise daily wasn't unreasonable—he was already spending about 50 minutes on his runs. He only needed to add 10 more minutes to hit the quota.
But to improve his reflexes and hand-eye coordination, he needed something more dynamic.
Fencing? Too expensive.
Tennis or badminton? Not practical alone.
Combat training? Not yet.
Table tennis? Perfect.
Fast, demanding, cheap—and even playable solo against a wall.
He had played it in junior high, sometimes using just a makeshift paddle and a wall. Now, with better gear and a bit of muscle memory, he could use it not just to improve his game but to train his reactions.
At the same time, Tony also needed to test the "Paper" skill he had unlocked.
He skipped classroom lectures for the day, packed up his laptop, and made his way to the library instead.
There, in the quiet corner where Shen Quinn often studied too, Tony opened a fresh document and began his next mathematics paper.
Why math again?
Because compared to biology, math papers didn't require experimental data.
And unlike computer science papers, math didn't need simulation software or benchmarks.
It was just pure thought, logic, and proof. That made it fast to produce—at least, for someone like Tony.
He titled the paper:
"Nodal Sets of Laplace Eigenfunctions: Proof of Nadirashvili's Conjecture and the Lower Bound in Yau's Conjecture."
This time, the entire paper was in English, as it was destined for an international journal.
Abstract. Let u be a harmonic function in the unit ball B(0,1) ⊂ ℝⁿ, n ≥ 3, such that u(0) = 0. Nadirashvili conjectured that there exists a positive constant c…
Tony typed rapidly, fingers flying across the keyboard. The structure of the argument poured from his mind with mechanical clarity, the writing process fluid, almost effortless.
By mid-afternoon, Shen passed by his table but didn't say a word—seeing the intensity in his eyes, she didn't dare interrupt.
She'd never seen anyone so absorbed in writing.
By the time Tony finally closed his laptop late in the evening, he realized something astonishing.
He had completed a 21-page math paper, with references and formatting, in just one day.
No errors. No revisions needed.
"Holy hell… This 'Paper' skill is a cheat code."
Tony hadn't even eaten all day. He didn't notice.
The skill wasn't just about writing—it was thinking, structuring, proofing, and publishing in one continuous flow.
He now realized what kind of monster he'd become.
And he hadn't even scratched the surface of what that skill could do in biology, AI, or cross-disciplinary work yet.