Genius Club

This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation

The entire room fell silent as the members of the Genius Club exchanged glances, each of them looking equally stunned. No one had expected the question to be refused.

It was quite a shock.

After all, asking where Einstein’s ashes were scattered didn’t seem like an important question.

Everyone knew the story: the famous physicist Einstein had died in 1955, his brain had been taken by a doctor, and his body cremated, with his ashes scattered by his children at a secret location.

The man was gone, and where the ashes ended up didn’t really matter. More than seventy years had passed since then, and wherever they were scattered, they had likely become nutrients for flowers and trees.

But now, such a trivial question had been refused.

Why had the president of the Genius Club—the old man wearing an Einstein mask—decided not to answer it?

“Could it be… that this club has some connection to the real Einstein?” Galileo was the first to speak up, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“According to the club’s rules, there are only two reasons a question can be refused: either it involves another club member, or it involves the club itself,” Galileo continued. “Unless one of us scattered Einstein’s ashes, I can’t think of any other reason it would be connected to a member.”

Gauss, a small and wiry figure, straightened up in his chair. “Maybe… this Genius Club was founded by Einstein himself?”

“Impossible,” Elon Musk interrupted, shaking his head. “The club’s charter states that membership is for life. There’s no such thing as inheriting a seat. If Einstein had once been a member, there would be an empty chair for him now, like for Turing and Copernicus.”

Miss Da Vinci lowered her head thoughtfully. “But Einstein has been dead for so many years. It doesn’t make sense for him to have any connection to the club or its members. The only explanation I can think of is…”

“Maybe the location of the ashes is important? Or perhaps Einstein’s ashes weren’t scattered at all but hidden somewhere. And that somewhere… might be connected to one of us here.”

“Heh.” Newton gave a small smile, speaking softly. “Well, that would be interesting. Who would keep Einstein’s ashes? Judging by age, it seems only I might be a fit. But let me tell you, I have no interest in ashes.”

“I don’t get why everyone’s making this so complicated,” Newton continued. “Fine, I’ll just spill it. I actually know why the question was refused.”

He turned his head towards Einstein, who sat on the raised platform. “Old pal, do you want to explain, or should I?”

Up on the platform, the old man in the Einstein mask looked around at the members, his voice deep and authoritative.

“There’s no need to overthink this. Any question about Einstein will be refused.”

“Not just Einstein… but also Copernicus, Newton, Galileo, Da Vinci, Gauss, Tesla, Turing… and even Rhine Cat.”

“Because each of you, including the mask I wear, has chosen a name that is both your code and part of your identity. Though the lives of these great people are documented in history and books, there are still many unknown stories.”

“I trust that when you chose your mask, it was a carefully considered decision. It’s the way other geniuses get to know you; it’s their first impression of you. Therefore, the mask itself, and the person depicted on it, are also a kind of privacy. For instance, Tesla, if you asked me about Tesla’s past, I’d tell you everything. But if you ask about Einstein, Galileo, or Gauss, it’d be an invasion of another member’s privacy, and naturally, it’d be refused.”

When Einstein finished, Newton leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “That’s the reason—simpler than you all thought. Back when it was just Copernicus and me in the club, we asked about Einstein, and it got refused.”

“So, the masks we wear are part of our hidden identity. Maybe they even represent the direction of our future plans… at least, that’s how Einstein sees it.”

That made sense.

No one had imagined it would be for this reason.

Lin Xian, however, squinted, finding it strange. It felt like… an excuse. A rather forced one.

But he couldn’t point fingers.

After all, his mask—the odd Rhine Cat—was chosen without much thought.

Maybe everyone else had indeed put a lot of thought into their choice.

He listened silently to the discussions around him.

The group had all kinds of guesses at first, but no one considered the possibility that Einstein was still alive—that the president’s true identity could be Einstein himself.

As Musk had said, a 140-year-old mummy still being alive was simply too unbelievable.

Even with time travel theories, it didn’t make much sense.

Who could ignore the flow of time, never age, never die, and just keep living in this world? Lin Xian shook his head.

It wasn’t scientific.

But still… he didn’t believe the reason for refusing the question was that simple.

However, asking directly wouldn’t get him the real answer.

Einstein had clearly stated—any questions about Einstein or the historical figures represented by the members’ masks would be refused.

Asking would just be a waste of a question. He’d have to find out another way, outside of the meeting.

Einstein looked up and locked eyes with Lin Xian. “Rhine, it’s your turn. This time… what’s your question?”

Lin Xian’s mind worked fast.

Newton’s sudden intervention had messed up the plan he and Musk had devised. The original plan was for Musk to ask about Copernicus, and Lin Xian would ask about Einstein.

But now, Newton had already asked about Copernicus, and Musk had taken Lin Xian’s question about Einstein.

That left Lin Xian needing to come up with something else.

He had three possible options.

Follow the original list and ask about eliminating the future virus or reviving the super AI, VV.

Ask about time travel, specifically if more time-traveling assassins would come after him.

Ask about Du Yao, to quickly find her during this month’s gap and protect her before Galileo could get to her.

He had to pick one.

First, he ruled out the first option.

Even if he got an answer, it likely wouldn’t be solvable anytime soon. There was also a chance Einstein would give him a date far in the future, mentioning some genius whose great-grandparents hadn’t even been born yet.

An answer that far ahead wouldn’t help now. It could wait until next month.

The second question was quite important, and Lin Xian really wanted to know if his life was still in danger.

If Einstein said there would be more time-traveling assassins, it would mean Copernicus wasn’t completely gone, that there were still remnants, and his entangled spacetime particle was still at risk of being stolen.

If Einstein said no more assassins would come, that would be a relief.

Spending a question for peace of mind seemed worthwhile to Lin Xian. Plus, if more assassins were indeed coming, he could prepare in advance.

The priority of this question was high.

But so was the Du Yao question.

At the next meeting, Galileo would almost certainly ask about the neuroscientist and how to solve the side effects of hibernation amnesia. Einstein would surely mention Du Yao’s name.

Lin Xian hadn’t rushed to find Du Yao earlier because he feared that once he protected her, the timeline would shift.

If the timeline shifted, where would he copy the plans for the time travel machine?

He intended to finish copying the plans or confirm that Copernicus was fully defeated, leaving no reason to use the spacetime particle, before finding Du Yao.

But now…

Galileo was forcing the pace.

Lin Xian had only a month to find Du Yao and tie her to his identity and future plans.

That way, when Galileo asked Einstein about Du Yao at the next meeting, Einstein would say—

“Refused. Question Voided.”

Galileo would never get the answer.

Even if he guessed the refusal was because of a connection to someone in the room, what could he do?

He wouldn’t be able to find her.

But… should Lin Xian use his question here to ask about Du Yao’s whereabouts?

After thinking it over, Lin Xian decided not to.

It was too risky.

He barely knew anything about Du Yao, except one vague sentence—“Miss Du Yao died in a peacekeeping mission in Africa during the mid-21st century.”

Too vague, too broad.

If he asked Einstein, he’d inevitably have to mention Du Yao’s name or neuroscience as a keyword.

He couldn’t mention her name.

If he could look her up, others could too. Her identity would be exposed quickly, and she’d be snatched away.

The neuroscience keyword was even worse.

Galileo had just asked about it, and if Lin Xian followed up, everyone would know what he was after.

Whatever answer Einstein gave, everyone else would hear it too. They’d all be on the same page.

Lin Xian couldn’t take that risk.

If Galileo managed to get to Du Yao first and kill her…

Humanity would lose the chance to have the Brain Neural Electric Helmet forever. Even someone as brilliant as Gao Wen wouldn’t be able to change that.

Also…

There was one more point to consider.

Lin Xian was certain he had seen Du Yao’s name somewhere before.

But who could guarantee the Du Yao he remembered was the same Du Yao from Gao Wen’s handwritten letter?

It could be just a coincidence.

He encountered tons of information every day—names, ads, contracts… who knew if the Du Yao he saw was just some random person with no connection to neuroscience?

So it was better not to rush into asking.

He couldn’t control Einstein’s answer.

Right now, in the search for Du Yao, Lin Xian had a big advantage—he knew her name.

The other geniuses wouldn’t know Du Yao’s name until the first of next month. For now, only he had this precious information. He had to guard it closely, or everything could fall apart.

Lin Xian decided to stick with his plan and ask about the time-traveling assassins. He needed to know if more were coming. If he could confirm that there would be no more, it would mean Copernicus’s plan had truly failed, and the time travel machine’s importance would drop. Even if finding Du Yao shifted the timeline, Lin Xian didn’t care much.

He looked up at Einstein, who was standing on the platform.

“My question is about the time travel matter we discussed at the last meeting,” Lin Xian began. “You said before that humanity wouldn’t be able to build a time travel machine before the year 2234, but time travelers could still come back to our time from the future.”

“So, my question is—” Lin Xian paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “From today onward, when will we see the next time traveler from the future?”

Lin Xian deliberately avoided mentioning the assassins directly. He couldn’t afford to reveal too much. Everyone in the room was smart enough to connect the dots between his question and Einstein’s earlier warning about his death. They’d figure out it was because of a future assassin targeting him. It was better to ask in a more general way.

The question sounded like simple curiosity, but it was crucial for Lin Xian. Whatever date Einstein gave, it would mean that until then, he wouldn’t need to worry about an attack from a time-traveling assassin.

The other members of the club were also intrigued and turned to look at Einstein. After a long pause, Einstein shook his head slowly.

“You will never see one,” he said quietly. “There will be no more time travelers coming to this era.”

Miss Da Vinci was the first to raise her hand. “But you said before that the first time travel in human history happened on December 11, 2234. Why are you now saying we won’t see any time travelers?”

Suddenly, something clicked in her mind, and she turned towards Lin Xian. “Oh, I get it. You asked from today onward, which means… the first time traveler must have already come before today, and they’re already dead.”

“So we won’t see any more time travelers, either those from before or from after.”

Galileo nodded at Lin Xian, his eyes thoughtful. “You really shouldn’t have asked that way,” he said.

Lin Xian didn’t respond. He finally understood why Gauss often asked questions that got negative answers. Sometimes, that’s exactly what you needed.

The others might think Lin Xian was just curious about time travel, but the truth was different. He wasn’t interested in time travel at all. Who needed that when you could just enjoy life with your family?

He only wanted to know if any more time-traveling assassins would come after him. Since Einstein said they’d never see another time traveler, it meant that, at least until the timeline shifted, Lin Xian was safe from further attacks. It was a relief.

His life, and the entangled spacetime particle, were safe for now.

After the meeting ended, Lin Xian could finally put all his energy into finding Du Yao. The members finished their questions, and the meeting dispersed.

Lin Xian removed his VR headset in the dead of night, staring out at the silent darkness beyond the window. “Tomorrow, I’ll have to visit Liu An, the head of the National Security Bureau,” he murmured to himself.

Over the past three months, he had copied most of the core plans for the time travel machine. Whatever was left, he’d copy as much as possible before the timeline changed. But now, in this race against Galileo, finding Du Yao was more important than the time travel machine.

If it came to the worst, he’d destroy the spacetime particle rather than let anyone else have it.

More importantly, he needed to find Du Yao and preserve the Brain Neural Electric Helmet—a technology that could solve hibernation amnesia.

“This is the real treasure for humanity,” Lin Xian said softly.

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