The Science of Manipulation and Creation

Elias Varn had always been obsessed with knowledge. From a young age, he devoured books—not just fiction but everything he could get his hands on. Psychology, neuroscience, medicine, history, physics, chemistry, biology, geography, economics, and languages. But among them all, psychology and neuroscience fascinated him the most. He wanted to understand people—how they thought, how they could be manipulated. Deception came naturally to him. Lying was a skill he honed, even on his own parents.Yet, life had its demands. Under family pressure, he pursued physics—his second love after psychology. He was drawn to the mysteries of the universe, eager to uncover the fundamental forces governing reality. His relentless studies led him to become an astrophysicist, focusing on gravity, dark matter, dark energy, blackholes, wormholes and the elusive graviton.One late night, Elias sat in his dimly lit lab, staring at the data on his screen. His assistant, Arjun, entered, rubbing his eyes."You're still at this?" Arjun sighed. "You haven't slept in days.""Sleep is a waste of time when you're on the verge of something revolutionary," Elias muttered, his fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard.Arjun frowned. "You keep saying that, but what exactly are you trying to prove?""That gravity isn't just a force—it's a tool. If controlled properly, it could bend space itself," Elias said, his eyes filled with intensity."You mean... wormholes?""Maybe. But more importantly, what if I could tear through the fabric of reality?" he whispered.Arjun hesitated. "This sounds dangerous.""All great discoveries are."Determined, Elias pushed forward with his final experiment. Using his theoretical Ultra-Condensed Graviton Stimulation (UCGS), he successfully condensed graviton particles to an unprecedented level. But the energy output spiraled beyond control.Alarms blared."Sir, the gravitational field is collapsing!" Arjun shouted."I know!" Elias frantically input commands, but it was too late. The graviton mass had reached a critical threshold.In an instant, an artificial black hole formed at the center of the lab. The pull was immense."Damn it!" Elias cursed as the force dragged him in.Then, silence.The black hole collapsed in on itself, leaving no trace of Dr. Elias Varn.—When he opened his eyes with a sharp, desperate gasp, his lungs burning as if he had been drowning. His entire body convulsed, muscles seizing as he clawed at the ground beneath him. The air was thick—too thick. It filled his chest with an unfamiliar heaviness, tinged with an aroma he couldn't place. It wasn't the sterile, filtered air of his lab. It smelled richer, more organic, laced with something metallic and faintly floral.Panic flickered in his chest, but his scientist's mind overrode it. He forced himself to take slow, deliberate breaths, trying to analyze his surroundings. The temperature was different—not the cool, artificial climate control he was used to, but something else entirely. Warmer, humid, yet not stifling. His skin prickled as a breeze passed over him, unfamiliar and unplaceable.He pushed himself upright, and that was when he felt it—his body was wrong. His limbs felt off, heavier in some places, lighter in others. His muscles responded differently, and his balance was subtly unnatural. His fingers twitched, and as he lifted his hands to inspect them, he froze.They weren't his hands.His breath hitched as he flexed his fingers, observing the slight variations—longer than he remembered, the nails slightly curved, the skin unfamiliar. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, but even that felt different. The rhythm, the force, the very essence of his body—none of it matched what he had known his entire life.Then he noticed the silence.No hum of machinery. No distant murmur of traffic. No electrical buzz. Nothing.Instead, the world was filled with an alien symphony—rustling leaves, distant voices speaking in a tongue he didn't recognize, the faint calls of creatures he had never heard before. His head snapped up, his breath catching in his throat.His mind spiraled, grasping for an explanation. He squeezed his eyes shut.Hallucination. Oxygen deprivation. Stress-induced psychosis.Yet the air filled his lungs. His body ached. The dirt beneath his hands was coarse, real. Trembling, he grabbed a small rock from the ground and pressed it against his palm, feeling its jagged edges bite into his skin. Without thinking, he brought it to his lips and tasted the rough mineral tang.Real.His reflection—he needed to see himself. If this was a delusion, a breakdown of his mind, his face should still be his own. He staggered forward, driven by raw instinct, until he found a still pool of water between the roots of a massive, gnarled tree. He knelt, heart hammering as he leaned over.A stranger stared back at him.Dark hair—longer than his had ever been. Eyes—sharper, more piercing, a shade of icy silver that practically glowed. His face was sharper, more angular, aristocratic in a way that was both foreign and strangely fitting. He lifted a trembling hand to his cheek, and the reflection did the same.A shudder ran down his spine.No. No, this isn't real. This can't be real.Yet every fiber of his being screamed that it was.He clenched his fists, forcing his breathing to slow, his mind racing through possibilities.Simulated consciousness? No. Too consistent, no sensory distortion.Quantum entanglement? Maybe. Unlikely.Parallel universe? A dream? A coma?He needed more data. If this was real, physics should behave as expected. He dropped the rock he was holding, watching the way it fell. Gravity seemed normal. He pressed his palm against the ground, noting the texture, the pressure, the sheer tactile reality of it all.He could still recall equations, scientific principles, everything from his past life. His life. His knowledge, his habits, his memories—they were intact. But this body was not his.Then the pain came.A sudden, splitting sensation tore through his skull, as if something was forcing its way into his brain. He clutched his head, gritting his teeth as a flood of foreign memories assaulted his mind. Fragments, pieces of a past that was not his own—names, places, emotions. A life lived, a history ingrained in the very flesh he now occupied.He gasped, pressing his forehead to the earth as the surge slowed, leaving him panting, shaking.This body remembers. This body knows things I don't.It was no longer a question of whether this was real.It was real.And Elias Varn was no longer who he used to be.