Cherreads

Chapter 9 - Chapter 9: First Contact (Indirect)

The weight of knowledge, once a suffocating cloak, now felt like a responsibility Alex had grudgingly, then grimly, accepted. His enhanced mind, a whirlwind of advanced physics, combat strategies, and cyber-security protocols, constantly processed data from his journal and smartwatch. The hum of the Watcher was a continuous reminder of the cosmic abyss waiting to swallow Earth. He had paid a price for this foresight – a growing detachment from simple human joys, the loneliness of secrets, and the haunting echo of futures he was desperate to prevent. But he was ready to pay more.

His latest deep dives into global intelligence had confirmed his suspicions: the universe was stirring. Whispers of unusual atmospheric phenomena, fleeting energy signatures from space, and even obscure astronomical observations were trickling through the public domain. These were faint echoes of events he knew were coming. Soon, a god from another realm would fall to Earth, followed by an interdimensional war, and then, the very fabric of reality would be threatened.

Alex knew Earth's scientific community, brilliant as they were, were still children compared to the cosmic forces at play. They needed a push, a catalyst to accelerate their understanding of interstellar phenomena. They needed to look up, to truly comprehend what lay beyond the blue sky.

His eyes, scanning a holographic map of global research institutions, landed on a familiar name: Dr. Erik Selvig.

Selvig. The astrophysicist who would eventually become Jane Foster's mentor and, more importantly, a key figure in the events surrounding Thor and the Tesseract. In the original timeline, Selvig was smart, but his understanding of Bifrost physics and interdimensional travel came at a high cost, often through direct, chaotic exposure. Alex could accelerate that. If Selvig could grasp those concepts faster, Earth would be better prepared for Thor's arrival, for Loki's schemes, and for the inevitable unraveling of cosmic events.

The challenge, as always, was subtlety. Alex couldn't just walk up to Dr. Selvig and hand him a revolutionary textbook. That would trigger alarms, draw S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intense scrutiny, and potentially derail the very path he was trying to set. It had to be indirect. An "accidental" discovery. A stroke of inspiration that seemed to come from within Selvig's own brilliant mind, simply nudged by an unseen hand.

He needed a baseline for the enhancement. Something innocuous, something Selvig might encounter in his everyday life. Alex's enhanced journal quickly scoured public records for Selvig's habits, his academic interests, the journals he subscribed to, even his favorite coffee shops. Selvig was a creature of routine, a man deeply immersed in his work.

Alex found a public domain abstract for a general astronomy paper, something about distant quasars and galaxy formation. It was dry, academic, and utterly unremarkable. Perfect.

He pulled the abstract onto his journal's display, a dull block of text. He took a deep breath, the hum of the Watcher's presence shifting. It was no longer a frantic plea, but a low, steady thrum of anticipation, as if sensing the crucial importance of this subtle maneuver. Knowledge. Insight. Cosmic truth. He mentally poured his intent into the abstract.

As his fingers brushed the holographic text, the hum intensified, vibrating through the very air around him. The abstract didn't physically change, but the data within it began to expand, to layer itself with impossibly complex equations, diagrams, and theoretical models. It was like watching a seed bloom into a sprawling, fractal tree of knowledge, reaching into dimensions and concepts far beyond standard astrophysics.

The clear, concise voice resonated in his mind, echoing with a quiet power:

"Item: Generic Astronomy Paper Abstract (Digital). Action: Enhance. Reward: 10x Enhanced 'Inter-Dimensional Travel & Bifrost Mechanics: Applied Theoretical Physics.' Capabilities: Breakthrough Insights into Wormhole Stabilization, Tesseract Energy Signature Analysis (Theoretical), Subtle Clues to Asgardian Quantum Field Dynamics, Advanced Gravitational Anomalies Detection. Note: Cannot be re-used for 10x reward."

Alex felt the familiar mental drain as the process completed, a fleeting exhaustion that quickly passed, leaving his mind buzzing with the sheer implications of what he'd just created. This wasn't just a paper; it was a roadmap to understanding Asgardian science, a conceptual blueprint for interdimensional travel. It even contained theoretical methods for harnessing the Tesseract's energy, a power source that would soon wreak havoc on Earth.

Now, how to get it to Selvig?

A direct email would be flagged. A physical drop was risky. Alex needed something that could slip past casual notice but would scream for Selvig's specific, highly intellectual attention.

He found it. The abstract, in its original, mundane form, was scheduled to be presented at a small, regional astrophysics conference in a few weeks. Selvig was listed as an attendee, a minor speaker. Alex knew a simple public Wi-Fi network that would be available at the conference venue.

His plan: He would remotely access that public Wi-Fi network. Then, he would discreetly inject a fragmented, partially corrupted version of his 10x-enhanced abstract into the conference's digital archives, specifically in a folder labeled "Miscellaneous Research Submissions." The "corruption" would be just enough to make it seem like a data error, but the core data, the enhanced insights, would be intact. A curious scientist, perhaps even Selvig himself during a casual browse, might stumble upon it while trying to fix the "corrupted" file. The embedded data would be so compelling, so revolutionary, that Selvig, with his brilliant mind, couldn't ignore it.

He began working, his fingers flying across the holographic keyboard. He built layers of digital camouflage, creating a series of untraceable ghost servers to bounce the data through. He made sure there was no direct link back to him, no IP address, no metadata that could be traced. The data packet would be a phantom, a whisper in the digital wind.

This is it, he thought, a tremor of nervous energy running through him. My first true indirect influence on a key player. He felt the weight of it, the profound responsibility. He wasn't just influencing technology; he was influencing a person, pushing them towards a destiny he knew was vital, but also dangerous. The Watcher's hum seemed to intensify, a silent affirmation of his choice.

He initiated the upload. The process was swift, silent, leaving no digital trace on his end. The fragmented, enhanced abstract was now silently waiting, poised to infiltrate the conference archives.

The next few weeks were a tense game of patience. Alex monitored the news, not for headlines about Stark, but for obscure academic publications, for any new scientific papers published by Dr. Erik Selvig or his colleagues. He listened for any subtle shifts in the public conversation around astrophysics.

He found it, buried deep in an online science forum. A thread discussing a "curious anomaly" in the digital archives of the recent astrophysics conference. A few comments from researchers expressing bewilderment at a partially corrupted file that, despite its errors, contained "revolutionary insights into multi-dimensional energy fields." One comment, specifically from a user identified as "E.Selvig," expressed profound intrigue, hinting at new directions for his research.

A wave of relief washed over Alex, quickly followed by a familiar prickle of anxiety. It worked.

The "anomaly" was causing a stir among a very small, very specific group of scientists. That was exactly what Alex wanted. It wouldn't draw S.H.I.E.L.D.'s immediate attention, but it would set Selvig on a path of accelerated understanding. When Thor eventually fell to Earth, Selvig wouldn't be starting from scratch. He'd have a theoretical framework, a conceptual understanding that would allow him to process the impossible events with startling speed. Earth, subtly, would become a little wiser, a little less unprepared for its first contact with advanced extraterrestrial life.

One person at a time, Alex thought, a grim satisfaction settling in his gut. One thread pulled. One domino set. He knew the full impact of this seed might not be apparent for months, maybe even years. But he had made the push. He had contributed to strengthening Earth's understanding, preparing it for the vast, terrifying, and wonderful cosmos that was about to crash into its quiet existence.

He closed his eyes, leaning back against the cold, grimy wall of his hideout. The Watcher's presence felt content, a quiet affirmation of his strategic choice. He was no longer just the reluctant architect; he was learning to be the invisible hand, guiding the pieces into place, preparing the board for the real players. The cosmic storm was approaching, and Alex Mercer was quietly, desperately, building the Ark.

More Chapters