The moment the result was announced, the entire room froze.
Stephen Hawking.
Out of nearly five hundred people, the one chosen was a man who had spent years confined to a wheelchair, his body slowly failing him.
Even through the livestream, the shock was immediate.
This wasn't just unexpected.
It was almost unbelievable.
If this demonstration worked—if it really worked—then it wouldn't just prove Noah's claims.
It would shatter everything people thought they knew about medicine.
There was no delay.
Under the watchful eyes of the entire room, Hawking was carefully brought onto the stage. Assistants helped position him upright, his frail body supported as best as possible.
Then another man stepped forward.
He looked ordinary at first glance—but the focus in his eyes told a different story.
Fisk stepped up beside him, addressing the audience.
"This individual," he said, gesturing toward the man, "is our energy carrier."
He paused for effect.
"We had over ten thousand people train simultaneously, then consolidated their accumulated energy into him. At this moment, he holds the equivalent of five hundred years' worth."
A ripple of disbelief spread through the crowd.
Then—
The man activated it.
A brilliant violet glow erupted from his body, flooding the stage with light. It was intense—almost blinding—like a living spotlight.
The room went silent.
People stared, transfixed.
This wasn't theory anymore.
This was power.
The man stepped behind Hawking and sat down, mirroring his posture.
Then the transfer began.
The glow intensified.
Energy poured forward in a continuous stream, flowing directly into Hawking's body.
Within seconds, the change was visible.
Hawking's expression softened. His skin, once pale and drawn, began to regain color. The rigid tension in his muscles eased, subtle movement returning where there had been none for years.
At first, it was slight.
Almost imperceptible.
But it didn't stop.
The longer the transfer continued, the more his body responded. Muscles that had long since withered began to regain structure. His breathing steadied.
Strength—real, tangible strength—was returning.
Off to the side, Noah watched quietly.
"You planned this?" he asked under his breath.
Fisk gave a small nod, his voice barely audible.
"We tested it beforehand. The results were… conclusive. Conditions like his respond extremely well."
Noah didn't reply immediately.
Instead, he just watched.
Two minutes later, the transfer ended.
The man behind Hawking stood, gave a small nod toward Noah and Fisk, and stepped away without a word.
Now—
Everyone waited.
Had it worked?
Or had this all been an elaborate show?
Noah stepped forward, crouching slightly so he was level with Hawking.
"How do you feel?" he asked. "You've just received more energy than most people would accumulate in a lifetime."
For a moment, there was no response.
Then—
Hawking's fingers twitched.
It was small.
But unmistakable.
A collective breath caught in the room.
Then, faintly—
A glow flickered across his body.
His head shifted slightly.
And he nodded.
Someone in the audience gasped.
"He moved—"
Noah spoke again, his tone calm but firm.
"Based on what we've observed, you should be able to stand."
He paused, watching him closely.
"The only thing stopping you now… is hesitation."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then—
"I… can't…"
The voice was rough. Unsteady.
But it didn't come from a machine.
It came from him.
The room erupted in stunned disbelief.
He spoke.
Stephen Hawking—who had relied on synthesized speech for decades—had just spoken with his own voice.
"I… can… talk…" he said again, as if testing the words.
Shock rippled through the audience.
And then—
His body moved.
Slowly.
Unsteadily.
But undeniably.
His arm lifted.
His fingers flexed.
With effort, he pushed against the support at his side—and stood.
For the first time in years.
The room exploded.
Applause thundered through the hall, people rising to their feet without even realizing it. Some stared in awe, others in disbelief.
It wasn't just impressive.
It was impossible.
And yet—
There he was.
Standing.
"I'm… normal again," Hawking said, his voice trembling. "I'm… normal again…"
Emotion broke through the words, raw and unfiltered.
This wasn't just a demonstration.
It was a miracle.
He took a step forward—unsteady, uneven—but real.
Then another.
Each movement growing more certain.
Finally, he reached out and gripped Noah's hand tightly.
"Thank you," he said. "You've given me my life back."
Noah smiled faintly.
"You did the work," he replied. "I just gave you the opportunity."
He gestured back toward the seating area.
"For now, let's continue the event."
Hawking nodded, still overwhelmed, and slowly made his way back. His steps weren't perfect—but they didn't need to be.
Every movement carried weight.
Every step carried meaning.
As he returned to his place, people leaned in, speaking to him excitedly. Questions, congratulations, disbelief—it all blended together.
He answered as best he could, his speech still uneven but unmistakably his own.
And across the room—
Something had changed.
Completely.
If someone like Hawking could recover like this…
Then what about everyone else?
What about those who were already healthy?
What could they become?
Not everyone shared the same excitement.
Watching through screens across the world, countless viewers felt something else creeping in.
Unease.
Because for many of them—
This power wasn't within reach.
Not quickly.
Not easily.
For them, it would take years. Decades.
For the people in that room?
It could happen overnight.
Noah stepped forward again, raising a hand to quiet the room.
The screen behind him shifted, displaying a structured presentation.
"Now that you've seen the results," he said, "let's talk about scale."
He let his gaze sweep across the audience.
"The global population is in the billions. Most people live ordinary lives—working during the day, training only when they can. For them, progress is slow."
He paused.
"Which means the total amount of energy produced each day is limited."
The next slide appeared.
"Even accounting for losses during transfer, the supply will always remain constrained."
A beat.
He looked directly at the crowd.
"In other words…"
His voice sharpened slightly.
"This isn't just power."
"It's a resource."
A final pause.
"And in this world—"
"It may end up being more valuable than gold."