The quiet reprieve brought by the perceptual shield was a double-edged sword. It provided Li Feng with invaluable time, but also underscored the immensity of the task ahead. Julian was temporarily stable, but the alien pulse still thrummed in the background of existence, its pervasive energy a constant, unquantified threat. Li Feng knew the shield was merely a bandage; a long-term solution demanded direct, controlled analysis of the pulse's informational content. This meant building an isolation chamber – a truly electromagnetically sterile environment, a pocket of silence in the noisy universe where he could safely interface with the echo.
His mind immediately began conceptualizing the ideal design. A Faraday cage was the obvious starting point, but a simple mesh wouldn't suffice. He needed multi-layered shielding: mu-metal for low-frequency magnetic fields, copper mesh for radio frequencies, and specialized absorbers for exotic, higher frequencies he suspected the pulse might utilize. Power needed to be isolated via optical conduits, eliminating any conductive pathways that could act as antennas. The entire chamber would need a precisely regulated internal environment, free from external interference, a pure vacuum for data.
The practicalities of acquiring such materials and constructing this covert lab within a university setting were immense. Li Feng spent days poring over university schematics, cross-referencing old maintenance records and archival blueprints. He identified a disused sub-basement beneath the oldest wing of the science building, a forgotten space once used for obscure particle physics experiments in the 70s. It was deep underground, its thick concrete walls providing a natural baseline of shielding, and its remote location minimized the risk of detection.
Acquiring the specialized materials without raising suspicion was the next logistical puzzle. Mu-metal, in particular, was expensive and tightly controlled. Li Feng tapped into his accumulated Forex earnings, a substantial sum, and began ordering components in small, discrete batches from various international suppliers, fabricating plausible research project cover stories for each. He repurposed high-grade copper wiring from decommissioned campus machinery, carefully extracting it under the guise of "sustainable resource recovery" for a new, fictitious green initiative he himself drafted and submitted through the university's internal system. His ingenuity, typically applied to algorithms, now manifested in clandestine procurement and stealth engineering.
The work was arduous. He moved materials under the cover of night, using an old university handcart, traversing dimly lit service tunnels. The sub-basement itself was cold, damp, and smelled of stale concrete and forgotten dust. He worked meticulously, installing the layers of shielding, sealing every seam, ensuring absolute electromagnetic integrity. Each wall, floor, and ceiling panel became a testament to his obsessive precision, a fortress against the unseen cosmic waves.
During this period, the fragile peace he had established with Julian remained. Li Feng's sensors showed Julian was calmer, still confused by his recent period of intense perception, but mostly sleeping, reading, or watching old movies. Chloe reported a significant improvement in his mood and behavior, a hopeful reprieve that made her cling to the possibility of a full recovery. "He's almost like his old self, Li Feng," she'd texted him. "Thank you. Seriously."
But Li Feng knew the truth. The pulse, though dampened, was still out there. His correlator continued to pick up its faint, rhythmic beat, and the subtle background ripples in the global electromagnetic spectrum, though less pronounced near Chloe's house, still flickered intermittently across the wider Eastbridge area. The temporary normalcy was fragile, dependent on the constant, unseen hum of his perceptual shield. He saw the subtle fluctuations in energy consumption at Chloe's house, knowing his shield was draining power, demanding constant calibration.
His own body registered the continuous strain. He felt perpetually tired, a deep, bone-weary fatigue that even his disciplined routines couldn't fully shake. His focus, however, remained razor-sharp, driven by the profound responsibility he felt.
One evening, as he was manually welding a critical seam of the Faraday cage, Maya called. He answered, his voice rougher than usual.
"Hey, thought I'd check in," she said, her voice warm over the phone. "You still holed up in your cave? Julian's actually come out to the library a couple times. It's weird seeing him... normal."
"The current parameters of the project require extensive isolation," Li Feng stated, wiping sweat from his brow. The heat from the welding torch made the already stuffy sub-basement uncomfortable.
"Right, isolation," she chuckled, then turned serious. "Look, if you need a break, or just someone to bounce ideas off... even if they're about quantum whatchamacallits, I'm here. You don't have to carry everything alone."
Li Feng paused, the welding gun momentarily forgotten. Maya's offer was consistent. Her consistent "human input" was becoming a valuable, non-quantifiable variable in his life's equation. He knew he couldn't reveal the true scope of the project, not yet. But the mere thought of her presence, her grounding influence, provided a subtle recalibration, a reminder of the "normal" world he was trying to protect.
"Your offer is noted," he replied, his voice softer than before. "And appreciated. The parameters of 'carrying everything' are currently being assessed for optimal efficiency." He heard her soft laugh, a sound that seemed to cut through the hum of the sub-basement.
He hung up, returning to his work. The isolation chamber was taking shape, a monument to his singular purpose. He had built the listener, the shield, and now, the chamber. He was building the final bridge to the unknown, a controlled environment where he would face the silent echo, not as a desperate attempt at communication, but as a logical, methodical quest for understanding. The quiet before was almost over.