James barely heard the clinking of cutlery and the rustling of napkins. His mind was buzzing far too loudly.
He didn't notice the way his entire family had turned to look at him — Thomas with a slight frown, Lillian with mild curiosity, Charles with that ever-sharp, evaluating gaze.
"James," Charles said, breaking the silence. "What are you thinking about?"
James blinked, pulling himself back to the present. He saw their expectant faces — his father's authority, his brother's competitiveness — and for a brief second, the old James, the obedient James, wanted to shrug it off, to laugh and say "nothing."
But he didn't.
He had changed.
"I was thinking," James said slowly, voice gaining strength as he spoke, "about how to solve the Internet's profit problem."
Thomas leaned forward, eyebrows raised slightly. "And how would you do that?" His tone was skeptical, as if humoring a child who had just claimed he could build a spaceship in the backyard.
James smiled, a flash of quiet, dangerous confidence. "It's a surprise, Father."Then, seeing the doubt in his father's sharp gaze, James added — more boldly this time — "Have some faith in me."
Thomas said nothing, just studied him with an expression James couldn't quite read.
The moment passed. Conversation moved on.
But James' heart was still pounding.
Later that afternoon, after enduring endless small talk and helping clear the dishes, James retreated to his room, shutting the door with a soft click behind him. He locked it for good measure.
He dropped into his chair and stared at his beige, humming computer.The small clock in the corner of the screen told him it was August 4th.Five days.Only five days until Netscape's IPO.
If he moved fast enough, if he developed a real, scalable plan to monetize the internet, he could sell it — maybe directly to Netscape, or maybe to another rising tech star.
A plan flickered at the edges of his mind: Internet advertising. Banners. Clicks. Impressions. Monetizing eyeballs instead of hardware.
But... even if he knew the future model, how was he supposed to build it alone?
James frowned, tapping his fingers against the desk. Websites right now were primitive. Building an ad network required infrastructure, coding talent, servers, systems...
It's too much for one person, he thought grimly.
He stared at the computer screen, frustration rising. What should he do? Just sell the idea? Risk someone stealing it?Or somehow — impossibly — build the first ad-serving platform by himself?
James leaned closer to the screen, mind spinning.
And then —the mouse cursor twitched.
James froze.
Had he touched the mouse? No. His hands were still on the edge of the desk.
The cursor twitched again, moving slightly to the left.
His heart jumped into his throat.
Was I hacked?He yanked the keyboard toward him, fingers flying across the keys as he ran every system diagnostic he knew.Nothing. No malware. No remote access. No background processes he didn't recognize.
He launched a deep antivirus scan. Still nothing.
He leaned back, breathing hard.
In 2025, maybe hackers could hide that well.But in 1995?
James knew with absolute certainty — there was no hacker alive who could hide from his detection.
So... if it wasn't an outside force...
He turned back to the screen, heart pounding. He stared hard at the mouse icon.
Move, he thought, half-joking, half-panicked.
And the cursor shivered.
James jumped up, knocking his chair over.
He stood frozen for a long moment, just breathing.
"No... no way," he whispered.
Slowly, almost reverently, he sat back down, staring at the screen.He narrowed his focus, locking his mind onto the red "X" in the corner of a window.
Close, he thought.
The cursor moved — hesitated — then clicked. The window vanished.
James was trembling.
"This can't be real," he muttered. "This can't be happening."
And yet — it was.
He spent the next half-hour experimenting feverishly.With a flash of concentration, he opened folders, launched programs, even typed a short sentence without touching the keyboard.Clumsy at first, then smoother.
It was real. It was happening.
James sat back, staring at his hands.
This wasn't just a fluke.
This was a superpower.
He laughed — a short, almost hysterical sound — thinking of all the anime, comics, and novels he'd devoured.Golden fingers, cheat systems, powers granted to protagonists after reincarnation...He always thought those were fantasy.
But now?
After his death and rebirth, he hadn't just gotten a second chance — he had evolved.
He was a human supercomputer.
And he was only beginning to understand it.
He started running experiments, meticulously, systematically.
Memory Tests:
He flipped through his textbooks at lightning speed, scanning pages without even focusing.
And yet, when he closed his eyes, he could recall every word perfectly — as if flipping through high-definition screenshots.
Even emotions attached to memories were preserved: the heat of the summer sun, the smell of grass outside the university.
He realized he could mentally "tag" memories — like saving files into organized folders.Instant recall. No decay.
Perfect memory, he thought, awe flooding him.
Coding Tests:
James opened a blank text editor.
Instead of typing, he simply thought of code structures.
Streams of C++, HTML, Java trickled down the screen.
He could visualize entire programs forming in his mind, as clear as blueprints.Debugging, compiling, optimizing — all faster than he had ever imagined possible.
He could mentally "write" and "execute" code without touching a keyboard.
Neural coding ability.
Electro-Sensitivity Tests:
Then, curiously, he closed his eyes and concentrated.
Slowly, almost dreamily, he felt something — tiny electrical pulses humming behind the walls.
The steady currents of power outlets. The faint buzz of the house's router.Even distant, muted pings — nearby devices connecting, talking to each other in the invisible language of signals.
James moved to his computer, focused on the settings menu, and without touching anything, he flipped the network connection on and off.
He could manipulate nearby systems — but only within about 10 meters.
Basic electro-sensitivity, he realized. Not hacking worldwide yet. But enough to change everything.
James leaned back, laughing breathlessly.
He wasn't just smart now.
He wasn't just capable.
He was something new.
A mutation.A quantum leap forward.
He needed a name for it.
He tapped his fingers against the desk, thinking.
Something about neurons... networks... computation...
Then it hit him.
Neural Nexus.
The fusion of brain and machine.A nexus where biology met technology.
James whispered it aloud, tasting the words: "Neural Nexus."
It felt right. It felt powerful.
It felt unstoppable.
He pulled out a notebook and began sketching furiously, pages filling with plans.
He wasn't going to sell his idea anymore.
No — he would build it.
Piece by piece.
And when the Internet exploded, James Calloway would be standing at the center of it all — not just watching history happen.
He would be making it.