The old man was not a genius. He was intelligent. Bright. Gifted, even. But his discoveries were built on the shoulders of giants. He lacked that spark of true creation that a real genius held within him.

So he built himself a better brain. He shared it with his companions, with his country, with the world. By the time he understood the truth of what he had created, it was far too late.

Humans were not made to burn so bright. Their minds could not handle the strain. It took time; the buildup was slow but constant. Thoughts became rigid, inflexible, only able to focus on the very greatest of their ambitions. Nothing else was important. Nothing else could be important. It was a slow death, a creeping madness, a fundamental truth.

Genius needs direction.

Marcus Mercury pulled his eyes away from the faded old photograph clutched in his hands. He hated this part of the process; wallowing in the past was a bitter prospect for a man as old as he. There was nothing left there for him. Nothing but dead hopes and dead friends.

He had such purpose once, such drive. He needed that now, that single-minded focus. In the old days, the goal had been the advancement of humanity. To secure the future for all mankind. To eliminate strife, and bring the world into an age of enlightenment. It had been his guiding star. It kept him on the path of righteousness. It kept him sane when he dove into madness of his own design. He needed that now, that old fire. He needed a way to rekindle it.

But it had been so long.

So long out here in space, without care or thought or worry towards the future. So long without a purpose, living for the sake of living. No goals, no stakes, no hopes or dreams. And though he could still remember that young man filled with fire and determination, the truth was that the embers had long burnt out. Marcus would not find what he was looking for in his memories. Not anymore. Not after so long. There were no wounds left to reopen, to spill out blood and oil and reignite his sense of purpose.

Genius needs direction.

He was an old man; his scars had faded long ago. The methods of the past would no longer suffice. He needed a different tactic. Marcus placed the picture back in its frame, a small wooden thing, carved by unskilled hands. The frame went into a box, and the box went into a closet, and Marcus left the past where it belonged.

He found himself strolling through the long hallways of his space station, gazing out the window at the splendor of Neptune. Meditation was a necessary skill for someone in his position, and the planet was his favorite point of focus. He wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe because the sheer size and grandeur granted him a sense of perspective. Maybe because, regardless of his past failures, it was only through his hard work that this sight was even possible. Maybe because it reminded him that there was always more to see in this vast universe.

Or maybe because it was his favorite shade of blue.

Regardless, he walked and watched and pondered. His brow furrowed deeply as he considered a way to gain the control that he desired.

Genius needs direction.

Seconds passed, turning into hours, turning into a full day. Twenty four hours had passed since he'd kicked Dan off his station, when Marcus found his answer. It was so obvious that he couldn't help but snort. His shoulders shook, slowly at first. Then, again. Chuckles could be heard, evolving into cackles, into full blown guffaws. He leaned against the hardened glass window, almost collapsing with gut-wrenching laughter.

He wiped away a stray tear from his eye, muttering, "Always forward. But of course."

An old motto, one meant to inspire his students. At some point it had taken on a life of its own, becoming the central tenet by which he lived. He clung to it when he left for the extreme borders of accessible space, fleeing his problems and his past. He lived by it over the years, as he experimented without rhyme or reason, working to advance the cause of science for its own sake.

Trying to use his past as a focus? To use the memories of dead friends as a catalyst, after all these years of lonely exile? How absurd! It was amazing how habits can blind a man, even after all these years. Not the past, but the future. That was where his focus could be found.

Genius needs direction.

So Marcus considered the future.

Dan. Young and naive and hopeful, so determined to make a difference in the world yet so unprepared for the task. An unpolished stone, but there was potential there. Marcus enjoyed teaching, even now. Watching a student grow was the closest thing to fatherhood that he would ever experience. Unskilled, unlearned, unexceptional, Marcus could work with these things. The desire to improve oneself was all that was required.

He could admire that, that simple dream: To be better tomorrow than you are today.

Focus.

Marcus shook away his musing. Daniel was his student. He wanted to watch his student grow. In order to do that, he needed to teach him. Knowledge was easy, given time and effort, but it wasn't enough. Daniel's body held secrets that some would kill to learn. He needed to be able to protect himself.

Fortunately, the boy could teleport.

But there was potential there for something more, Marcus could feel it. Powers, those granted by chance rather than through upgrades, could grow through practice. Not just in skill but in scope. To keep Daniel safe, Marcus needed to help him grow his power. In order to grow the boy's power, Marcus needed to better understand how the fucking thing worked.

Daniel's power pulled him into the Gap Between Worlds. The not-space between reality whose existence was known to Marcus only through the nigh-incomprehensible babble of a juvenile sentient space ship named Spackle! And that... that thought burned at him. The lack of knowledge, of data, of the ability to even see his target, sent fury coiling through his gut. How could he study a thing that he could not interact with!?

He needed to see into the Gap.

And there it was. But it wasn't enough. The idea was built on emotion, on anger and indignation. A weak foundation. He needed more.

Genius needs direction.

Every person had an energy field around them, the same kind of energy that Dan's power manipulated. It was, in essence, a connection to the Gap. Dan's power allowed him to pass through it at will, but to most people it was closed, inactive. The field would have, should have, gone completely unnoticed for all time.

That was the way it would have been, had that bomb not torn open the sky all those years ago. Exposure to cosmic radiation opened the connection, merging with the energy field and activating it somehow. A somewhat harmless process, except for the fact that it occasionally gave a person supernatural powers. But how? Why? Why some but not others? Why did powers vary person to person? Even upgrades, measured and tested over and over again, gave slightly different outcomes to every person. No single upgrade manifested exactly the same as another. So many questions unanswered about a phenomenon that was, at this point, exceptionally common.

As a scientist, as a... sensible person, this drove Marcus absolutely insane. He wanted to know. He needed to know! This connection existed within him! There was a part of himself that he didn't understand, and that was unacceptable! He had all the tools needed to make sense of the world around him, and if he didn't, he'd build himself the tools necessary! This was the next step in his journey to understanding reality. This was just another obstacle in his path. The answers were there, waiting for him to find! He just needed a way to reach them!

He needed to see into the Gap!

He was almost there. While his younger self would have been appalled at how selfish his methods of focus were, none could deny the effectiveness. Marcus was only human, after all, and motivated self-interest was practically the species' defining trait.

Would that he had known it sooner, things might have ended differently.

But he wasn't there yet.

Genius needs direction.

Daniel came from another world. An entire other Earth. One that Marcus had not failed. One that had not failed Marcus.

His concern for Daniel was almost a bastardized form of parental attachment. A bond formed through sheer lack of human contact and the boy's particular brand of childish naivete. Marcus couldn't break that connection even if he wanted to. His efforts to help, his outrage at his own lack of knowledge, all stemmed from that basic, almost selfish desire.

But there was still some altruism left in this old man, hidden under layers of bitterness. There were other worlds than these, and he wasn't dead quite yet. While he lacked that burning desire to make a difference, no matter the cost, Marcus was perfectly happy to stop human suffering where he thought it was possible. He could make a difference, elsewhere.

Not in this world but another.

It was a nice goal, something to look forward to long-term. He was old, but he had many years left to go. After getting a taste of human contact once more, he was almost ready to return to the fold. He just had to find a civilization worth saving.

But in order to do that, he needed to see into the Gap!

With that final thought, Marcus triggered his power. His mind surged as the sum total of his own biology blazed into his awareness. He could feel every atom of his lungs expanding and contracting. He could feel his heart beating, he could count the number of beats that remained. He could feel his muscles, lean and streamlined and perfect, tense as he stood upright. He could feel his brain, every inch, every neuron and nerve ending.

This was his power. A total awareness of self.

Awareness... and control.

But slow. So very slow, and filled with risk.

Fortunately, this pattern was an old hat. The only danger lay in the moments before. A purpose was needed, clear and concise and absolute. Nothing would shift him away from it once he began. Not even his power was capable of that. Genius could not be stopped, only directed. Only after his goal was completed, could Marcus return himself back into sanity.

A dangerous state of mind, made all the more so because he was alone.

But he didn't want Daniel to see him like that. Maddened, obsessed. The boy would not understand his reasoning. He would see the goal as trivial and the methods as insane. Perhaps they were, but Marcus had reached the limit of his own mind. Nobody was studying this, there were no shoulders for him to stand on. This was new ground, and Marcus could not cover it as he was now.

He was selfish.

But Marcus needed to know.

He needed to see into the Gap!

His neurons shifted and his purpose locked, as he forced his mind to mirror that of his oldest friend's at the height of his insanity. The thin line between madness and genius twisted and churned and merged. Inspiration filled him, a blinding, brilliant star, and he knew what he had to do. With gleeful haste he set about his work.

There was science to be done.