“A connection,” Sheldon whispered. “The universe is a closed system.”
He closed the laptop, turned to his whiteboard, and began writing an equation that would eventually lead him to believe, for a brief and terrifying weekend, that he was a hologram.
From the other side of the room, Georgie groaned, muffled by his pillow. “Did you finally invent a mute button for your mouth?”
He zoomed in. Enhanced. Ran a contrast filter.
Sheldon tilted his head. “That is not a word.”