Chapter 107 Reasons for Procrastination

"What request?" Mu Xin asked.

"Don't let Acton know that this project has anything to do with me," Governor DeWine said, his voice lowered.

"You just need to tell her that you heard about a company called Bexorg that is doing drug testing on isolated human brains, and that you want to hear her professional opinion. Don't say that I recommended it."

Mu Xin nodded. "Understood."

Governor DeWine leaned back in his chair, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from him.

His expression relaxed slightly, but Mu Xin could tell it was a weary relaxation, not relief.

"One more thing," Governor DeWine's voice became a bit raspy. "Don't tell anyone about my son."

"I won't," Mu Xin said.

Governor DeWine nodded, then picked up the envelopes from the table and pushed them toward Mu Xin.

"Take them back and study them carefully. Bexorg's technology, data, financing situation, and ethical review documents are all in there."

"After you finish looking through them, go find Acton. After you talk to her, give me an answer."

Mu Xin picked up the envelopes, put them away, and stood up. "Governor, I'll be going now."

Governor DeWine did not stand up; he just sat in his chair, watching him.

"Do you know what I fear most?"

"I don't," Mu Xin shook his head.

"What I fear most is not Acton finding out about this project, not the media hyping up ethical controversies, and not you refusing to invest."

"Then what do you fear?" Mu Xin asked, following the cue.

"I fear time," Governor DeWine's voice was very soft, so soft it was like he was talking to himself. "I fear I won't make it in time."

Mu Xin looked at him; tears were glistening in those turbid, aged eyes, but they did not fall.

A seventy-nine-year-old man who had spent his whole life struggling in the political arena, having seen everything and fearing nothing—yet he feared time.

Mu Xin said nothing, just nodded, then turned and walked out.

He walked through the hallway, entered the elevator, the doors closed, and the elevator slowly descended.

He leaned against the elevator wall, let out a long breath, then took out his phone and sent a message to John.

"Finished talking. Come pick me up."

Mu Xin put his phone back in his pocket, looking at his reflection on the elevator door.

A suit, a tie, leather shoes—he looked like a serious businessman. But his mind was filled with the last thing Governor DeWine had said.

"I fear time; I fear I won't make it in time."

A soon-to-be-retired Governor, for the sake of his son's life, was asking him to invest in a company researching isolated human brains.

Five years, over seven hundred human brains.

Mu Xin suddenly felt that this world was much crazier than he had imagined.

And he was being pulled into the center of this madness.

The elevator door opened, and Mu Xin walked through the lobby and out of the office building.

John had already pulled the car to the entrance; he rolled down the window and looked at Mu Xin.

"You don't look so good," John said.

"I'm fine," Mu Xin said, waving his hand.

The car drove out of the parking lot; Mu Xin leaned back in his seat, his mind racing.

Bexorg.

He needed to understand this company first before he could talk to Acton.

He couldn't go see her without knowing anything; that would only make him look unprofessional.

He needed to look at the materials Governor DeWine had given him, and after reading them, decide how to bring it up with Acton.

Mu Xin leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

The sunlight outside the window shone on his face, warm, but inside his heart, something cold was slowly spreading.

It wasn't fear, it wasn't anxiety; it was a vague, indescribable sense of unease.

He opened his eyes, took out his phone, and opened the search bar.

His finger paused on the screen for a few seconds, then he started typing.

Bexorg.

The search results on the screen popped up quickly. The headline of the first news article made his finger tremble slightly.

"Over 700 Human Brains 'Resurrected' for 24 Hours: US Startup Tests Drugs via 'Brain in a Vat'."

Mu Xin clicked on the news article.

"According to a May 20th report in Science magazine, the US biotechnology startup Bexorg recently developed a proprietary maintenance system called BrainEx to conduct drug testing research on the brains of deceased donors."

"Several hours after the donors passed away, scientists placed the brains on a cart covered in tubing and pumped large amounts of artificial blood and other fluids into the organ to provide it with oxygen and remove metabolites."

"Under the influence of anesthetics, the brain's electrical activity was suppressed, but most key physiological functions were still retained; it seemed to linger in a blurred zone between life and death."

"After 24 hours, the brain would be cut into hundreds of tissue samples for scientists to conduct more detailed analysis and research."

After reading these paragraphs, Mu Xin put his phone back in his pocket.

The sunlight outside was still glaring; cornfields stretched endlessly on both sides of the road, like a green ocean.

He closed his eyes, recalling what Governor DeWine had said.

"I fear I won't make it in time."

A father, for the sake of his own son, could ask a Chinese international student to invest in a company researching isolated human brains.

He didn't know if this was greatness or selfishness, the extreme of fatherly love or an abuse of power.

But he knew one thing: Governor DeWine wasn't asking him to invest; Governor DeWine was forcing him to make a choice.

Invest, or not invest.

If he invested, he would have to face ethical controversies, political risks, and the heavy burden brought by over seven hundred human brains.

If he didn't invest, his relationship with Governor DeWine would be severed, and the consequences would be unimaginable.

Mu Xin took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and looked at the sky outside the window.

He needed to talk to Acton.

Not to find a reason to refuse, but to confirm whether this project was truly crazy or actually valuable.

But Mu Xin knew that things were never that simple.

In the game of power, every choice has a price, and he was learning how to pay those prices.

...

Acton arrived ten minutes earlier than the agreed time, but Mu Xin was even earlier than her.

This was Mu Xin's habit; he would arrive fifteen minutes early and sit there waiting.

It wasn't to lower his posture, but to adjust his state of mind before the other person walked in.

He didn't meet her at the Morris Building today, but instead arranged to meet at that Starbucks in the town center.

There were few people in the Starbucks in the morning; a graduate student was sitting in the corner reading a thesis, and there was only one clerk behind the bar wiping cups.

Mu Xin ordered two hot chocolates and carried them to a corner by the window to sit down.

When Acton pushed the door open and entered, she was wearing a dark blue suit jacket, a white shirt, dark gray trousers, and a pair of black low-heeled leather shoes.

Just like last time they met, there was no exaggerated smile typical of a politician; her expression was calm, her gaze sharp.

She saw Mu Xin, nodded, walked over, and sat down.

"Hot chocolate?" She glanced at the cup in front of her and raised an eyebrow slightly.

"I've had too much coffee, and my stomach is uncomfortable." Mu Xin picked up his cup and took a sip. "Yours is the same."

Acton didn't respond, picked up her cup and took a sip. She wasn't in a hurry to speak, just watching Mu Xin, waiting for him to open the conversation.

Mu Xin leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers twice lightly against the cup.

"Ms. Acton, I need you to help me look at a project."