While Pierre immersed himself in the simulation data, a knock came at the door. It slid open, and Elena walked in, dressed casually in a white shirt and jeans. "Just came to check on our boss's status," she teased. Pierre, eyes fixed on the simulation data and the 3D brain image, hadn't noticed her enter. Elena was impressed by his concentration and engagement with their work. She stepped beside him and leaned closer to his screen. "You've updated the simulation package."
Startled by her presence, Pierre flinched. "You scared me, Elena."
His reaction made her smile. "That's cute." Pierre turned to face her, but his gaze briefly lingered on her partially unbuttoned shirt, which revealed more than intended. He paused for a moment, caught off guard.
"I know how to distract you, don't I?" Elena teased, noticing his expression. Pierre coughed lightly. "Ahem…" He regained his composure, shifting his attention back to the 3D image. Elena smiled, buttoned her shirt properly, and noticed a slight flush in Pierre's manner.
"I think our rewarming protocol is solid, and the structural preservation is holding up," Pierre said, refocusing on the work. Elena sat on the edge of his desk, nodding. "Yeah, I agree, but what's the problem?"
Pierre explained, "After updating the software with today's lab results, I found the mismatch between the simulation and experiment lies in the neuron connectivity and some protein compositions." He displayed two brain images on separate monitors, both showing neural connectivity. The newer image revealed more localized, cluster-like connectivity.
"I see more clustered connectivity in the newer one," Elena observed.
"Yes, I underestimated the local neuron clusters in the brain," Pierre said. "The proteins there fold in a complex way, which is hard to restore once they lose their shape." He moved the cursor over several cluster locations.
Elena followed his explanation. "That's why the perfusion struggled to penetrate—those complex folds reduce diffusivity."
Pierre nodded. "Exactly. The water remained and crystallized, damaging the clusters and spreading during rewarming." He ran a simulation to support his point. "It's like a bottle of supercooled water: it stays liquid until a single ice crystal forms, then the whole thing solidifies." He paused. "If we can protect those critical areas, we might have a chance."
Elena's eyes lit up with realization.
"What if we increase the trehalose concentration around those critical regions? Trehalose is a large molecule, so it won't penetrate inside but can still protect against ice nucleation from the surrounding tissue and prevent widespread damage."
"That might work, but the water inside the cells is still a problem…" Pierre paused, then ran another simulation. "What about dehydrating the brain?"
Elena knew what he meant. "Then the brain would lose its structural integrity, and upon rewarming, it would turn into a mushy mess—brain damage again." The simulation results confirmed Elena's words: the brain's structure became mushy upon rewarming. Silence fell as the two scientists ran out of ideas.
Pierre glanced at his watch and status panel. "Looks like our brains are telling us we're hungry," he said, showing the panel to Elena. Pierre's blood sugar: 45%. Elena's blood sugar: 40%. A sudden growl from both their stomachs followed, and they exchanged embarrassed glances.
"Let's head out," Pierre said. He switched off his desktop, grabbed his bag, and left with Elena.
At Pierre's House
Pierre invited Elena to have dinner at his house, preparing carbonara for the evening. Elena was delighted at the prospect of tasting Pierre's cooking and sharing a meal with him. He suggested she go home to change clothes first. She hesitated but eventually agreed, swayed by Pierre's insistence, and quickly returned to her place.
Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Pierre opened the door to find Elena standing there in a casual white tank top, denim shorts, sneakers, and a hoodie to ward off the night's chill. "Dinner's ready. Come in," he said. Elena stepped into the living room, which felt familiar, almost like her own space. She slipped off her hoodie, revealing a bare shoulder and a black strap. Pierre's quick glance didn't go unnoticed.
He led her to the dining room, where the carbonara awaited, its steam and melting cheese indicating it was freshly made. Elena's eyes widened at the sight of the creamy, golden pasta, the aroma of melted pecorino and crispy guanciale sparking her appetite. No words were needed. They sat across from each other. "Bon appétit," Pierre said, offering a warm smile. Before long, they had cleaned their plates.
They moved to the living room, settling onto the sofa to relax. The warm, creamy meal helped ease the tension of the tough day. Elena looked far more relaxed now, the cortisol levels in her brain seemingly washed away by a surge of dopamine.
"Thanks for the dinner," she said, leaning against Pierre's arm. "Your cooking always impresses me," she added with a playful flourish.
With soft jazz playing in the background, the room felt cozy and less vast. Both were physically and mentally exhausted. Pierre watched Elena as she rested on his left forearm. Memories from that morning flooded his mind: Elena's leadership, commanding her team and him with confidence. Her sharp eyes, quick intellect, and decisive actions were captivating, driven by pure passion. Every move she made was compelling and left a lasting impression.
Pierre took charge with a quiet intensity, his gaze holding Elena's as he drew her closer. His right hand drifted slowly down her side, pausing at the curve of her waist before deftly unbuttoning her denim shorts. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, brushing against her skin with deliberate care. Elena's breath caught, a soft moan escaping her lips as warmth spread through her.
"Pete," she whispered, the nickname slipping out in their private moment, her voice thick with desire. "Right there—you're driving me wild." Pierre's touch was slow and precise, teasing her most sensitive spots with a rhythm that sent sparks through her body. Her mind surrendered to the sensation, every nerve alight.
"That's it," she gasped, her fingers clutching his arm as he applied just the right pressure. The heat between them intensified, her soft moans growing more urgent. Pierre's movements quickened, alternating between gentle caresses and firmer touches, each one drawing her closer to the edge. Her body responded instinctively, arching toward him as waves of pleasure overwhelmed her senses.
Elena's cries grew softer, more desperate, as Pierre focused on the spots that made her tremble. "Harder," she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper. Every touch sent a cascade of sparks through her mind, drowning out everything else. As he moved with confidence, sensing her every reaction, Elena lost herself completely, her moans filling the air until she was breathless. From point to point, spot to spot, his movement stimulated Elena's brain. Pierre focused locally on these spots, leaving the other parts as corrections.
As Pierre increased the speed and pressure of his touch, two words flashed in his mind:
locals and corrections.
What if we apply that to the brain?
Another thought sparked, fleeting but insistent. He tried to focus on Elena, but the idea lingered, igniting a parallel excitement in his mind. Elena's body tensed, her toes curling against the sofa's edge, her nails digging into Pierre's shoulder. The intensity thrilled him, as if he were on the verge of a breakthrough—both here and in their research.
Pierre quickened his movements, synchronizing with the mounting pressure.
Those spots, just those spots—a third thought flared, a spark of clarity in his brain.
Elena's gasps grew louder, her moans filling the air. With Pierre's final, deliberate touch, she let out a cry of pure pleasure, her body trembling. His shoulders bore the marks of her nails, bruised but unnoticed in the moment. Elena, breathless and spent, wrapped herself around Pierre, her voice soft with satisfaction. "That was so intense," she murmured, her tone laced with pleasure and contentment.
Pierre's mind snapped back to the epiphany. "Locals and corrections," he said suddenly, his voice tinged with excitement.
Elena's mind was still hazy, overwhelmed by a flood of neurotransmitters and hormones. She struggled to follow Pierre's words. "Elena!" he called, gently shaking her to bring her back to the moment. Her eyes refocused, confusion lingering. "Pete?"
"This will work," Pierre said, his voice brimming with excitement. He gently unfolded her arms, sprang up, and moved to the console panel in the living room. Opening a terminal, he accessed the NRE server and launched a simulation program. Elena, now regaining her clarity, watched his actions with curiosity. Pierre's face lit up with delight as he worked.
"If we can't protect the entire brain with uniform perfusion, why not focus on vital points, like those cluster neurons, and treat the rest as corrections?" Pierre began, but Elena caught on before he finished.
"Then the protective substance would spread more evenly and effectively," she said.
Pierre nodded. "Exactly."
Elena glanced at the simulation running on the console. "But Pete, haven't we tried this before? Increasing trehalose around those clusters?"
Pierre shook his head. "Last time, we applied trehalose locally and dehydrated the entire brain, causing it to lose too much water content." His fingers flew across the keyboard, entering commands to select critical regions for testing. "What if we dehydrate only those critical regions and strictly protect them?"
A spark of realization lit up Elena's eyes. "We'd achieve more even perfusion and preserve the cluster neurons' integrity."
Pierre turned to her, his excitement mirrored in her gaze, and gave her a quick kiss.
He finished entering the crucial data, and the simulation began. By dehydrating only specific regions and adjusting the cryoprotectant accordingly, the water transitioned to a glassy state, spreading uniformly across the brain during cooling. Pierre switched to the rewarming phase. This time, with minimal ice crystal formation, the nucleation rate from water to ice was much slower than the rewarming rate, and the transition from glassy to liquid state was smooth. At the terminal temperature, only about 10% of brain cells were damaged or dead, while the cluster neurons remained well protected.
Elena's eyes glowed with awe. "This is…" She trailed off, unable to find words, then leapt up and hugged Pierre joyfully. He kissed her, lifting her in his arms.
"I don't know what to say, Pete," she said, her eyes brimming with joyful tears.
Pierre grinned. "How about round two?"
He saved the input, closed the terminal, and carried Elena, still flushed from their earlier intimacy, to the second floor where his bedroom awaited. There, Elena celebrated their breakthrough in the warmth of Pierre.