Brainiac Novels & Stories

Jack stated with desperation in his voice. Jack was actually worried Brianna would doubt his words for a fool, brainwashed by the enemy when she was unconscious. And he was worried because he was aware his intelligence was not as sharp as Brianna's. He could be correct, but he cannot ignore the possibilities of being wrong. Jack was also in the process of understanding, analyzing, and considering this and that in all the information his brain has received. Information that seemed too different from what they had been told a long time ago and reminded again and again over time.

“Not really.” A look of sadness crossed the boy’s eyes, but he masked it with a quick smile as he said, “I’m Drake. I told you my name earlier, but I doubt you remember that. Well, that’s fine. It’s nice to meet you again; I’d prefer if the circumstances were different, but I’m still grateful for your help.” Was it just me, or did Drake talk too much? “Ah, sorry about that. I talk too much when I get nervous.” Good that he knew.

Claire walked towards Leon's study, but there was nothing she could do now but be quiet and wait. "Claire, please bring me a pair of scissors," said Leon. His fingers danced swiftly on the keyboard. As soon as Claire took the scissors, Leon then cut something and reconnected it to another cable. Suddenly he stopped then looked at the large monitor screen. "We're connected," he said to Claire. It made Claire who was sitting on the sofa suddenly straightened up looking at the monitor screen. The screen depicts a graph of brain frequencies. This must be the Boston Hopkins brain. "Shall we immediately make him commit suicide?" asked Claire.

“I stay 24/7 at home, my mind isn’t working now. Otherwise, I would have topped this semester easily.” Aariz tilted his head, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “Ah, blaming your loving, extremely responsible husband, are you?” Timtim’s cheeks flushed pink, and she pouted, pointing at him with the pen. “Yes! It’s all your fault. You don’t take me out to the park, movies, or anywhere fun. How am I supposed to concentrate and study when my brain is bored out of its mind?” Aariz’s lips twitched, trying to suppress a laugh, but failing. The sound that escaped was a low, rumbling chuckle, eyes glinting as he watched her animatedly gesture at him.

Philip’s hand paused briefly in the motion, but he quickly resumed and withdrew the needle, pressing down on the puncture site. He stood up. “Diego, do you know? The human brain is the most complex organ—bar none. It’s incredibly intelligent and self-preserving. When someone is under extreme emotional stress or psychological collapse, the brain activates a self-protection mechanism. Miss McKenna has likely gone through something unimaginably traumatic. Her brain has reached a limit far beyond the average person’s endurance. In fact, if it were anyone else, they would’ve gone insane already.” He glanced at Diego and, seeing that his emotional state was still stable, began packing up the equip

built, the older parts had to stay online to keep us up and running. And this direct construction led to taking numerous "alternative routes." It's as if the brain is a dysfunctional workplace, where younger employees (the forebrain) handle modern technologies like language, while veterans (the midbrain and limbic brain) keep an eye on memory and the memory box. the fuses in the basement. Some results: depression, madness, memory we can't trust. On this last point, I mention words from a book called "The Idiot Brain" by Neuroscientist Dean Burnet: "Why do you lose arguments with people who know MUCH LESS than you? Why is he able to recognize that woman he met that time... but he can't remem

☆☆𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕☆☆ Professor Priya’s voice drifted over the lecture hall—crisp, clear, every word slicing the hush like paper. She’s at the podium clicking through slides about neural circuits and decision fatigue: “the brain’s limited bandwidth,” “cost-benefit trade-offs,” “risk vs. reward.” All words I should care about.

Dr. Smith's eyes locked onto Sarah's, his expression empathetic. "Sarah, what Nicholas experienced is called confabulation. It's a phenomenon where the brain creates false memories or stories, often due to traumatic brain injury or other forms of brain damage." Sarah's brow furrowed, her eyes filled with concern. "So, you're saying Nicholas's memories weren't real?" Dr. Smith nodded. "Exactly. When Nicholas suffered the accident, his brain's ability to process and store memories was affected. As a result, his brain started to fill in gaps in his memory with fictional information, creating false narratives that he believed to be true."

Doctor Bill explained, “There are eighty-six billion brain cells in the human brain. Of these, an infinitely small portion of them handle cognitive flexibility. His frontal lobes and left and right hemisphere for mathematics became active when he woke up from coma. That is why he is a genius now.” Goose bumps ravaged Eva as she sat down to listen keenly, “In order words my brother is now a mathematics genius. Is that what you are talking about?” “You can say that again, Eva. Listen, I am a neurosurgeon. I know how this thing works. Brian is not just good in music alone but he is a super genius in mathematics now.” Eva was left gaping at doctor bill before she asked, “Is this for real? This i

From large mergers to small investments, from personnel changes to strategic adjustments, all the information was meticulously recorded. As she delved deeper into her reading, Alicia began building a complex information network in her mind. Her brain was like a huge data center, storing each piece of information in its appropriate place and quickly establishing connections between them. She began to see patterns and trends that were difficult for the average person to detect, and the trajectory of the company's operations gradually became clear in her mind.