At last the box opened and he dug inside, carefully lifting the contents free, spreading the books out on his desk, eager to read, unsure where to start. He studied the covers, drawn to the largest tome – simple gold lettering on a textured black cover – and retreated to a chair, opening the book on his lap.

Checking the index, he skipped forwards in search of specifics, turning the pages quickly, senses sparking in anticipation of fresh insight. Progress towards his goal had been frustratingly slow in recent weeks. His ambition was challenging; there was no guarantee of success.

But he had to try.

He found the relevant section and started to scan it, seeking that elusive reference that would expand his knowledge, reveal something previously unknown. It didn’t come. He read further, in hope that the narrative might return to address his needs. But the author had moved on.

He shut his eyes.

Don’t panic.

He stood and returned to the desk, reassessing the selection. This time he took a slighter volume with a brightly coloured jacket.

The blurb was positive – the reason he’d been confident in purchasing this book in the first place – but he tempered his hope and began calmly searching out key passages, his mind wandering as the pages turned.

Was he expecting too much? It was a question that had become increasingly difficult to ignore. He was in uncharted territory, after all, taking steps people had theorized over for centuries, but never openly achieved. It was possible others had beaten him to it, of course, but those who accomplished such a feat weren’t likely to shout about their success. So, either he was going to be one of an exceptional few, or a genuine trailblazer. An elite. Or a god.

Yet he wasn’t alone in his beliefs. Many of the academics who seconded his theory had created works like this book; ground-breaking principles on which he could build, to hone and perfect his technique. The path was uneven, difficult to negotiate without becoming feverish, even desperate. He was barely sleeping, nor eating enough, which made it hard to concentrate on the words in front of him now. But true perception came only from books, the accounts of cultivated authorities.

Original works.

A lesson he’d wasted precious time discovering.

Naive initially, he had been drawn to the internet, seemingly the obvious source, a complex web he just had to unpick. There was so much information that it had been daunting at first, but he had settled down to his task, reassured that if he sifted truth from the speculation of dreamers and idealists, the answers were out there, waiting for him. He’d been so positive, taken so much care to set everything up.

Failed.