After discovering Jack's secret notes, I maintained an outward calm, but inside I was in turmoil. His belief that the lighthouse accident was inevitable, a necessary part of the time cycle, weighed on my chest like a massive stone. But I couldn't let him know I had read his notes, at least not yet.
That afternoon, we continued researching the time fracture. I noticed that Jack seemed unusually serene about his possible fate, a serenity that was particularly painful now that I knew his secret.
'I'd like to compare the data from the two time points in more detail,' I suggested, trying to find clues about the 'time's self-correcting ability' mentioned in Jack's notes, 'Do you have complete meteorological records for the years around 1925?'
Jack nodded, taking several heavy record books from the bookshelf. 'My father and grandfather both kept detailed records. Here are daily observations from 1920 to 1930.'
I began comparing this data with the records I had collected in 2025. At first, I simply matched dates, looking for possible patterns.
Several hours later, my eyes were tired from staring at numbers for so long. But just as I was about to take a break, a strange coincidence caught my attention.
'Jack, look at this,' I pointed to data on two sheets of paper, 'The barometric pressure readings for 13th September 1925 and 13th September 2025 are exactly the same, precise to two decimal places.'
Jack frowned; this was indeed a rare coincidence. 'It might just be chance,' he said, but his expression showed he didn't entirely believe this explanation either.
Inspired by this discovery, I began systematically comparing data from more dates. Shockingly, not just pressure, but temperature, humidity, wind speed, and many other indicators showed remarkable similarities on the same dates a century apart.
'This can't be coincidence,' I said quietly, feeling a rush of excitement, 'It looks like some sort of... mirror effect. The meteorological data from the two time points is almost perfectly symmetrical.'
Jack's eyes lit up, and he quickly grabbed another record book. 'If this pattern is real, then...' he turned to a specific page, 'the data for 21st September 1925 should match that of 21st September 2025.'
Together, we examined the records for 21st September 1925 and compared them with the 2025 forecast data I had collected before coming to Fog Corner. The results were astonishing—the two sets of data were almost perfect mirrors of each other, as if time formed a loop, with the beginning and end of a century mysteriously connected.
'This is incredible,' Jack murmured, 'The time fracture isn't just a random phenomenon; it seems to be some kind of... resonance between two points in time.'
My heart raced, feeling we might be touching on some important truth. 'Perhaps this is why crossing only happens at specific moments,' I speculated, 'The fracture only opens when conditions at both time points are similar enough.'
Jack nodded, lost in thought. 'But this mirror relationship raises deeper questions—does the fracture cause this meteorological similarity, or does the similarity create the fracture?'
We continued our investigation, discovering that the mirror relationship wasn't limited to meteorological data. Tide heights, moon phases, even the lighthouse records of ship passing times all showed symmetry across the century gap.
'Look at this,' Jack pointed to a set of data, 'Whenever the differences between the two time points are minimal, the time fracture activity is strongest.'
This discovery gave me an idea. 'Jack,' I asked tentatively, 'You once mentioned that time might have a self-correcting ability. If we could understand this mirror relationship, perhaps we could find a way to change specific events without disrupting the integrity of time?'
Jack looked up, his expression complex. I knew what he was thinking—his secret notes had already indicated he believed the lighthouse accident was inevitable. But I needed to make him believe there might be another way.
'Is time fixed?' I continued, 'Or can certain details be changed while maintaining the overall structure?'
Jack was silent for a moment, then slowly said, 'Based on this data, I think time is more like a river—the overall direction is fixed, but the specific path may have small variations. The key is to identify which points are fixed "anchors" and which are adjustable "variables."'
This was exactly the line of thinking I needed. 'So the lighthouse accident on 21st September,' I carefully worded, 'is it an anchor or a variable?'
Jack's expression grew solemn. 'That's a complex question. In historical records, the lighthouse did suffer some sort of disaster that day, and I... disappeared. But exactly what happened and how it turned out might have room for interpretation.'
I felt a glimmer of hope. Jack might believe his fate was fixed, but he wasn't ruling out the possibility that details could vary. Perhaps this was the breakthrough I needed.
'I have an idea,' I said, eyes fixed on the data tables, 'If we could precisely calculate the mirror relationship between the two time points, perhaps we could predict the exact behaviour of the time fracture on 21st September. This might help us figure out how to safely navigate that day.'
Jack nodded, beginning to formulate a calculation method. We worked together until late night, performing various analyses and simulations on the data. Finally, we created a complex chart showing the relationship between time fracture activity intensity and the degree of data mirroring.
The chart clearly showed that 21st September would be the absolute peak of fracture activity—the day when the mirror relationship between the two time points reached perfection. On this day, crossing would become extremely easy, but also extremely dangerous.
'According to this model,' Jack pointed to a spot on the chart, 'the fracture will reach its critical point at 5:47 PM that day. That's...'
'The exact time the lighthouse accident occurred,' I completed his thought.
We exchanged glances, both realising the significance of this time point. This wasn't just the moment I might return to 2025, but also the moment Jack might face his destiny.
'There's one more thing,' Jack suddenly said, opening another record book, 'I've noticed that whenever the mirror relationship is strongest, there's always a "difference point"—a small anomaly that doesn't fit the overall pattern. It's like...'
'Like a loophole in time,' I quickly grasped his meaning, 'a potential point of change.'
Jack nodded, a flash of hope in his eyes. 'If we can identify the possible "difference point" on 21st September, perhaps we can use it to alter specific events without disrupting the overall time structure.'
This discovery gave me new hope. Jack might believe his fate was predetermined, but the data showed that even in the most perfect mirror, there were tiny differences. Perhaps these differences, these 'loopholes' in time, could be our opportunity to challenge destiny.
The night was deep, yet the lighthouse beam continued to rotate in the darkness. Jack and I stood by the window, watching that beam cut across the night sky, like the hand of time moving across the river of history.
'Whatever happens,' Jack said softly, his hand gently holding mine, 'at least we're now closer to the truth than ever before.'
I gripped his hand tightly, feeling both fear for the future and newborn hope. The mirrored data told us that time might be more rigid than we imagined, but also that there might be flexibility we didn't yet fully understand.
And in the days ahead, we needed to find that crucial 'difference point,' that time loophole that might change everything. Only three days remained, and time was slipping away.