Chapter 187: Heisenberg
Walter stared at his reflection in the mirror. Picking up the electric razor, he shaved off all his hair, going completely bald.
"I am… Heisenberg," he said with deliberate emphasis, gazing at his new look in the mirror.
The name "Heisenberg" held more than one meaning for Walter. On the surface, it represented the idea: "I exist, but you can't find or catch me." But to Walter, it carried a deeper, more personal symbolism.
Heisenberg was a real person—Werner Karl Heisenberg, not a chemist but a renowned physicist.
More notably, Heisenberg was a nuclear physicist who worked under the Nazi regime. Due to miscalculations on his part, the Nazi nuclear weapon program ultimately failed. His mistakes are considered among the most significant miscalculations in scientific history.
Like Heisenberg, Walter had also made a fateful decision that altered the course of his life.
Years ago, when he was still young and full of pride, Walter walked away from his research and sold off his shares in Gray Matter Technologies for a pittance, believing he could make it on his own thanks to his talent and intellect.
But reality struck him hard.
In this world, nothing can be done without money—especially scientific research, which requires long-term, continuous investment. The lab that founded Gray Matter was funded by Gretchen's family.
After Walter left Gretchen, there was no one to fund his experiments. He had to go out and search for investors himself.
But Walter had spent his entire life in academia. Straight from school to the lab, he had no real-world experience. He naïvely thought that as long as he presented his credentials and knowledge, people would be eager to invest in him.
But it's never that easy to get money from strangers. Why would anyone give you money just because you ask?
Even with a prestigious education and experience contributing to Nobel Prize-winning research—it still meant nothing.
Plenty of Nobel laureates and professors rely on outside funding. Walter was just a participant, not an award recipient. He had no name recognition and no standout achievements. Why would anyone bet on him?
Worse still, Walter's arrogance during those investor meetings led to bad impressions. The discussions always ended poorly, and he ended up blacklisted.
But Walter still had to survive. He couldn't live on dreams alone. So, he took a temporary job as a high school chemistry teacher at a public school.
With his credentials, he could've taught at a prestigious university. Many institutions would've hired him. But those jobs were demanding, with strict time commitments and limited freedom. A public school job, on the other hand, gave him the flexibility to quit at any time.
It seemed like a good plan—but things didn't go as he expected.
Without investors, he couldn't build his own lab. Year after year, he slowly lost his drive and confidence.
Eventually, when he wanted to change careers again, it was too late. Times had changed. Universities didn't want him anymore.
Sure, he could've pulled strings and asked old friends for help. Maybe he could've gotten a position somewhere. But Walter was far too proud for that. And by then, he'd grown distant from most of his former colleagues.
No one could have predicted that Walter would remain a high school chemistry teacher for decades—his youth slipping away, his ambition buried.
If it weren't for the cancer diagnosis, he likely would've stayed on that path until retirement.
After all, with so many years of service, he would've received a decent pension.
And it all traced back to one decision—walking away from Gray Matter.
Walter often thought back to those days. He never truly let go of the regret.
He had sold his shares in Gray Matter for just a few hundred dollars. But he had quietly kept tabs on the company's stock over the years, occasionally calculating how much money he had lost due to his youthful arrogance.
Those same shares, had he kept them, would now be worth millions.
If he had that kind of money, his family wouldn't be struggling the way they were now.
As a man full of pride, Walter considered that moment the biggest mistake of his life—one he could never forgive himself for.
Taking the name "Heisenberg" was both a tribute and a warning. Like the physicist, he too had lost everything because of a single misstep.
Heisenberg was a symbol—of caution, of reflection, of self-deprecation, and of resolve.
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RING RING RING!
Walter's phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, he lit up with excitement.
"Finally," he thought.
It had been nearly a week since the last cook. All that time, Walter had been waiting. Frank had told him to wait for contact.
Walter had wanted to call many times—wanted to ask when the product would be sold, how much money they made, and when they could cook again.
But he trusted Frank. So he waited.
"Come to Pinkman's house when you have time," said Frank over the phone.
That afternoon, Walter drove to Jesse Pinkman's house. When the two met, they were both surprised by Walter's new bald look.
"Not bad," Frank remarked. "Honestly, you look more imposing than when you had hair."
"How are the sales going?" Walter asked bluntly.
He was risking everything—his freedom, his life—for money. Nothing else.
Frank tossed him a roll of cash—just over ten grand.
"This is your cut," he said. "Also, we need to discuss something."
The three of them sat down for another meeting.
Frank gave Walter a quick rundown of what had happened over the past week.
Jesse and his junkie friends had started building a distribution network—but they ran into serious problems.
Walter's product was flawless—the best quality on the market. But even the best product is hard to sell in a saturated market.
The local territory was already carved up and controlled by others. Frank and his crew were trying to carve out their own turf, which meant stealing customers and sales from rival dealers.
As the saying goes: Taking someone's money is worse than killing their parents. Especially in this line of work, where everyone's life hangs by a thread. Trying to steal from these people was like snatching food from a tiger's jaws—it was never going to be easy.