In the mathematics community, there were four prestigious academic journals considered Tier 0—the pinnacle for any researcher in the field: the Annals of Mathematics, Advances in Mathematics, Acta Mathematica, and the Journal of the American Mathematical Society.
For many mathematicians, having a paper accepted by any one of these journals was a career-defining achievement. It wasn't just about getting published—it was about being taken seriously by the global academic elite.
Tony Snow was deep in thought, weighing his options.
Which paper should he write?
Which journal should he submit to?
The life simulator had given him the knowledge of an 81-year-old mathematics researcher, and although he hadn't chosen a math specialization in the previous simulation, he had still learned a great deal. With the kind of interdisciplinary breadth he now possessed—math, biology, computer science—Tony had the flexibility to pick a field and deliver something meaningful.
Since there were no high-impact mathematics journals based in his home country with global recognition, he naturally turned his attention abroad. If he was going to publish, why not aim for the best?
All four journals were comprehensive in scope. Unlike some niche journals limited to algebraic topology or probability theory, these accepted papers across a broad range of mathematical disciplines.
While he silently plotted out ideas in his head, twenty minutes passed in a blink—until his phone vibrated, snapping him out of his academic reverie.
It was a call from his cousin.
"Hey, where are you?" Lina's cheerful voice rang out. "I'm at Gate 7, but I don't see you!"
Tony jumped out of his seat in the fast-food place near the station exit and looked toward the glass doors.
Sure enough, there she was—a small backpack slung over her shoulder, pulling a wheeled suitcase, holding her phone with both hands as she spun in place searching for him.
"Do you see a place called King's Chicken near Gate 7? I'm right at the entrance. I see you now—don't move, I'm coming to you. If you lose sight of me, just stay put."
A moment later, they spotted each other and met halfway.
"You haven't eaten yet, have you?" Tony asked as they turned back toward King's Chicken.
"I have! Kind of," Lina replied sheepishly. "I woke up late and had breakfast and lunch together."
"Really? What time did you eat? What did you eat? You probably rushed out the door just to catch your train. You don't strike me as someone who had a proper meal this morning."
"I had a piece of bread and some boiled water," Lina admitted as they walked into the fast-food restaurant.
Tony didn't say much. He grabbed a window seat for them, set down her suitcase, and went to order a meal.
When he returned and sat down, he gave her a curious look. "What's with the backpack? Planning to study while you're here?"
Lina groaned. "Ugh, my mom made me bring it. She wants me to send her pictures of my finished homework every night."
She gave Tony a pleading look, her big eyes glinting under the station's cold fluorescent lights. "Be a good big brother and help me?"
"Help you with what?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "If you're stuck, sure—I'll explain whatever you don't understand. But if you're hoping I'll just do your homework for you… absolutely not."
"What if I don't understand anything at all?" she tried, sticking out her tongue.
"Then you might as well skip school altogether and go work in a factory. Screw bolts. Earn money. Save your parents the trouble." He gave her a mock-serious stare.
"Ew! No way!" she huffed, immediately opening her phone to escape the conversation.
Tony chuckled and looked out the window. Most of the college students had already gone home for break. The station crowd was mostly laborers now—men and women dragging duffel bags and rolling crates, rushing to catch trains to jobs far from home.
A voice recording suddenly played from Lina's phone. Tony didn't need to ask who it was—he recognized the voice of his aunt immediately.
"Don't spend all your time goofing off. Remember to study and finish your homework. Big brother Tony is in college now, so he can afford to relax. You're still in high school—if you don't study, don't even think about college!"
"I know, I know. I'll do it…" Lina mumbled, sending a voice reply of her own. She sounded tired of hearing the same thing on repeat.
Tony didn't chime in. He understood the pressure. He'd lived it too.
"You don't know what it's like," Lina muttered. "Ever since you got into Haverford Tech, my mom won't stop talking about you. Says I should aim for a 'first-tier university' too."
Tony smiled faintly. Haverford Institute of Technology was technically a first-tier university in their country's system—not elite like Ivy League or Oxbridge equivalents, but it still held a strong academic reputation. Back in their hometown, it was considered a big deal.
"You've got time," Tony said. "Focus and shoot for a 211 or a 985-tier university."
"Yeah, right," Lina scoffed. "You know how our high school is. Out of all the seniors, we barely get one or two into 211 schools a year. A 985? That's like winning the lottery."
"But didn't your grades suck in your first year of high school too? That's what my mom says."
Tony laughed. "They did. So what did I do? I stopped messing around. Woke up at 5 AM, went to bed at midnight. Lived on four hours of sleep. Just… studied like a maniac."
Lina stared at him like he had three heads. "No thanks."
By the time they finished their meal, it was after 3 PM. With little time left before evening, Tony decided not to take Lina sightseeing and brought her straight back to the apartment his family rented in the city. There would be plenty of time for fun tomorrow.
That evening, over a homemade dinner, Tony's mom predictably turned the conversation toward school.
"Lina, have your final grades come out yet? How'd you do? Your mom said you were about average in the last midterm."
"I think I did okay…" Lina said, not exactly thrilled to be interrogated again—even away from home.
"You brought your homework with you, right?" Tony's mom asked. "If there's anything you don't get, ask your cousin. He wasn't that great his first year either, but he really turned things around. You should ask for his advice."
Tony winced and kept his head down. He'd heard this speech before—every family dinner during winter break.
His mom then turned to him. "What about your grades, Tony? It's been a week. They must be out by now."
"They are," Tony said. "Nothing special—just first in my year."
His mom blinked. "First?"
"Yes," he said smugly. "Why would I lie?"
Just then, his dad decided to chime in from the other side of the table.
"Grades, grades—that's all anyone ever talks about. Your son's in his third year already. Shouldn't you be asking if he has a girlfriend? Once he graduates, he'll have no time to date. All the good ones will be taken!"
"Oh please," Tony's mom rolled her eyes. "There's no rush for boys. But listen," she turned to Tony, "I'm not saying you can't date. If you meet someone you like, go for it. But don't start something just for the sake of it."
Tony chuckled silently, remembering Clara's confession before winter break. She had already promised to give him her answer—after the graduate entrance exams.