Chapter 14: The Blogger's Investigation
POV: Stuart
I discovered I was internet famous on a Tuesday morning, thanks to Leonard bringing his laptop into my shop with the kind of urgent energy that usually preceded major scientific breakthroughs or emotional disasters.
"Stuart," he said without preamble, setting the computer on my counter and turning the screen toward me, "we need to talk about this."
The blog post that filled his browser window made my blood run cold. "The Bloom Prophet: A Statistical Analysis of Impossible Accuracy" was the headline, followed by what appeared to be a doctoral-level examination of my business and investment decisions over the past six months.
The anonymous blogger had compiled everything. Bitcoin purchase timing, Walking Dead speculation, writers' strike prediction, iPhone success, Apple stock movements—all of it laid out with timestamps, probability calculations, and cross-references to market data that shouldn't have been publicly available.
"Someone's been watching me," I realized, my hands starting to shake as I scrolled through the meticulously documented evidence. "This isn't casual observation. This is professional surveillance."
"It's gone semi-viral in comic and tech communities," Leonard said, watching my reaction carefully. "The accuracy rate calculations are... well, they're impossible. Literally impossible if you're operating with normal information access."
The blog post concluded with a section titled "Hypothesis Analysis" that made my stomach clench:
"Subject exhibits knowledge patterns that exceed normal market research capabilities by several standard deviations. Three possible explanations: (1) Unprecedented analytical genius, (2) Access to insider information networks, (3) Statistical anomaly of historically improbable proportions. Recommend continued observation and analysis. Additional data requests pending."
"Pretty crazy, right?" Leonard said, his tone carefully neutral. "Someone with way too much time on their hands, building conspiracy theories about your lucky streak."
"He's testing me. Watching for my reaction, looking for tells that might confirm or deny the blogger's theories."
"I mean," I said with what I hoped sounded like amused bewilderment, "I always knew I had good instincts, but this makes me sound like some kind of oracle. Maybe I should start charging for predictions."
Leonard didn't laugh at my joke, which was concerning. His physicist brain was analyzing every micro-expression, every vocal inflection, building models about my truthfulness that I couldn't counter without revealing exactly how accurate the blogger's observations actually were.
"The thing is," Leonard continued, "the statistical analysis is actually sound. I ran the numbers myself. The probability of achieving your success rate through legitimate research and intuition is approximately one in fourteen million."
"Shit."
"Of course," I said, forcing a laugh, "statistics are just probabilities, right? Someone has to be the outlier. Might as well be me."
"Someone has to win the lottery," Leonard agreed. "But usually they don't win it twelve times in six months."
Before I could respond to that uncomfortable observation, my computer chimed with a notification that I'd received several new blog comments. Curious despite my growing anxiety, I opened the browser to find an unexpected defense of my reputation from a familiar username.
SheldonCooper73 had posted a lengthy response to the blogger's analysis:
"While the statistical observations regarding Mr. Bloom's success rate are mathematically accurate, the author's conclusions demonstrate a fundamental misunderstanding of expertise development and pattern recognition capabilities. Malcolm Gladwell's research suggests that 10,000 hours of dedicated practice in any field can produce results that appear magical to outside observers.
Stuart Bloom has spent the equivalent of multiple full-time positions obsessively analyzing pop culture trends, market dynamics, and consumer behavior. His 'impossible' accuracy rate is actually the predictable outcome of applied expertise and focused attention.
To suggest that statistical improbability proves supernatural intervention or insider trading is logically equivalent to claiming that Michael Jordan's basketball performance required divine assistance because his success rate exceeded normal parameters.
The author would benefit from studying the difference between statistical anomaly and concentrated expertise before publishing conspiracy theories about successful individuals."
I stared at Sheldon's defense for a full minute, feeling an unexpected surge of emotion. He was protecting me—publicly, passionately, and with the full weight of his considerable intellect—despite harboring his own suspicions about the impossibility of my success.
"He doesn't believe his own explanation," I realized. "But he's defending me anyway because that's what friends do. Even when they think you're hiding something important, they protect you from other people's attacks."
"Sheldon posted that about an hour ago," Leonard said, reading over my shoulder. "He's been monitoring the blog since this morning."
"That's... really nice of him."
"Yeah," Leonard agreed. "Though I notice he doesn't sound entirely convinced by his own argument."
Before I could process the implications of Leonard's observation, the shop bell chimed and Sheldon himself walked in, carrying a tablet and wearing the expression of someone who'd spent hours engaged in intellectual combat.
"Stuart," he announced, "I've been conducting defensive operations on your behalf across multiple online platforms. The blog post about your business practices has generated seventeen discussion threads and forty-three derivative articles. I've provided counterarguments in each forum, emphasizing expertise over impossibility."
"Thank you," I said, meaning it completely. "You didn't have to do that."
"Of course I did. You're my friend, and the accusations being made are mathematically unsound. The author conflates statistical improbability with logical impossibility, which represents a fundamental error in analytical reasoning."
Leonard raised an eyebrow. "But you've been saying for months that Stuart's success rate violates normal probability distributions."
"I've observed that his results are statistically unusual," Sheldon corrected. "I've never suggested they're impossible. There's an important distinction between anomalous data and supernatural intervention."
"He's building us both an exit ramp," I realized. "Creating a logical framework that allows my success to be unusual but not impossible, explainable but not fully explained. He's giving me cover without asking for details I can't provide."
"The point is," Sheldon continued, "loyalty to friends supersedes curiosity about unexplained phenomena. If Stuart has achieved success through methods he chooses not to discuss, that's his prerogative."
The unexpected maturity of the statement hung in the air between us. Sheldon Cooper, whose need to understand everything had been a defining characteristic for as long as I'd known him, was choosing friendship over answers.
"Besides," Sheldon added with a slight smile, "if Stuart possessed genuinely supernatural abilities, I'm confident he would use them responsibly. His moral character suggests that any unusual advantages would be employed for beneficial purposes."
"If you only knew how hard I'm trying to live up to that faith in me."
POV Shift: Unknown Blogger
Across the street from The Comic Center of Pasadena, Agent Sarah Chen sat in a nondescript coffee shop, her laptop open to multiple surveillance windows and her camera focused on the shop's front entrance. The conversation happening inside the comic store was being recorded through directional microphones, though the emotional content was proving more interesting than the tactical intelligence.
Chen had been tracking Stuart Bloom's financial activities for three months, ever since his Bitcoin transactions had triggered automated alerts in the Treasury Department's financial monitoring systems. Someone making that kind of profit from cryptocurrency speculation, followed immediately by perfect stock market timing, required investigation.
But what she'd found didn't fit any normal profile for insider trading or market manipulation. Bloom wasn't connected to any known information networks. He had no history of financial sophistication, no contacts in relevant industries, no background that would explain his sudden analytical capabilities.
Instead, his success appeared to be based on what could only be described as precognitive knowledge of future events.
"Which is impossible," Chen reminded herself, typing notes about the defensive behavior she'd observed from Bloom's friend group. "But so is a 99.7% accuracy rate on speculative investments without any identifiable information advantage."
The Sheldon Cooper character was particularly interesting. His public defense of Bloom suggested deep personal loyalty despite obvious intellectual skepticism. The mathematical analysis Cooper had posted was actually quite sophisticated—clearly the work of someone who understood both statistical theory and the practical limitations of expert prediction.
"He knows something's wrong with the data," Chen noted in her report. "But he's choosing to protect his friend rather than investigate the anomaly. Suggests strong personal bonds that could be leveraged if direct approach becomes necessary."
Chen's phone buzzed with an encrypted message from her supervisor: "Analysis complete. Subject's prediction accuracy exceeds any known intelligence gathering capability. Recommend escalation to Asset Recruitment Protocol. Preliminary assessment suggests potential national security value."
She typed back: "Subject appears unaware of surveillance. Friend network shows protective behavior but no evidence of conspiracy. Recommend continued observation before approach."
"Approved. Maintain distance. Document all interactions and financial activities. If pattern continues, we'll need to determine whether we're dealing with unprecedented analytical capability or something that requires more specialized investigation."
Chen closed the encrypted communication window and returned to her surveillance notes. Stuart Bloom was either the most intuitive market analyst in history, or he had access to information that shouldn't exist. Either possibility made him valuable to her agency, but the approach would need to be carefully calibrated.
"People with genuine gifts often run when they realize they're being watched," she thought, adjusting her camera lens to capture clearer images of Bloom's facial expressions during his conversation with the Cooper subject. "Better to let him think he's safe until we understand exactly what we're dealing with."
Through her earpiece, she could hear Bloom thanking his friend for the public defense, his voice carrying what sounded like genuine gratitude mixed with relief. The emotional authenticity suggested that whatever advantages he possessed, he wasn't entirely comfortable with them.
"That's useful," Chen noted. "Discomfort with his own capabilities suggests potential willingness to cooperate if approached correctly. He may actually want help understanding what's happening to him."
She packed up her surveillance equipment as the afternoon crowd began to thin, preparing to end another day of observation. Tomorrow, she would continue documenting the impossible accuracy of Stuart Bloom's predictions, building a case file that would eventually require her to make direct contact.
"When that time comes," Chen thought, walking back to her government-issued sedan, "I'd better be ready with explanations he'll actually believe. Because whatever's happening with Stuart Bloom is going to require a conversation that challenges everything both of us think we know about what's possible."
POV Return: Stuart
After Leonard and Sheldon left, I spent the rest of the day in a state of controlled panic, refreshing the blog post every few minutes to watch the comment count climb and the discussion threads multiply across various forums.
The exposure was spreading faster than I'd feared. Tech blogs were picking up the story, comic forums were debating the implications, and financial websites were analyzing my investment timing with the kind of scrutiny usually reserved for insider trading investigations.
"This is what I've been afraid of," I realized, watching strangers on the internet dissect my impossible success with increasing sophistication. "The more accurate I am, the more attention I attract. And the more attention I attract, the closer someone gets to asking questions I can't answer."
But buried in the anxiety was something unexpected—genuine gratitude for Sheldon's public defense. He'd used his considerable intellect and reputation to protect me, even though he clearly suspected that his explanation didn't fully account for the data.
"That's what real friendship looks like," I thought, reading through his detailed responses to various critics across multiple platforms. "Choosing to trust and protect someone even when you don't understand everything about their situation."
The void had given me incredible powers, but Sheldon Cooper had given me something equally valuable—proof that authentic relationships could survive even impossible secrets, as long as the foundation was built on genuine care rather than complete transparency.
Tomorrow, I would continue the delicate balancing act of being successful without being supernatural, helpful without being impossible, accurate without being exposed. But tonight, I allowed myself to feel grateful for friends who chose loyalty over curiosity, and hopeful that maybe—just maybe—I could build a life worth the weight of the secrets I had to carry.
"The blogger is right about one thing," I thought as I locked up the shop and headed home. "My success rate is impossible. But impossible doesn't mean fake, and fake doesn't mean meaningless. Sometimes the most important truths are the ones that can't be easily explained."
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