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"Yulian, please help gather all the newspapers from the past three months. Ask soone from Administration to move them into my office."
After arriving at Stark Pictures, Henry gave the order to his secretary.
Though with her physique she could probably carry three months’ worth of newspapers by herself, there was no need to abuse the employees. Miscellaneous chores like that were exactly what the Administration Departnt existed for.
"Understood, boss."
The dark-skinned chubby woman asked no questions and imdiately went to arrange it.
In this era, when online dia was only beginning to erge and print dia still dominated, the best way to learn recent events was naturally through newspapers.
Libraries offered a greater variety of papers than Stark Pictures did internally, but the public reading area usually only displayed the current day’s edition—or at best, issues from within the past three days. Anything older required formal borrowing procedures.
Henry had no need to compare multiple newspapers for differing perspectives anyway, so reading the company archives was sufficient.
Each departnt at Stark Pictures subscribed to newspapers according to managerial or departntal needs.
As for archived copies, they kept the Los Angeles Tis, whose West Coast circulation ranked among the highest in the nation.
Arican newspapers naturally carried strong political leanings—the difference rely lay in whether they supported the Democrats or Republicans.
As for social news and entertainnt gossip, they were equally shaless across the board, so there was no need to compare papers from different political camps.
Three months’ worth of newspapers filled quite a few boxes, even loaded onto rolling carts.
After the workers left, Henry sat alone and used his super-speed to flip through all three months of news.
The events recorded over these three months matched one set of his mories, yet differed slightly from the other.
Most social incidents, financial news, and entertainnt scandals were broadly the sa.
The biggest discrepancy was New York’s so-called "first real-life superhero in history"—
The Sentry did not exist.
As a result, so disasters that lacked the Sentry’s rescue efforts suffered greater damage than in the tiline where he had intervened, while other losses simply remained undisclosed.
But without the Sentry, there was naturally no massive battle in Manhattan, New York.
And no one had died because of it.
At least in this relatively peaceful world, there had been no horrifying scenario where over a hundred thousand people died simultaneously, overwhelming morgues and crematoriums everywhere.
The news Henry cared about most—the girl’s situation—barely appeared anywhere in the newspapers from the past three months.
Which was normal.
She was still just a minor actress, not so major celebrity who generated headlines automatically. Unless one of her films premiered, almost nobody would ever see her na in the papers.
After tidying up the newspapers he had finished reading, Henry did not imdiately call for soone to haul them away.
After all, he had spent barely any ti reading them. If he summoned workers to remove them right away, it would look like the boss was just making people run errands for fun.
Still, although he was done with the papers, Henry walked into the small office outside the CEO’s office and asked his secretary—who was loudly crunching potato chips:
"Yulian, do you know Charlize Theron?"
The chubby woman hurriedly put away the chip bag and tilted her head thoughtfully.
"Wasn’t she the female lead from The Devil’s Advocate last year?"
Not ’your girlfriend’?
Henry replied, "That’s her. Do you know her recent schedule?"
Flipping through her little notebook, the secretary said:
"If I rember correctly, I think she’s filming sothing."
"In Australia? On the Matrix set?"
The secretary’s eyes widened.
"No. I think she’s filming dostically."
"Can you help investigate Charlize Theron’s public schedule, and also the cast list for The Matrix currently filming in Australia?"
The secretary turned to a blank page in her notebook and wrote down the tasks.
"Sure."
Back in his office, Henry checked the progress logs on Stark Pictures’ internal Git repositories, the operational plans for the supercomputer Hollywood Kid, and the comnts and progress notes he had left across various servers.
For his side projects—like Sheep Cave Valley and the undersea laboratory—Henry had been careful never to leave traces on public computers, to prevent anyone from tracing things back to him.
So there was no way to confirm their status through public networks. He would have to inspect them personally.
As for why he did not simply use the systems and erase the traces afterward—
Because that behavior itself was a trace.
Frequent unexplained blank spots would imdiately raise suspicion among anyone with basic network administration experience.
Unless he also wanted to fabricate fake activity logs to cover things up...
Compared to all that hassle, it was easier to simply be cautious from the beginning and avoid using public systems at all.
This wasn’t laziness.
It was dizziness.
The strain on his eyes was making him lightheaded.
Realizing the effects of his weakened vision were probably worse than he had imagined, Henry decided to get a proper pair of prescription glasses.
The reason he could not simply make them himself was obvious:
Losing his heat vision had effectively crippled over half of his crafting capabilities.
And without microscope-level vision assisting precision work, his fine motor control was useless no matter how steady his hands remained.
He first called an ophthalmology clinic to schedule an eye exam. Only after getting the prescription could he visit an optical shop.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Henry carefully considered what exactly had happened to this world—and to himself.
Then, from a certain mory fragnt, he suddenly guessed at a possibility.
In one set of mories, after he had beaten the Sentry to death, the X-n and the sorcerers had recklessly continued attacking him.
And he, having no intention of holding back, retaliated.
During that battle, one particular group stood out clearly.
A bunch of people in brown robes, all wearing Sling Rings—those magical artifacts that looked suspiciously similar to brass knuckles.
So... they were sorcerers from Kamar-Taj?
Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch had once said that the Sorcerer Supre specifically wanted his help.
If they had been searching for him, then their appearance made perfect sense.
Yet among those Kamar-Taj sorcerers, Henry had not seen any young bald woman leading them.
Instead, there had only been a crowd of bearded old n from every imaginable ethnicity, plus...
Tony Stark?
Wait a second!
Future Iron Man gave up scientific research and started practicing magic instead?
Then what about Stephen Strange eventually crippling his hands?
The Cloak of Levitation and the Eye of Agamotto—those two unmistakable mystical artifacts—had both ended up in Tony Stark’s possession.
So what exactly was the future Doctor Strange supposed to use?
Or had the things Henry seen on Tony Stark not actually been those artifacts after all?
Henry switched to massaging his temples.
His super-brain might be brilliant, but without sufficient evidence, any further speculation would just be self-deception.
So he abandoned the train of thought.
Should he call Tony Stark directly and confirm it with him?
Because within his mories, Henry vaguely recalled witnessing sothing utterly unbelievable—sothing even he could not explain.
Tony Stark, dressed in the robes of the Sorcerer Supre...
Yet wearing a nanotech Infinity Gauntlet of Henry’s own design, complete with all six Infinity Stones.
And then—
Tony Stark snapped his fingers.
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