The discussion surrounding Clara’s preprint had slid from a scholarly debate about the validity of extrapolation into outright personal attacks.
That is, until Professor Richter left a comment of moderate length under the preprint.
[The two arguments Dr. Clara presents in her preprint are, from a methodological perspective, impeccable.]
[Her statistical training is solid, her plots are clear, and her data sources are transparent. I hope my colleagues commenting below this preprint will tone it down.]
[However, I personally cannot agree with the paper’s speculation that "the probability of a major solar event occurring within the next decade is relatively high."]
[This is because the parent distribution this speculation is based on has only two real samples and lacks a sufficient physical basis.]
[Nevertheless, the research direction this paper broaches is an extremely important one.]
[I would personally advise Dr. Clara to continue her work in this area, but to refrain from rushing to make predictions that might mislead the public.]
[To proceed in this direction, one needs something truly defensible, such as a longer observational baseline or a more robust sample size.]
After this comment was posted, Clara’s advisor, Professor Bruner, also made a public statement, declaring he would hold those spreading rumors responsible.
Subsequently, the several individuals who had been most vicious in their replies to the tweet quietly deleted their posts.
As for the other colleagues who had been watching from the sidelines, they all came to a general consensus after reading Richter’s words.
Richter didn’t favor Clara’s paper, either.
...
「The next day.」
Clara took the preprint down from arXiv herself.
It wasn’t because she was scared.
It was simply because she thought Richter had a point.
...
「Zurich.」
The Swiss Federal Institute of Technology.
Its main campus was situated on a hillside north of the Old Town of Zurich.
The main building on campus, made of gray granite, was one of the oldest and most important symbols of science and engineering in Europe.
Over one hundred and seventy years ago, Einstein had studied here.
...
Clara was twenty-three years old.
She was of average height, about five-foot-five.
Her long, golden-brown hair was almost always tied back in a low ponytail.
Her fashion sense was far bolder and more daring than that of the other female master’s and doctoral students in Zurich’s solar physics community.
She was sitting in front of the computer desk in her dorm room.
The window behind her was open.
A breeze blew in from the window, carrying the damp air from Lake Zurich.
She looked at an email on the screen.
From:
[email protected]
The body read:
Dear Ms. Clara:
Thank you for submitting your manuscript to Nature. After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that we are unable to accept it for publication...
Clara sighed as she read the rejection email.
But a moment later, a smile returned to her face.
’You rejected my paper this time.’
’Next time, I just won’t submit to you.’
Just then, there was a knock on her door.
Clara went to open the door and saw her advisor, Professor Marcus Bruner, standing in the doorway.
Professor Bruner was fifty-eight years old.
He was the deputy director of the Institute of Particle Physics and Astrophysics at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich.
Having earned his Ph.D. from the institute, he had been teaching there for twenty-five years.
He had published over one hundred and thirty papers in journals like *Astronomy & Astrophysics*, *The Astrophysical Journal*, and *Solar Physics*.
He was a true titan in his field.
Seeing her advisor, Clara quickly invited him in and went to make him a cup of coffee.
"Professor."
She handed him the coffee, her voice tinged with complaint.
"*Nature* rejected me."
Professor Bruner took a sip of coffee and replied unflappably.
"I saw."
"They CC’d me on it."
Professor Bruner then set his coffee cup on the table.
He looked at his student and spoke earnestly.
"Clara."
"Can we talk about something?"
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Bruner began slowly.
"This paper of yours."
"It’s been rejected by *Nature*, *Science*, and *Physical Review Letters*, correct?"
"That’s right."
"And you also saw the comment Professor Richter wrote a few days ago about the version you posted on arXiv."
"Professor."
Professor Bruner waved his hand.
"I’m not criticizing you."
"That’s not what I mean."
"I just want to ask you one thing..."
"Are you going to continue with this line of research?"
Clara said nothing.
"You have a solid foundation in statistics."
"Your data visualization skills are the best I’ve seen in any student I’ve mentored over the past twenty-five years."
"And your English writing is excellent."
"At your current level..."
"If you worked on helioseismology today, you could hand me a manuscript worthy of *The Astrophysical Journal* tomorrow."
"If you did coronal dynamics, you could have a first-author paper ready for *Solar Physics* the day after."
"If you did interplanetary magnetic field reconnection, you’d have another one the day after that."
"With your skill level, getting a postdoc at the Max Planck Institute within three years is a certainty."
Professor Bruner paused.
"But precursor identification..."
He shook his head.
"This line of research is genuinely difficult."
"The sample size is just too small."
"It’s so small that it’s not a matter of you writing badly and getting criticized—*anyone* who writes about it gets criticized."
"Clara."
"Have you considered changing your research focus?"
Clara just smiled when she heard this.
She looked at her advisor and said earnestly.
"Professor."
"But I’m not afraid of the criticism."
"I just want to do something meaningful."
"I’m not saying other research areas aren’t meaningful."
"I just feel..."
She looked into Professor Bruner’s eyes.
"Since I’m the one who observed that set of small peaks, who saw that curve with my own eyes..."
"Then I have to see it through to the end."
Hearing this, Professor Bruner gave a resigned smile.
He knew this visit was a waste of his breath.
He knew this student.
On the outside, she was a twenty-three-year-old girl in a form-fitting top.
But on the inside, she was as stubborn as the granite bedrock under Lake Zurich.
Professor Bruner sighed and picked up his coffee cup again.
"So, your reason for retracting the preprint was..."
Clara nodded firmly.
"That’s right, Professor."
"To write a better one."
"I’m going to predict the active window."
"And...
"The margin of error... I’m going to pin it down to within a year."
Professor Bruner’s mouth fell open.
It took him a long moment to force out a response.
"Clara."
"A one-year margin of error... that’s too small."
"In the last decade or so of precursor identification research, not a single team has dared to claim a one-year temporal resolution."
"With a parent distribution of only two samples, how can you possibly pin it down to one year?"
"That’s... unscientific."
But Clara just gave him a strange smile.
"So..."
"I need more data."
Professor Bruner’s heart sank.
"Clara."
"What... data do you need?"
Clara thought for a moment before replying.
"I need..."
"The complete data from the EPD Energetic Particle Detector on the European Space Agency’s Solar Orbiter."
"The concurrent data from the XEP payload on the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA)’s ARASE satellite."
"The complete observational data from the last eight years from the U.S. National Science Foundation’s IceCube Neutrino Observatory in Antarctica."
"And if... we could also add the concurrent data from the Pierre Auger Observatory in Argentina, that would be ideal."
When she finished, she looked up at Professor Bruner, her blue-gray eyes wide with expectation.
...
Professor Bruner froze as he listened to the long list. He finally asked, stammering slightly,
"Clara..."
"Are... are you asking me to... get this data for you?"
"Yes."
"I’m begging you, Professor."
The coffee cup in Professor Bruner’s hand...
...spilled all over the floor.

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