Tuesday, January 24th, 2023
East Faculty Wing,Staff room — Cognitive Sciences Division
The room smelled faintly of coffee and varnished oak—sterile, professional, timeless. Afternoon sunlight spilled across the polished meeting table where three of Brookmoor University's most celebrated minds sat like a panel of judges. Behind them, a small audience of hand-picked students observed quietly—among them, John slouched with arms crossed, red hair disheveled and his stomach just slightly spilling over his belt; beside him sat Vivienne Smith, the sharp-eyed fourth-year student body president, composed in posture and layered in quiet intrigue.
At the center of the room stood Ethan.
Unshaken. Third-year, lean, sharp-jawed, dressed in fitted black. His presence wasn't loud—but it owned the room.
Professor Denz leaned forward first, voice fluid with rehearsed enthusiasm. His fingers tapped against the manuscript as he spoke. "Ethan, your essay on 'Anticipatory Bias and Male Behavioral Fractals' wasn't just outstanding—it disrupted our rubric. I've had tenure for 16 years, and I don't say this lightly: you think beyond systems."
He slid a folder forward. Cleanly printed. On it:
Market Impulsivity Under Sexual pressure : Co-authored by Professor Elliot Denz & Ethan A. Vale.
"To formalize this, I want you to co-author the published paper with me. Journal submission is in three weeks. Full credit. Shared title. You'll be presenting alongside me at the spring cognition symposium. The youngest in campus history."
Ethan didn't even glance at the folder.
Dr. Rajit, more traditional but equally impressed, added, "With this paper, you'd be ahead of every psychology and behavioral sciences major here. Prestigious researchers will know your name before you even graduate."
Professor Marla Veen—calm, incisive—folded her arms. "Frankly, Ethan… this would catapult you. Guest lectures. Research grants. Power, in academic terms. You're only 20."
The air was thick with expectancy. Even John looked alert now, glancing over at Vivienne who hadn't taken her eyes off Ethan. Her brows were slightly drawn together—not in concern, but calculation.
Ethan inhaled slowly, then spoke. "I decline."
A full beat of silence. A dropped pin would've roared.
Professor Denz's smile faltered. "Excuse me?"
Ethan's voice didn't waver. "I decline. The offer. The title. The spotlight."
Dr. Rajit sat back in his chair. "You do realize what you're rejecting?"
"I do," Ethan said calmly. "A shortcut."
Marla Veen leaned forward. "Ethan, this isn't a shortcut. This is a platform."
"No," Ethan replied, still unfazed. "It's a pedestal. One that comes with debt. Visibility I haven't earned the way I want to. If I accept this, I'm a prodigy under Denz. If I reject it—I'm Ethan Ryker on my own terms."
John's mouth hung slightly open. "Dude, what the hell…"
Denz narrowed his eyes. "Do you have any idea how many students would kill for this?"
"I'm not 'any' student."
The weight in Ethan's words pressed silence back into the room.
Vivienne finally spoke. "And what exactly are you, Ethan?"
He turned his gaze to her—intense, slow, deliberate. "I'm the man who's building something bigger than recognition. And I won't trade trajectory for applause."
John whispered under his breath, "This man's a Bond villain in disguise…"
Ethan gave a slight nod to the three professors. No arrogance. Just finality. Then turned, walked out, the folder untouched.
The silence he left behind was almost spiritual.
Vivienne sat motionless. Something in her gut twisted—not admiration, not confusion. Something rarer.
A fascination born not from what Ethan had rejected—
—but why he didn't need it.
She muttered under her breath, almost unconsciously, "He's... writing his own hierarchy ; he is playing God complex..."
Professor Marla Veen exhaled, almost smiling. "Or burning it."
Behind them, John blinked. "Man just told a room of tenured legends, 'Thanks, but I'd rather be a myth.' I need to lie down."
And in the corridor beyond the glass, Ethan kept walking—
calm, calculated,
and absolutely certain
that the world would hear of him when he was ready to be heard.