Chapter 20: The Grey Between
The classroom lights were soft, the walls a mixture of steel and slate black, lined with hand-drawn diagrams and cryptic formulas in white chalk. No desks. Just floor cushions arranged in a loose circle. A single wide screen behind me flickered, not with slides, but with a white canvas — waiting.
Twenty students. All eyes on me. Some bored, some curious. All sharper than blades.
"I'm not here to teach you numbers," I said. "Not today."
I placed a single card in the center of the circle. It read:
"You're a surgeon. Two patients arrive. One is a political figure known for inciting hate. The other is a janitor with no family. Both need the same heart. You only have one. Who do you save?"
Silence.
Then murmurs.
A boy with thick glasses raised a hand. "I'd save the janitor. Less public risk."
A girl beside him shook her head. "But the politician could cause real change if reformed."
Another student, cross-legged in the corner, asked, "Is there a third option?"
"No third option," I said. "One lives. One dies."
They debated. Voices rose. Some grew red in the face. Some listened, folded in thought.
I let it go on for a while.
Then I pulled up a new card.
"You're in a lifeboat with limited supplies. Two strangers are drowning. You can only pull one aboard without sinking. One is a child. One is a renowned scientist. Who do you save?"
Gasps. Then more arguments.
One girl said, "The scientist could save millions."
Another answered, "But a child is innocent. She has her whole life ahead."
A tall student in the back said coldly, "I'd choose whoever grabbed the edge first. Let fate decide."
I nodded.
"I'm not here to say what's right," I said. "There is no single right. There is only choice, and the world will judge you regardless."
They quieted again.
"Some of you will be engineers," I continued. "Pilots. Strategists. Medics. You'll make calls no one else wants to. And sometimes, you won't have time to think."
A boy stood up. "So what's the point of the exercise if there's no right answer?"
I smiled faintly.
"The point," I said, "is learning to live with the answers you choose."
---
By the end of the hour, no one had shouted. But no one had laughed either.
They filed out one by one, quieter than they entered. A few glanced back at me.
I didn't tell them the truth — that I'd lived through every scenario I presented, and worse. That I'd made the wrong choices more times than I could count. That I still remembered the faces of those I didn't save.
But I hoped, maybe, they'd start to understand.
That the world wasn't divided between heroes and villains.
Just people.
Trying.
And sometimes failing.
But always choosing.