11. Invitation

When Xavier returned to his room around midnight, he threw himself onto his bed. There were still echoes of that moment in his mind as he watched the ceiling. The dark-haired woman...

He remembered her beauty more clearly now. Her dark black hair fell perfectly over her shoulders, her skin pale but healthy. Her sharp features gave her a cold expression, but it was balanced by a kind of splendor.

A powerful beauty.

When he thought about how much he had mastered his own posture and tone, he realized that it wasn't just about looks. The woman before him stood out not only for her beauty, but also for her presence. When she walked, people wondered who she was.

Xavier smiled involuntarily. But it was pretentious.

When her face came back to him mind, he found himself admiring her for a moment. But he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. Such things were a waste of time.

Anyway, he didn't want to think about her anymore. Still... he liked the prospect of seeing her again more than he thought.

So far, anyway.

Cambridge wasn't a big place, but everyone seemed to be lost in their own world. The dark-haired woman seemed to have vanished into thin air. Xavier didn't expect to see her again - he didn't even care. All he remembered were her haughty looks and unnecessary threats.

Instead, he spent his time on the things that really mattered. Classes, readings, research...

Although he majored in English Literature and Creative Writing, he spent most of his time studying not only literary works, but also scientific disciplines. He continued to attend math and physics classes. It was a regular thing for him. Numbers and equations were as natural to him as understanding the structure behind literary texts.

Professors began to take an interest in him. Some admired his talent, others found his lack of interest strange. But Xavier didn't care. He wasn't here for attention. He just wanted to make his own way.

Soon his writing began to stand out. One of his papers, on how literary narratives could be supported by structural mathematics, caught the attention of the faculty. His name was mentioned in academic circles, but it didn't affect him much.

The important thing was that he kept moving forward. He didn't spend too much time on human relationships. He still hung around the campus alone. Unlike most students, he preferred to spend his evenings in the library rather than socializing in a bar or cafe.

And so the weeks went by.

_____________

Xavier felt the slight chill in the air as he sat on a bench in a secluded corner of campus, turning the pages of a book. It was evening, the sky a pale orange and purple. The laughter and chatter of the student groups around him was a faint hum in the background. They did not distract Xavier.

But he raised his head involuntarily at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Dr. Whitmore came in his usual dignified and confident manner and sat quietly beside him, coffee in hand. Xavier could tell that the professor was not here to strike up a casual conversation.

"These are my favorite hours in Cambridge," Whitmore said, taking a sip of his coffee. "The sunset, the silence... and, of course, the talented students I stumble upon."

Xavier turned back to his book, but before he had turned a page, he realized that Whitmore was going to continue.

"I would like to invite you to my laboratory."

Xavier frowned slightly. "I'm a literature major, how can I do physics?"

Whitmore laughed easily. "It doesn't make sense to me that such a bright boy would limit himself to one discipline."

"Mixing disciplines can be dangerous," Xavier said nonchalantly. "Each discipline has its own language and methods. Going from one to the other without a full understanding of one will only lead to superficial knowledge."

"Exactly," Whitmore agreed. "But some disciplines feed on each other. For someone like you, literature and physics may have more in common than you think."

Xavier tilted his head slightly. "Is that so?"

Whitmore set his coffee on the edge of the bench and leaned back comfortably. "You're not the first person to prove that narrative structures can be analyzed with mathematical models. But someone who can think like you... can take it a step further. Maybe he can develop a method that can decipher not only words, but the most fundamental principles of the universe."

Xavier fell into a short silence. Those words sounded interesting. But he still hesitated.

"What you will see in my laboratory could advance you more than you can imagine, Xavier. This is a great opportunity for a man who remembers what he sees."

Xavier looked into Whitmore's eyes. The professor really seemed to understand him. And that was both interesting and a little disturbing.

He took a deep breath. "Why are you so interested in me?"

Whitmore smiled and took a sip of coffee. "Because sometimes it's necessary to meet the right person who can refine a rare gem."

Xavier squinted at him.

It would be foolish to refuse this invitation.

And Xavier was no fool.

After a short pause, Xavier slowly closed his book and turned to Dr. Whitmore. It was interesting that the professor had been so insistent in inviting him to the lab. Usually academics tended to push literature students out of scientific fields. But Whitmore was different.

"What exactly do you do in this lab, Dr. Whitmore?" he asked, his voice cautious.

Whitmore turned to him with a slight smile. "That's a good question. But a better question would be: What's in it for you?"

Xavier squinted at him. "What's in it for me?"

The professor shook his head slightly. "What are the elements that shape the way a person thinks, Xavier?"

Xavier paused for a moment. "Experience, knowledge, stereotypes, and sometimes genetic predisposition."

Whitmore nodded in satisfaction. "Good. But incomplete."

Xavier swept his questioning gaze over the man. "What's missing?"

"What you saw."

Xavier frowned slightly.

Whitmore continued. "What you see shapes your mind without you even realizing it. The patterns you observe can be more permanent than anything you've ever been told. For someone like you, someone who doesn't forget what he sees, it has a much greater impact."

Xavier tilted his head slightly in thought. "And what I see in your lab... could it change the way I think?"

Whitmore picked up his coffee and took a sip. "I can't guarantee that. But I'm sure I can show you more than you think."

Xavier sensed a kind of challenge in the man's words. He knew that he was fascinated by the professor. But what exactly was the source of that interest? Did this man really see him as an academic mentee, or something else?

Without taking his eyes off Whitmore, he spoke slowly. "You picked me because I teach physics?"

Whitmore laughed easily. "Students like you always stand out, Xavier. But the difference with you is that you try not to stand out."

Xavier looked away at the words. The man was too observant.

There was a short silence. Finally, Xavier sighed and shrugged slightly. "Okay, Dr. Whitmore. I'll visit your lab, but if I don't like it, I won't go any further."

Whitmore nodded his head, satisfied. "A fair deal."

When Xavier opened his book again, Whitmore stood up, picked up his coffee and gave him a last look.

"Then let's meet tomorrow night at seven," he said. Then he turned and walked away with heavy steps.

Xavier looked after him for a moment. Then he lowered his eyes back to his book.

Tomorrow promised to be an interesting day.