The new week began, and Tony Snow's life remained as calm and uneventful as a still pond.
Though his mathematics paper had already been accepted, it had yet to be published, and his computer science submission hadn't even received a reply.
For the first few days of the week, Tony spent most of his time in the library outside of class. The only exception came on Wednesday afternoon, when he left campus briefly with Clara Quinn to pick up a package—the sweatpants he had ordered for her had finally arrived.
It wasn't until Thursday morning that the tranquility of Tony's world was disrupted—by a letter from across the ocean.
Thursdays were light in terms of coursework. Tony had Bioengineering Separation during the first two morning periods, followed by a free slot for periods three and four, and then Molecular Biology lab classes in the afternoon.
During second period, while Professor Liu was droning on about partitioning methods and liquid chromatography from a dull PowerPoint presentation, most students were visibly struggling to stay awake. The professor's lifeless tone didn't help.
Just as some students were starting to nod off, a voice called from outside the lecture hall:
"Tony Snow, please step outside."
Heads turned across the classroom. Whether drowsy, attentive, or zoning out, every student shifted their attention to the door.
Even Professor Liu paused and turned to look. At the doorway stood three individuals in white shirts under neatly tailored blazers—clearly university officials.
They weren't just any officials either.
One was Dr. Howard Quinn, Dean of the School of Life Sciences, who also happened to be teaching Tony's foundational Molecular Biology course this semester.
The second was the Dean of the Department of Mathematics and Computer Science.
And the third—was the President of the University.
Professor Liu's brows furrowed. Not sure what was going on, he stepped off the podium and walked to the door.
"What's the matter?"
Dr. Quinn held a formal envelope in his hand. The front wasn't visible, so the sender remained unclear.
"Professor Liu, please excuse us. We need to speak with Tony in private." Dr. Quinn's tone was polite but firm.
Liu nodded, turned back to the class, and called out, "Tony Snow, please step out."
Every head in the room followed Tony as he packed up and walked to the front, a mix of whispers and speculation trailing behind him.
Outside, Tony recognized Dr. Quinn, but the other two men were unfamiliar. He looked at Quinn and asked calmly, "Is something wrong?"
"We'll talk in my office," said Dr. Quinn. "This way."
They led Tony to the Life Sciences administrative wing—Dr. Quinn's office was closest to the classroom.
Once inside, Dr. Quinn shut the door and handed Tony the envelope.
"This came in from Mathematical Advances," he said. "Oddly enough, it was sent to the university's central address and ended up routed to my office. I'm not sure why a mathematics journal is contacting a bioengineering undergrad, but when I saw the name of the journal—and yours—I reached out to the President and the Dean of Mathematics."
Tony blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected physical mail so soon.
"Huh. They sent it faster than I thought," he said, taking the envelope.
"You submitted a paper to Mathematical Advances?" the Dean of Mathematics asked, incredulous. "And it was accepted?"
"Yes," Tony replied calmly, beginning to open the letter. "I submitted it just before New Year's Eve. It got accepted about a month later, and I guess this letter is the follow-up."
Inside the envelope were three letters, all written in crisp, formal English.
The first one opened with:
Dear Mr. Snow,
Thank you for your submission to Mathematical Advances. We are pleased to inform you...
It was a standard editorial letter, acknowledging receipt, acceptance, and offering warm thanks. Tony skimmed it quickly and moved on to the second.
Dear Mr. Snow,
My name is Camillo De Lellis, editor-in-chief of Mathematical Advances and a current faculty member at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey...
Tony's eyes paused there.
...I was stunned to learn that you are only twenty-two years old. On behalf of the IAS, I would like to extend an invitation for you to join us in the United States as a visiting scholar. Should you wish to pursue further academic degrees—undergraduate, master's, or doctoral studies—we are more than willing to provide official letters of recommendation to the relevant institutions.
Tony's fingers gripped the paper a little tighter.
The Institute for Advanced Study (IAS). Located in Princeton, New Jersey, it's one of the world's foremost theoretical research centers—independent from Princeton University, but arguably more prestigious in its niche.
It had been home to Albert Einstein, John von Neumann, Kurt Gödel, and many other intellectual giants. An academic sanctuary.
Tony then turned to the third letter.
Dear Mr. Snow,
I am Jean-Benoît Bost, co-editor-in-chief of Mathematical Advances and a professor at Paris-Saclay University...
This letter, too, was full of praise.
...It would be an honor for us to have you consider Paris-Saclay for future research collaborations or advanced study. Should you wish to enroll in our graduate programs, we can provide formal endorsements and assist with your application process.
Paris-Saclay University. A leading science and engineering institution in Europe, particularly in natural sciences and medicine. It's the heart of research in France.
Two invitations. Two doors to elite research centers—one in the U.S., the other in Europe.
Tony set the letters down, silent for a moment.
Any one of these paths would be a career-changing opportunity.
But he couldn't accept them.
He placed the letters carefully back into the envelope, then walked over and dropped the envelope—neatly—into the recycling bin.
The three administrators watched him in stunned silence.
"You're... not going to respond?" Dr. Quinn finally asked.
Tony gave a quiet smile. "I appreciate their recognition. But I already have my path."
He didn't explain further.