A Call from the Future Begged Me Not to Apply to Harvard Chapter 03

A Call from the Future Begged Me Not to Apply to Harvard Chapter 03

Half an hour later, Mark texted.

[I’m gone.]

I knew he’d taken the bait.

I didn’t reach out to either of them all summer.

In August, I packed my bags and moved into my dorm at the University of Michigan by myself.

My phone buzzed the moment I entered my dorm. It was Sam.

[Too bad you’re not at Harvard. You’re missing all my big wins.]

Big wins, all built on my research.

Before I could block her, another photo came through: Sam and Mark posing in front of Harvard’s shield, his hand on her shoulder and her arm around his waist, looking every bit like a couple.

I replied, [Wishing you two a lifetime of happiness.] Then I blocked them both.

I took my research files to my faculty advisor’s office.

Dr. Jonathan Miller lit up when he saw them.

“This is incredible. This project alone could put our department at the top of the national rankings.”

“When would you like to present it?”

The mysterious caller’s words echoed in my head.

*Don’t go to Harvard. On September 29 at ten a.m., Sam will present your research before you do.*

“I want the presentation scheduled for September 29 at ten a.m.,” I said.

On September 28, Harvard and the University of Michigan posted matching announcements on their websites.

[Tomorrow at 10:00 a.m., we will unveil new research by members of our first-year class.]

The internet exploded.

[Harvard and UMich are unveiling first-year research at the exact same time? Is this a showdown?]

[UMich is seriously overreaching. Going head-to-head with Harvard? They’re going to get crushed.]

An unknown number called. When I answered, Mark was on the other end.

He didn’t ask why I’d blocked him or explain his silence. He spoke as if nothing had happened.

“Emily, is UMich’s presentation tomorrow your work?”

“Listen to me. Don’t draw too much attention this early in the semester. Push it back a week.”

I played dumb. “What are you talking about? I haven’t submitted anything.”

Mark let out a breath. “Good. I’m just looking out for you. I’d hate to see research that good get rushed or overlooked.”

He wanted Sam to present first. That way I’d be the plagiarist.

I hung up without another word.

The next morning, both universities went live at the same time.

The internet went even wilder when the presentation titles appeared.

The topics matched perfectly.

The papers matched word for word.

The supporting research records matched perfectly.

Every last punctuation mark was identical.

[Wait. What? The content is identical. Only the names are different.]

[Someone copied. One of them stole the other’s work.]

Professors from both schools saw the live comments and halted both livestreams immediately.

The identical presentations became an online mystery that spread everywhere.

To keep the situation from spiraling, the two universities convened a joint academic review panel and scheduled a public verification session.

Dr. Miller called me into his office.

“Emily, what’s going on?”

“Is this project truly your own?”

“Yes.”

“Then why does Sam’s project look exactly like yours?”

“She stole my research.”

“Do you have proof?”

“Dr. Miller, I can’t explain yet.”

“But I promise I won’t let this university be dragged into a scandal over something I didn’t do.”

Dr. Miller narrowed his eyes.

“You picked that date on purpose. You knew Harvard was presenting that day. Didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

His assistant knocked.

“The joint panel has booked a conference room at the Harborview Hotel in Boston. They want all of us there tomorrow afternoon.”