Part III

    The mahogany and leather permeated the air just as they did the eye.  Dean of Academics, Matthew James Barton sat behind the desk that prominently bore his name.  Curly, gray hair ringed his balding head over thin reading glasses.  His voice crackled behind the file that had become stocked with under two years of information. Other senior faculty members and trustees stood to the side, all focused on one subject.
    "...of such conduct has been presented before me.  This institution has prided itself in the leading forefront of all academia.  The level of excellence we strive for is one of unfaltering steadfastness.  We cannot, for one moment, let ourselves fancy the whims of one student who has turned from his studies to pursue science fiction.  You have seen the results of our leading researchers and none have corroborated your theories, to even call them such.  Therefore, it is my decision to concur with the rest of the faculty present and to remove you from this institution permanently.  It is also my further direction that all record of your embarrassment to the legacy that has been passed down to us be wiped from our history.  Mr. Jarvis Alton Bertstrum, on this day, the 22nd of March of 1997, you are hereby expelled from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for willful dereliction of studies, misuse of school funds and property, and violation of school code of ethics.  All research, documents, transcripts, and records directly or indirectly related to your time here will be summarily destroyed.  You will retrieve only your personal belongings immediately and be escorted off the premises.  The decision is made."
    Jarvis stood in barely able to breath.  His eyes had become bloodshot in anger but he had not cried.  His hands hung limply by his side, slightly shaking as he used every ounce of his bearing to hear his education, his work, and his life destroyed in front of him.  He watched the Dean hand his file to the secretary.  She took it and parted through the people standing and he saw the cart of boxes behind them.  She opened the top one, laid his file inside and closed.  He hadn't cried because he wouldn't.  It could have come easily under the circumstances had he been in any less state of mind.  Not a single tear had dropped.  He had not said a word in denial or apology.  He had not spoken even when given the chance for final remarks.  He had no need to because he knew he was right.