Before entering the dormitory, Sri stopped walking.
“Haa…”
A sigh slipped out.
There was a name that had not left his mind all day.
‘Yu Seoha.’
A celebrity known to everyone at MIT.
When he recalled that the person he had been conversing with for a month was someone like that, his chest grew hot.
But he soon shook his head.
‘No. I have to think of my family.’
Sri’s hometown was Kumbakonam, in the Tamil Nadu region of South India.
A place where palm trees lined the narrow alleys in dense rows, and in the morning, the scent of chai filled the streets along with the sound of bells ringing from the temples.
When it rained, the dirt roads quickly turned to mud, and in the season when the sunlight beat down, everything on the ground grew scorching hot.
Kumbakonam was the city where Ramanujan had spent his childhood, and a holy land of Indian mathematics.
In the Tamil Nadu region, Ramanujan held a position close to that of a saint.
His photograph hung in school corridors, temples, and even grocery stores.
During exam season, students clasped their hands before his picture and prayed for their wishes. Even teachers would often say this to their students.
“May Ramanujan’s blessing be with you.”
Ramanujan was born into a poor family.
He received almost no formal education, yet left a distinct mark on the history of world mathematics. This narrative came to carry very powerful symbolism in the Kumbakonam region.
‘Even if you’re poor, if you’re good at math, you can succeed.’
Of course, the possibility of earning the respect of the world was also one of the powerful motivations.
His birthday, December 22, was designated as “Indian Mathematics Day,” and teachers would tell students anecdotes about him in class every chance they got.
Kumbakonam was not an economically affluent city.
But the story of Ramanujan, who overcame poverty and rose to the very top of the world, became a deep source of comfort and pride for the local residents.
That was why, when the people of this region saw a child talented in mathematics, they would not make that child work, no matter how difficult their circumstances were.
Just as Sri’s parents had done.
“Sri, don’t worry about anything and just study.”
The reason they placed their hopes in Sri was because he was a born genius.
“I heard Srinivasa placed in the top 100 again on the national exam, the NSTSE? And if you count only math, he was first?”
The number of exam takers in India was in the tens of millions.
Even among them, Sri stood out like a crane among chickens.
Though his parents struggled to make ends meet, they bought books for Sri even if it meant taking on debt.
That was why, when he applied to IIT, the Indian Institute of Technology, he had no choice but to agonize deeply.
‘Is it really all right for me to keep studying mathematics?’
Mathematics was joyful.
He wanted to follow in the footsteps of Ramanujan, whom he revered, and seek the truth. But wouldn’t that mean betraying the family that had sacrificed so much for him?
Engineering was stable.
If he simply graduated, he would be able to lift his family out of poverty.
It was only natural that Sri was accepted into IIT Bombay, which selected only 1,300 students nationwide.
Though his major was not mathematics.
IIT’s curriculum was infamous worldwide.
India’s finest talents gathered in one place and competed. If one fell behind in even a single subject, one was eliminated immediately.
Sri filled his grades in every subject with A’s.
In his remaining time, he attended mathematics lectures. Even while buried under engineering assignments, his heart still turned toward mathematics, like a lingering attachment he could not sever.
Then one day, shocking news reached his ears.
“Hey, did you hear? The four color theorem was solved! Not by computer calculation, but in a completely new way!”
“I saw it too. They said it was a thirteen-year-old kid?”
Sri immediately obtained the paper and read it.
“What on earth is this…”
A new idea that did not rely on existing methods.
Anyone who knew mathematics would recognize it.
‘So this is what a true genius is.’
Because of his own name and origins, Sri had heard more than a few people call him the reincarnation of Ramanujan.
But what nonsense. He snorted at the idea.
Surely a talent bestowed by heaven could not be something so trivial.
And now, that same Sri’s hands were trembling.
‘An insight as if I were looking at Ramanujan himself. Did God lend him a hand for a moment?’
The moment he saw the “Q.E.D.” on the final page, he could no longer endure it and buried his face in his desk.
Hot tears flowed down.
The emotion of having seen a perfect proof, and at the same time the misery surging up from deep within his heart. A torrent of many feelings whirled through him and violently shook Sri’s inner self.
“Sniff… sob…”
At last, he was able to cleanly let go of his lingering attachment to mathematics.
Click.
Sri looked at the monitor screen.
An email offering him a full scholarship and a research assistantship at MIT after graduating from IIT.
In engineering, a master’s degree was essential anyway. If so, it would be best to go to the United States.
Without hesitation, he sent a reply accepting the offer.
That had been two years ago.
‘I was sure I’d given it up…’
He looked back on the past month.
At four in the morning, Sri could not fall asleep. A hint someone had left behind would not leave his head.
After thinking for a long while, an idea suddenly came to him.
“Ah! So that’s what it meant!”
Sparks flew in his mind.
He immediately ran out of the dormitory and began madly writing equations on a blackboard.
On the way back after filling the entire blackboard, he bounced around like a child, overjoyed.
It was a joy he had forgotten for a long time, a swelling of the heart, and a fullness beyond words.
But a letter from his hometown brought him back to reality.
The news that his mother was ill. If only so she could receive treatment, he had to bring his family to America.
“To think it was Yu Seoha…”
The person who had generously helped him for more than a month.
Sri had thought he must be one of the mathematics professors.
‘He really is different.’
God had clearly granted him something special.
Thanks to him, Sri had been able to cut away his tenacious lingering attachment to mathematics.
But the one shaking his heart now was Seoha as well.
“Haha!”
It was an irony like a joke.
Laughter escaped him.
Sri shook his head and began polishing the report he had to submit by next week.
* * *
The dean’s office of the mathematics department.
Whitman offered Seoha chamomile tea he had brewed with care.
“Have some.”
“Thank you.”
A fresh fragrance rose faintly.
Seoha bowed politely and held the teacup with both hands.
“So, what research have you been doing lately?”
Since the colloquium, he had been calling Seoha in regularly for conversations.
He met with professors and students alike, but Seoha’s case was different.
‘I am the dean, after all. I should at least know what’s going on.’
In less than a year, Seoha had poured out astonishing research.
Three solo papers published in international journals.
In both importance and ripple effect, they were powerful enough to shake the landscape of academia.
“Ah! Something interesting happened recently!”
Seoha smiled brightly and began recounting an episode from Building 33.
Whitman listened with kindly eyes, as if hearing a story from his grandson.
“And then, would you believe it, that person…”
Seoha, thoroughly excited, explained what had happened over the past month with gestures mixed in.
“May I take a quick look at those?”
“Of course!”
Seoha took a bundle of papers from his bag.
Whitman adjusted his glasses and slowly read through the equations.
A little while later, he let out a sound like a sigh.
“Oh dear, you’ve gone and laid hands on another difficult problem…”
He did not know what sort of mystery it was, but Seoha drew difficult problems to himself.
It was as if there were a vast, invisible force of attraction within him, sucking the obstacles of mathematics into one place.
“It got incredibly fun as I worked on it. It would have been even better if I could have done it together with Sri, so that’s a bit of a shame.”
“That student, you said he was in the master’s program in mechanical engineering?”
“Yes.”
Whitman seemed to think about something.
“That young man is mistaken about something.”
“About what?”
Seoha’s eyes widened.
He liked this untainted purity of undergraduates.
“This research…”
When the long explanation ended, Seoha hurriedly left the office.
“That worked out well.”
Whitman sipped his tea in the empty office.
Srinivasa Krishnan.
A student they had only just managed to bring over after spending a long time on mechanical engineering. He too was a talent the school was watching closely.
There were no small number of students who gave up mathematics for economic reasons.
The more outstanding the student, the faster they would catch on.
Even if one mathematics paper shook the world, what always turned into money through patents was applied science—engineering, computers, bio, and the like.
Whitman believed that compared to the achievements Seoha had made, he had gained far too little.
‘It was always like that. In my day, the more talent you had, the poorer you became.’
He set down his teacup and smiled.
An era in which a mathematician could become astronomically wealthy. Just thinking about it made his heart tremble.
* * *
“Sri!”
Someone called his name loudly.
Since it had never happened before, Sri was startled.
“Seoha?”
A bright face, different from yesterday.
He was walking straight toward him.
“Sri! Would you like to research ‘minimum energy surfaces’ with me?”
“What?”
His mind went blank at the sudden proposal.
But somewhere deep in his chest, there was a version of himself cheering.
‘Yu Seoha came looking for me.’
When he tried to refuse, it felt as though his heart were being torn apart.
“As I said, I…”
“Professor Whitman said this research could make a lot of money! But after making the mathematical model, a patent absolutely has to be filed on the engineering side…”
“Huh?”
It was difficult to follow the conversation.
“So, Sri, won’t you help me? He said that if it goes well, it could be a patent that brings in tens of millions, even hundreds of millions of dollars every year.”
For a moment, Sri was speechless.
Tens of millions, even hundreds of millions of dollars?
Every year, at that?
The sum was so unreal that his mind went numb.
But if that was truly the case…
“Wh-what do you mean?”
His voice trembled.
Seoha sat down and relayed to him what Whitman had said.
Logistics, semiconductors, energy, defense, aviation, space…
If minimum energy surfaces could be implemented, there would be no field in engineering where they would not be used.
“What’s even more amazing is that this patent doesn’t require a long wait. The revenue structure appears immediately. So wouldn’t you be able to devote yourself to research with peace of mind too, Sri?”
“I need to consult with my professor. I came here on a scholarship, so I don’t know yet whether I’m allowed to do this.”
He received a full scholarship and a certain salary as a research assistant.
That was the contract Sri had made when he came to MIT. Most of his modest salary was being sent back to his hometown.
“Then shall we go together right now?”
“What? Uh… huh?”
Swept along by Seoha’s momentum, Sri moved toward the dean’s office.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
There were two people waiting inside: Thomas, the dean of mechanical engineering, and Whitman.
The moment Thomas saw Sri, he clasped his hand.
“I knew I had a good eye for people!”
“What?”
“Minimum energy surfaces, you say? Mechanical engineering can’t possibly be left out of research like this. If you need anything, just say the word!”
It was hard to grasp how the situation was unfolding.
But one thing was certain: he was allowed to conduct mathematical research together with Seoha, and without worrying about the future at that.
Something hot stirred inside him.
“Then we’ll start the research right away!”
Seoha took Sri with him and shot out of the room.
“…”
For a while, neither of the two men spoke. Then Whitman shrugged.
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“Is it truly possible? Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Seoha, I would have thought it was mere bluster.”
Thomas’s expression grew serious.
“I don’t know either. Difficult problems are called difficult for a reason. However…”
“He solved a Smale problem.”
“Seoha only does the research he wants to do. Thanks to that, physics is in very high spirits right now.”
“To be honest, I was a little jealous.
Because thanks to Seoha, papers have been pouring out in quantum chaos theory. The Boston Transportation Department also benefited tremendously, and I hear MIT’s Department of Urban Planning is using Seoha’s paper and algorithm as reference to create various models.”
Because of Seoha, a tectonic shift was occurring within the school.
But mechanical engineering had been thoroughly left out of that commotion.
“Let’s wait and see what happens. And as for the patent shares, just as I said…”
“Yes, of course. I won’t say another word.”
Patents arising within the university were divided three ways among the school, the department, and the inventor.
That was why Thomas was grinning from ear to ear.
“It was a good suggestion. Researching with Seoha will be stimulating for Sri as well. He is a truly important talent in our department.”
“Of course!”
Whitman laughed quietly.
‘If a student says he wants to come, we can’t stop him.’
Could someone with that much talent experience research with Seoha and then return to engineering?
Whitman decided to keep one opening for a doctoral position next year.