Chapter 7

Whitfield has no answer. What can he say? That he does not want it to be true? That he spent thirty years chasing this problem, and a 10-year-old from Roxbury beat him to it?They return to the auditorium. The crowd falls silent instantly."Ladies and gentlemen," Dr. Park's voice echoes. "After review, the judges' panel has determined that Elijah Brooks's proof requires further examination by external experts. However, our preliminary assessment suggests the work is highly credible."Applause starts, builds. People are standing now. Whitfield sits motionless in his chair."Due to the significance of this development, we are invoking Rule 47 of the symposium charter."The rule appears on the screen behind her: In cases of exceptional discovery, the presenter may be invited to defend their work in front of the full academic assembly."Elijah, would you be willing to present your proof in detail tomorrow morning, with question and answer from the full conference faculty?"In the green room, Elijah watches on a monitor. His face drains of color. Tomorrow is the professional track: real mathematicians, doctoral candidates, postdocs, not students. If he says yes, he will stand in front of six hundred experts and defend his work against people who have spent decades studying this problem.If he succeeds, he will be the youngest person to solve an open problem in modern mathematics history. If he fails, the entire world will watch him fall apart.His phone buzzes. Dr. Okonkwo: You can say no. No one will think less of you.His thumbs hover over the keyboard. Then he types back: Will Dr. Whitfield have to apologize if I'm right?The response comes instantly: In front of everyone.Elijah takes a breath, walks back onto the stage. "Yes, ma'am. I'll do it."The crowd roars. But Elijah is not looking at them; he is looking at Whitfield. And Whitfield is looking back.Fourteen hours. That is how long Elijah has to prepare for the most important presentation of his life.7:00 p.m. Community Math Center, Roxbury.Dr. Okonkwo sits across from Elijah at a scratched-up table. Between them, his notebook lies open. She is not being gentle tonight; there is no time for gentle."What if they ask about non-Hausdorff topologies?"Elijah blinks. "I don't know what that means."

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