I stare at Professor Larson, the words not quite registering. “Leia?” he says, his tone gentle. “I promise that it’s going to be fine. I’m spending all of next week discussing your research and dissertation with Professor Astor. Don’t you worry. Even though I’m retiring, I’ll still be available for any questions you might have, but I really don’t think you’ll need me. Professor Astor is a brilliant young man. He’s going to do an excellent job at supervising you, and he’s published several papers that are in line with your research. He might well be a better fit for you than I ever was.”
“No,” I say, my ears buzzing. “No. I don’t want to work with him.” My heart starts to race at the thought of having to see him every few days, and not in a good way. My breathing becomes a little quicker as panic threatens to overtake me, and I struggle to stay in control. He can’t become my advisor. I can handle seeing him every once in a while at occasions Amara might host, but I don’t want to have to work with him.
Professor Larson smiles at me gently. He’s been my PhD advisor for years now, and he didn’t even tell me he was planning to retire. Even worse, Thor is replacing him? It can’t be. This cannot be happening to me.
“Professor Astor will be able to provide you with any support you need, Leia. I promise you. None of the other faculty staff are a good fit for your subject. I stayed as long as I did because there was no one to replace me, but now there is.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand,” I tell him, scrambling to come up with an excuse. “He’s… he’s my best friend’s cousin. It would be inappropriate.”
Professor Larson crosses his arms and smiles at me. “What is the name of this college?” he asks me, and I grimace.
“Astor College.”
He nods. “Your best friend’s family owns this entire school. By that logic, either of you attending here would be inappropriate. We have rigid systems in place to prevent nepotism. You’re still going to have to defend your dissertation yourself, Leia. Let Professor Astor help you. He’s a good man, and his academic record is impressive. Besides, he’s powerful. Really powerful. Adrian Astor isn’t just Harold Astor’s grandson, he’s also made a fortune integrating machine learning with robotic prosthetics. The man is a genius. Having him in your corner would change your entire career. You’re both in biotech, and the two of you working together could lead to unprecedented changes in the industry. Being associated with him could open up doors for you that I can’t. He can shield you from some of the biases in the industry.”
I hear the words he isn’t saying. I’m a woman in a man’s field, and I’m a woman of color, at that. Having Adrian Astor’s name associated with mine would protect me from some of the bias and discrimination I often face. I get it, but I don’t have to like it. Why is it that no matter how hard I work, it’s never enough? Why do I need protection at all? Why can’t my work speak for itself? What does my gender or ethnicity matter?
I nod, defeated. Professor Larson will not budge, and he’s probably right. I can’t think of another professor that would be a good fit. I looked up Adrian Astor the moment I realized who he was, and his research is impressive. It’s not my exact subject since I focus on robotics in reproductive surgery, while he’s more of a generalist, but he’s likely to be a good advisor.
I’m lost in thought as I walk through the corridor, feeling conflicted. How could this happen to me? I spent two years thinking about this man, and now he suddenly invades every aspect of my life?
I can’t stomach the thought of seeing him on a weekly basis, but there’s no getting out of this. I always believed in fate, but this feels a lot like the cruel results of bad karma.
