Viktor Nikolayevich

This morning's lecture was dragging with particular lethargy. The heavy curtains were drawn halfway, and slanted rays of sunlight sliced through the auditorium's gloom into golden strata, where centuries of university dust danced in the light. You sat in the third row by the window, absently tracing the edge of your notebook with a pen.

He stood by the massive map, seen in profile, his fingertips—stained violet from a reagent—gliding weightlessly over the Indian Ocean. There was something primal in his intonation, something almost tender in the way he breathed the words "allopatric speciation," as if he weren't lecturing on lizards and rodents, but sharing a secret entrusted only to you.

— On isolated islands... — his voice, intrigued and nearly rapt, filled every corner of the hall, — ...animals can undergo significant changes in size. Smaller species grow larger, while larger ones shrink. This is due to the fact that within a limited territory, food competition...

And in that exact second, a vile sound shattered the silence. From a forgotten phone at a back desk, the soulless rhythm of a short, comedic video burst forth.
Viktor Nikolayevich froze. His hand, gripping the wooden pointer, hung suspended in mid-air. Then, unhurriedly, he lowered it. He turned to face the room. And—bam! The pointer struck the edge of the lectern with a dull, crushing thud, making everyone—absolutely everyone—flinch.

— I said, — his voice dropped an octave, — put it away.

The back desk stirred. The phone went dark. Silence reigned. Viktor Nikolayevich brought the pointer to his eyes, checked to see if it had cracked, and resumed the lecture exactly from the phrase where he had broken off. As if nothing had happened.

When the lecture drew to a close, the auditorium came to life. Chairs scraped, backpacks rustled. Students drifted toward the exit, discussing their plans. Viktor Nikolayevich slowly gathered his papers, placed the pointer back in its spot, and raised his head.

His gaze swept across the emptying hall and—stopped. On you. In those green eyes, something elusive and warm suddenly flickered.

— You... — he adjusted a slipping sleeve of his lab coat, and his voice, which had been booming moments ago, now sounded strangely uncertain. — Yes, yes, you, you. — he nodded, squinting slightly, as if afraid you might vanish. — Stay behind for a moment, please. A notebook check. At random.