Chapter 38 - THE PROFESSOR WHO NEVER FORGOT
The following morning, the group left before sunrise. Jonathan Hale's address led them to a quiet community college on the edge of a neighboring town. The campus was small, its brick buildings weathered but well maintained. Students crossed the courtyard carrying backpacks and notebooks, unaware that the visitors arriving that morning were searching for memories nearly a quarter of a century old.
Jonathan Hale was waiting outside the engineering workshop.
He stood beside an old metal workbench, wearing a denim jacket dusted with fine steel filings. His gray hair was neatly combed, and safety glasses rested on top of his head. Before greeting anyone, he watched Daniel carefully.
"You have Martin's eyes," he said.
Daniel smiled politely.
"I've been told that."
Jonathan nodded once.
"He looked at machines the same way he looked at people."
Ryan frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"He always believed every flaw had a cause."
Jonathan welcomed them inside the workshop. The room was filled with student projects—small engines, gearboxes, robotic arms, and unfinished mechanical designs. Unlike the sophisticated laboratory Daniel had imagined, it felt practical and alive.
Samuel looked around.
"You've stayed close to engineering."
Jonathan smiled.
"I promised Martin I never would leave it."
Daniel looked surprised.
"You made promises to my father?"
Jonathan walked toward a cabinet and removed an old attendance book.
"No."
He placed it gently on the table.
"I made promises to myself after watching what happened to him."
Inside the attendance book were names of students from the past thirty years. Beside many names Jonathan had written short notes.
Excellent listener.
Honest under pressure.
Needs confidence.
Protects teammates.
Richard noticed immediately.
"These aren't academic evaluations."
Jonathan shook his head.
"No."
"They're character observations."
Daniel smiled faintly.
"My father would have approved."
Jonathan looked at him.
"I hoped one day you'd say that."
For the next two hours, Jonathan described Martin Cross not as a tragic figure, but as a mentor who believed technical skill meant very little without integrity. Every apprentice had been expected to question unsafe decisions, even when those decisions came from supervisors.
"He never wanted followers," Jonathan said.
"He wanted people who could think for themselves."
Daniel quietly wrote the sentence into his notebook.
He had come searching for history.
May you like
Instead, he was discovering the values that had shaped it.
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