Chapter 909 - 908: Sheldon: “You Reported My ID!”

Medical Center

Adam bumped into the future Principal Hibbert—what a delightful surprise!

"Dr. Hibbert, I've got a really good friend working on his theoretical physics PhD at Caltech right now. It's his second doctorate, actually," Adam said with a smile. "I'd appreciate it if you could keep an eye out for him when you're there."

"A theoretical physics PhD—and a double doctorate?" Hibbert's eyes widened. "A close friend of yours, Dr. Duncan, so he's probably young. That kind of achievement? He's gotta be a genius. I love geniuses. Everyone does! They're great for drumming up donations. Sure, they're not the final push… but the more of them, the merrier. And since you're asking, I'll definitely look out for him."

"He's a legit super-genius," Adam nodded, then added a heads-up. "But he's got a quirky personality. Some say he's got a beautiful soul. Others call him a troublemaker. Most just think he's bananas—cuckoo—and don't bother with him. As for fundraising with his name? I'd steer clear if I were you."

"Why not?" Hibbert frowned.

Fundraising was his pride and joy—his ace in the hole. Genius scientists were perfect poster kids for universities, and he wasn't about to let any opportunity slip. It was practically a reflex for him. Without that hustle, he wouldn't have climbed the career ladder so fast at such a young age. Now he was on the verge of running a top-ten private research university in the U.S.—this was his thing. He needed details.

"Alright, picture this," Adam said, grinning. "I'll walk you through what'd happen if you invited him to a fundraising gala. First off, he'd say no. Flat-out call it 'beneath him.' He'd refuse to be paraded around like some prize pig at a Texas fair—"

"Ridiculous!" Hibbert's face darkened, cutting in. "Sure, universities have to humble themselves sometimes to rake in cash. But if it weren't for us fundraisers busting our butts, those scientists would be starving! Who isn't a PhD around here? Our sacrifices for the greater good contribute just as much to science as they do!"

Adam nodded along, secretly thinking, In Sheldon's eyes, you're not even a scientist—just some hack churning out bathroom-reader pop-sci books.

"I get it," Adam said aloud, keeping the peace. "So, he'd resist, but you'd pull rank and order him to show up. Then he'd dodge it with excuses—'I'm at a breakthrough in my research, can't leave now,' that sort of thing. Total chaos. If he finally went, that's when the real fun starts.

"He's got a germ thing—won't shake hands with donors. And he's brutally honest. He'd look them dead in the eye and say, 'I'm just here for your money—I'm not touching your germ-riddled hands.' Don't doubt his bluntness. This is the guy who'd argue with the IRS over a few bucks in back taxes. After that, you'd never invite him to another one of your shindigs."

"That weird, huh?" Hibbert's jaw dropped.

He'd seen his share of oddball academics, but Adam's rundown of Sheldon was next-level unbearable.

"Yup, that weird," Adam sighed. "That's why I'm asking you to cut him some slack."

"Is he doing it on purpose?" Hibbert scowled. "If he's that brilliant, he's gotta have been dragged to fundraisers before. Acting like that—how'd he even get his degrees?"

Hmmm. If Hibbert had to deal with a guy like that, he'd sabotage him every chance he got.

"He's been stupidly lucky," Adam explained. "Started college at eleven—youngest genius on campus. The principal hauled him to a fundraiser, and he met this science-obsessed entrepreneur who loved his honesty. Dr. Hibbert, how many donors do you know who'd tack on extra zeros to their checks after getting roasted?"

"Never met one," Hibbert grumbled.

"Thought so," Adam chuckled. "Anyway, I'm just asking you to go easy on him for my sake. Quirks aside, he's a legit prodigy—Nobel Prize material down the line."

"Heh," Hibbert gave a dry laugh. "Dr. Duncan, I hear you. I'll keep an eye on him."

He'd heard "teen genius" hype a million times—few ever made it to the Nobel stage. As for Adam's plea? Eh, he'd half-ass it. Like the UT Austin president, Hibbert saw a rare unicorn like that as a fundraising goldmine. He was sure he could tame this oddball for his own ends.

"Dr. Hibbert," Adam said, raising an eyebrow with a knowing look. "You might wanna get checked out—heart disease, cardiovascular stuff, maybe ulcers. Just saying."

Since Hibbert didn't seem keen on doing him this favor, Adam wasn't about to push. With Sheldon's brain, if he got fed up, he'd thrive anywhere. Plus, in this timeline, with Adam and Peggy egging him on, Sheldon's academic feats had already outstripped his original timeline by miles.

"Why?" Hibbert tensed up, suddenly alarmed. "Dr. Duncan, did you spot symptoms or something?"

"Nah," Adam shook his head, deadpan. "Look at you—running a top-ten private research uni at your age. That screams workaholic. You said it yourself: a principal's big job is fundraising. To woo those donors, you've gotta grind yourself into the ground. Your face? Pale, tired, a little sensitive to light, weird flush, rash on your neck… You've been killing yourself for this gala gig.

"Sometimes, for the hustle, popping pills to keep going makes sense. But overdo it, and if you've got heart issues, vascular problems, or ulcers? Boom—sudden death territory."

"…" Hibbert's flush deepened, a dizzy spell hitting him. He braced against the wall.

He wasn't some clueless schmuck—he had a PhD, for crying out loud. Adam's "hint"—more like a neon sign—was crystal clear. If he didn't get it, he'd be an idiot. Right now, if he knew Sheldon, he'd wish he could be as oblivious as him.

Getting called out—by a doctor, no less—for overusing "energy boosters"? Mortifying.

(End of Chapter)