The office had barely changed since Lucien's last visit three months earlier. Bookshelves covered nearly every wall. Not only psychology journals. The shelves held volumes on philosophy, biology, neuroscience, statistics, anthropology, and law. Several were even filled with unpublished research reports.
Near the window stood a large whiteboard covered with diagrams, arrows, and handwritten notes in different colors of ink. On the desk, stacks of journal manuscripts occupied almost half of the old oak surface.
Not a single pile was neatly arranged.
And yet... Morgan always knew exactly where every sheet of paper was.
Professor Alistair Morgan was reading a manuscript through a pair of half-rimmed glasses. Without looking up, he said, "You're three minutes late."
"Traffic."
"That's a rather uninteresting excuse." Morgan closed the manuscript.
Only then did he raise his head. The lines around his eyes had grown deeper over the years. The black hair that had once dominated his appearance was now almost entirely silver. But his smile... Hadn't changed at all.
"Good morning, Lucien."
"Good morning, Professor."
Morgan stood and offered his hand.
Lucien shook it.
"Three months."
"Yes."
"Quite a long time."
"It's harder to reschedule a board meeting than a psychological evaluation."
Morgan chuckled, "That sounds like something a CEO would say."
A faint smile appeared on Lucien's face.
"Coffee or tea?"
"Tea."
"I thought so." Morgan walked toward a small table in the corner of the office. His movements were calm and familiar. As though preparing tea had become an essential part of every evaluation session they shared.
"Claire called me last night."
Lucien rubbed his temple "I suspected she would."
"Your mother was very happy."
"She was."
"She talked for twenty-three minutes."
Lucien looked at him "You timed her?"
"I was boiling water."
"So you had time."
"You know what your mother is like." Morgan laughed quietly, "She showed me your pictures."
"I hope it was only one."
"Fifteen."
Lucien let out a long sigh "That's still fewer than I expected."
Morgan laughed even harder "It's good to see you still have a sense of humor."
"I think I inherited that from Mother."
"Quite possibly."
Each of them carried a cup of tea back to the desk.
Silence settled between them for a while.
Not awkward.
Comfortable.
Their relationship had lasted far too many years to require small talk.
Morgan studied Lucien for a few seconds "You look more relaxed."
Lucien raised an eyebrow "Do I?"
"There's almost no tension in your jaw."
Lucien smiled faintly "You haven't even started the evaluation yet."
Morgan smiled back "I'm not evaluating you. I'm observing. The difference is often difficult to tell. That's because you've been my research participant for too long."
Lucien nodded in agreement.
Morgan picked up a thin folder from his desk. But instead of opening it immediately, he asked, "How is the second-generation study coming along?"
Lucien understood what he meant. For the past few years, he had occasionally reviewed manuscripts before publication not as a researcher, but as a critical reader who understood BDT from the perspective of a long-term participant.
"I read the latest draft."
"And?"
"There's one section I think is too bold."
Morgan smiled "Which one?"
Lucien opened his briefcase. He pulled out several pages covered with handwritten notes.
Morgan chuckled "You still mark up other people's manuscripts."
"It's better to mark them before they're published."
"Go ahead."
Lucien opened one page.
"Here." He pointed to a paragraph. "The team wrote..." «'Dominance Orientation is positively correlated with a tendency to assume decision-making authority.'»
Morgan nodded. "That's what the statistical analysis showed."
"I know." Lucien continued, "But I think readers will misunderstand it."
"Why?"
"Because people will interpret assuming decision-making authority as wanting to control others."
Morgan didn't answer immediately. He took the manuscript back. Read the paragraph carefully. Then nodded "That's a fair point. The data doesn't actually say that."
"No." Lucien continued, "What the data shows is participants with high Dominance Orientation are more likely to make decisions when they believe no one else is taking sufficient responsibility.
"That's different." A satisfied smile spread across Morgan's face.
"Exactly."
"The difference seems subtle."
"But scientifically..."
"...it's enormous."
Lucien nodded "One poorly written sentence can change the way the public understands an entire theory."
Morgan picked up his pen. Without hesitation, he crossed out the original sentence. Then rewrote several words.
"You know..." Morgan said while continuing to write, "...this is exactly why I still ask you to review our drafts."
Lucien looked at him "Because I'm a participant?"
"No." Morgan shook his head "It's because you always ask..."
«'Will readers understand what we're actually trying to say?'»
"That's a question surprisingly few researchers ask."
Lucien smiled "Perhaps because I've been on the reader's side."
Morgan set down his pen.
"Precisely."
Silence returned to the office.
Morgan took another sip of his tea.
"Fifteen years."
Lucien nodded.
"Yes."
"I only just realized you're now almost the same age Cedric was when I first met him."
Lucien leaned forward slightly "You rarely talk about those days."
Morgan smiled faintly "Not because I'm trying to keep them secret. But because most people misunderstand how this research actually began."
He walked toward one of the bookshelves. Then took down an old photo album. Its cover had grown worn with age. Across the front, in simple lettering, were the words:
Behavioral Dominance Research Group
Morgan opened it. The first photograph showed a cramped laboratory. Only four desks. Two large computers. And dozens of archive boxes.
"That was our first laboratory."
Lucien studied the photograph.
"It's very small."
"Very." Morgan smiled.
"Back then, the research didn't even have a name."
"There was no such thing as Dominant."
"No Submissive."
"No Switch."
"No Neutral."
"All we had were..." He pointed toward the stacks of folders visible in the photograph "...hundreds of interview transcripts."
Morgan sat down again.
"Lucien."
"Yes."
"In your opinion how is a psychological theory born?"
Lucien thought for several seconds "When there's a recurring pattern that existing theories can't explain."
Morgan smiled.
"That's the textbook answer."
"And your answer, Professor?"
Morgan laughed softly, "A theory is born because someone is stubborn enough to keep questioning what everyone else accepts as ordinary."
He looked out the window.
"I first met Cedric Ashford during a leadership seminar."
"Everyone admired him."
"A calm leader."
"Visionary."
"Responsible."
"I thought the same."
Morgan paused "Until I met Eleanor."
Lucien listened without interrupting.
"She looked happy."
"She never cried."
"She never argued."
"She never complained."
Morgan nodded slowly, as though reliving memories from decades ago "But whenever someone asked her a question... Cedric almost always answered first."
"Not because he wanted to belittle her."
"In fact, quite the opposite."
"He genuinely believed he was helping his wife."
Morgan let out a quiet sigh "That was the first time I ever asked myself... Is it possible for someone to love sincerely... while unknowingly leaving less and less room for the person they love to choose for themselves?"
The office fell silent once again.
"At the time..." Morgan spoke quietly, "...it was only a question. Not a conclusion. Not even a hypothesis. Just curiosity, and that curiosity eventually led us to hundreds of other families."
He looked at Lucien.
"The Ashford family was never the proof of my theory. They were simply one of the families that made me realize the question was worth investigating."
Lucien nodded slowly. Now he understood more clearly why Morgan always rejected the media's claim that Cedric was 'the origin of BDT.'
To a scientist... One case could never give birth to a theory. A theory wasn't built upon a single family. It was built upon patterns that emerged across many different lives.
Morgan slowly closed the photo album.
"And after seven years..."
"...we finally found a pattern that was consistent enough."
He smiled faintly.
"Not an answer. Just a pattern."