Page 25 of The Naughty Professor

Thorne- Five Years Later

The studio lights were warm, but not unpleasant. A PBS set always smelled faintly of coffee and nervous sweat — the byproducts of polite intellectualism.

Across from me sat Margot Weller, host of For the Love of Books, a woman whose smile could disarm a firing squad. My book, The Elixir, sat between us on the table, its gold-embossed title glinting beneath the cameras.

She tilted her head with a practiced curiosity interviewers cultivate after decades of asking clever people clever things.

“Dr. Carr,” she said, “your book explores the philosophical ramifications of your husband’s serum — now being used in clinical trials for PTSD and social anxiety.

It’s been called a revolution in human self-perception.

When you and Dr. Sterling first began this journey, did either of you imagine you’d be sitting here, five years later, with a New York Times bestseller and a pharmaceutical giant distributing his formula worldwide? ”

I smiled. “Honestly? Felix thought we’d be lucky to keep the university from suing us.”

The audience laughed softly.

Margot leaned forward. “You raise an interesting question in your book — about whether the act of altering personality is an act of liberation or self-betrayal. You even reference Kierkegaard’s notion of despair as ‘the sickness unto death.’ Do you think the serum can make us more ourselves, or merely different versions of ourselves? ”

Ah, philosophy on live television — my natural habitat.

“I think,” I said, “the serum doesn’t change who we are. It only removes the barriers we build against ourselves. The question isn’t whether it makes us different — it’s whether we were ever authentic to begin with.”

Margot’s brows lifted appreciatively. “Beautifully said.”

A producer waved discreetly behind the cameras — one last question.

Margot smiled. “Last one before we let you go. Did you ever want to take the serum yourself?”

For a moment, I let the silence breathe. I could feel the eyes of the crew, the hush of the audience, the anticipation curling in the air like incense.

Then I shook my head, smiling faintly. “No. I haven’t.”

“Never?”

“Never,” I said. “I’m happy with who I am — flaws, neuroses, and all.

But I believe the serum has therapeutic potential.

For those battling depression, trauma, anxiety — it’s hope in molecular form.

Felix and his research partner, Dr. Adrian Hargreaves, have given the world a new lens to see itself through. That’s more than enough.”

Margot smiled warmly. “Well, Dr. Carr, it’s been an honor. The Elixir is available wherever fine books are sold. Thank you for joining us.”

“Thank you for having me.”

The cameras dimmed, applause rose, and the floor manager signaled cut.

I exhaled, the tension slipping off me like a coat. Felix would’ve laughed if he’d seen me — his bookish husband, sitting under studio lights, pretending to be media-savvy.

When I stepped outside into the late-summer air, my car was waiting — a sleek electric thing Felix insisted on buying because it “felt scientific.” He was already inside, nose buried in his tablet, a half-empty coffee beside him.

He looked up as I slid in. “How’d it go?”

“Fine,” I said. “No one accused me of being boring, so that’s progress.”

Felix grinned, his silver wedding band catching the light. “You’re never boring. Stoic, maybe.”

I leaned over and kissed him — still tasting of coffee and peppermint. “You’re supposed to say brilliant.”

“I was getting there.”

He pulled out his tablet again, scrolling through headlines. “So, apparently, our joint research is trending on social media again. Users of the serum have created their own dating app so they will only date other people as “elevated” as they are.”

I groaned. “Of course they did.”

He smirked. “At least they credited us this time.”

Before I could reply, Felix’s phone buzzed. He groaned, fished it from his pocket, and rolled his eyes at the name flashing on the screen. “Oh God,” he muttered. “It’s Lux.”

“Answer it,” I said, grinning.

He sighed, then swiped. “Lux, darling, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Her voice exploded through the speaker. “Felix, baby! Guess who’s making her Broadway debut!”

Felix blinked. “You?”

“Oh, yes, honey. Me. ‘Burlesque: The Musical.’ Opening night is in three months. I’m playing the Cher role, but with more tits and fewer inhibitions.”

I could practically hear the sequins rustling through the phone.

“You’re going to be on Broadway?” I said, incredulous.

“Sweetheart, I am Broadway now. You bitches better be in the front row. I’m sending you VIP tickets — free, obviously, because you’re my emotional support academics.”

Felix chuckled. “Lux, you’re incredible.”

“I know. Oh! Want to hear a filthy joke?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “What’s long, hard, and full of—”

“Lux!” Felix interrupted, half laughing, half mortified.

“Fine, fine, I’ll save it for the curtain call. Anyway, wear something slutty-adjacent, both of you. Love you, byeee!”

The line went dead.

Felix was grinning like a fool, staring at the phone. “She hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Maybe she can’t,” I breathed.

He turned to me, his expression softening. “Yeah. She’s one of the few who never switched back.”

I nodded. Lux — Juniper, as she once was — had become a permanent fixture in our lives, both literally and philosophically.

I’d even devoted an entire chapter of The Elixir to her case.

My theory was simple but unsettling: for some people, the serum didn’t transform them into someone else — it revealed the self they were meant to be all along.

Lux hadn’t just become Lux. She’d been waiting to step out of Juniper’s shadow her entire life.

Of course, that wasn’t true for everyone. For some, the serum acted like a temporary spark — a chemical permission slip to live louder, braver, more vividly. When the effect faded, they went back to themselves, carrying only the memory of freedom.

And then there were… anomalies.

“I still can’t get over what happened to Joan Stanwyk,” Felix murmured, as if reading my thoughts.

I sighed. “Yes. No one expected that outcome from the serum.”

Joan — once the head of VCU’s Philosophy department — was now the self-anointed “Sister Joan of the Holy Glow.” She had a cable show, Salvation another transitioned without surgery. It’s rewriting the rules of identity and healing.”

I studied him for a long moment. His excitement was contagious, but beneath it, I saw something else — that flicker of hubris that always shadowed brilliant discoveries.

“Felix,” I took his hand in mine, “are you sure this serum is a good idea?”

* * *

I hope you loved The Naughty Professor as much as I loved writing it.