Nicholas's Story
Copyright© 2025 by writer 406
Chapter 16
Then came the biggest shock of them all.
The Pulitzer.
Columbia University called Nicholas to inform him that he had won the prize for General Non-Fiction. The woman on the phone had a formal, careful voice, as if she’d made this call many times before and understood its impact.
“Mr. Carter? This is Margaret Soler from the Pulitzer Prize Board. I’m pleased to inform you that your book, ‘The Excellence of Ordinary Things,’ has been awarded this year’s Pulitzer Prize for General Non-Fiction.”
Nicholas was in the anthropology lab when the call came, working on research with Dr. Thompson. He listened quietly, asked a few clarifying questions about the award ceremony and what would be expected of him, thanked her, and hung up.
Dr. Thompson looked at him curiously. “Important call?”
“Apparently, I won the Pulitzer Prize for Non-Fiction,” he said, the information still processing in his mind.
Her eyes widened. “Holy shit, Nicholas! That’s ... that’s extraordinary!”
He nodded. “They’re announcing it publicly tomorrow. There’s a ceremony in May.”
Dr. Thompson studied him for a moment, then smiled. “You’re taking this very calmly.”
“It’s unexpected,” he admitted. “I’m not sure what to make of it yet.”
“Well, while you figure that out, the rest of us will be appropriately stunned on your behalf,” she said, shaking her head in amazement. “A Pulitzer Prize-winning undergraduate. The university is going to lose its goddamned mind.”
She was right about that.
Dr. William Hargrove, president of the university, was in a meeting with the Board of Trustees when his assistant interrupted with a note. The board members watched as he read it, his eyebrows rising visibly.
“Gentlemen, ladies, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment,” he said, pushing back from the table. “I’ve just received some extraordinary news that requires immediate attention.”
In the anteroom outside the boardroom, he turned to his assistant. “Are you certain about this?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “Columbia just contacted the university communications office for biographical information and an official statement. They’re announcing it tomorrow. Nicholas Carter has won the Pulitzer Prize for General Non-Fiction. One of the youngest winners in history.”
Dr. Hargrove ran a hand through his silver hair, mentally calculating the implications. A Pulitzer Prize-winning student—not a faculty member, not an alumnus, but a current undergraduate. It was unprecedented in the university’s 127-year history.
“Where is he now? Carter?”
“According to his schedule, he should be in the anthropology lab with Dr. Thompson. He has a research appointment until five.”
“Call Dr. Thompson’s lab. Ask Mr. Carter to come to my office as soon as possible. And get Dean Richards from Arts and Sciences, Provost Matthews, and Michaels from University Communications up here immediately.”
Within thirty minutes, his office had transformed into an impromptu command center. Dean Richards, a portly man whose academic specialty in medieval literature seemed at odds with his administrative efficiency, was already discussing potential events to celebrate the achievement. Provost Matthews, ever the strategist, was considering how this prestige might benefit upcoming accreditation reviews. And Michaels from Communications was drafting press releases, his fingers flying over his laptop keyboard.
“This is a transformative moment for the university,” Dr. Hargrove told them. “A current undergraduate winning the Pulitzer—it’s an extraordinary validation of our educational mission. We need to leverage this appropriately.”
“The development office will want to include this in the capital campaign materials,” Provost Matthews noted. “Donors respond to this kind of prestige marker.”
“Academic Affairs should organize a symposium,” suggested Dean Richards. “Perhaps invite other Pulitzer winners. Make it a major intellectual event.”
“The media interest will be significant,” Michaels added. “We’ll need to coordinate interview requests, prepare talking points for university leadership...”
The discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door. Dr. Hargrove’s assistant announced, “Mr. Carter is here, sir.”
The room fell silent as Nicholas entered. He’d come directly from the lab, wearing jeans and a university sweatshirt, a notebook under his arm, as always. He nodded to the assembled group.
“Mr. Carter,” Dr. Hargrove said, stepping forward to shake his hand vigorously. “Congratulations on this extraordinary achievement! A Pulitzer Prize—it’s remarkable!”
“Thank you, sir,” he replied.
“We were just discussing how the university might celebrate this honor,” he continued. “The Pulitzer brings tremendous prestige, not just to you personally, but to the entire university community.”
Nicholas nodded, unsure what was expected of him. The administrators were looking at him with expressions ranging from pride to calculation. He’d suddenly transformed from an ordinary student into a valued asset of the institution.
“We’d like to organize a major event,” Dean Richards explained eagerly. “A formal reception, perhaps a special lecture where you could discuss your work...”
“And the media interest will be substantial,” interrupted Michaels. “The university communications office can help manage interview requests, prepare you for questions...”
Nicholas listened to their plans cascading over one another, each administrator building on the previous one’s ideas, envisioning increasingly elaborate celebrations. It was clear they viewed the Pulitzer primarily through an institutional lens—as something that enhanced the university’s reputation, that could be leveraged for fundraising and recruitment, that positioned them favorably against peer institutions.
When there was finally a pause, he spoke quietly. “I appreciate the university’s support. But I’d prefer to keep things simple. My focus remains on completing my studies.”
Dr. Hargrove’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly. “Of course, of course. Your academic work is the priority. But surely you understand the significance of this honor? The Pulitzer is one of the most prestigious awards in American letters. The university has never before had a current student achieve this distinction.”
“I understand it’s significant,” he acknowledged. “I’m just not comfortable with elaborate celebrations centered around me personally.”
The administrators exchanged glances, clearly recalibrating their approach.
“Perhaps,” suggested Provost Matthews, “we could focus on the ideas in your book rather than your personal achievement? A symposium on the philosophy of work and excellence, for instance?”
That seemed more reasonable. “That would work,” Nicholas agreed. “The book is about recognizing excellence in others, not about drawing attention to myself.”
Dr. Hargrove, ever the politician, smoothly adjusted to this compromise. “Excellent suggestion, Provost. Mr. Carter, we’ll develop plans along those lines and consult with you before finalizing anything. In the meantime, the university will need to prepare a statement for the press. The announcement comes tomorrow, correct?”
He nodded.
“Well,” the president said, extending his hand again, “let me simply say, on behalf of the entire university community, how proud we are of your achievement. Winning the Pulitzer as an undergraduate is truly extraordinary.”
After a few more minutes of discussion, Nicholas was able to extricate himself from the meeting. As he left the administration building, he noted with some irony how the Pulitzer had transformed him in their eyes. Before, he had been an unusual but ultimately peripheral student. Now he was a valuable institutional symbol, to be carefully managed and leveraged.
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