The world learns his name

With the help of Control over Emotions, Michael's face remained spirited. The eyes of the women in the room, on the other hand, turned watery.

The young journalist slowly stood up, lost in his own thoughts. He collected himself after a few long seconds and said in a thick voice, as if Michael had saved his life, "Thank you."

Michael opened his mouth to break into another speech but opted not to. Perhaps it was better to let everyone think for themselves.

"Yeah," he exhaled.

After a few more questions, the press-release was over. Despite the irritating interference from Russia, it was a success.

The reporters up and left, drafting articles in their taxis or recording audio while driving. When Michael saw how many people had to rent cars to get here, he gave a mental kick to Dimitri and Alex to hurry up with project Striptease. Without it, his revolutionary Uber-inspired app DestiniGo was incomplete.

And then came the parents. After a solid hour of shaking hands and posing for photos, Michael's face hurt from smiling. Seeing that only Sofia's father was left, Michael invited him to chat in a more comfortable environment.

"Lead the way, please!" the easy-going diplomat laughed.

"Go have some rest, Michael. Well done," Graves gave him a thumbs up.

Sofia pouted and excused herself. Rather than listening to her father talk shop, she wanted to meet with Anna sooner.

Left alone, Michael and Sofia's father, Mr. Tsvetkov, found an empty lounge. Unlike most school buildings, this one was designed for visits and festivities. Instead of desks and blackboards, every room had cushy armchairs and elegant tables.

"I wanted to thank you again for taking care of my daughter, Mr. North," the Bulgarian began.

"Didn't you call me by my name earlier today when we met?" Michael closed his eyes and pressed himself into the armchair's back. The day was tiring like no other.

"Ha-ha, my apologies. You've made an impression since then. Sofia… she looks up to you. I've always been more of a role model for her than her mother, so she's used to following men who are often on camera. You're a good choice."

'Is he arranging a marriage? What is happening?' Michael panicked.

"I meant to ask you to give her an internship. We look down on nepotism in Bulgaria, so I can't arrange one for her without a backlash. Perhaps some sort of public position in North Lingua? She's well-versed in politics and can be of help."

Ah. Not a marriage.

"I don't mind, sir, but I'll need to talk to her first."

The older man was full of smiles, "There's no need to pay her too much. The million dollars you gave her already increased our family's finances by a good chunk."

"Yes, I've noticed Sofia doesn't appreciate the value of money. I'll take care of it."

"Thank you," Tsvetkov nodded. "Oh! After that harassment from the Russian reporter, would you like a piece of advice from an old diplomat?"

Michael raised an eyebrow.

…

Later that day, article after article came out.

"The first Alter promises to cure cancer!"

"Everything you need to know about Alters, recapped."

"Know a rare or dead language? Time to earn money!"

"North Medical and North Lingua – companies of the future or useless flops?"

"If they cannot beat everyone else, there's no point for North Medical to exist! Michael North offers a competition to the world!"

"Alters grow in strength. A looming danger?"

"Healing a scar in front of witnesses – how powerful are the people changed by the comet?"

"Cancer research is now public: all you need to know about the mankind's biggest step to curing the disease so far."

"Superpowers are real – yet another proof from the ancestor of Alters."

"North Lingua offers an easy way to make money. All you need is an Internet connection and a dictionary."

"The young replacing the old: the first Alter Michael North cannot be stopped!"

Among others, there was a new entry in a moderately popular independent blog "Morning Star". It usually posted stories that made people think, and this one wasn't an exception.

"Good morning. Big news here. I quit my job today. From now on, this blog will be my life. I will continue to bring you the most biting stories, full time.

Why, you ask? Why risk a stable income for something that might not work out? Because if it does, I will know I've made a difference.

Sometimes, we can find inspiration in the smallest things. The neighbor's child smiles at you in the elevator. You put on a shirt, and then realize it's your father's – and it fits. You prepare a gift for your girlfriend on your 50-day anniversary without warning her, only to find out she's prepared one for you, too. When you've forgotten your wallet, and a local drunk casually hands you some change. It's a pity these flashes of inspiration cannot last us for long.

I hate it when my editor tells me what to do, which tone to choose, whom I can't offend. Six years ago, my heart was full of hope. Investigative reporting was why I got up in the morning and stayed up late at night. But with the limits and constraints, the spark has gone, and lately I've been struggling to motivate myself.

I've met a young man today, whose words have moved me to pursue another path. 'I want to show everyone the difference one man can make,' he said.

'Am I making a difference?' I asked myself. And the answer was, no. Not enough.

I know what you're thinking. Not everyone is meant to change the world. But there's no need for that! Start with your surroundings. Raise your child right. Treat your workers or colleagues with respect. Write that book you've planned out in your head. Sign up for a course. Run for a local political body. Donate to charity.

Also, unless your job is eating you alive, you should probably keep it. If it is, fuck it! Resign!

And yes, I said 'fuck'. Starting today, I'm allowed to."

The young journalist Michael had healed posted the short article and leaned back in his chair. Now that his press pass was called off, he would have to try harder to get interviews.

For some reason, he felt nothing but excitement.

…

Most news websites ran one or more stories about Michael that evening.

Many TV channels broadcasted his speech. After the original content was shown on the large channels, the small ones stole and played it with their own commentary.

Michael was too active to ignore.

Telling everyone about Alters?

Helping Alters via the Internet?

Producing games?

Funding cancer research?

Becoming a self-made multimillionaire?

And all that at 15 years old?

Genius!

Ironically, there was another piece of news that barely made the headlines. It spoke about a teenager Mikhail Severniy legally changing his name to Michael North.

Some editors scratched their heads in confusion: wasn't Michael North his real name? Others scoffed at it, thinking it was just some wannabe copycat mistaken for the real one. After all, there were hundreds of Beyonces and Eminems walking the streets.

Mr. Tsvetkov's advice turned out to be rather ingenious. Since Michael branded his companies with the North name, he had to carry it, too. Until now, he had signed every contract as Mikhail Severniy, and it might have raised some questions.

It wasn't anything to be proud of, so Mr. Tsvetkov suggested doing it now, when the news were oversaturated with Michael. They were less likely to pay attention to it.

The name change also further severed his ties with Russia. Michael wasn't happy to abandon his original last name, but this way Myshkin had less influence on him.

As for Michael's parents, they could still call him Misha.