Young Charles Xavier wore a pair of huge black-rimmed glasses that covered nearly half his face, making him look even younger and more studious. Combined with the towering stack of books in his arms, he looked just like a college student who spent all day in the library.
But considering that what he was flipping through was Schiller's early memories, the scene naturally carried far more weight than his appearance suggested.
"Good morning, or perhaps good afternoon, Doctor." Charles pushed up his glasses as he walked over. "What can I do for you?"
Schiller did not bother emphasizing that he was not the Doctor Charles knew. There was no point. What Charles had left in his High Tower was merely a fragment of brainwaves, something akin to an automated program, without much emotional inclination. They could simply get to business.
"For a while, the universe I'm in may face a small-scale war against an alien invasion. We need a telepath to serve as a liaison. I was wondering if you were available."
Charles carried the books over to the table and set them down. "The brainwaves I left here do not possess powerful telepathic abilities. I can still communicate telepathically, but my offensive and defensive capabilities are lacking..."
"That's enough," Schiller said. "If you were too powerful, some people would get worried."
"No problem." Charles's tone was remarkably calm, carrying a cold, almost inorganic beauty. He agreed without hesitation, then added, "I have no physical body and exist only as brainwaves, more like what people would call a ghost. If you can accept that, I believe I can be of help."
"Would you be harmed if these brainwaves were lost?"
"I have already lost these brainwaves," Charles replied. "Separated by the barrier between worlds, I cannot sense the original body