White House, South Lawn.
On the broad lawn known collectively as the "president's garden," hedges formed natural fences and green trees cast deep shade. A pool stood at the center, its fountain spraying pearls and jade-like droplets several yards high. Lush magnolia trees grew on either side of the south gate, nearly one hundred and fifty years old—witnesses to the history of the United States.
Under clear skies and a gentle breeze, major New York television stations dispatched reporters, who arrived carrying cameras and equipment. A forest of cameras surrounded the prominent speaking platform, where the White House spokesperson stood delivering a lengthy address, passionately recalling the United States' past while envisioning a bright future.
Only after the tedious official remarks had ended did the reporters rouse themselves. Their cameras turned toward the bald old man in a wheelchair who was pushed onto the stage. Charles calmly faced every gaze. His speech today would be broadcast into countless homes and stir immense upheaval across the entire North American continent.
Perhaps just as Sean had said, peace began with taking the first step. If they wanted to change the circumstances of Mutants, they had to make sacrifices to some extent.
"My name is Charles Xavier. I am a Mutant..."
That opening sentence was like a boulder crashing into the sea, raising towering waves. Camera flashes flickered endlessly as Sean, seated below the stage, watched everything in silence.
"...Mutants are not isolated individuals. We are a reproducing, living race. As nuclear dust spread across this planet's skies, human genes continued to mutate, and that was how we came to be—just like you, Mutants are neither an incurable disease nor a curse sent down by god. We have merely taken one step ahead on the path of evolution."
"Driven by the rejection and