System Failure

The crash happened twenty-four hours later.

Clara walked into the Quantum Lab to find Reid pacing. His hair was actually messy this time, not artfully so. He looked pale.

"Problem?" Clara asked, settling into her chair.

"It's the demo build," Reid snapped. "It’s crashing. Every time I run the full dataset, it segfaults at 80%."

"That sounds bad," Clara said calmly.

"It’s catastrophic," Reid ran a hand through his hair. "The presentation is in two days. If this doesn't run, we fail. My grandfather is coming. The Dean is coming."

He looked at her, his eyes wild. "Did you touch it?"

Clara stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"Did you push anything? Did you try to 'help' and mess up the pointers?"

The accusation was the final straw.

"I haven't touched your precious code, Reid," Clara said, her voice icy. "I've been working on the slides. Like a good little assistant."

Reid didn't hear the venom. He turned back to his screen. "I don't understand. It should work. The logic is sound."

He typed furiously. He groaned.

Clara watched him. She knew the fix. It was a single line of code. A dangling pointer in the garbage collection routine. She could fix it in thirty seconds.

She sat on her hands.

Reid pulled out his phone. He was logging onto *The Night Owl*. She could see the reflection of the dark interface in the glass wall.

He typed a message.

Clara’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it.

Reid waited. He typed again.

Clara’s phone buzzed again.

Reid slammed his hand on the desk. "Damn it!"

"Who are you texting?" Clara asked.

"No one," Reid growled. "Just... a contact. They’re not answering."

"Maybe they’re tired of doing your work for you," Clara said.

Reid spun around. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Clara stood up, "that maybe you’re not the solitary genius you think you are. Maybe you need help. Real help. Not just an echo chamber."

"I don't need help from you," Reid sneered. "I need an expert."

"Fine," Clara grabbed her bag. "I'm going to the library. Good luck with the segfault."

She walked out.

Ten minutes later, sitting in a coffee shop, she checked her messages.

**User\_X:** *Cipher, I’m begging you. It’s a segfault on the garbage collection. I’m desperate. Name your price.*

**User\_X:** *This project is everything. I can’t fail. My family... they expect perfection.*

**User\_X:** *Please.*

Clara stared at the screen. She saw the crack in the armor. The fear beneath the arrogance.

She hated him. But she loved the code. And she loved the project. It was half hers, even if he didn't know it.

She sighed.

**Cipher:** *Meet me.*

**User\_X:** *What? Where? You’re on campus?*

**Cipher:** *Campus Greenhouse. Midnight. Bring the laptop.*

**User\_X:** *You go here? Who are you?*

**Cipher:** *Come and find out.*

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