The audience is quiet now. Listening. Feeling.
“So I made a device that listens. That responds. That adapts. Because maybe, if we start treating brains like something precious, we can build a world where no one feels like they have to break themselves to belong.”
Applause breaks out—scattered at first, then stronger, swelling until it fills the hall.
I bob my head in a semi-awkward bow and step down. My knees are shaking a little. My palms are damp.
But I did it.
Tristan meets me halfway and pulls me into a hug that lifts me off the ground.
“Youcrushedthe epilogue,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m so goddamn proud of you. I just sent the video to my family.”
“I almost threw up.”
“Still proud.”
“I said ‘cherished’ into a microphone.”
He pulls back to look at me. “Youarecherished.”
I duck my head, cheeks burning. “I also might have accidentally soft-launched how weird your fiancée is to the entire Western medical tech community.”
“I’m fine with that. But I’m gonna need to soft-launch this too—”
He hesitates just long enough for me to see it—the hope, the wanting, the quiet terror of loving someone out loud. And then he closes the distance. Tristan kisses me right there in the hallway, in full view of a dozen nerds in lanyards and a man holding a tray of sparkling water.
And I don’t care.
I kiss him back like we’re the last two molecules in the universe. Bound by something unbreakable.
A theory finally proven. A formula that works.
Epilogue
Minerva
“Holy shit, you guys.” Knova turns on the spot, admiring the open floor plan of our new house. “This is amazing.”
“You have a pool!” Viktor points to the backyard, which is visible through the large doors on the far side of the dining room. “I want a pool. Knova, why don’t we have a pool?”
“Your parents have a pool,” Knova reminds him.
“Yeah, a normal one! Why does Tristan get saltwater?” Viktor presses his face against the glass like a puppy watching all of its friends run through the grass outside.
Knova rubs her forehead. “Because he bought one, baby.” She rolls her eyes toward the heavens for a moment before turning to me. “Is it weird living here? Like…so grown up. Do you miss the condo?”
Tristan shrugs. “The condo didn’t have a pool.”
Viktor lets out a pathetic whine.
“I have my own lab in the house,” I add. “It’s fantastic. No regrets.”
Tristan wraps his arm around my waist. “And Kepler and Curie have their own habitat outside the house.”
Curie noses sleepily against Kepler’s side, her white-tipped tail twitching. Tristan surprised me with her the night after the conference keynote—“a lab partner for your lab rat,” he’d said, holding out a sleepy baby ferret like the world’s most chaotic bouquet. I cried for twenty minutes. She wasn’t a replacement for anything. She was proof that good things keep showing up now.
At the moment, the ferrets are sacked out in their indoor play space. It’s the same one he built for the condo, though he’s made a few modifications. I don’t like to leave them outside unsupervised, for obvious reasons.
