“I have a meeting with Ilya,” I whisper.
His gaze drops to the floor, and he shakes his head. “Of course. Yeah, that’s why you’re here on everyone’s day off.”
Oh.Oh. He was hoping I came here for him. And, when wealmostorganically ran into each other, I chose to hide in a maintenance closet over talking to him. It 100% looks like I regret the kiss and am actively trying to avoid him, which I need to fix. Even if I kind ofam.
But, before I get the chance, he turns and leaves with hurried steps. I should go after him and explain. We definitely need to have a conversation… except Ican’t.
I’ve been passed up for the better option most of my life. Reynard disowned me before I was born. I got bumped from an MIT scholarship for a 14-year-old genius who didn’t even apply on time. A few months ago,Stallionchose a nepo baby with zero qualification or experience over me. Again and again I’ve been second-best despite working harder and going farther than anyone else.
What’s to say an entanglement with Asher won’t end the same way? The only difference would be that I took all those other times in stride and kept going forward. Something deep inside me knows that Asher would be different.Whenhe ends up choosing someone else over me, I’d be beyond devastated. It wouldn’t just be my pride, ego, or feelings that would be hurt; it’d be the self-worth that I had to build from the ground up, because nobody ever gave it to me or validated me.
So, maybe it is for the best that the kiss is a one-off, and that’s the end of everything.
Don’t let fear hold you back from getting what you want.Delilah’s words come back to haunt me. Is that what I’m doing? Am I being reasonable, or am I just letting my fear rule me?
Damnit. I don’t have time to figure that out now. I should have been at Ilya’s office five minutes ago.
But, as I make my way to my meeting, there’s an undeniable ache in my gut, telling me that I might’ve missed a beautiful opportunity.
“I read over what you sent.” Ilya reclines in an office seat across from me, while I’m cramped into a stylish but uncomfortable armchair.
I clear my throat. “And what did you think?”
“And…I think you’re developing game-changing technology. I’ve never seen anything so intricate oraccurate.” He smiles privately, as if sharing a joke with himself. “I suppose that’s what happens when you apply principles of physics and engineering to a data-driven forecasting framework. It’s ingenious.”
My breath stutters, and my eyes start to prickle suspiciously.Iknow that my algorithm is incredible, but having someone at Ilya’s level agree with me… it’s indescribable. It makes me feel like I can conquer the world, one variable at a time.
His smile drops. “Don’t look so happy. You’re not finished yet—and I’ll remind you, you were hired on the promise that the model would be ready by the time you joined us.” He jerks his chin at me. “What’s the holdup? Do you need investors?”
That’s the third time I’ve heard that phrase, and it makes me as nervous as Delilah bringing the subject up did. I can write an excellent academic paper explaining the merits of my creation, but pitching it to people in real life is a skin-crawling concept.
“Not before it’s done,” I say, shaking my head. “The engineering of it is actually pretty straight forward, and I did all the research I needed on MIT’s dime during my masters.”
Ilya leans forward. “Does that meantheyown it?”
I shake my head. “Oh god, no. No, I made sure everything was theoretical. They own the theoretical framework and generalized research, but they don’t own the practical application or the many alterations I’ve made while building it. They don’t even own the source code—I did all of thatafterI graduated.”
“Good.” He looks relieved. “So, I’ll ask again, what’s the goddamn holdup? Is it data from other teams?”
“No, that’s a simple matter of acquiring it and training my model on it. It’s time-consuming but straightforward—so long as I can get my hands on it. The holdup is…” I search for the right words. “Well, the emotional aspect of it. Asher Lawrence is proof that emotionsseverelyimpact outcome in this sport, but it’s not just a driver’s emotions. It’s every active member of a team’s. I have to find a way to quantify abstract concepts like happiness, sadness, confidence, anxiety… everything. Each of those are unbuilt variables in my model. As soon as I figure outhowto do that, I’ll get it done, but right now I’m stuck. So the program’s stuck at about 80% completion and maybe 40% accuracy without data from other teams.” I’ve done most of the heavy lifting, it’s just these final parts that are killing me.
Ilya nods thoughtfully. “Any entrepreneur will tell you that the last 20% of work takes 80% of the time.”
My shoulders sag. I don’t have that much time left in my internship. Ilya might be happy with my work right now, but I’m under no illusions that he’ll always do what’s best for the team. If I can’t deliver on my promises, I’ll be out the door at the end of the season.
He scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Have you considered that you might not need to build a variable for every single emotion on the spectrum?”
I frown. “No. Idoneed to do that.”
“Not necessarily. Maybe if you wanted 100% accuracy…” he trails off at whatever he sees on my expression. “Gospodi, Linden, are you looking for 100% accuracy?”
I think he just swore in Russian. I suddenly feel very stupid, and very small. He asks it like I’m searching for a 100% cure for cancer. “Um… I was going for 98-99%.”
He gazes at the ceiling, sighs, and reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose. “You do understand that, at best, most statistical modeling at this scale has an 80% accuracy rate? In this field, our accepted models for in-race forecasting function at70%—and that’s a very kind assessment.If you give us something that has a 90% accuracy rate overall, we’ll have the best predictive model out of any team.” He sighs. “MIT kids with their goddamn expectations.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, thoroughly cowed. Now that he’s said it aloud, it’s easy to see he’s completely right. I’m trying to perfect something thatshouldnaturally have room for error. I don’t need to be perfect; I just need to be better than what exists. If I can besignificantlybetter, then I stand to make real change.
“Don’t be sorry; be better,” he says pitilessly. “As for your emotion problem… emotions all factor into team morale. Look at history. Consider the battles that were won against impossible odds, andhowthey were won. Or how many people survived impossible circumstances.” He stares at me expectantly.
