TOLD YOU SO. So lab is a go?
Shit. I don’t know.
I’ll go visit Jenkins now.
I head toward the Computer Science building. And make a beeline for Jenkins's office.
His door is open, Beethoven's Ninth crackling from ancient speakers he refuses to replace. I knock on the doorframe.
“Piper!” He looks up from what appears to be three different coding problems running simultaneously. “Perfect timing. I was about to email you.”
“About the lab?”
“Sit, sit.” He gestures to the chair across from his desk, moving a stack of papers that probably haven't been touched since 2015. “So, you survived Creative Writing. B+, I heard. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I had a good tutor.”
“Hmm.” His eyes are knowing behind his wire-rim glasses. “Now, about the lab. We're starting June 15th, running through the summer session. You're still planning to stay on campus?”
“Yes, absolutely. I'm happy to stay.” The words come out firm. This lab is everything I've worked for.
“Excellent. The supercomputer time alone will be invaluable for your project.” He pulls up his tablet, scrolling through files. “I've been reviewing your OptiMatch submissions from the past few months. Fascinating evolution in your thinking.”
My stomach tightens. “About that?—”
“The compatibility matrices are elegant. The behavioral prediction models are sophisticated. You've createdsomething that could genuinely help people make better relationship decisions.”
“Professor Jenkins...” I take a breath. “What if I wanted to go in a different direction?”
His eyebrows rise slightly. “Different how?”
“I'm not sure yet. But OptiMatch... it's starting to feel...” I search for the words. “Like I'm trying to solve the wrong problem.”
He leans back, fingers steepled. “Interesting. And this realization came about how?”
“Personal experience, mostly. I'm learning that compatibility doesn't predict success. That sometimes the most important relationships are the ones that don't make sense on paper.”
“Ah.” He nods slowly. “The algorithm works perfectly in theory but fails in practice because humans are beautifully irrational.”
“Something like that.”
Jenkins is quiet for a moment, studying me with the same intensity he applies to complex problems. “Piper, this lab is a space for innovation and growth, not for boxing yourself into predetermined outcomes. If you want to explore a different direction, I support that.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Though I'll admit, I'm quite fond of OptiMatch. The technical implementation alone is impressive.” He pauses. “However, I will say this - it's much easier to decide your direction before we begin. Changing course mid-stream, especially once you're deep into development with the resources we'll be using, becomes significantly more difficult.”
“So I need to decide soon.”
“I'd urge you to think very carefully over the next two weeks. Whatever you choose to pursue will essentiallybecome your senior thesis, possibly your graduate work if you continue.” His expression softens. “What's your gut telling you?”
I think about Harper's freedom, about Ethan's game revealing that choice matters more than outcomes, about all the ways OptiMatch failed to predict the most important developments in my own life.
“My gut says OptiMatch is trying to eliminate uncertainty from something that might actually require it.”
“Then perhaps your new direction will explore that uncertainty instead.” He returns to his screens. “Take your time, Piper. But by the end of the month, I'll need to know what problem you're actually trying to solve for you to secure a spot in the lab.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
