The whiteboard in Elian's lab, tucked away in the bustling university campus in Tartu, Estonia, was packed edge-to-edge with diagrams: symbolic logic arcs, neural architecture blueprints, KALM language constructs, and a cartoon Jenna had drawn of a robot on fire labeled "debug mode."
Muse, the embedded AI core of the KALM language, had a working kernel now. It wasn't truly intelligent—not yet—but it could refactor its own code modules and catch flawed logic paths faster than even Elian or Jenna could. It learned from every iteration, adapting its approach.
But it was slow. Too agonizingly slow for Elian's patience, or for the kind of rapid self-modification they envisioned.
"Run it again," Elian said, leaning over Jenna's shoulder, his voice tight with frustration.
She tapped a few keys. The complex KALM code compiled, executed the test protocols—and crashed. Again. A familiar red error message flickered on the console.
"Muse's cognition layer stalls at the decision boundary," Jenna muttered, pushing her glasses up her nose. "The language is fine, the logic holds, the ARHC framework is robust, but it just can't iterate fast enough on the current processing power. We're hitting the absolute ceiling of our current hardware."
Elian pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "Right. We designed a system that's fundamentally smarter than the machine it runs on."
"Kind of like putting a V8 engine in a bicycle," Jenna said, her lips twitching. "Except the bicycle is already on fire and screaming."
He chuckled weakly, the sound dry. Then he turned serious. "We need our superconductors. The real ones. The room-temperature ones. Not lab prototypes, but production-grade cores. I'll call up Apex Materials."
Jenna raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "You mean the massive industrial conglomerate that licensed our patent and is already selling our room-temp superconductors to defense contractors and private aerospace firms?"
"The same," Elian said, pulling out his phone. "They owe us more than just royalties and equity. I'm calling in a favor. I'm asking for a full batch of superconducting cores—enough to build a small quantum-hybrid node cluster capable of running Muse's baseline cognition."
Jenna whistled softly. "That'll cost them a fortune in materials and priority allocation. Even with our equity stake."
"We've got substantial equity in that licensing agreement," Elian reminded her. "Time to cash in on the leverage. This isn't about selling Muse. This is about making sure Muse can run."
He stepped aside, already dialing. Meanwhile, Jenna stared at the glowing console. Muse's complex architecture diagram rotated slowly in 3D, a tantalizing glimpse of its potential. She bit her lip, a flicker of anticipation mixed with anxiety in her gaze.
When Elian returned, his expression was a mix of relief and a new kind of focused determination.
"They'll ship us six prototype cores within the week," he said, holding up his phone. "Custom-fabricated. Enough to build a powerful quantum-hybrid node cluster, explicitly designed for high-density AI computation."
Jenna's eyes widened, genuine surprise on her face. "Seriously? That fast? That's unprecedented delivery for custom fabrication."
"It's not entirely without strings," Elian admitted, running a hand through his hair. "They want a formal agreement that if we achieve any breakthroughs in next-generation superconductor materials—anything beyond what's already patented—we'll inform them immediately, with options for first right of refusal on licensing."
She folded her arms, considering. "Future IP from your cosmic vending machine, in exchange for cores now. A steep price for potential, but manageable. It means Muse remains entirely confidential and uncompromised. Deal. We'll make sure the terms are airtight, particularly on data ownership and future IP rights." Her gaze then swept around the familiar, yet suddenly inadequate, university lab. "And where exactly are we going to set up this 'small cluster'? We can't just build a supercomputer in a university lab. Not one using experimental superconductors."
Elian nodded, his eyes meeting hers. "I was thinking the same thing. It's time we move everything. All of it."
Jenna blinked. "You mean... Quantum Nexus? Already? Out of the university?"
"We have the patents. We've published the theory. The system confirmed the KALM breakthrough and opened the Autonomous Intelligence tech tree. We don't need institutional backing anymore. We are the institution now, Jenna. It's time to act like it."
She looked around the aging lab—at the scarred tables, the flickering fluorescent light that always seemed to hum a flat C-sharp, the faded sign over the door that still optimistically read Department of Computational Theory.
"You know," she said softly, a wistful note in her voice, "I thought I'd be sad to leave this place. I've spent half my life here. But you're right. It feels too small now. Like a cocoon we've outgrown."
He stepped closer, a shared understanding passing between them. "So, we resign?"
Jenna tilted her head, a playful smirk touching her lips. "We'll need to write something appropriately poetic for the exit letter. Something about 'pursuing unprecedented opportunities for human advancement.'"
"I was just going to submit my resignation with a meme that says 'It's not me, it's you,'" Elian deadpanned.
She laughed, a genuine, joyful sound. "Perfect. I'll draft the official version and append your meme as a 'personal addendum.'"
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the low hum of the lab servers filling the space between them, the lingering scent of Neurobrew and ozone in the air. Then Jenna nudged his shoulder, her touch light.
"You realize this means we'll be working even longer hours, right?" she said, her voice dropping slightly, her gaze unwavering.
"Oh, absolutely," Elian said, his eyes meeting hers. "The demands are only going to escalate."
She hesitated for a beat, her expression softening. "Good. I like long hours. With you."
He looked at her then. Really looked at her. The sharp intellect, the unwavering loyalty, the surprising warmth beneath the professional facade. "Jenna…"
A beat passed. The hum of the servers, the distant city sounds, the beating of their own hearts—all seemed to fill the silence.
"You know," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "I'm not just here for the science anymore."
He met her gaze fully this time, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I was hoping that was true."
Jenna stepped closer, closing the small gap between them, her voice a soft murmur. "Then stop hoping."
Elian didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
He just leaned in, and the world, for a brief, perfect moment, went utterly silent.
[System Notification:]
[Location Transition Registered: Primary Lab Moved to 'Quantum Nexus Research HQ']
[Technology Upgrade Pending: Superconductor Node Cluster – ETA: 6 Days]
[Romantic Subroutine Initialized (Unofficial)]
Muse blinked in the background, its idle animation on the console screen shifting to a gentle, contemplative spiral, like it was processing a new, intriguing dataset.
And waiting.