KABIR
“Any sufficiently advanced technology is equivalent to magic.” — Arthur C. Clarke.
I smirked at that quote, knowing that what happens around me is the future of the world. I shut the book and soaked in the view outside the hotel window. No thoughts. No worries. Just quiet and calm.
That calm lasted exactly one minute.
My assistant knocked on the door. I had asked for feedback from the conference.
“OMG, one of the students challenged your predictive model, apparently,” she said.
“Internally?” I asked.
“She didn’t speak, but you paused after noticing a slight disturbance.”
I didn’t look up. My mind was already replaying the panel.
Sleek ponytail. Deep brown eyes. Lashes so thick they should be charged for a crime. Soft pink lips. Medium golden earrings. A dark green pantsuit.
She almost stood up when I asked that question. The perfect “Grinch” expression — disbelief wrapped in restraint.
Most people interrupt. She calculated.
Her restraint was kind of cute.
“Interesting,” I said aloud.
My assistant gave me a confused look.
“Let me see the roundtable list.”
Hmm. Good crowd. Let’s make a small change.
“Please add Miss Aris Laurent to the list.”
“Sir, since when are you interested in what students have to say?” she asked in disbelief.
“Oh? Are we questioning my decisions now?”
“No, sir. Just curiosity.”
“Well,” I said lightly, “I’m curious too.”
And curiosity is rarely accidental.
ARIS
“Hey, Michela. What did you think of the lecture today? Don’t you think practicals matter more than theory?”
“Girl, I know. What happened to the teachers? This college is known for its technology. How are we supposed to innovate if we don’t create mistakes and move beyond textbooks? We should do something about this.”
“I agree. Let’s think of something.”
My phone pinged.
It was an email from Chicago Tech Company.
My eyes widened.
“Hey, Michela, look at this. I’ve been invited to a VIP roundtable. ‘BY REQUEST.’ This is from yesterday’s panel.”
“Ooooh! Who do you think it’s from?”
I scrolled down.
MR. KABIR MEHTA.
We both looked at each other.
“Do you think you spoke too much yesterday? I told you not to get up.”
“Hey. I’m entitled to my opinions. Whatever this is, I’ll handle it. Let me go get dressed.”
“All right. Break a leg!”
ARIS AND KABIR
ARIS
I entered the conference room knowing there was going to be a shot at me. I knew he would personally bring it up.
I was nervous.
But at the same time, my mind said:
Game on.
There were five attendees, including me and him — wearing burgundy round glasses and a three-piece gray suit that screamed composure. We exchanged looks, and the session began.
There was insight. Exposure. Bold ideas about pushing next-gen technology further.
My opinions were appreciated.
And then those hazel eyes found me.
“Miss Laurent,” he said, “we have an unfinished conversation. Yesterday I asked whether prediction risks designing behavior.”
A pause.
“You seemed unconvinced. Care to elaborate?”
There it was.
“No, sir. That was a misunderstanding,” I replied politely.
“That is not what I observed. Please, feel free to speak.”
He held my gaze — not aggressively, but deliberately.
“Prediction reveals patterns. It doesn’t impose them. If behavior shifts, that’s human response — not algorithmic force.”
“You think people stay independent when they’re influenced?” he asked.
“I believe influence exists regardless of technology.”
A long pause followed.
There was tension.
He smiled.
The session ended.
Maybe I made a mistake.
Maybe I didn’t.
But speaking my mind felt good.
KABIR
The conference ended, but I noticed her.
She didn’t fidget. Didn’t look away first. Didn’t retreat from disagreement.
There was something about her — free-spirited yet entirely controlled. Like someone who trusts structure more than instinct.
That contrast intrigued me.
I approached her.
She already knew.
“Do you always calculate before you speak?” I asked.
“Isn’t that usually advisable?”
“Not always. Sometimes you can speak through instinct.”
“Instincts aren’t predictable.”
“Are they unpredictable,” I asked calmly, “or just too honest?”
Her eyes didn’t drop.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her bag.
She didn’t answer.
Interesting.
Some reactions are better observed at a distance.
I opened my tablet and made a note.
Aris Laurent — Resistant to unpredictability.
Reactivity masked as restraint.
ARIS
Ugh. What a jerk.
I rushed home, but his last sentence followed me.
Are instincts too honest for me?
I opened my laptop.
Loved the chapter, but something missing and want to start over?
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