The air in the server room of The Saffron Loft smelled like ozone and a faint, expensive hint of the signature dishes from the kitchen two floors below.
Eric, slumped in a rolling chair, His was in a faded blue hoodie and comfortable jeans, a choice that seemed absurdly casual for a genius. His golden-brown hair fell forward as he concentrated, catching the stark LED light, contrasting sharply with his bright, focused blue eyes.
He had just debugged the inventory stream, saving his parents' kitchen about fifty thousand credits a year. That was the function of true genius.
A notification pinged on his transparent pad. It was a message from Liam, his closest friend at Praxis...
Liam: Bro, you gotta see this new seminar list. Guess who's signed up to lecture on "Code Purity." Hint: it involves a designer suit and an inability to use a common POS system.
Eric scoffed, a genuine, private sound of annoyance escaping him. He quickly minimized an ad that popped up on his pad for Jasper's latest, wildly expensive 'Smart-Watch'-a device Eric found utterly pointless.
Eric: Is he done reviewing the definition of "sharing" yet? Honestly, Liam, I need actual work, not another seminar on theoretical brilliance. How's the Sim-Lab project going?
Liam: Still buggy. My code is clean, but the physics models are a mess. Wish I had your grounded focus instead of trying to chase these abstract ideas. See you Monday. Try to look less like a Systems Analyst and more like a genius.
Eric smiled, the loving personality in his blue eyes shining through. He quickly pocketed the pad.
A quick chime pulled him out of the code.
"You need to take a break, darling," his mother's warm voice said from the comm panel beside the door.
Eric: "Just confirming the patch, Mom. The saffron yield was off by two percent, but it's fixed."
Mother's Voice: "You saved us another fortune, and you treat it like balancing a checkbook. Your father says you worry too much about the small numbers."
Eric: "The small numbers add up to the big ones, Mom. That's why I do it."
The door slid open, and his father, wearing a crisp white chef's coat, stepped in.
Father: "He's right, Eric. But you have a mind for far grander things than our little restaurant." He placed a hand on Eric's shoulder. "Just remember that whatever incredible thing you build at Praxis, it should always be built to serve the person, not the concept. We didn't build The Saffron Loft to be famous; we built it to feed people."
Eric nodded, soaking in the genuine affection. "I remember. Practicality first."
As his father ushered him out for those promised profiteroles, Eric glanced at the final notification from Praxis on his transparent pad: Mandatory Seminar: Advanced Optimization Techniques. Required attendance for all Level 3 students.
He sighed. He knew exactly whose philosophy he would have to endure, and he knew how far it strayed from the values of The Saffron Loft.