Aiden arrived at Sophia's lab—a cramped space in the Computer Science building's basement—carrying two coffees and the business proposal he'd spent three days perfecting.
Sophia was exactly where he expected: hunched over a terminal, surrounded by server racks she'd apparently built herself, completely absorbed in her work.
"Coffee delivery," he announced.
She didn't look up. "It's 9 PM on a Friday. Don't you have parties to attend? Money to flash?"
"I'd rather watch you work." He set the coffee beside her. "Also, I brought you something."
"If it's flowers or jewelry, I'm throwing you out."
"It's a business proposal."
Now she looked at him. Her hair was pulled back messily, she had no makeup on, and there was a smudge of thermal paste on her cheek. Aiden thought she'd never looked more attractive.
He handed her the folder. Sophia opened it, and he watched her expression shift from skepticism to surprise to careful interest as she read.
"Schols Ventures," she read aloud. "A venture capital firm focused on emerging technology with ethical applications." She flipped pages. "You're offering $50,000 for my neural network project. But I retain 65% equity, full creative control, and you're taking standard advisory shares, not ownership." She looked up. "Why?"
"Because your project is worth more than $50,000, and I'm not stupid enough to think money entitles me to control genius."
"This is..." She set down the proposal carefully. "This is actually professional. Real."
"I'm serious about this, Sophia. About building something that matters."
She stood and walked to her server rack, running her hand along the metal. "You want to know what I'm building? Really understand it?"
"Yes."
"Most people's eyes glaze over when I talk about neural networks."
"I'm not most people."
Sophia smiled—the first genuine smile he'd seen from her. "Okay. Crash course in revolutionary AI technology."
For the next hour, she walked him through her project. A neural network that could learn emotional context, understand nuance in ways current AI couldn't. Applications in mental health, education, human-computer interaction. She'd been working on it for two years, funding it with scholarships and part-time coding jobs.
Aiden's enhanced intelligence let him follow concepts that would have been impossible a month ago. But more than that, his genuine interest was clear. He asked questions, made connections, saw possibilities she hadn't even considered.
"You actually get it," Sophia said finally, surprise in her voice. "How? This is graduate-level work."
"I pay attention to things that matter. And this matters." He paused. "You matter."
The air in the lab shifted. Sophia looked at him carefully, evaluating.
"Aiden, why are you really here? And don't say it's just about investment."
"Because you're the first person in four weeks who's treated me like I'm still human. Everyone else sees money or mystery or opportunity. You see me."
"I barely know you."
"Then let's fix that." He pulled up a chair beside her terminal. "Tell me about your project. About you. About why this matters so much that you spend Friday nights in a basement lab."
Sophia studied him for a long moment. Then she sat down and started talking.
She told him about growing up in a family that valued traditional success—medicine, law, finance. How choosing computer science had disappointed her parents. How proving them wrong drove her, but also isolated her. How she'd watched AI development become dominated by profit and surveillance, and wanted to create something different. Something that helped people instead of exploiting them.
"Your project isn't just technical," Aiden realized. "It's ideological."
"Everything worth building is."
"Then I want in. Not as an investor. As a partner. Your vision with my resources."
Sophia's expression softened. "You're either the most sincere person I've met or the best actor on campus."
"I'm too tired to act." He showed her his phone—messages from students wanting investment advice, from Professor Hayes about their dinner meeting, from acquaintances suddenly interested in his time. "Everyone wants something. You just want to build something beautiful."
"And you want to help me?"
"I want to be around someone who reminds me why I'm doing any of this."
Sophia reached out and wiped the thermal paste off her own cheek, suddenly self-conscious. "I'm not good at this. The social stuff. The reading between lines."
"Then I'll be direct: I like you, Sophia Chen. Your brilliant mind, your terrible lab organization, your complete immunity to my apparently enhanced charm. I'd like to fund your project. And I'd like to get to know you better. Two separate things, no strings attached."
"What if I say yes to the funding and no to getting to know you?"
"Then I fund your project and leave you alone."
"And if I say yes to both?"
Aiden felt his heart rate spike. "Then we have dinner tomorrow. Somewhere nice. And you tell me more about why emotional context in AI matters. And maybe why you always sit in the same library spot."
Sophia laughed—a real, surprised laugh. "You're weird, Aiden Schols."
"Says the girl who builds servers in a basement on Friday nights."
"Fair point." She pulled out her phone. "Send me the contract. I'll have my advisor review it. If it's as clean as this proposal, you have a deal."
"And dinner?"
She hesitated, then smiled. "Dinner. But somewhere quiet. I hate loud restaurants."
As Aiden left the lab an hour later, the system pinged:
RELATIONSHIP MILESTONE: Sophia ChenTrust Level: 60%Connection Type: Genuine mutual interestWarning: Do not manipulate this relationship. Authentic connection detected.
For once, the system's warning was unnecessary.
Aiden had no interest in manipulating Sophia Chen.
For the first time since the system appeared, he'd found something he valued more than money or abilities: someone who made him want to be better than the system's gifts could make him.