Debug my heart

Chapter 2: system initialization

Abigail Johnson learned three things within ten minutes of waking up at 6:00 AM. First, Vancouver rain sounded different against high-rise glass than it did against Seattle shingles. Second, a first-class degree did not help you decide between a tailored charcoal blazer and a soft knit sweater. Third, her heart rate was currently clocking in at 110 beats per minute—well above her resting average.

She chose the blazer. It said I can lead a team, while her ponytail said I stayed up until 2:00 AM refactoring code. She looked at the reflection of the young woman in the mirror, checked her bag for her ID and Sarah’s recipe book (a small piece of home), and stepped out.

"Ready to sell your soul to Big Tech?" Maya was leaning against her red hatchback, looking effortlessly cool in a leather jacket and jeans.

"I'm ready to not be 'average,'" Abigail corrected, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Right, right. Standard Abigail procedure," Maya teased. "Just remember, Collins Tech is basically a giant aquarium. It’s all glass, very quiet, and full of sharks. Especially the top shark—the CEO, Alexander Collins."

Abigail checked her notes. "Alexander. Your boyfriend’s brother?"

"The very one," Maya said, taking a sharp turn. "Liam is the VP and a total golden retriever. He’s the soul of the company. But Alexander? He’s the brain. He’s a literal genius, but honestly? He has the personality of a frozen laptop. If you don't speak in C++ or provide a quarterly growth chart, he basically forgets you exist. Liam and I have been together a year, and I still think Alexander thinks my name is 'The Marketing Girl.'"

The Collins Tech building was a sixty-story spire of obsidian glass that seemed to pierce the low-hanging Canadian clouds. Inside, the lobby was so quiet Abigail could hear the hum of the high-speed elevators. It felt less like an office and more like a cathedral dedicated to Silicon.

"Abby! You made it!"

A man with messy blonde hair and a grin that matched Maya’s energy bounded toward them. This was Liam. He didn't wait for a formal introduction before pulling Maya into a side-hug and kissing her temple.

"Liam, stop, you’re embarrassing me in front of the new recruit," Maya laughed, though she leaned into him.

"New recruit? This is the First Class legend I’ve been hearing about," Liam said, offering Abigail a warm hand. "Welcome to the madhouse. Maya handles the noise, I handle the people, and my brother handles... well, he handles the brooding. Come on, I’ll show you the pantry. We have the maple cookies you Seattleites crave."

The tour was a blur of minimalist desks and "huddle rooms" with names like Boolean and Kernel. Abigail felt the weight of the silence here; it was a place where people didn't just work—they optimized.

"I have to run to a budget meeting," Liam said, giving Maya a quick wink. "Maya, show her the workstation. Abby, don't let the glass walls intimidate you. Most of us are human."

"Most of us," Maya whispered as Liam walked away. "I’ll leave you to get your IT credentials. The coffee bar is at the end of the hall. Trust me, you’ll need it. The UI on the machine is a nightmare—it was designed by a guy who hates joy."

Abigail headed toward the sleek, chrome coffee station. Maya was right. The machine featured a massive touch-screen interface that was currently stuck in an infinite "System Loading" loop.

"Are you kidding me?" Abigail muttered. She looked around. The hallway was empty. Her internal engineer took over. She didn't see a coffee machine; she saw a flawed piece of hardware. "Who puts a nested loop in a liquid dispensing interface? It’s basic logic."

She reached around the back, found the manual override panel, and began tapping a sequence into the diagnostic keypad she’d spotted.

"The latency is caused by the sensor calibration," a deep, cold voice said from behind her.

Abigail didn't turn around. She was too deep in the 'zone.' "No, the latency is caused by a poorly optimized UI wrapper. It’s trying to ping the server for a milk-froth update before it even clears the water line. It’s pretentious and inefficient."

"Pretentious?" the voice repeated. It was smooth, like expensive whiskey, but with an edge that could cut glass.

"Deeply," Abigail said, finally hitting the 'Enter' key. The machine hummed, the "Loading" screen vanished, and a perfect stream of espresso began to flow. "There. Fixed. Honestly, whoever approved this purchase should have their Lead Developer title revoked."

She turned around, a triumphant smile on her face—and felt the air leave her lungs.

Standing six inches away was a man in a navy suit that cost more than her four-year tuition. He was tall, with dark hair swept back from a face that was all sharp angles and cold, piercing eyes. He wasn't holding a mug. He was holding a tablet, and he was looking at her like she was a particularly interesting bug in a line of code.

"I'll be sure to tell the Lead Developer," the man said. His voice was the 'frozen laptop' Maya had warned her about. "Since that would be me."

Abigail’s heart stopped. Alexander Collins.

"I... I'm Abigail Johnson," she stammered, the 'First Class' confidence evaporating. "I'm the new Junior Software Engineer."

Alexander looked at the coffee machine, then back at her. He didn't smile. "Ms. Johnson. You’re three minutes late for your workstation initialization. And for the record..." He took a step closer, his scent—sandalwood and cold rain—overpowering the espresso. "...the UI isn't pretentious. It’s secure. Get to your desk."

He turned and walked away without a backward glance.

Abigail stood alone in the quiet hall, her hand shaking as she reached for her coffee. She had been in Canada for less than twenty-four hours, and she had already insulted the CEO’s "logic."

She took a sip. It was the best coffee she’d ever had.