GLASS ALGORITHMS

Prologue “Miss, you need to step aside.” I thought he meant move to the side of the room. I didn’t realize he meant leave it entirely. “There’s been a mistake,” I said. “I just need a minute.” He kept his eyes forward, like he’d already decided how this would end. “You can explain outside.” “I built it,” I said. “The application. I have the files.” That finally made him look at me. Not at my face. At the bag on my shoulder. “Ma’am,” he said quietly, “this isn’t the place for this.” Behind us, applause rose again. Someone was being congratulated. Glasses clinked. A name I recognized echoed through the room. “Sir,” another man said, glancing past me, “do you know her?” My chest tightened. There was a pause. Short. Controlled. Then a voice I knew answered, even, careful. “This isn’t the time.” I turned, searching for him. He didn’t look back. A hand closed around my arm. Not violent yet. Just firm. “I just need him to see me,” I said. “Please.” “You’re disrupting a private event,” the man replied. The doors opened. Cool air rushed in. The sound behind me dimmed, like someone had lowered the volume on my life. Outside, the doors shut with a soft click. I stood there, disoriented, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. My laptop was still inside. The code. The raw data. Everything. I took two steps toward the street before someone grabbed me from behind. “Hey—!” Another hand yanked at my bag. “Let go,” I said, twisting away. “This is mine.” They didn’t answer. I fought. Harder than I thought I could. I kicked, swung my elbow, felt fabric tear. Someone cursed under his breath. “Stop resisting.” “I built it,” I said again, breathless. “You can’t take this.” The blow came from the side. Then another. Sharp. Efficient. I fell. Someone wrenched the bag free. My fingers slipped, skin burning as I lost my grip. I heard footsteps retreating. Fast. Purposeful. The pavement was cold against my cheek. The lights above blurred, then doubled. For a moment, I thought this was still part of the night inside. Another misunderstanding. Another correction waiting to happen. Then everything went dark. The next thing I remember is a voice I didn’t recognize. “Easy,” it said. “Don’t try to move.” I opened my eyes to a stranger’s face, lined and serious, crouched beside me. “You’re safe,” he said. “I tried to speak. My mouth tasted like blood. He glanced once toward the building, then back at me. Mumbled some words then I blanked out.