It was 2:35 in the morning at Tsinghua University in Beijing, but Daniel Nguyen was very much still awake. Bathed in the red-tinted light of dual monitor screens, he typed effortlessly with one hand while sipping from a mug of espresso with the other. There were two other desks in the room with identical setups on either side of him, but neither was occupied. In fact, at that moment, the entire building was asleep except for Daniel himself.
He barely even noticed the absence of his colleagues, though, as his mind was singularly focused on the task at hand. This was what he enjoyed most about programming—the moments where the ideas in his head could be translated perfectly into uniform lines of code. Formless thoughts became logical reality as soon as his mind could give them shape and function, in an effortless cycle of creation and execution.
He wrote a few more lines, then hit the enter key and took a long sip of espresso while he waited for his code to compile.
“You know, you’ve really got to break the habit of drinking coffee past midnight,” came a voice from the hallway.
Daniel glanced over, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the room around him. Standing in the doorway was Juliet Sorensen, one of the two research assistants under his supervision.
“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Daniel said as he turned back to his screen to watch the status bar inch along.
“I was, but I woke up in the middle of the night and didn’t feel like going back to bed. Figured I might as well come here and do something productive.” Daniel took another sip of espresso in silence. “I’m guessing you haven’t slept at all tonight, have you?”
“Nope.”
“When’s the last time you did?”
“Two nights ago. Maybe three—can’t remember exactly.”
“That’s not sustainable, Daniel.”
“I know that.”
“Then why do you keep doing this to yourself?” Daniel sighed and swiveled his chair to face the doorway.
“The same reason you’re here now.”
The computer dinged, and he turned back toward his monitor and began typing again. “What we’re doing here is more important than any individual human’s needs. If I have to suffer a few sleepless nights in order to prevent a global catastrophe, then I am more than willing to make that sacrifice.”
“How can you know that we’ll fail if you don’t put yourself through this?”
“I don’t. But I know I couldn’t live with myself if we failed because I didn’t.”
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Juliet sighed, pulled up to her terminal, and began initializing her own display. “You know, Daniel, you can be a real stubborn asshole, but it’s weirdly kind of inspiring sometimes.”
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome. Now tell me what you’re doing so I can catch up.”
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Juliet Sorensen was 25 years old. Despite her young age, she already had two PhDs, a critic’s choice award for an off-Broadway production she had starred in during undergrad, and perfectly wavy golden-brown hair. One of those things she cared about considerably less than the others, but at times it seemed to be the only thing people noticed about her.
That’s what she liked about Daniel. Besides his obsessive attitude toward his research, Dr. Nguyen was a kind and fair mentor, and certainly not someone to judge others based on their appearances.
When she first arrived at Tsinghua, she had heard familiar snickering from some disappointingly immature members of other teams: Look at blondie. Guess Dr. Nguyen’s human just like the rest of us. But she paid it no mind. At this point, it was clear to her that there was nothing to be gained from paying any attention to remarks like that. And besides, the suggestion was laughable. Dr. Nguyen’s only personal possession at the office was a portrait of his wife and teenage daughter, which he kept propped up beside his workstation at all times.
The next morning, Juliet sat alone in one of the many dining halls scattered around campus, inhaling the steam from a cup of black coffee as she watched the sun rise through tall glass windows.
“Hey, Juliet,” came a low voice from across the cafeteria.
“Hey, Diego—God, you look freezing! Were you outside?”
“The treadmills in my apartment’s gym were all occupied, so I decided to run a few laps around the park.”
“That’s insane,” Juliet said with an expression of genuine concern.
“Hey, it’s only a few degrees below freezing,” Diego shot back with a grin. “I heard you and the professor made some progress last night?”
Juliet sighed. “A little, I suppose. But it feels like every time we’re close to figuring out an answer, we run into another roadblock. And we’re running out of time.” Diego scoffed.
“We’re doing something that’s never been done in the history of the planet. Don’t you think that deserves some sort of celebration in and of itself?”
“History doesn’t remember those who came close but never reached their goal.”
“You know, I’ve always thought longevity is overrated. We only ever get to live in the present, so why not focus on that?” Diego flashed a wry smile before wolfing down a pancake.
“I guess you have a point,” Juliet conceded. They ate in silence for a few moments, sharing each other’s company among the growing crowd of students spilling into the dining hall. Juliet felt a pang of envy as a pair of girls walked past, laughing at something on one of their phones with a carefree exuberance she had not felt in a long time.
As if on cue, her phone vibrated with a text from Daniel. Need you at the office in five.
“You got that too?” Diego asked, holding out his phone as well. Juliet nodded.
“Do you think something’s come up?”
“Who knows? These days, it could be anything,” Diego replied with a shrug. Juliet pushed aside her half-eaten breakfast, her appetite gone.
“I’ll meet you there in a few—cover for me if I’m late?” Diego bowed his head and saluted.
“You got it.” As Juliet stood up and walked away from the table, a slight frown crept over Diego’s face. He liked to think of himself as a buoy of stability amidst the anxiety and neuroticism that plagued so many of his colleagues, but the intensity of the past few weeks had begun to weigh on him as well.
A moment passed, and he let out a long exhale and chuckled briefly to himself. Whatever burden the universe had in store for him next, he would take in stride as always. Standing up and sliding his phone back into his pocket in one fluid motion, he glanced briefly at his reflection in the window beside the table. He had battled worse demons before.