The Love Algorithm

Chapter 4 : Noise in the system

Est didn't usually like distractions.

He liked clean input. Quiet environments. Predictable outcomes.

But ever since William showed up, everything had started to feel... off.

Not wrong, exactly. Just noisy. Like trying to code in a room with music playing—not loud enough to stop work, but loud enough to keep you from focusing fully.

The model was still working fine. Accuracy levels were holding steady. Test cases were producing consistent compatibility scores. The dashboard was green.

But Est's concentration? Not so green.

Especially when William sat too close.

Or asked too many questions.

Or laughed at things that weren't even supposed to be funny.

Like now.

William was sitting cross-legged on the floor near Est's desk, a donut in one hand, a pile of interview forms in the other. His camera was resting nearby, lens cap off, like it was always half-ready to capture something unexpected.

"Okay," William said, waving a sheet of paper. "Listen to this one. 'I knew I loved her when I caught myself Googling how to make soup from scratch for the first time.' Isn't that kind of adorable?"

Est didn't look away from his screen. "Cooking effort is a common indicator of emotional investment."

William squinted. "So... yes?"

"Yes."

William shook his head, smiling. "I don't know if I'm amazed or concerned."

Est finally turned. "What are you doing with the forms anyway?"

"You told me not to touch your code, so I figured I'd read the love stories instead," William said. "Try to find the human side of your science."

Est blinked. "The human side is in the data."

"No offense, Est, but your data is kind of emotionally dry."

Est leaned back in his chair. "I don't need emotions. I need results."

William grinned. "Says the man whose heart rate goes up every time I walk in."

Est straightened. "That is—irrelevant."

"Is it?"

There was a long pause. A quiet hum from the server room filled the space between them.

William stood up and walked over to the whiteboard, where Est had scribbled formulas, clustering graphs, and color-coded feedback loops.

He stared at it for a while, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"You know," he said finally, "I don't think you're trying to prove love can be predicted. I think you're trying to protect yourself from it."

Est frowned. "That's not a scientific statement."

"Nope," William agreed. "It's just an observation. From one emotionally unstable variable to another."

Est didn't answer. Instead, he turned back to his screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no code came out.

William leaned against the wall and looked at him thoughtfully.

"You ever been in love, Est?"

The question hung there, suspended.

Est kept his eyes on the monitor. "That's not relevant to the project."

"It kind of is."

"No," Est said quietly. "It would introduce bias."

William watched him for a moment longer, then nodded like he understood more than Est had said.

"Okay. No more questions," he said, walking back toward the couch. "But for the record, I think you're braver than you realize. Doing this project, I mean. You're just trying to make sense of something most of us don't even try to understand."

Est glanced at him, surprised. "That's... not how most people see it."

"Well, most people aren't trying to map love with machine learning," William said with a laugh. "You're kind of one of a kind."

Est looked down at his wrist monitor later that night. His pulse had spiked again. Same time. Same situation.

Variable: William.

He highlighted the section in red and typed:

Anomaly: Persistent. Escalating. Not yet disruptive, but... distracting.

Then, under it, he added something new:

To be observed.

He didn't delete it.

He didn't adjust for it in the code.

And again... he didn't ask William to leave.