The Algorithm of Spring

44

Maya adjusted her interface's lighting one last time before the client meeting. Her studio looked professional enough on the plexiglass screen—AI art setup visible, but subtle. The USB from Dr Park was hidden beneath a loose floorboard under her desk. She stamped the board flat with her heel, feeling its faint give—a reminder of how thin her safety really was. She'd smoothed her worry lines all morning; sleep had dodged her entirely after yesterday's revelations.

The client's face appeared—a startup CEO with perfect teeth and a picture-perfect backdrop. His company wanted AI-generated art for their new office, something innovative but not threatening. Maya had done dozens of these gigs—firms decking out lobbies with original pieces, writing them off as expenses, banking on future value. Today, the whole process felt particularly hollow.

"Your portfolio's impressive," he said, his smile professionally bright. "Especially how you blend traditional Korean aesthetics with modern styles."

Maya forced a smile. "Each piece is calibrated to—"

A notification flashed: HarmoniQ: Your social optimisation score needs attention.

She dismissed it without faltering. "—to pair Korea's cultural heritage with an 'eyes-on-the-horizon, front-foot-confidence' approach." A line that always sealed the deal with young CEOs who saw themselves that way.

"Exactly what we want," he replied. "Our investors love that balance. Traditional values, modern execution."

Maya pulled up her recent works as examples, each floating between them. Perfect, tailored pieces clients adored. But she couldn't help wondering: did HarmoniQ's designers think the same way—beautiful surface, dark underbelly?

Another notification: Your recent behaviour suggests non-standard pattern deviation.

"These are recent corporate installations," she continued, swiping through the gallery. Her hand stayed steady—a skill honed over time. "I can tweak the parameters to match your aesthetic. I'll work with you to fit your needs and preferences."

"Fantastic. It's almost... too perfect. If you wanted to breathe a bit more chaos into it, that'd be fine."

"Of course." She nodded. His comment felt like a gut punch. She kept her jaw still, heat pricking at the base of her neck.

"Your social credit rating's up to date? Corporate policy—can't commission without ticking the boxes. And we'll need an authentication certificate with the pieces, obviously—physical and digital backup."

A new notification: Social integration review pending.

"Everything's current," Maya lied, smooth as glass. Through her window, a digital billboard cycled—another smiling woman.

"Excellent. Send some initial parameters and we'll—"

His voice faded as another alert landed: Medical records integration required for continued social participation.

"Sorry," Maya interjected, resetting her screen. "Signal interference." She disabled notifications entirely—a risk worth taking. "I can have designs ready by—"

"Listen, Maya, my compliance team just flagged something on your file." Maya felt the familiar cold pinch behind her ribs—the place Beijing had taught her to lock everything down. "I don't have the details, just that it's a 'social integration' issue. You know how it is, we can't move forward on contracts until all the lights are green. Can you get that sorted on your end and circle back?"

Maya kept her face neutral, professional—a mask she'd perfected. "Of course. I'll have the issue rectified immediately."

"Nothing personal." His smile never wavered. "It's just compliance. Get your optimisation status back in the green, and we'll circle back. Okay?"

The call ended.

Her studio fell silent, save for the low hum of the plexiglass screen. A new message blinked onto her screen: Professional engagement suspended—pending review.