The Algorithm of Spring

93

Maya immediately changed course, moving directly toward Richards as he finished his explanation to the admiring circle. The gallery crowd parted instinctively, sensing her intensity. 

The moment felt choreographed, as if the room itself were nudging her toward a stage she'd never agreed to step onto. Richards noticed her approach, his smile faltering slightly as he registered her expression.

"Alan," she said, the familiarity deliberate. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Richards recovered quickly, extending his hand. "I don't believe we've been introduced, Miss—?"

"Kim. Maya Kim." She accepted his handshake, holding it a beat too long. Enough for him to feel the intent in it. "AI artist. Former student of Professor Kim, actually."

At the mention of Professor Kim, Richards' eyes darted toward where she stood. Something passed between them—a signal Maya couldn't interpret but recognised as meaningful.

"Ah, Professor Kim has an excellent eye for talent," Richards said smoothly. "Are you enjoying the exhibition?"

"Your technique is impeccable," Maya replied. "Though I find myself more interested in your... other work."

Richards' smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "I consult broadly," he said, a shade too light. "You'll have to be more specific."

"HarmoniQ," Maya said, keeping her voice low but firm. "Your most influential creation, wouldn't you say?"

The circle of admirers had drifted away, sensing the conversation had turned private. Richards maintained his composed expression, though wariness had entered his eyes.

"You seem to have me confused with someone else," he said. "HarmoniQ is a technology company. I'm an artist."

"You're both," Maya said. "I've studied your work for years. I know your visual syntax, Alan. HarmoniQ speaks it fluently."

Richards glanced around, then gestured toward a quieter corner of the gallery. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation more privately."

As they moved away from the main crowd, Professor Kim intercepted them, her usual warmth replaced by neutrality.

"Maya," she said. "This is unexpected." There was no surprise in her tone. No concern. Only the calm of someone who had already accounted for this moment.

"Is it?" Maya asked, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. "Or was I always part of the plan — just a case study to you?"

Professor Kim's expression revealed nothing. "I don't know what you think—"

"I think you knew exactly what I was going through when I came to you about Beijing," Maya said. "I think you reported it all back to HarmoniQ. I think you helped them target me."

Richards cleared his throat. "Ladies, perhaps this isn't the place—"

"No, it's exactly the place," Maya interrupted, facing him directly. "Surrounded by the people who admire your art while having no idea what you've actually created. Tell me—do they know Seoul's celebrated artist designed a system that manipulates their most intimate choices? Tracks reproductive decisions? Enforces policy behind a pastel interface?"

Richards' mask slipped, revealing a flash of irritation. "You have no idea what you're talking about. HarmoniQ connects people—"

"HarmoniQ doesn't connect people—it scripts them. It's a dating app written in government policy."

Professor Kim touched Richards' arm. "Alan, perhaps we should—"

"No, let her speak," Richards said, something shifting in his demeanour. "I'm curious what she thinks she knows."

Maya felt Jun-ho's presence behind her, offering silent support as she continued.

"I know that your design principles made HarmoniQ irresistible," she said. "You created an interface so beautiful, so intuitive, that people willingly surrendered their data, their privacy, their autonomy. You weaponised aesthetics against the very people who admired your work. Beauty was your access point — the Trojan horse no one even saw being wheeled in."

Richards studied her, his initial defensiveness fading into something more contemplative.

"You speak as if art exists in some pure vacuum, as if it shouldn't serve a purpose beyond self-expression."

"Art should liberate, not constrain," Maya countered. "You understood that. What happened to you?"

Richards glanced again at Professor Kim, then back to Maya. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its public performance quality.

"What happened? Reality. Idealism doesn't build anything that lasts. Systems do." He gestured toward the paintings surrounding them. "I haven't actually touched a brush in years. My studio employs dozens of talented artists who execute my vision—quite efficiently, I might add."

His eyes kept drifting to Professor Kim, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. "A classmate of yours worked there briefly, I believe. Lee Min-ju? Professor Kim mentioned you were close during university. Talented girl, but too opinionated for the studio system." Professor Kim didn't flinch. She'd told him everything. A faint satisfaction lifted the corner of her mouth — gone in the instant Maya recognised it."

Maya's eyes darted to her former mentor, another piece of betrayal slotting into place. How many conversations about fellow students, about friends, about her life had been catalogued and passed along?

Richards' lips curved in a cold smile. "They all come seeking wisdom at the master's feet, but I'm rarely there. The system works without me now—both in my studio and with HarmoniQ. I was offered a chance to apply my understanding of human visual perception to something that could actually change society, not just hang on gallery walls for the elite."

"Change it into whose version of order? Someone always writes the hierarchy — you just gave them the tools." Maya pressed. "A place where unseen faces determine who loves whom? Where medical histories become leverage? Where dissent is identified and neutralised?"

Richards' expression hardened. "You're naive. The world was heading there anyway. I gave it aesthetic integrity."

"Aesthetic integrity?" Maya repeated, disbelief colouring her voice. "Is that how you justify it to yourself? The machine you built is destroying everyone and everything, but at least it looks pretty doing it?"

Professor Kim stepped forward. "Maya, you're speaking without understanding the larger context. HarmoniQ addresses real societal needs—"

"Don't," Maya said, turning to her former mentor. "Don't pretend this is about social good. This is about control masquerading as connection. And you knew. All those times I came to you, struggling with my choices—you fed every word straight to them."

Professor Kim's composure wavered slightly. Her eyes flicked — not with guilt, but irritation, as if Maya's pain were an inconvenience. "You're drawing conclusions from partial information—"

"You were identified as a potential resistance case early on," Richards interjected, studying Maya with interest. "Creative, independent-minded, unwilling to follow conventional paths. Your profile indicated you might question HarmoniQ's influence once you noticed it."

Maya felt a chill at his casual acknowledgment. "So I was an experiment."

"Everyone is, in a sense," Richards replied. "But special attention must be paid to outliers like you. The system needs to understand resistance to overcome it." He smiled faintly, studying her as if watching a rare specimen finally reveal its behaviour.

A few guests glanced over, sensing tension but not understanding its source. Maya forced herself not to step back. If he wanted to study resistance, she would give him a demonstration.