The Algorithm of Spring

116

The studio entrance remained unchanged—worn stone steps leading to heavy wooden doors, the scent of oil paint and turpentine greeting her as she pushed them open. Inside, students worked at their easels, some lost in concentration, others frowning at half-formed ideas. The northern light cast long shadows, turning wet paint luminous.

As she walked through the space, she felt a quiet sense of ownership. This was hers to build. After Professor Kim's abrupt retirement and the university's scramble to recover from the HarmoniQ fallout, the board hadn't offered her a job — they'd made a plea. They had asked her to create a program from the ground up, one that would teach the next generation how to navigate the fraught intersection of art and digital ethics. It wasn't a reinstatement; it was a quiet revolution, funded by a university desperate to appear on the right side of history.

Min-seo leaned against the studio window, waiting for her. She offered Maya a rare smile as she approached.

"Looks like you have them focused," Min-seo said, nodding toward the students.

"It's a start," Maya replied, setting her bag down on her desk.

"Speaking of starts," Min-seo's voice grew more serious, "your cousin called me."

"Min-ji?" Maya replied, her own voice quiet. "I'm glad she reached out. How is she?"

"She's taking the first steps," Min-seo said. "Asked for the therapist's contact info. She told me she and her husband are separating."

"I thought it might come to that," Maya said softly. "Thank you for being there for her. I think she needed someone outside the family to talk to."

"Of course," Min-seo said. "That's what the network is for." She straightened, her practical nature reasserting itself. "I've been offered a position at the Digital Rights Foundation. They want someone who understands how these systems can be manipulated—and how to prevent it."

"You're taking it?"

Min-seo nodded. "What we did with HarmoniQ was necessary, but it was reactive. Now we need to be proactive. HarmoniQ was just the public face; the Nexus infrastructure wasn't destroyed, it just went private. The monster is still out there, it's just harder to see. We need to build ethical frameworks before the next algorithm—or megalomaniac— tries to mess with humanity." She glanced around the room. "Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on artists like you who keep breaking things."

Maya smiled, recognising the friendship that had formed through crisis and purpose. "Some things need breaking."

"And some need protecting," Min-seo replied, heading for the door. "Good luck with the class."

After Min-seo left, Maya glanced at her device one last time. Two messages sat waiting. The first was from Alan Richards, confirming tomorrow's arrangement. Keep your friends close, she thought, and your fallen idols closer. He was more useful here, where she could see him, than plotting a comeback from the shadows. The second was from Jun-ho: See you tonight. A faint smile touched her lips before she swiped the screen off.

She addressed the students, who were looking to her for guidance. "Before we begin," she said, her voice carrying through the quiet studio, "a reminder that our guest lecturer arrives tomorrow. I expect you all to have questions prepared."

Some students exchanged looks. They knew who was coming.

"And the usual rule applies." She pointed to the wooden box near the door. "All devices locked away for the duration. Not because of surveillance concerns, but because real focus requires disconnection."

A student hesitated. "Even for the guest lecturer?"

"Especially for him," Maya said, her voice calm and certain.

"Mr. Richards understands better than most what is lost when creation is distracted."

A quiet understanding settled over the room.

Maya surveyed their work, the canvases blooming with colour—some skilled, some raw, but all of them honest.

In the tall windows, she caught her reflection — a teacher in a paint-splattered apron, standing at the centre of a new beginning.

She clapped her hands once, bringing the room to attention.

"Now," she said, "show me what you've made."