“Let go of me,” Hendryk hissed, his finger tightening on the trigger, “or his lungs end up on the glass.” I felt the cold press of the steel against my sternum. Air scraped in my throat, hot and sour, but I kept my arms locked around his ribs. Marenka stared down from the podium, color drained from her cheeks, both hands poised over the keys. Then, a blur of motion. Silvan, propelled by an animalistic surge, launched himself across the floor. He didn't hesitate, didn't think. His shoulder drove into the CEO's forearm like a timber ram. The pistol clattered to the floor, skittering across the polished parquet like a rogue ice skate, coming to rest perilously close to the cascading champagne fountain. *100%*. The green bar filled, solid and defiant, on the enormous display. A digital chime, crisp and final, echoed through the ballroom, even over the gasps and murmurs. The encrypted audit caches were gone, streaming directly into federal regulatory servers. The fallen executive flailed against my grip, his face mottled scarlet. “You insufferable little rats! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I’ll ruin you all! Your lives, your families, your pathetic little businesses!” he shrieked, his voice cracking with rage, devoid of all his usual polished composure. Two burly security personnel, their faces grim, appeared from the wings of the ballroom, responding to the silent alarm. They moved with swift, practised efficiency, wrenching the disgraced executive from my grasp. The CEO struggled, spitting curses, but they had him cuffed, his hands wrenched behind his back. The flashing blue and red lights of federal marshals’ vehicles pulsed through the panoramic windows, painting the elegant ballroom in garish hues. “This isn’t over!” he roared as guards dragged him past the frozen donors, his silk lapels torn down the seam. A phalanx of journalists, their cameras flashing like frenzied fireflies, surged forward, capturing every agonizing detail of his public downfall. “You’ll regret this, Voss! All of you!” Marenka stared after him until the glass double doors swung shut. When she turned toward me, her jaw was loose and her hands rested empty at her sides, stripped of every defensive metric she had spent years calibrating. Then, Tansy, ever the opportunist, seized her moment. She burst from behind the makeshift stage, a megaphone appearing in her hands as if by magic. “Apex directors! Attention, Apex leadership!” she boomed, her megaphone whine cutting through the room. “In light of recent… corporate restructuring, my Turbo Taco empire is now taking exclusive bids for all future Apex catering contracts! Permanent, ironclad! Think of the brand loyalty! Think of the good press! We accept cash, certified cheques, or firstborn children!” Several petrified suits, still pale from the raid, scrambled forward to appease her, scribbling on cocktail napkins to pledge vendor agreements. Tansy beamed, a triumphant glint in her eyes. Marenka, a small, unreadable smile playing on her lips, walked slowly towards the edge of the stage where the magnificent, multi-tiered champagne fountain gurgled, its liquid gold shimmering under the spotlights. She unstrapped the sleek optimization smartwatch from her wrist. It was a device that had dictated her every movement, her every measurable metric, for so long. Then, with a soft splash, she dropped it into the effervescent cascade. Its digital face flickered, then went dark, sinking beneath the bubbles. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then, with a decisive flick of her wrist, her optimization tablet followed, hitting the sparkling liquid with another, slightly louder *plink*. The device, her constant companion, her analytical shield, now rested at the bottom of the fountain, inert and useless. “Bram,” she said, her voice level enough to cut clean through the noise. She stepped into my reach, looking directly into my eyes without checking a stopwatch or an agenda. “I... I love you.” I caught her by the waist and hauled her against my chest. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair. I leaned down, crushing my lips against hers in a kiss that tasted of champagne, triumph, and a future I hadn’t dared to dream of. The world dissolved into the fierce, sweet press of her mouth. Then, Tansy’s voice, impossibly loud and panicked, shattered the perfect moment. “BRAM! MARENKA! My turbo taco cart! It’s on fire! Again!” Marenka pulled back, a laugh bubbling up from deep within her, a sound I’d rarely heard, full and unrestrained. Her mouth twitched into an unpracticed grin. “So,” she said, a playful challenge in her gaze, “do we optimize the fire extinguisher, or keep kissing?”

Unquantifiable