Miscalculation

prologue.

2.A.M. Cold air, chilly night. Yet the sounds of keyboard remain incessant.
 

An aura of dim light is still shining through the glass of one of the university dorm’s windows, although the others have had theirs turned off hours ago. In that particular room, apart from the ticking of the clock, while the only source of light is two hologram screens, only consistent, gradually quickened-up tapping fills up the dead silence. 

Tap, tap. Tick, tock.

...Quiet. Everything laying still is as if wavering from the steady, soft breathing of the person alone there by herself.

A light, shaky sigh escapes her lips, blending in with the cool breezes swaying by the window. The girl’s fingers run carefully through the keyboard one more time before wrapping up the coding. With a few more precise swipes, the program she finished has been sent away to the client. And that's work tonight done, at last.

Her cherry eyes pace the hologram screen with a glint of silent patience, until a notification pops up.

‘You received $3500 from -----. Invoice Paid.’

Sliding the box away without lingering over it the slightest, she seems to have been distracted by another mail in her inbox, which has only popped up on the second hologram screen just now. Another client’s. 

Sighing once more in a tone both of disapproval and weariness, the girl leans back into her chair, intertwining her fingers gently with a moment of pondering before perking up to reply.

‘I'm glad to confirm that the program has been completed in time. In regards to your previous request to meet in person and take a look, I’d suggest that we decide on a date and location ASAP.”

While another wait for a response passes, with her chin tiredly pressed onto her palm, she absently scrolls up to their previous conversations, flicking through their exchange mails. She used to be rather curious about whom she was working with, though admittedly not as much anymore.

This time - seemingly a man of quite informal penmanship, even in business mailin, who goes by the name of "Pope". His wording, timing, all have the aura of impatience, even slight intimidation. But such attitude comes with a highly-priced commission for… an intriguing program. A risky, dangerous experiment.

…Except, whatever purpose the project serves doesn’t matter to her. She found herself accepting the deal for her profit nonetheless.

The next message comes in after a while, giving the necessary details. Although, it ends with a rather offputting part - a serious favor to ask.

‘Please keep in mind that this is a personal and private business deal. You must absolutely make sure that only the two of us will be attending this meeting.' 

“...”

Leaning back with her face to the ceiling, plans and schedules swirl up in the girl’s head before she falls deep in thoughts once again. Her idle gaze lands on the  files on the other side of the desk. Unfinished documents.

The meeting doesn’t collide with University classes, but if it did, she’d doubtlessly end up ignoring the latter anyway. 

This never meant she was a terrible student. Nonetheless, definitely not one who pays excessive attention to their grades either. But as all the teachers would state: if it weren’t for her lack of care for college, she would have been able to become much more accomplished there.

Since when she took up freelance, any motivation for studies has drained away even more.

As the thoughts wander, it suddenly dawns on her that the clock's already struck two. Surely, programming is fun as a distraction from college work, but it does become exhausting as time passes.

The girl sits back up, quietly scolding herself to go to bed right after this. In the end, she still have classes every morning. 

A stray thought of being entirely free by dropping out crosses her mind, but gets brushed away just as fast, as she gathers the last bits of her energy to send a final reply. Then off to bed, without looking twice at the unfinished assignments on the corner of the desk.

...Tired, demotivating, depressing, dull. Yet, she's managed to reassure herself, by then, that her life is stable "enough". That things will be alright staying this way.

Which is Joy Weltner's first miscalculation.