Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood

            I’d nod, but I feel queasy. MagTech’s helmets are at the same stage as ours. Maybe a bit further. A tiny bit further, but still. The banana I had for breakfast is lurching in my stomach. “Yup.”

            “They solved the output location problems in a different way,” he murmurs. He’s talking to himself, one hand clenched on the armrest, white-knuckled.

            Yep. This sucks.

            Hey, Dr. Curie. I know you’re busy frolicking naked with Pierre, and I know that it’s unfair of me to ask, but if you or Hertha could do me a solid and zap MagTech’s stimulation headgear with radioactive lightning, that’d be lovely. If they patent the technology before we do, they’ll just sell it to whatever militia pays the most, and as you know, humans don’t need cognitive enhancement when it comes to killing each other. Kthxbye.

            “They’re stuck on merging hardware and software,” Levi says.

            “Yep. Just like us.” I squirm in my chair. This trip was pointless. Absolutely pointless. I want to go back to Houston and put in five, ten, twenty hours of work. Go through every single piece of data we’ve collected and see if I missed anything that will help us move forward.

            This is a race. It always was, from the very start, but after the uncertainty of my first week on BLINK, I was so grateful for the opportunity to have a shot at it, it almost slipped my mind. Doing our best, making progress—that seemed enough. Spoiler: it wasn’t. For the first time in weeks I think, really think, about my job at NIH. I’ve been sending weekly reports to Trevor and the Institute director. There hasn’t been much of a reaction on their end except for “Nice job” and “Keep up the good work.” I wonder whether they read or just skim for buzzwords. Neural networks. Magnetic pulses. Neuroplasticity’s always a hit, too.

            What would they say if I told them that MagTech might reach the finish line first? Would they blame me? Would my job be safe? And what would happen to the promotion I want? I’ll either be fired or work for Trevor in perpetuity—is this what my career ambitions have come to, an eternal quest for the lesser evil?

            Become a scientist, they said. It will be fun, they said.

            “Let’s go.” Levi springs up from his chair the second the presentation ends. “If we leave now, we can be home by mid-afternoon.”

            I’ve never been more eager to get out of an air-conditioned room. “You want to hole up in the lab and work until you pass out?”

            “Yup.” He pops the P.

            At least we’re on the same page. “You know what?” I muse, weaving my way through the crowd. “I might have an idea on how to tackle the gradient fields issue—”

            “As I live and breathe. Levi and Bee!”

            We stop dead. But we don’t turn around, because we don’t need to. Voices are like faces, after all: one never forgets them, not if they belong to people who are important. Your parents. Siblings. Best friends, partners, crushes.

            Ph.D. advisors.

            “I cannot believe you’re here and I didn’t know it.”

            Levi’s eyes lock with mine. Fuck, I read in the way his pupils dilate. I telepathically answer, Indeed. His expression darkens.

            I love Sam. We both love Sam. I’ve never talked about her with Levi, but I know they had a special relationship, just like she and I did. She was an outstanding advisor: intelligent, supportive, and she cared, really cared, about us. After my falling out with Tim and Annie, I didn’t have the heart to tell her what really happened. So I made up some lies about a friendly breakup and about needing to be in Baltimore with nonexistent relatives. Sam was the one who helped me find my job with Trevor, and she never criticized me for turning down a better position at Vanderbilt. I always love hearing from her, catching up on her work, getting coffee together. Always.

            Except for right now.

            I smile as she engulfs me in a bear hug, and—okay, this feels amazing. She’s tall and sturdily built. A truly committed hugger. I find myself laughing, squeezing her back. “It’s so nice to see you, Sam.”

            “That’s my line. And you, Levi, look at you. Are you even taller?” Their hug is significantly more subdued. I’m nonetheless shocked that Levi does hugs, and by the affectionate smile on his lips.