The air in the National Institute of Technology’s main computer lab was thick with the scent of ozone, overheated processors, and the collective anxiety of eighty students. It was Results Day.
At the center of the room stood the “Wall of Fame”—a 60-inch monitor that refreshed every sixty seconds with the updated departmental rankings.
Navya Kapoor stood at the front, her arms crossed over her “I void warranties” t-shirt. Her heel tapped a rhythmic, impatient beat against the linoleum. She didn’t need to look at the screen to know she was fast, but she needed the screen to tell everyone else she was the fastest.
The screen flickered. The data parsed.
Navya Kapoor – GPA: 9.98 | Technical Score: 100/100
Aarav Malhotra – GPA: 9.97 | Technical Score: 100/100
A small, predatory smile curled Navya’s lips. She turned her head slightly, catching Aarav leaning against a server rack in the back. He looked infuriatingly calm, his eyes fixed on a handheld terminal, a single earbud in, dark hair falling over his forehead.
“Point-zero-one, Malhotra,” Navya called out, her voice cutting through the whispers of the lab. “That’s the distance between a lead dev and a support tech. Better luck next semester.”
Aarav didn’t look up. He didn’t even stop typing.
“It’s a rounding error, Kapoor. The system uses a floating-point variable for the GPA calculation. If the admin had used a decimal type for higher precision, we’d be tied.”
“Excuses are for people who don’t optimize,” she shot back, stepping into his personal space. “I didn’t just beat you; I out-compiled you.”
Aarav finally looked up.
His eyes were cold, analytical, and deeply unimpressed. He straightened his posture, towering over her by a few inches.
“You spent forty extra hours on the GUI for the final project just to get the ‘Aesthetics’ bonus,” he said flatly. “I spent forty minutes on the backend logic and got the same technical score. You didn’t win because you’re better. You won because you’re strategic.”
The lab went silent.
Navya’s face flushed a deep crimson. She stepped closer, her finger poking his chest.
“I am a perfectionist. You’re just a lazy coder who does the bare minimum to stay relevant.”
“And yet,” Aarav whispered, leaning down so only she could hear, “here I am, living rent-free in your head despite being ‘lazy.’ Check your internal temperature, Kapoor. You’re redlining over a rounding error.”
He tucked his terminal into his bag and walked out without a backward glance, leaving Navya fuming in front of the leaderboard she had worked so hard to top.
The victory tasted like ash.
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