Gemotions

The low, almost inaudible thrum of the server room intensified the pressure building in Clara's chest. She checked her notes again, the ink blurring slightly. Each word swam before her eyes. What if they knew? What if they already understood the terrifying similarity? The thought triggered a series of involuntary tremors.

She’d convinced herself it was a coincidence, a fluke of the algorithm. But the evidence, the identical methodologies, stared back at her with chilling clarity. She had to present first, before the other researcher, Mark. Before he showed them the exact thing she had been hiding. She forced herself to walk towards the podium.

The room seemed to spin. The air in the room grew heavy. Her mouth felt dry, and she knew she should speak, but the words stuck like glue. Her hands shook as she raised them. Mark’s confident grin, which she had thought so charming, now felt like a taunt.