The clock ticked closer to 2 a.m. Clusters of sleep-deprived attendees dashed about, some clutching laptops, others discussing GANs with the intensity of caffeinated philosophers. Someone’s holographic demo malfunctioned nearby, projecting spinning memecoins into the air above them.

Isaak sat atop a crate labelled “DO NOT TOUCH: FRAGILE” with a crumpled bag of chips. Popping an energy drink, Isaak waved a hand. “This is dedication.”

“It’s called mania,” Euan corrected, frowning as he adjusted his glasses. “And for the record, Isaak, that’s your third energy drink. Kindly refrain from lecturing me about dedication while you’re on the precipice of a caffeine-induced implosion.”

Someone wheeled over a cart of leftover conference swag, including tote bags, keychains, and half-empty bottles of nootropic-infused water. Arsenii grabbed a bottle, proclaiming it “fuel for innovation,” and promptly chugged it. His pupils dilated noticeably as he began arguing with a noticeably Russian accent.

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Euan said, watching in disbelief.

Isaak waved his arms dramatically. “Do you think Oppenheimer slowed down when he built the atomic bomb? Did Turing wait for perfect conditions? No. They changed the world because they acted.”

“And let us not gloss over the less-than-ideal aftermath of those actions,” Euan replied. “You keep using historical examples to justify your recklessness, but you ignore the costs.”

Bradley threw his hands in the air. “There are always costs! You just have to decide which ones you’re willing to pay.”

Arsenii and Euan had drifted slightly away from the main group, their conversation taking on a quieter but no less intense energy.

They leaned against a display table labeled “Predictive Models in Healthcare,” which had been temporarily abandoned, much like the thread of their own lives during this surreal night.

“So,” Euan said, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity, “you’re saying you’ve exhausted the rationality community? That’s… rather audacious.”

Arsenii shrugged with a flair that made his statement seem both obvious and absurd at the same time. “I mean, how many Bayesian updates can one person do before it’s all the same? You read the books, attend the camps, meditate on your priors, and then what? You find yourself optimizing for how to get the most calories out of a bag of rice? It’s boring.”

Euan adjusted his glasses, raising an eyebrow. “Boring? Rationality isn’t created to be exciting—it’s a framework for improving cognitive clarity and decision-making.”

“That’s the problem!” Arsenii exclaimed, his hands sweeping wide and nearly knocking over a nearby demo. “It’s all thinking! No doing! How many times can we debate Pascal’s Mugging before we realize no one is getting mugged by the universe? We need action. Tangibility. Something real.”

Euan tilted his head slightly, his expression a perfect mix of skepticism and amusement. “So your answer is… fintech?”

“Fintech!” Arsenii declared, his Russian accent thickening slightly in his enthusiasm. “Fast money, real stakes, no pretentious ethical dilemmas about paperclips taking over the world.”

Euan folded his arms, his calm demeanor unshaken. “You are aware, I trust, that fintech is just rationality applied to capitalism? It’s spreadsheets and algorithms, not exactly skydiving.”

Arsenii leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “But it’s *spreadsheets that matter, Euan. Money moves the world. You can run all the rationality workshops you want, but in the end, someone has to figure out how to optimize loan repayment models. That’s real impact.”

Euan smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. “So you’re saying you’d rather optimize capitalism than humanity? Bold move.”

“Yes!” Arsenii said with a dramatic point, as if he were delivering the final line of a Shakespearean monologue. “Because capitalism works. It’s messy and flawed, but it moves. Rationality camps? They’re like a treadmill for your brain. You go nowhere, but you feel exhausted.”

Euan laughed, shaking his head. “You’re incredible. You go to rationality camps, claim you’ve outgrown them, and then decide fintech is the answer? That’s like completing a marathon and declaring, ‘You know what I need? A skateboard.’”

“Exactly!” Arsenii said, entirely missing the sarcasm. “A skateboard goes faster. Why run when you can glide?”

Euan opened his mouth to respond but then paused. “You know what? I almost envy you. You manage to frame every life decision into performance art.”

Arsenii grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “That’s because life is art, my dear Euan. And I plan to monetize mine.”

“Good luck with that,” Euan said, shaking his head but smiling. “Just don’t forget to meditate on your priors before your first quarterly review.”

Arsenii waved him off, already spinning a half-formed fintech idea in his head. “Please, I’ve got this. Meditation is for when you’re not winning.”