#challenges in quantum computing

[techtoio]

The Fascinating Science Behind Quantum Computing: Explained

Introduction

Welcome to TechtoIO! Today, we embark on a journey to one of the most thrilling frontiers in technology: quantum computing. This radical area promises a transformation of information processing, problem resolution, and understanding of the universe. How do quantum computers work, and what is quantum computing? Let’s break down the science behind this cutting-edge technology in simple, easy-to-understand terms. Read to continue

[tejkohli25]

Challenges in AI Development & Deployment

Artificial Intelligence (AI) has transformed industries, driving automation, efficiency, and decision-making. However, despite its advancements, AI development and deployment come with significant challenges that slow down adoption and raise ethical concerns. From data biases and regulatory compliance to computational limitations, businesses and governments must address these hurdles to fully unlock AI’s potential.

For expert insights on why AI alone won’t shape the future, check out this analysis.

Key Challenges in AI Development

1. Data Quality and Bias Issues

AI models rely on large datasets, but poor-quality or biased data can lead to unfair and inaccurate results.

Bias in AI has been seen in hiring processes, credit scoring, and facial recognition systems, raising ethical concerns.

Ensuring data diversity and unbiased training is crucial for AI fairness and effectiveness.

2. High Costs & Computational Power Requirements

Developing AI models requires expensive hardware, cloud computing, and energy-intensive resources.

Training complex AI systems consumes vast amounts of electricity and computing power, making it less sustainable.

Startups and smaller businesses struggle with AI deployment due to high operational costs.

3. Regulatory & Compliance Challenges

Governments worldwide are introducing AI regulations to prevent unethical AI usage and ensure transparency.

GDPR, the EU AI Act, and UK AI governance policies are reshaping how businesses deploy AI.

Companies must comply with privacy laws, data protection frameworks, and ethical AI guidelines.

Challenges in AI Deployment

1. Lack of General Intelligence & Adaptability

AI remains task-specific, meaning it can only perform within its pre-defined scope.

Unlike Artificial General Intelligence (AGI), today’s AI lacks human-like reasoning and adaptability.

AI models struggle with real-world unpredictability, limiting their broader applications.

2. Cybersecurity Risks & Ethical Dilemmas

AI is vulnerable to cyber threats, data breaches, and adversarial attacks.

Malicious actors can manipulate AI models, leading to misinformation and fraudulent activities.

Governments must strengthen AI security frameworks to protect sensitive information.

3. Public Trust & Workforce Disruption

Job displacement fears due to AI automation create resistance in workplaces.

Public distrust in AI-driven decisions raises concerns about transparency and accountability.

Businesses need AI ethics policies and human-AI collaboration models to gain societal acceptance.

How to Overcome AI Challenges

1. Ethical AI Development & Responsible Deployment

AI developers must prioritize fairness, transparency, and unbiased data selection.

Investing in AI ethics research and regulatory compliance will improve public trust.

Companies should adopt explainable AI (XAI) models to enhance accountability.

2. Advancing AI Infrastructure & Computing Power

Businesses should leverage cloud-based AI solutions and quantum computing advancements.

Reducing computational costs through optimization techniques will make AI adoption more accessible.

Governments and private sectors must invest in AI supercomputing centers to support future innovations.

3. Strengthening AI Governance & Cybersecurity

AI security frameworks should integrate strong encryption, data privacy safeguards, and cyber threat detection.

AI developers must collaborate with policymakers to shape ethical AI regulations.

Enhancing AI explainability and accountability will drive responsible AI adoption.

Tej Kohli’s Perspective on AI Challenges & Future Growth

Investor and tech entrepreneur Tej Kohli has emphasized that while AI holds transformative potential, overcoming its challenges is critical. His insights include:

AI alone is not the future—technologies like Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) and quantum computing will drive real innovation.

Investments in AI ethics and security are essential to prevent AI misuse and biases.

Businesses and governments must work together to develop AI policies that encourage both innovation and accountability.

Conclusion

AI development and deployment come with major hurdles, from data biases and cybersecurity risks to high costs and regulatory challenges. Overcoming these issues requires a collaborative effort from governments, businesses, and AI researchers. By focusing on ethical AI practices, improved computing power, and stronger governance, AI can evolve into a trustworthy and transformative force.

[jcmarchi]

Microsoft’s Majorana hype: Real proof or just marketing?

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/microsofts-majorana-hype-real-proof-or-just-marketing/

Microsoft’s Majorana hype: Real proof or just marketing?

Introduction: The quest for reliable qubits

Quantum computing faces a fundamental challenge: qubits, the basic units of quantum information, are notoriously fragile.

Conventional approaches, such as superconducting circuits and trapped ions, require intricate error-correction techniques to counteract decoherence. Microsoft has pursued an alternative path: Majorana-based topological qubits, which promise inherent noise resistance due to their non-local encoding of quantum information.

This idea, based on theoretical work from the late 1990s, suggests that quantum states encoded in Majorana zero modes (MZMs) could be immune to local noise, reducing the need for extensive error correction. Microsoft has invested two decades into developing these qubits, culminating in the recent “Majorana 1” prototype.

However, given past controversies and ongoing skepticism, the scientific community remains cautious in interpreting these results.

The scientific basis of Majorana-based qubits

Topological qubits derive their stability from the spatial separation of Majorana zero modes, which exist at the ends of specially engineered nanowires. These modes exhibit non-Abelian statistics, meaning their quantum state changes only through specific topological operations, rather than local perturbations. This property, in theory, makes Majorana qubits highly resistant to noise.

Microsoft’s approach involves constructing “tetrons,” pairs of Majorana zero modes that encode a single logical qubit through their collective parity state. Operations are performed using simple voltage pulses, which avoids the complex analog controls required for traditional superconducting qubits.

Additionally, digital measurement-based quantum computing is employed to correct errors passively. If successful, this design could lead to a scalable, error-resistant quantum architecture.

However, while the theoretical framework for Majorana qubits is robust, experimental verification has been challenging. Majorana zero modes do not occur naturally and must be engineered in materials like indium arsenide nanowires in proximity to superconductors.

Establishing that these states exist and behave as expected has proven difficult, leading to past controversies.

Historical controversies: The 2018 retraction

A major setback for Microsoft’s Majorana initiative occurred in 2018 when researchers, including Leo Kouwenhoven’s team at TU Delft (funded by Microsoft), published a Nature paper claiming to have observed quantized conductance signatures consistent with Majorana zero modes.

This was hailed as a breakthrough in topological quantum computing. However, by 2021, the paper was retracted after inconsistencies were found in data analysis. Independent replication attempts failed to observe the same results, and an internal investigation revealed that a key graph in the original paper had been selectively manipulated.

This event, dubbed the “Majorana Meltdown,” significantly damaged the credibility of Microsoft’s approach. It highlighted the challenge of distinguishing genuine Majorana modes from other quantum states that mimic their signatures due to material imperfections. Many physicists became skeptical, arguing that similar issues could undermine subsequent claims.

Experimental progress and remaining challenges

Despite the 2018 controversy, Microsoft and its collaborators have continued refining their approach. The recent announcement of the “Majorana 1” chip in 2025 presents experimental evidence supporting the feasibility of Majorana-based qubits.

Key advancements include:

Fabrication of “topoconductor” materials: Microsoft developed a new indium arsenide/aluminum heterostructure to reliably host Majorana zero modes.

Parity measurement success: The team demonstrated that they could measure the qubit’s parity (even vs. odd electron occupation) with 99% accuracy, a crucial validation step.

Increased parity lifetime: The qubit’s state exhibited stability over milliseconds, significantly surpassing superconducting qubits’ coherence times (which are typically in the microsecond range).

Digital control implementation: Unlike analog-tuned superconducting qubits, Majorana qubits can be manipulated with simple voltage pulses, theoretically enabling large-scale integration.

While these are important steps forward, the experiments have not yet demonstrated key quantum operations, such as two-qubit entanglement via non-Abelian braiding. Until this milestone is achieved, claims about the superiority of topological qubits remain speculative.

Comparison with other qubit technologies

To assess Microsoft’s claims, it is useful to compare Majorana qubits with existing quantum computing platforms:

Superconducting qubits (IBM, Google): These have demonstrated successful quantum error correction and multi-qubit entanglement but require extensive calibration and error correction. Fidelity levels for two-qubit gates currently range around 99.9%.

Trapped-ion qubits (IonQ, Quantinuum): These offer superior coherence times (seconds vs. microseconds for superconductors) but suffer from slow gate speeds and complex laser-based control.

Majorana-based qubits: Theoretically provide built-in error protection, reducing the need for extensive error correction. However, experimental validation is still in progress, and large-scale integration remains untested.

Microsoft has argued that Majorana qubits will enable a quantum computer with a million qubits on a single chip, a feat that conventional qubits struggle to achieve.

While this is an exciting possibility, many researchers caution that scaling challenges remain, especially given the extreme conditions (millikelvin temperatures, precise nanowire fabrication) required for Majorana qubits.

Despite recent progress, many physicists remain skeptical of Microsoft’s claims.

Key concerns include:

Lack of direct evidence for Majorana zero modes: While Microsoft’s 2025 Nature paper presents strong supporting data, the scientific community has yet to reach a consensus that Majorana modes have been definitively observed.

Alternative explanations for observed phenomena: Many experimental signatures attributed to Majorana states could be explained by disorder-induced states or other trivial effects in semiconductor-superconductor interfaces.

Unverified large-scale claims: Microsoft’s assertion that its approach will lead to fault-tolerant quantum computing “within years, not decades” is met with skepticism. Experts note that even the most advanced conventional quantum computers are still years away from practical applications, and scaling from an 8-qubit chip to a million-qubit processor is an enormous leap.

Comparison to competing approaches: Some argue that improvements in quantum error correction for superconducting and trapped-ion qubits may render topological qubits unnecessary by the time they are fully realized.

A Promising but unproven path

Microsoft’s Majorana-based qubits represent one of the most ambitious efforts in quantum computing. The theoretical promise of intrinsic error protection and simplified quantum control is compelling, and recent experiments provide encouraging evidence that topological qubits can be realized.

However, historical controversies, ongoing skepticism, and the lack of key demonstrations (such as two-qubit gates) mean that these qubits are not yet a proven alternative to existing technologies.

While Microsoft has made significant strides in overcoming past setbacks, their claims of imminent large-scale quantum computing should be met with caution.

The coming years will be critical in determining whether Majorana qubits will revolutionize quantum computing or remain an elegant but impractical idea. As independent verification and further experiments unfold, the scientific community will ultimately decide whether Microsoft’s bold bet pays off.

[devipatil]

The Role of Quantum Literacy in Solving Global Challenges

Quantum computing is no longer just a futuristic idea—it’s a transformative technology with the potential to tackle some of the world’s most urgent problems. From fighting climate change to accelerating drug discovery and optimizing energy systems, quantum computing is set to revolutionize how we address global challenges. However, to fully unlock its potential, we need a quantum-literate workforce that can understand and apply these advanced technologies. Here’s how quantum literacy can play a critical role in solving global issues.

How Quantum Computing Can Address Global Challenges

Quantum computing’s ability to process massive amounts of data and solve complex problems makes it uniquely suited to tackle pressing global issues. Here are a few key areas where it’s making a difference:

1. Climate Change: Advancing Carbon Capture

Quantum computers can simulate molecular interactions at an unprecedented scale, helping researchers design more efficient carbon capture technologies.

For example, IBM Quantum is using quantum simulations to identify materials that can capture and store carbon dioxide more effectively, reducing greenhouse gas emissions.

2. Drug Discovery: Accelerating Breakthroughs

Quantum computing can model complex molecular structures, speeding up the process of drug discovery and development.

Projects like Google Quantum AI’s work on protein folding are paving the way for breakthroughs in treating diseases like Alzheimer’s and cancer.

3. Energy Optimization: Enhancing Renewable Energy

Quantum algorithms can optimize energy grids, improve battery storage, and enhance the efficiency of renewable energy systems.

For instance, quantum computing is being used to design better materials for solar panels and wind turbines, making renewable energy more accessible and cost-effective.

Why Quantum Literacy is Essential

While quantum computing holds immense promise, its potential can only be realized with a workforce that understands and can apply these technologies. Here’s why quantum literacy is crucial:

Translating Research into Action: Quantum-literate professionals can turn complex research into practical solutions, ensuring quantum computing is effectively applied to real-world problems.

Driving Innovation: A quantum-literate workforce can develop new algorithms, tools, and applications that push the boundaries of what’s possible.

Solving Complex Problems: Global challenges like climate change and healthcare require interdisciplinary collaboration, and quantum literacy enables professionals from diverse fields to contribute meaningfully.

Be Part of the Quantum Revolution

Solving global challenges with quantum computing requires collective effort. Here’s how you can contribute:

Support Quantum Research: Advocate for increased funding and resources for quantum research initiatives.

Learn and Share: Educate yourself about quantum computing and share your knowledge to raise awareness.

Collaborate: Join or support organizations working on quantum solutions to global challenges, such as climate change or healthcare.

Conclusion: INA Solutions’ Commitment to a Quantum-Powered Future

At INA Solutions, we are passionate about empowering businesses and communities with emerging technologies like quantum computing. Our mission is to optimize processes, uncover insights, and drive growth through innovative solutions, expert knowledge, and exceptional service. We recognize the transformative potential of quantum computing in addressing global challenges and are committed to supporting initiatives that promote quantum literacy and innovation.

While we are not an educational institution, we provide the expertise and tools businesses need to integrate quantum computing into their operations and contribute to solving global challenges. Whether you’re looking to upskill your team, explore quantum applications, or advocate for quantum research, INA Solutions is here to help.

[wickedzeevyln]

As Water

The sun is aghast as it climbs over the peaks to find fields of ones and zeros crawling, sprawling, and devouring everything in their path—eating our old lives away, steadily seeping into our bones as they did our souls. We are transistors leaking out of the atoms as if we were laws of physics waltzing near an event horizon to find that the numbers we conjured in hubris are all breaking down. We…

[emerging-tech]

Quantum Computing: How Close Are We to a Technological Revolution?

1. Introduction Brief overview of quantum computing. Importance of quantum computing in the future of technology. 2. Understanding Quantum Computing Explanation of qubits, superposition, and entanglement. How quantum computing differs from classical computing. 3. The Current State of Quantum Computing Advances by major players (Google, IBM, Microsoft). Examples of quantum computing…

[ghostlytidalwavephantom]

implement emitEvent using quantum computing and the new age can start;

[littlcdarlin]

Event Horizon

summary: When you start university to do your master’s in physics, you are more than surprised to meet your professor: Joel Miller, an old friend of your parents' who moved away years ago. word–count: 15k warnings: professor kink, power imbalance due to Joel being reader's professor, illegal relationship (overage & consenting), dbf!Joel, big fat age gap (unspecified but written with early 20s & mid 50s in mind), unprotected piv, just overall daddy issues (no use of the word daddy)

note: Okay, time to tell you I am a big nerd and studied physics in uni. Truth is, I quit to pursue a career in the arts, so my knowledge of masters level physics is...a little rusty. Please be lenient with me if I messed anything up. Also, I know most people hate physics, but I promise Joel makes it hot. Warning: explanation of the Dirac equation as foreplay. Also, I'm European and have no fucking clue how the American education system works but I don't care enough to do research. Enjoy <3333

event horizon noun ASTRONOMY a notional boundary around a black hole beyond which no light or other radiation can escape. a point of no return.

Uni felt different at eighteen, when everything was about moving out, drinking beer at frat parties, and kissing boys who didn’t grow up in the same town you did. It was an exciting time, the degree itself fading into the background of all sorts of new experiences, but now that you’re doing your masters, you plan on focusing on your your grades more than on partying.

You enrolled in a new university, farther away from home, with a better physics program, and although you’ve grown up considerably, you still feel that tingle of anxiety you did when you first walked to your dorm, fresh out of high school. This time you won’t have to share with another student, spending your saved money on a bit of privacy that is a single dorm room, but still, you wonder if you’ll make friends here, or if you’ll spend your night hauled up alone, watching trash TV and crying because you’re lonely.

The room is small, blank, but functional with a bathroom you share with another student and a small kitchenette, and immediately you dream of all the ways you could decorate it. You didn’t bring much, just a big suitcase and a few boxes your Dad dropped off earlier. You feel slightly guilty for leaving your parents behind, but the relief outweighs the guilt – you won’t have to come home every Sunday for dinner, visits will be scarce. You love you parents, but the distance is much needed.

You get to unpacking your clothes, reveling in the fact that you can listen to music without headphones in your very own space. You could do it in your underwear, or naked, you could sing and dance along, and nobody would be bothered by it. It’s going to be a tough two years, the program you chose more than challenging, but a childish sort of giddiness fills you – no roommate to be considerate of, no parents to visit and take care of every week. This time in your life is about you, and only you – your career, but also your well-being. You promise yourself to do what makes you happy, instead of looking out for everyone else all of the time, and you’ll start by ordering Thai food and watching the trashiest movie with the hottest actors you can find on the little flatscreen you brought with you.

***

Your first lecture is Computational Physics – the one you’re looking forward to the least. The reason you decided to study physics at all was the predictable logic behind each problem, but the more you studied, the more complex the problems got, until they were impossible to solve analytically. Now you get to solve fluid dynamic equations and simulate quantum systems on a Monday morning instead of having a peaceful cup of coffee and taking a walk around campus.

The lecture hall is big, and you pick a seat that is neither too far away to be able to read the professor’s notes, nor close enough to immediately be pinned as an over-eager teacher’s pet. In the end, you plop down next to a girl who’s sitting alone, something about her shaved head and countless earrings making you think she wouldn’t make fun of you even if you didn’t understand a single thing all lecture.

"Okay if I sit here?", you ask somewhat timidly, trying hard not to sound too much like an eleven year old Ron Weasley boarding the train to Hogwarts.

"Please," the girl answers, "I don’t know anybody here."

"Did you move here, too?"

"Yeah, I’m from New York."

"You look it," you say with a smile, eyes drifting over her clothes and jewelry.

"Thanks…I guess?", she answers, her grin revealing a charming gap between her front teeth. "I’m Alva."

You introduce yourself, thankful to have found someone you can stick to already. Throughout the lecture you find out that apart from being much cooler than everyone else in the room, Alva has a biting sense of humor, and a near endless knowledge of computational physics. You make a mental note to ask her to study together, her explanations much easier to understand than the professor’s.

The two of you spend your lunch break together, and you tell her a little bit about yourself, but way too soon it’s time to go already – you have Advanced Quantum Mechanics in a different lecture hall. This you find way more interesting, basic quantum mechanics was one of your favorite lectures during your bachelor’s degree. As Alva and you sit down, you find yourself hoping you’ll be able to help her out this time, or you’d feel like a leech for making her help you with Computational. She doesn’t seem bothered, though, and keeps babbling happily about a band she recently discovered.

"– Britpop, but they only put out two albums. I think they were like a student band or something? They’re wildly underrated, I’ll send you a song, their debut is called The Sun Is Often Out."

Your thoughts start to wander off a little, eyes drifting over the old-fashioned chalkboards, when the door at the front of the lecture hall opens, and a tall man walks in – a man you recognize.

"Holy shit," you whisper, interrupting Alva’s rant about the Longpigs, and she turns her head to look at what you’re staring at.

"Damn," she says with a grin, "if I wasn’t gay, I’d want a piece of that."

"No," you snort, "I know him. He’s my Dad’s friend."

Alva opens her mouth to say something, but at that moment, Joel Miller steps forward, checking to see if the microphone is working, and introduces himself to the hundreds of students in front of him. His voice is deep, and as warm as you remember it, but that’s where the accuracy of your memories ends – your childish brain failed to register the tanned forearms and rolled up sleeves, the carelessly styled curls, the perfect side-profile. He’s got grey streaks in his hair now, which should send you into a crisis about time passing and your own little life being finite, but instead it makes your stomach swirl with something dangerous. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller, who organized backyard barbecues with your father and bought your favorite vegan sausages when your Dad rolled his eyes at you, who made strawberry lemonade instead of lemon, because he knew you preferred it, who helped you with your physics homework when you were graduating high school and didn’t rat you out when he caught you smoking at seventeen – he’s handsome.

There’s still a familiarity about him, the way he moves and talks, although it’s unsettling to see him in such a different environment. You’re used to band-tee-Joel, beer bottle and tongs in his hands, a breezy smile on his face. He looks different here, in a white button-down, with a stern expression on his face, as he’s reading the names on his list to check attendance. When he calls Alva’s name and she raises her hand, his eyes flicker upwards, but he doesn’t look at you. Still, your stomach lurches. If you listen carefully, you can detect that southern twang in his voice you’re sure most people would miss, and it fills you with satisfaction to know you’re the one who knows him best in this room – you’re sure half the lecture hall must see how attractive he is.

When he reads out your name, there’s a surprised lilt to his tone, and your heart threatens to skip a beat.

"Here."

Your eyes meet, and although his expression doesn’t change, he holds your eyecontact for a second too long. Alva nudges your side and grins.

Your plans about outshining Alva and returning the favor of helping with a lecture are quickly buried by Joel Miller’s beautiful hands – thick fingers holding a piece of chalk almost tenderly, twirling it around when he isn’t writing on the chalkboard. You vaguely register him introducing the Dirac equation, but as interesting as you would normally find it, your thoughts are stuck between memories of barbecues and the realization that you will have to call the man who taught you to drive Professor Miller.

If Alva notices your wandering mind, she doesn’t comment on it, which you’re thankful for. You do notice her throwing you a couple of knowing glances, as you copy down what Joel is writing down, mixing up gamma, delta, and the Dirac spinor.

"Alright, so you all know how Schrödinger’s equation works great for quantum mechanics, but it doesn’t play nicely with Einstein’s relativity, right? That’s a problem because electrons move fast, sometimes close to the speed of light, so we need an equation that respects both quantum mechanics and special relativity. That’s where Dirac steps in."

He’s still got that warm way of explaining things your Dad never managed when you needed help in high school, like he enjoys clearing things up for people. He’s a born teacher, patient when you panicked in the car because you confused the clutch and the break, persistent when you wanted to throw your physics book against a wall. Look, kid, think of it this way: Push harder, it moves faster. Make it heavier, it’s harder to move. If you apply a force F to an object with mass m, it will accelerate a. That’s why your Dad’s car takes longer to stop than your bike. Even now, he manages to make a far more complex equation than Newton’s second law tangible.

"Dirac's equation is like the grown-up version of Schrödinger’s equation. It explains how particles with spin-half, like electrons, behave when they move at relativistic speeds. The gamma mu matrices make sure the equation works in four-dimensional spacetime, meaning three space dimensions plus time. The psi is a spinor, which is just a fancy way of saying that an electron isn’t just a simple wave function, it actually has spin built into its nature. Now, can anyone think of a situation where we would need to use this equation instead of the regular Schrödinger equation?"

Nobody raises their hand, most people still busy with writing down Joel’s complicated notes, and as if on cue, his eyes are on yours when you look up from your notebook. He raises an eyebrow, and you see the corner of his mouth twitch almost imperceptibly. Then, he calls your last name, a formal Miss dripping off his tongue as if he hasn’t called you kiddo for most of your life. It’s almost like he’s making a joke only the two of you are able to understand, and the thought thrills you to your bone. Two can play this game – you smile back.

"Sure, Professor Miller. You’d use it for studying high-energy particles, like electrons in particle accelerators, because it accounts for relativistic speeds. It’s also needed for situations where particles are created or destroyed, which Schrödinger’s equation doesn’t cover."

Again, his eyes linger on yours, and his slightly amused smile turns into a more genuine one at your answer. You let out a relieved sigh.

"Exactly," Joel answers, his attention on the rest of the class again, "Someone payed attention during Basic Quantum Mechanics. Now, here’s where it gets wild. When Dirac wrote this down, he realized it naturally predicts antiparticles, meaning for every electron, there should be a mirror-image particle with opposite charge, which we now call the positron. That was a huge deal because it wasn’t something people were expecting, it just fell out of the math."

For the rest of the class, Joel doesn’t continue that little game between the two of you, but whenever he asks a question, his gaze flickers over you, and your stomach gives an embarrassing little jump. Alva grins whenever this happens, but for most of the class she’s busy following Joel’s explanations.

"I want you to read up on today’s lecture," Joel says at the end of the lecture, and writes down a few page numbers on the chalkboard, "and solve the problems I mentioned earlier. Attendance isn’t mandatory, we’re all adults here, but I urge you to come if you’re interested in graduating in the next three years. Trust me, it’s easier to just do the work here than in your dorms. Now, enjoy the weather, see you Monday."

You and Alva pack up your things, and before she can ask you which class you have next, you pick up your backpack.

"I’m gonna say hi to him," you tell her, nodding in Joel’s direction, "my Dad and him go way back."

"Sure," Alva says, a cheeky smile on her face, "it’d be rude not to."

"Meet you outside?"

"I’ll be at the vending machine. Go get him," she jokes, and you snort.

Joel is packing up his course materials when you make your way down the steps and to his desk, but he looks up when he hears you coming towards him, and immediately his face splits into a smile. If you were anywhere else and ten years younger, he’d probably ruffle your hair.

"Good lecture," you say, "Dad didn’t tell me you’re teaching again."

Joel puts his piece of chalk into a tin box and nods.

"I don’t think he knows. You know how it is, we never get around to callin’ and I haven’t been home in a while."

So this is a new development, perhaps even Joel’s first semester back at university, too.

"What about the contracting? Don’t you miss the…pipes?"

He chuckles at your lack in basic contracting knowledge, his eyes not moving from yours.

"Ah, that was always Tommy, he just needed a little help. Company’s doin’ well now, though, so he’ll manage without me."

You think you remember Tommy – a man good-naturedly chasing you and the rest of the giggling neighborhood kids with a harden hose – but the memory is too vague to be sure it’s really him.

"You’ve grown up," Joel says, almost accusingly, and you shrug and smile. "Doin’ your master’s already. How come you’re familiar with Dirac?"

His accent is much thicker now that it’s only the two of you, and you notice a hint of pride when he asks about your correct answer to his question during the lecture. The satisfied feeling it gives you is still the same as when he high-fived you after your drivers test, or when he patted your back after you solved a problem for school without his help.

"Summer reading," you admit, trying hard not to sound like a nerd, "Basic Quantum Mechanics was my favorite lecture as an undergrad."

Joel smiles at you, and puts his notes into his leather bag. He slings it across his shoulder, and nods towards the door.

"How would you like to grab a coffee and tell me all about what’s been goin’ on with you and your old man?"

Your eyes flicker briefly over his hand, gripping the strap of his bag, and you raise an eyebrow.

"What’s the policy for staff having coffee with their students, Professor?"

Joel holds your gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I’m actually not sure, Miss, I’ve never had to check before."

He’s playing along, and it feels dangerously blurry – yes, he’s your Dad’s old friend, your childhood neighbor, but it feels like more than just joking around.

"Does that mean I’m your first, then?", you ask, voice sweet and close to flirting now. The smile freezes on Joel’s face, and his gaze becomes almost calculating.

"Am I yours?" he asks you softly, and the double-meaning behind his question isn’t lost on you. You feel a thrilling pang in your stomach – Joel Miller is flirting with you.

***

You do end up getting coffee after you tell Alva you’ll meet her later, Joel reassuring you it won’t get him into trouble, and you’re fascinated to see he still drinks it black. What fascinates you even more is that you remember how he takes his coffee, and you wonder why your brain filed this fact away as important, not to be forgotten.

"So, when did you graduate? Sorry I missed it."

There’s honest regret in his voice, which surprises you. Joel was always a warm person, but you figured he cared for you as much as he would have for any kid living across the street.

"Last June," you tell him, dropping a sugar cube into your cappuccino. "I spent the summer working, and now I’m here."

"How d’you like it so far?"

You give a nervous chuckle, torn between the honest truth and pleasant small talk. You opt for the former – this is Joel, after all, not some stranger.

"To be honest with you, I oscillate between enjoying my freedom away from Mom and Dad, and being scared shitless by starting over somewhere new," you admit, looking at your coffee. You haven’t told people about your fear, and it feels good to finally admit it – the grip your parents have had on you makes your newfound freedom almost uncomfortable.

"What d’you mean, startin’ over?", Joel asks, his voice strikingly gentle. You sigh, and shrug.

"I know the distance is good for me, but it was comfortable, just doing what my parents expected of me. I had good grades, nice friends, and just the right amount of drunken nights for them not to worry about my social life too much," you explain, "and now it’s like…there’s so much room to be someone else, cause they won’t see it anyway."

You look up, embarrassed to have spilt your guts like this, but Joel looks thoughtful, his thumb moving along the handle of his coffee cup.

"Sorry," you mutter, "I know they’re your friends, but they can be…"

"Overbearing?"

You smile at him gratefully and he smiles back.

"Look, I know your parents pretty well. They love you to bits, but as an adult I imagine it must be stiflin’.“

"Yeah," you sigh, grateful for his understanding, "I feel like I don’t know who I am when I’m not…their kid."

Joel nods, and sips his coffee, apparently pondering what you said.

"I promised myself I would only do what makes me happy while I’m here," you tell him sheepishly, as if it’s a secret, and Joel laughs.

"Well, I’m not expectin’ you to hand in any homework, then."

You grin, too, and shake your head. It’s surreal, Joel being your professor, and you wearing your heart on your sleeve for him.

"Don’t worry, Professor Miller, I’m not dropping your class."

"You’d better not, it’d really hurt my feelings," Joel says, eyes trained on yours. Again, that blurriness set in motion by the change of his role in your life: neighbor to professor to – what?

"What about you, though? This your first semester here?"

"Second," he tells you, "but I still don’t feel at home. Once a Texan, always a Texan, I guess."

You cock your head and watch him drain the last of his coffee, the cup tiny in his hands.

"What?" he asks you, curiosity evident in his voice.

"You look so different," you say, and Joel scoffs.

"Well, that’s real nice. Know I’m not thirty anymore, but geez–"

"No," you say with a grin, "it’s not that. I don’t know, I’ve just never seen you teach before. Or dressed this nice – I remember you mowing the lawn in a Fleetwood Mac shirt, not checking attendance in a button down."

Joel’s cheeks go slightly pink, and he scoffs again.

"Well, I can’t show up here in a band tee, can I? Gotta dress the part," he mutters.

"I get it. You suit it," you tell him, if only to see that blush appear on his face again. He looks up at you, holding your gaze for a couple of seconds, then he shakes his head.

"What were the odds of us meetin’ like this, huh? I gotta call your father and tell him."

Something about that bothers you, you’d prefer for your parents not to know. You like sitting here with Joel, reminiscing the old times, without anybody getting a peek in.

"Or not," he says gently, seeing the expression on your face.

"Sorry," you say, "course you can tell him."

"You apologize a lot," he tells you, and you fight the urge to say sorry once again. "It’s okay, I’m not tellin’ anyone, kid. ’S just you n me."

That pang in your stomach again, and you nod.

"Alright," you answer, "just us."

You get a refill for the two of you, and a blueberry muffin to split, which feels strangely intimate, but Joel pats his stomach and jokes about keeping an eye on his figure, so you grin, and ask the barista to cut it in half. Joel asks you about your friends, and you tell him about Alva.

"Oh yes," he says and swallows a bite of the muffin, "that punky lookin’ kid who sits next to you?"

"Yeah, she’s nice. Haven’t really met anyone else."

"Geez, I’m not keepin’ you from findin’ frat boys to hook up with, am I?"

You laugh, the idea of sitting here with a twenty-something year old kid named Cole or Josh instead of him so absurd, you can’t help it.

"No," you tell him, "I’m honestly enjoying the fact that I don’t have to have someone else in my dorm anymore."

"Well, that’s a relief to hear," Joel says, "they’re all dipshits."

You remember him telling you something similar about the boys in high school, and it makes you smile. He’s still got that protective streak, then.

"To tell you the truth, I’m glad you’re here," you say quietly, "if I’m not making any friends, I can come crying to you."

Joel watches you for a couple of seconds, not laughing as you intended, but taking your words seriously.

"Course you’ll make friends. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll have forgotten all about physics cause you’ll be skippin’ classes left and right to hang out with people."

You don’t tell him, but you think it’s very unlikely you’ll skip any of his classes. Still, you appreciate his words and how confident he seems to be in your ability to open up to people.

"Well, will you give me the answers to your exams if I skip your class?"

"No way," he says with a cheeky smile, the crinkles around his eyes prominent. "I don’t do preferential treatment. You wanna split another blueberry muffin?"

You grin.

"Thought you were watching your waistline."

"I am, that’s why I’m only eating halves."

***

Your afternoon with Joel leaves you on a high for the rest of the day, feeling much less lonely now that you’ve had a conversation beyond the usual so how many siblings do you have? and where did you do your undergrad?

You start spending your lunch breaks with Alva and some friends she made in another lecture, all of whom are very nice. In the evenings you all go to see a movie or have dinner together in any of your dorm rooms, and although you walk around campus holding out one eye for Joel, you don’t see him for the rest of the week. There is always a nudge of disappointment in your stomach, when you glance in the direction of his office, and the door is closed, but you’re so busy, you don’t dwell on it too much. The days pass in a blur of new lectures, swapping music with Alva, and evenings spent as a group of six, and suddenly it’s Sunday again. You aren’t too sad the weekend is already over, and you know exactly why you’re looking forward to Monday, but you don’t allow yourself to think about Joel any more than you can help.

In the afternoon, while you’re doing Joel’s assignment for the next class, your mother calls, and you answer the phone with a mixture of feelings.

Hi, my darling, how are you doing?

"Hi, Mom. I’m good, just doing my work for tomorrow. How are you?"

Good, good. How was your first week? Did you meet anyone nice?

Hah, if she only knew. It feels deceptive, not telling her about Joel, but you like that for now, he’s just yours.

"Yes, this girl called Alva. We and some guys hang out a lot, there’s a cinema near by, but the lectures are pretty hard, so we only have the evenings off."

Well, I’m glad you found some nice people! Dad says hi, he’s making dinner. Anyway, baby, we miss you terribly. Do you know when you’ll be coming home?

"I just got here, Mom."

You sigh so quietly your mother can’t hear it, guilt already nagging at your heart. Sunday is the day you would usually be coming home for dinner, and you know it’s no coincidence your parents called you now.

Of course, you’re right. It’s just not easy for your Dad and me, you know? You’ve never been this far from home, and you’re our baby.

Yeah, you think, your adult baby. You sigh again.

"I don’t know if I’ll come this month, I’m still sort of settling in. But I’ll let you know if there’s a free weekend next month, alright?"

Sure, that sounds great. Will you send us some pictures of your friends, and your room?

"Sure," you say, but it bugs you that you’re giving in. Already, you’re breaking the promise you made yourself, and letting your parents further into your life here than you’re comfortable with.

"Mom, I gotta go, I’ve still got some problems to solve and I’m meeting Alva for dinner soon."

Okay, darling, enjoy your night! And make yourself heard. I love you!

"Love you, too! Talk soon."

Your kind, clingy mother, whose greatest pain is not knowing if you’re safe. In a way you miss her, and you feel guilty for being annoyed. Still, you know you have to gently nudge her away from you, or she’ll suffocate you one day. It makes you angry with yourself, because you know your Mom would have liked nothing more than to hear all about your week, but as soon as she asked you a question, you felt like your seventeen year old self again, getting yelled at because you stayed up past your curfew, and your parents didn’t know where you were.

Tears of frustration spring to your eyes – the mix of feelings too much for you to handle. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, breathe in shakily, and try to focus on your assignment again, but now you’re riled up, and the tears won’t stop.

It’s hard for you to deal with disappointing your parents, forcing them away when they would like nothing more than to know everything that’s going on in your life. So, instead of preparing for Joel’s lecture, you cry on your bed, feeling lonely and angry with yourself for hurting them. You know your reaction is disproportionate, but everything you kept buried while you lived close to your parents comes bubbling out of you.

You call Alva, tell her you have cramps because of your period and just want to stay in bed. She’s understanding, asks you if there’s anything she can do, even offers to bring you takeout or a hot water bottle, which makes you feel all the worse for lying to her. You decline her offer, tell her you’ll meet her Monday morning. In the evening, you regret not letting her bring over a real meal, eating cold pasta in your underwear, tears still running down your face and making your head pound.

***

On Monday, you feel slightly better, your headache is gone and your face isn’t as puffy as you expected it to be. Still, you’re in a solitary mood, and are glad to find Alva is able to keep up an entire conversation virtually by herself – you just grunt from time to time, or give noncommittal movements of your head in vague agreement. You hope if she notices your bad mood, she just thinks it has to do with your period.

Computational Physics is hell – you dislike it on the best of days, but guilt ridden and tired, you’re barely able to pay attention at all, and the professor’s handwriting is so bad, you end up copying down Alva’s notes instead. She’s kind about it, slides over her notebook at an angle that makes it easy to read, and you make a mental note to thank her for being so kind to you while you’re offering nothing but a scowling expression all day. Maybe you’ll cook for her, or make a mixtape of your favorite songs, just to show her you’re interested in being actual good friends.

Lunch passes easily, as always you sit with Alva and the guys, and there’s enough people for you to stare at your mashed potatoes and repeatedly stab them with your fork instead of eating them. They taste like flour mixed up with water, and you dream up your father’s Sunday dinner instead, but it does little to help with the taste.

"So, you lookin’ forward to flirting with Miller in front of the whole lecture hall again?" Alva asks you, as you’re making your way to said room. You glare at her, but can’t help the corners of your mouth twitching.

"Wasn’t flirting with him," you answer, kicking a pebble, "I grew up across the street from him, I’ve known him practically my whole life."

"Whatever you say, grumpy," Alva teases, nudging your shoulder with hers. You’re overcome with a rush of gratitude for the way she treats you, persistently kind and humorous. You chuckle, your mood lifting slightly.

"He’s probably been waiting for you to turn legal," she continues, and you groan.

"Gross, Alva, he’s not a creep."

"I’m just saying, if your little connection gets you the answers to his tests, you could sell them and become rich."

"I already asked him, he said no," you say darkly, thinking of the nights you’ll have to spend studying to pass his exam. This makes Alva laugh her brilliant laugh, and you can’t help but smile, too.

"Damn," she grins, "I’d try if he wasn’t a guy."

You snort.

"You try with Professor Carter, I need the answers to Computational," you suggest, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

"You’re joking, but I bet once you get her out of her frumpy cardigans, she’s a real–"

"Okay, stop," you grown, the image of Professor Carter taking off her cardigans worse than her keeping them on – if possible. Alva giggles.

"I’ll help you with Computational," she says, "if you help me with Quantum Mechanics."

"You’re good at both," you argue, and Alva shrugs.

"Not like you, though. I spent like four hours doing Miller’s assignment last night."

You want to tell her you didn’t do it at all, but before you can open your mouth, she spots a friend in the crowd, grabs your arm and drags you over to him.

The three of you sit down together, closer to the front than the week before, which gives you a direct line of sight to Joel’s desk. When he walks in, your stomach jumps – he’s wearing a tie today, a dark burgundy or blue, you aren’t sure from this distance, flecked with specks of white. Again, his hair is styled in that carelessly disheveled look you like so much, and the image of him putting gel in it makes you smile. He gets out his materials for the lecture, and looks up, his eyes finding yours – you smile and he gives a small nod. Again you’re struck by how different he acts in front of the class, how serious he seems. You think of his laid back manner when you had coffee, and struggle to make the images align. Joel clears his throat, and the chatter around you stops.

"Quiet, please, everyone. Thank you. So, last week, we found out that Dirac’s equation predicts the existence of antiparticles. But instead of just accepting that, let’s think deeper—mathematically, what feature of the equation forces this conclusion?"

Joel jumps right into the lecture, and just like last week, nobody raises their hands – you curse the people around you for their lethargy, because sure enough, Joel’s eyes land on you. Before you can shake your head to signal to him not to ask you, he calls your name.

"If I remember correctly, you were already familiar with Dirac’s equation last week. What would you say, what does the existence of negative-energy solutions tell us, and why couldn’t we just ignore them?"

You wish you could answer him, know he asked you because he was sure you’d know the answer, perhaps hoped your enthusiasm for the subject would get the rest of the students to participate more, but you didn’t do the assignment, and you’ve already half forgotten his question. You swallow.

"Um…I…I’m not sure, Sir," you say, watching the way his brows furrow, and looking down at your notes. Alva shoots you a curious look, and when she sees your expression, she raises her hand. You’re thankful to have Joel’s attention diverted, feeling like a fool in front of hundreds of students you’re trying to make friends with.

"Dirac’s equation gives positive and negative energy solutions, and at first, the negative ones didn’t make sense. Dirac suggested they represent antiparticles, like the positron, which he predicted. The idea was that electrons could, like, jump into these negative-energy states, creating a hole that looks like a positron, which was later confirmed experimentally," Alva explains instead of you.

"You're close, but electrons don’t actually 'jump into' negative-energy states. Instead, Dirac proposed that these states are already filled, forming what he called the Dirac Sea. A positron isn’t an electron jumping down, it’s actually a 'hole' left when a negative-energy electron gets excited to a positive-energy state. That distinction is important because it explains why positrons have the opposite charge. Good answer, though, thank you Ms. Bennet."

Joel’s eyes flicker over to you again, but you show no reaction, and he continues with his lecture without asking you another question. Alva glances at you inquiringly, and you sigh.

"I wanted to do the assignment yesterday, but my cramps were really bad," you explain quietly, and she nods sympathetically.

"Call me next time, I’ll send you my answers," she whispers, and you smile gratefully. It seems you really hit the jackpot in friendship when you sat down next to Alva.

***

After Joel’s lecture, you and Alva make your way over to the vending machine, because it has the sour patches she likes, and in her own words she’ll combust if she doesn’t eat some right fucking now.

"Shit," she curses, "they’re stuck."

"Let me," a voice comes from a behind you, and when you turn around, Joel is smiling at the two of you. "Took me a while to figure this thing out, too."

Alva steps aside, and Joel bangs his palm against the side of machine. You jump, but the sour patches make their tumbling way down to the dispenser.

"Great! Thanks, Professor Miller," Alva says, ripping the bag open and offering it to the two of you. To your surprise, Joel takes her up on it, and Alva grins at you.

"You were quiet during today’s lecture," Joel says tentatively, when he’s swallowed his sour patch "everything alright?"

You glance at your shoes.

"Um, yeah. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and I left your assignment for last, so…I didn’t do it."

Joel’s expression grows worried, and Alva glances between the two of you.

"Hey, I’m meeting Max for coffee," she tells you, "see you later?"

"Yeah," you answer, grateful she’s granting you this time alone with Joel, "see you, Alva."

When she’s gone, Joel is still looking at you with that worried look on his face, and you sigh.

"Sorry about the assignment," you say, "won’t happen again."

"I’m not worried about the assignment," Joel says earnestly, but then he turns his head, and you know he doesn’t want someone listening in. Sure, you can be seen chatting in the university cafe, but this conversation is rapidly blurring the lines between scholarly and – something else.

"I…have some materials in my office that might make it easier for you to catch up with the lectures again," Joel tells you, and you understand the underlying meaning. Let’s talk in my office.

"Thank you," you say, relieved, and Joel nods, eyes still glued to yours, brows still furrowed. You walk to his office making smalltalk about the lecture, which to anyone listening in would seem like a normal conversation between a professor and an interested student.

Joel opens the door to his office for you, and lets you step in first. It’s small, cramped bookshelves on the walls and a sturdy desk in the middle that is littered with notes, pencils, books, and a couple of old coffee mugs. You notice he put part of his books sideways onto the shelves, which you find weirdly endearing. This is the Joel you know – clutter and warmth.

He closes the door behind you, and you turn around to watch him drop his bag and walk over to the kettle in the corner of the room.

"Coffee?"

"Please," you sigh, "if you don’t have anything stronger."

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t answer, just turns on the already filled kettle, and gets two clean cups for the two of you.

"I only have drip coffee," he tells you, "I don’t drink that crap the machines brew up."

"That’s fine, I enjoy the medieval feel of it."

"Watch it," he answers, a smile tugging on his lips, "don’t insult my coffee filter in front of me."

You grin, and walk over to his bookshelf to have a look.

"So, what’s going on?" he asks you while pouring the boiling hot water over the coffee grounds. Again, the Joel you remember – empathetic, but unusually direct. You sigh, turn around and shrug.

"Mom and Dad called yesterday, and I could tell they missed me, but I just…I cut them off after two minutes."

Joel places the cups on his desk, and leans against it. His sleeves are rolled up again, and when he crosses his arms, you feel that familiar pang in your stomach.

"And now I…I don’t know, I feel so guilty, Joel. They’re not even being dicks about it, but I just know they’d prefer for me to check in with them more…and the worst thing is, I know it’s not a big deal. They’ll get over it, they’ve got a good life without me constantly in it, so I don’t know why my stupid brain can’t just let this go, you know? One I miss you, darling, and I’m reduced to this pathetic mess, instead of just, I don’t know, getting my shit together."

You shake your head and clench your teeth, once again embarrassed to come crying to Joel about your parental issues, but he’s the only one you can tell. Sure, Alva would probably listen, but you don’t feel like explaining your family to a near stranger. Joel just gets it. Joel knows you.

He’s looking at you, arms still crossed, and for a second you worry he might not want to hear about your little breakdown, but then he sighs.

"You have your shit together all of the fuckin’ time, kid, I think that might be the problem," he tells you quietly. "You’ve always been so hard on yourself."

He’s right, once again he sees what you struggle to show the world, and his words make tears spring to your eyes. You will your eyeballs to suck them back in, but of course, Joel sees.

"Hey now," he says, taking a tentative step towards you. One tear drops from the end of your lashes and down your cheek, and the dam is broken again – they come spilling in floods. Joel crosses the room in a second, and there is a slight moment of hesitation between the two of you, before you bury your face in his chest, and let your restraint fall. You cry quietly, feel him wrap his arms around you, as he rocks you back and forth.

"You’re alright," he tells you, "Shhh, it’s okay, you’re alright."

"S-s-sorry about the assignment," you manage, and Joel’s hand starts stroking your back.

"Jesus, kid, stop worryin’ about the fucking assignment," he tells you, voice low and worried. "You don’t gotta be so strict with yourself. You’re doin’ just fine."

He smells so much like home, you think you might never stop crying.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me," you hiccup, "One week here and I’m a mess already."

You feel Joel rest his chin on your head, and his arms tighten around you.

"There’s nothin’ wrong with you, you hear me? You hold yourself to high standards. Creates pressure, kid."

As always, he’s right of course – you want to excel academically, you don’t want to hurt your parents, you want to stay true to yourself and do what makes you happy, you want to make friends without compromising your grades. It’s impossible.

You breathe in shakily, your eyes closed, face buried in Joel’s chest, and for a second he is all that exists – just Joel, all around you, pulling you to the earth. Slowly, your breathing calms, Joel still rocking you soothingly, holding you close.

"There we go," he mutters, when your chest stops shaking, "that’s good."

When you pull away from him, he puts his hands on your shoulders to really look at you, and although you’re embarrassed by your outburst, you’re glad he doesn’t shy away from you.

"I want you to start being a little more lenient with yourself, alright? You don’t need to worry about an assignment on top of everything."

His hands are rubbing your shoulders, his eyes are kind and warm.

"Maybe not about yours, but I have like five other lectures –"

"Okay, so try to stop worrying about my assignments, just mine. Won’t bite your head off if you don’t do them, and I’ll only ask you questions when you raise your hand, alright? In fact, for the rest of the term, I want you to hand them in late."

Despite yourself, your lips pull up in a small smile.

"That’s silly, Joel," you say softly, but he shakes his head.

"It’s not silly, it’s practice to get you out of your comfort zone."

You consider his words for a moment. You do keep a pretty tight reign on yourself, and just the thought of doing every assignment late makes your skin crawl with anxiety. But when will you get another chance to step out of your comfort zone as safely as now, with Joel? He’s offering you a way to try it without actually risking your grades. And who knows, perhaps it actually will take a little bit of pressure off of you.

"Okay," you answer, staring up at Joel with puffy cheeks and teary eyes. "Alright."

He smiles at you, but he still looks worried and you wish he’d pull you close to him again. It’s such a relief to have this sort of human contact with someone who really knows you.

"Feel better?"

You sigh, and nod.

"It’s just a lot, you know, uni and my parents, and every social interaction feels like such a chore, cause I don’t know people yet. I feel like I’m not even relaxed when I’m asleep."

Joel hesitates for a moment, before he speaks, but when he does, he sounds determined.

"Come over tonight, I’ll make us somethin’ to eat, and you don’t have to worry about talkin’ to anyone. We’ll watch whatever you’d like. You still enjoy those crappy horror movies?"

You smile at the shared memory – Joel letting you use his living room to watch slashers your parents didn’t want you to see. One summer, when the heat was so stifling you barely went outside, you practically lived at his place, and when you’d seen all the DVDs he owned, he got you more from the video store.

"I do," you say quietly, the fact that Joel remembers more important to you than his proposal to spend the evening together. You feel significantly less alone, all of a sudden.

"Alright, then. Be over at seven,“ Joel tells you, and you nod, wiping your wet face with the back of your hand.

"Thank you, Joel," you say, and hug him again, because you don’t know how to tell him in words what you’re feeling, and his big, warm body against yours feels more than soothing.

"Course, kid. Just don’t tell Alva, or they’ll fire me."

You smile, your arms still wrapped around his neck, as he holds you.

"But I don’t wanna get you in trouble, what if–"

"No," Joel interrupts you, "no what ifs. No worryin’. I forbid it."

And you accept it, leave it to Joel, because he tells you to – because you don’t have any room in your head for more worries, and because you trust Joel not to do anything reckless. You trust him, period.

***

You text Alva you’re having dinner alone, that your cramps are still acting up, and you do feel slightly bad for lying, but you would never risk Joel’s job. The idea of having dinner with him at his place should make you nervous after your change in feelings about him, but you’re just looking forward to having a meal with someone who knows you, and lets you be yourself.

Joel asked you to be there at seven, so you spend the rest of the afternoon in your dorm room, wondering if you should change your outfit or if it would seem desperate – in the end, you keep the jeans but change into a blouse instead of a sweater. The part of you that stares at Joel’s forearms during class now wants to look pretty for him, so that he’ll ask you over again. You know you’re being ridiculous, but it doesn’t stop you from putting on your nicest perfume.

You’re ten minutes early, so you sit in your little second hand car and try not to panic. You know Joel is merely trying to be a good…friend? Ex-neighbor, Dad’s best friend turned professor? There’s no real etiquette to cling to in this situation, for either of you, and although you’re positive Joel doesn’t have any ulterior motives with you despite his flirting, you know he could lose his job if someone finds out you went to his house. Even if you just watch slashers together the way you did ten years ago. It makes you anxious to know he’d risk something clearly important to him for just that – he moved to a different state, quit his old job, started over completely, and is now willing to endanger that new life just because you’re stressed. At the same time it seems ridiculous anyone could forbid the two of you to spend time together after having known each other your entire life. The thought is absurd, and still, you need to be careful.

You get out of the car before you start to hyperventilate, and ring Joel’s doorbell – it feels strange for him to live in a new house. He opens the door with a smile, and absurd relief floods your veins when you realize he’s wearing an old Led Zeppelin shirt and a pair of worn jeans. This is your Joel.

"I come bearing gifts," you announce, stepping into the house.

“Christ, where did you get this?”, Joel asks, taking the six pack of beer from you, so you can take off your jacket. “I didn’t know they sold Shiner Bock outside of Texas, I’ve been survivin’ on Bud”.

“Brought it with me,” you explain, “figured it’d help if I got homesick, you know, in multiple ways.”

You grin, and Joel shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Old enough to drink, well I’ll be damned. I remember when you begged your Dad to let you have a coke and he asked me if I thought the caffeine would stunt your growth.”

“Did it?”

“It might’ve,” Joel says with a chuckle, “but he didn’t let you have it.”

“Well, he isn’t here now, so let’s put those in the fridge.”

“No," Joel mutters, “no, he ain’t.”

While Joel puts the beer away, you take a look around his living room – despite your reservations about the new house, it reminds you of his old place. It’s got the same masculine and warm feel to it, dark wood, books all over the place, no bells and whistles. Joel is a practical man, and it’s charmingly etched into every part of his life – except for his new work-look. The room isn’t as cluttered as you remember Joel’s old house back in Texas, but you assume he hasn’t had time to accumulate clutter yet. No old newspapers are lying around, no birthday cards stacking up. You wonder if he’s lonely here, teaching all by himself, hundreds of miles away from the place he last grew roots in.

“Do you miss home?” you ask him, when he comes back from the kitchen with two bottles of beer in his hands. He looks at ease, much more himself than back at university. His jeans are faded, his shirt a little too big on his already broad frame, and his hair is clean and curly the way you like it – no gel twisting it into all sorts of un-Joel-like styles. Warmth floods your chest at the sight of him taking a swig of his beer. His crowfeet are a little more pronounced, and his hair has more grey strands than it did back home, but he’s still got that distinctly warm, no-nonsense feel to him.

“Sometimes,” he answers, offering you the second bottle. Your hand brushes his when you take it from him. “But I’m pretty busy here, you know, got a whole lotta lectures to plan, papers to grade and that sort of stuff.”

You nod, and sip at your beer.

“Have you…you know, met people? Made friends here?”

Joel plops down on the couch, and smiles up at you.

“You worried about my social life?”

You shrug, and smile almost timidly.

“You know me, kid, I like bein’ by myself.”

That’s true, for as long as you’ve known Joel, he’s been alone. You know he has nieces and nephews who adore him, and your Dad mentioned a woman once, but it must have been at least twenty years since they were together. You wonder why Joel doesn’t seem to want that sort of a domestic life, surely many women would be happy to let him put a ring on them.

You walk over to the window, and watch a blackbird tug at a writhing worm.

“Have you met someone at uni you wanna be by yourself with?” you ask with a small grin, turning back to find Joel already watching you. “I heard Professor Carter’s still single.”

“She’s very intelligent,” Joel says earnestly. You give him credit for not laughing about his colleague, and suddenly you feel bad for calling her frumpy with Alva. “But I think I’ll leave her to her simulations. Why am I bein’ interrogated?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, and glance out of the window again, “just making conversation.”

“Your turn, then,” Joel answers, and takes another swig of beer. “Any frat boys catch your eye? Or frat girls?”

You glance at him, a smile on your lips, and raise your eyebrows.

“Hey, I don’t discriminate. I thought, maybe Alva…”

“No,” you answer, feeling fond of him for considering the possibility. “Alva’s a friend. The guys are…well, they’re frat boys.”

 Your voice carries enough disgust for Joel to laugh.

“Right,” he says, and his eyes are warm when they meet yours again. “Just us two loners, then."

“Cheers,” you say with a smile.

“Cheers.”

***

Joel’s cooking is a mystery to you – he loves to eat, and when he does cook, it’s always delicious, but he only ever makes one of five dishes. Again, that practicality shining through. Why try something new if you’ve perfected your routine? He made pasta for you, wasn’t sure if you’re still vegetarian and makin’ your Dad’s hair fall out, and you smile into the neck of your beer bottle, when you watch him drizzle dressing onto a carefully arranged side-salad. Throughout dinner, you tell him how much you love it at least five times, because you can tell he put effort into the meal. You know it’s not technically a date, but having a dinner he made just for you, in his home – it feels like one.

You steer the conversation away from heavy topics like your parents. Although Joel offered you this evening to make you feel better, you want to spend it with him rather than in your head, so you ask him about books and music, about his lectures, about Tommy and the kids. You like watching how his face lights up whenever he talks about something he particularly loves. Joel is a quiet man, but you found out years ago it isn’t shyness, but a disinterest in most mundane topics – he doesn’t like gossip or superficial small talk. When he tells you Tommy made him godfather of all of his children, the pride is evident in his voice, and you don’t have to fake your enthusiasm, although it amuses you, too – Tommy loving his big brother enough not to consider anyone else.

"She calls me uncle Joe," he tells you with a chuckle, "Can’t pronounce her Ls yet, but I’ve considered legally changing my name."

When you’re done eating, you help him clear the table, but when you reach for the sponge to do the dishes, Joel shakes his head.

"Let me do that later, kid. You wanna watch a movie?"

So the two of you plop down on the couch with a bag of M&Ms and another round of beer, and Joel hands you the remote.

"Go wild," he says, chuckling when you excitedly turn on he TV to open Netflix.

"Wow, a streaming service? I thought you’d just hoard DVDs for the rest of your life."

Joel huffs, and instead of answering, he leans forward, and reaches for something under his couch table. When he turns his head, he’s got glasses on his face, thick-rimmed and black, and so startlingly sexy, you almost drop the remote.

"You…you’ve got glasses?"

"Yeah," he answers, his eyes meeting yours, and you swallow. "When your eyesight deteriorates, that’s when you know you’re gettin’ old."

You hum but don’t answer, just hold his gaze for a second and look back to the screen. You try to ignore the familiar pang in your stomach at the sight of Joel in his new glasses, and skip through movie after movie, mumbling seen it, seen it, that one sucks, seen it, until Joel reaches over and snatches the remote from you.

"Hey–"

"I can’t read anything if you skip through them that quickly."

"You’re not supposed to read, you’re supposed to go with the vibe of the cover."

He glances at you with furrowed brows.

"Okay, sorry, didn’t know you’re a filmbro," you grumble, but it’s almost entirely fake – you couldn’t be annoyed with him, not when he pushes his glasses up his nose, and carefully considers which button to press on the remote.

"I don’t know what that means," he answers, and starts reading the description of a romantic comedy about Christmas.

"I’m not watching that."

"You don’t even know what it’s about."

"It’s September, Joel."

He huffs again, but finally reaches the horror movies. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take the two of you long to pick one, and the thought of two hours of brainless, scary entertainment on a couch with Joel makes you practically melt into his couch.

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you during the opening credits, so you glance over and he smiles.

"Comfy?" he asks, his voice hoarse from relaxation.

"Yeah," you answer, and smile when hands you a blanket. He’s not exactly close to you, but it still feels a little intimate when you spread the blanket out and offer him the other end. He moves over a little, so that the blanket covers his legs, and when you concentrate you can feel his body heat next to you, so you try hard not to – and instead get lost in the movie.

It’s not particularly good, but the story does get under your skin a little, and when there’s an unexpected shriek, you violently jump and instinctively move closer to Joel. He chuckles, but doesn’t give any reaction to your arm suddenly pressing against his. He doesn’t move away, either, so you don’t, fear suddenly not being the only thing bubbling up in your stomach.

"Jesus," you mumble, the creeping music making you anticipate another jumpscare. You’re right, it does come, but prepared though you are, you still wince, and turn away from the screen slightly. Out of sight, out of mind. Joel turns around, too, and when he sees your widened eyes, he grins.

"How’s that Christmas movie lookin’ now?"

"I’m not scared," you say, and there is some truth to it, "I’m just not good with jumpscares."

When the next one comes, you can’t help it, you clutch his arm next to you, your nails digging into his firm muscle, and Joel glances at you again.

"Sorry," you say quickly, letting go of his forearm now marked with five tiny crescent shapes. "Jesus, Joel, sorry."

"It’s fine," he says, and the amusement is evident in his voice, "you sure you’re into this? There might be some cartoons–"

He stops talking when you glare at him, but his mouth is twitching under his beard. You’re determined to watch the entire movie, and you try not to let any reaction show, wanting to prove Joel wrong.

There is one particularly scary scene – it’s not necessarily violent, but the music and shaky camera movements make your pulse race, and you turn your head slightly, so as to look at something else. Joel glances at you again, but he doesn’t laugh this time, just puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. It’s grounding, the warmth of it, how his thumb digs into your muscle and his fingers spread out over your back and neck.

"You don’t gotta force yourself to watch this, kid," Joel says gently, all teasing humor gone.

"No," you say stubbornly, but move even closer to him. His touch is a welcome distraction from the movie, and although you know it’s stupid and reckless, you lean into him, and Joel puts his arm around you. It’s closer than you’ve been to him except for hugging, and your heartbeat starts to quicken for all the wrong, non-horror reasons. When you flinch, Joel tugs you against his side, and it feels natural to hide your face in his shoulder.

He was never touchy with you, or anyone for that matter, so something must have changed. You wonder if he’s trying to comfort you, or if you might not be the only one who can feel that strange pull between the two of you.

When the movie ends, Joel regrettably removes his arm from around your shoulders to switch off the TV, and although you’re slightly disappointed, you scold yourself for expecting something else.

"Not bad," Joel says with a small smile, and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Very brave."

You scoff, but feel the corners of your mouth twitching, too.

"I used to be less of a wimp, but I guess you soften with age."

"You’re twenty-three," Joel argues, "that’s young."

Yeah, too young. Too young to lean over and kiss him, or climb into his lap, or expect anything other than paternal care when he’s got his arm around you. You look at your lap, all of a sudden feeling stupid and silly for having dreamed up an absurd fantasy about the man in front of you.

"Hey," Joel says gently, "what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, "nothing, I had a really great evening. Thanks, Joel."

You can tell you’ve confused him, but he nods, doesn’t question your sudden change of mood, and stands when you get up from the couch.

"Anytime, kid. You call me if you’re havin’ a bad time, alright? My door’s always open."

He’s so kind, so recklessly, stupidly, lovingly kind, and all of it is directed at you. You curse yourself for it, but again you feel that familiar burn in your eyes. Joel reaches out and easily pulls you towards his big body, hugging you the way he did in his office just this afternoon. He doesn’t ask you what brought on your tears, just lets you cry into his Led Zeppelin shirt that smells so much like home, like a childhood you won’t get back to. You remember whiffs of that smell when you were watching movies on his couch while he was at work, too pissed off at your parents to spend the summer at home. This scent was there when you attended a neighborhood barbecue after fighting with your father and Joel grilled some vegan sausages for you without comment or question. He’s always looked out for you like this, quietly, without demanding an explanation, just a solid, comforting presence in your life.

Your tears stop after a couple of minutes, and you take a step away from Joel, wiping your face. He looks so worried again, brows all furrowed and arms hanging limply at his side. Didn’t he flirt with you, though? Didn’t he prepare dinner for you the way a date would, ask you about your dating life, ask you to coffee? You don’t think you would be able to handle another evening like this one not knowing what Joel really thinks, so in a moment of hazy recklessness, you lean up.

His eyes meet yours, all warm and strangely unguarded, but before your lips brush his, a hand on your shoulder stops you. Without saying something, you move away from him, and nod to yourself, his reaction all the information you needed.

"Sorry," you say very quietly, not managing much else now that you’ve humiliated yourself in front of the only person you really know in a six hundred mile radius. Joel runs a hand through his soft hair, and inhales deeply.

"No," he says, his voice a little strained, "no, don’t be. I just…Jesus, kid."

He rubs his palm over his beard in such a familiar way, your chest aches a little. It’s ridiculous how much you want to touch his face, to feel him again, skin on skin. So you don’t turn and run the way your embarrassed heart is telling you to, just watch him collect his thoughts, standing in front of him like a wet and beaten dog.

"Look," he begins, "I won’t say I’m not flattered, but that’s…it’s a bad fuckin’ idea. It’s…it’s chaos, and on top of that most people would argue it’s wrong."

You swallow. You know all of this, have turned it over in your head ever since you stared at Joel’s rolled up sleeves for two hours on that first Monday, but hearing him say it makes your stomach churn.

"Yeah," you mutter, and trace Joel’s shadow with the very tip of your foot, "yeah, of course. Sorry I put you in that position, wasn’t right."

Your face still feels puffy, and you know you’re probably all red and pathetic looking, begging Joel for scraps of his attention, but all of a sudden, he lifts his hand up to your face, and cups it in his broad palm. His thumb strokes your cheek, and when you meet his eye, the expression on his face is tender.

"It’s alright," he tells you softly, "I can see you worryin’ at the speed of light in that pretty head of yours."

Something in your chest flutters at his words, at the rough and warm cadence of his voice. He reads you so easily, one turn of your head and he knows you’re lost to your thoughts.

"I shouldn’t have let myself toy with this idea," he continues, and your stomach flips. "I should’ve realized you’d pick up on it. It’s on me, alright? It’s on me not to start anythin’."

You can hear the implication – I’m the adult here. It’s not what you want to hear, but just the mention of Joel toying with this idea, as he put it, is enough to lift your spirits. So you weren’t crazy.

"I’m an adult," you say weakly, never having felt more like a child. Joel nods.

"You are, but I’m still in a position of power here. Be wrong, to abuse that."

His thumb is still moving over your cheek slowly, making it hard to think straight.

"So dinner and a movie doesn’t abuse it?"

You don’t want to argue, you don’t know why you keep disagreeing with him, and the way his face falls, you wish you hadn’t said it.

"No, it…it does, you’re right. Jesus, of course it does. I don’t blame ya for bein’ ang-"

"I’m not angry," you say softly, and tentatively turn your head in Joel’s hand. You press a kiss to his palm, his warm skin pressed right against your mouth. "I’m not your student, Joel. I mean, of course I am, but I know you. It’s different."

Joel’s eyes are glued to your face, and he looks so conflicted you wish he’d just throw you out of his house, if only to solve his dilemma.

"It’s still wrong," Joel mutters, his eyes glued to your lips since they brushed his skin "even if you take away the fact that I’m your fuckin’ professor. Your Dad…"

"My Dad is half a continent away and finds a way to be unhappy with whatever choices I make, so I might as well make the ones I want to."

The very first day, before you even met Joel, you decided to do what makes you happy while in university, and although this certainly wasn’t what you had in mind, you know it’s what you want. The only thing you want, in fact.

Joel sighs, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Joel, I’m not trying to…look, if I’m wrong about this, just tell me, but I feel…I just wanna be close to you all of the fucking time," you say quietly, "and it’s okay if you don’t, really. I just…I want you to know it’s not nothing to me."

Saying I don’t just want to hook up with you would feel too straight forward or crass, but you think Joel gets the gist of what you’re trying to say, and he closes his eyes briefly. You study his face behind his glasses, the wrinkles and freckles from years in the sun. You do feel anxious about his answer, but whatever it is, you’re glad you told him. It’s out in the world now, the way you feel when he holds you, and he can do with it what he pleases – you’ve handed him the reigns.

"I…I know what you mean. Me too," he says very quietly after a beat, his eyes open and looking directly into yours again.

A triumphant pang of affection pulses through you, and you put your hand over Joel’s, which is still resting on your cheek. He looks conflicted, but his other hand holds your waist now, and tugs your smaller body closer to his again. He’s solid as a brick wall in front of you, and you figure you’re allowed to touch, so you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Joel mutters, and strokes your lower lip with his thumb. If you had more guts, you’d let it slip into your mouth, but you’re still afraid he’ll pull back if you make a wrong move, so you just let him caress your mouth tenderly.

"Whatever you’d like," you answer just as quietly, and you know it sounds sexual, but you mean it in every way – if Joel wants to be nothing but your professor, you’d take it, and if he wants to keep you here in his house indefinitely, you’d let him. Joel keeps looking at you, taking you in as if he’s considering whether the risks outweigh whatever magnetic or gravitational pull the two of you have between you.

"Stay," he say after a while, and although his face looks slightly regretful, his voice is determined, "just…sleep here tonight. I like havin’ you here."

You want him to kiss you, to pull you onto his lap on the couch, to take you upstairs right now, but Joel seems to be restraining himself, so you just nod.

"Me too," you whisper, echoing his words back to him, and for just a second, his thumb digs into your lip a little harder, but then he pulls away.

"Testin’ my goddamn restraint," he mutters, and takes a step away from you. "I’ll get you something to sleep in."

***

Joel gets you one of his band tees you love so dearly, and just the idea of being enveloped by something that smells like him all night makes it a little easier when Joel tells you he’ll take the couch instead of inviting you to sleep with him in his bed.

"No," you say softly, "it’s fine, you just sleep in your bed, Joel. I’ll take the couch."

He looks critical, so you offer him a soft smile.

"I don’t know if your back could take it," you tease, and he seems torn up between laughing and frowning. In the end, he just shakes his head, mutters something that sounds a lot like bad fuckin’ idea, and gets you a blanket and pillow.

He brings you a clean toothbrush and towel, let’s you use his bathroom (you look at the shower the entire time you’re brushing your teeth, trying hard not to think about what Joel looks like using it in the mornings), and when you’re done changing, you unlock the door again.

He’s there, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes trailing over your form in his much too big shirt. It’s long as a dress on you, coming down to your naked thighs. Joel visibly swallows and gets up from the bed.

"You got everythin’ you need?"

"Yes. Thank you, Joel."

There’s a beat of silence and you almost think Joel’s about to cross the room, but he just runs his palm over his beard the way he always does, and nods.

"Alright. Just shout if there’s…well, you know. I’ll be here."

"I will."

"Alright. Okay…goodnight, kid."

"Night," you almost whisper, voice soft, and right before you reach the door, Joel clears his throat.

"I…you were right about dinner and the movie. I wasn’t just tryin’ to be friendly," he says quietly, and your stomach swirls. Before you can walk over to Joel and do something about it, he sighs.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

***

You wake to the sound of something dripping, and when your eyes flutter open, you can see Joel’s back from the kitchen. He’s wearing his work outfit again, a white button down and dark pants, sleeves rolled up. It smells like coffee, and with a smile you realize he must be brewing his beloved coffee – no machine, just a filter. He looks broad, even from your spot on the couch, and you enjoy peeking in on him. You study his movements, the way he reaches for a cup, how his fingers absentmindedly drum on the kitchen counter while he waits.

When he turns around, his eyes find yours, and he smiles.

"Mornin’. Did I wake ya?"

"’S fine," you yawn, pulling the blanket up to your chin, not yet ready to get up. "I have classes at ten anyway."

"’S eight," Joel tells you, "Coffee?"

"Yes please," you answer, and stretch your limbs under the blanket.

Joel brings you a cup, complete with a little bit of milk and sugar, and you move your feet so he can sit down on the couch.

"Sleep well?"

You sip your coffee, let it burn your tongue and close your eyes at the taste. When you open them, Joel’s gaze lingers on your face.

"Yeah," you answer, "thank you for…you know."

He nods, takes a sip of his coffee, and looks at his lap. He looks like he wants to say something, but he’s very quiet, and you feel anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

"Joel, do you want me to leave? It’s fine if you do," you ask him softly, not wanting to make things awkward for him. It would be rational of him to ask you to leave, the smart and ethical thing to do.

"No," he answers quietly, still not looking at you, "I want you to stay."

Stay? On a Tuesday morning, after you almost kissed him and he told you he couldn’t do that, after you spent the night on his couch? When you have classes in two hours, haven’t showered yet, are half naked and wearing his clothes, on his couch under his blanket? When you’ve got friends wondering where you are and probably ten unanswered messages from Alva?

"Alright," you say, agreeing as easy as breathing.

Finally, he looks up, and his expression is so conflicted you reach out for him. Your hand finds his and you squeeze it. He keeps looking at you, his hand limp in your grasp, as if any movement of his muscles would incriminate him.

"You shouldn’t," he tells you earnestly. "Stay, I mean. You shouldn’t stay."

"I know."

You don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t move his away.

"It’s a really, really bad idea," he adds, and you’re not sure who he is trying to talk out of whatever this is. "It’s risky. Could blow up both our lives."

"Yeah," you say, and watch him sip his coffee, "okay."

Then, a tentative flex of his fingers against yours, and finally, he’s squeezing your hand just as tightly, and before you can process what that means, Joel is leaning over you, dangerously close. Your breathing quickens, you register how soft his hair looks, how strong his hand is. He leans in further and you sit up a little, still cocooned in his blanket. His face is close to yours, his eyes fiery with something you can’t pinpoint, and you sigh, when he closes the gap between you.

He tastes of coffee and toothpaste, and you wish you’d gotten the chance to shower, but the thought disappears almost immediately when you hear Joel groan. His kisses you languidly, deeply, and your fingers come up to his beautiful arm, barely wrapping around half of his biceps. He cradles the side of your face, pulls you closer, makes your stomach clench with need. It feels inevitable, the way he touches you, like you only exist in a physical form to be touched by him.

His free hand peels the blanket off your body, lets it slide to the floor without ever stopping his the kiss, and you moan softly, when his hand touches your waist. The sound makes him break away, stare down at you, pupils blown wide.

"Fuck, you look good in my clothes," he mutters, nudging your jaw with his nose, and pressing a kiss there. "You should really, really go home."

Your head falls back slightly to give him better access to your neck, and he brushes his lips over your pulse point. Your heart skips a beat.

"I – I know," you breathe, fingers digging into his arm. His beard scratches your skin deliciously, and it takes everything in you not to whimper or beg. Joel’s hand slips under your shirt – his shirt – and instead of finding your waist again, he digs his thumb into your hip, stroking the fabric of your cotton panties. The fire in your stomach burns brighter, and you almost buck up into him. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller who until recently had a key to your childhood home, who lent it to you whenever you forgot yours inside – he’s sucking bruises into your skin, and toying with your panties. It’s dizzying, his familiar voice when he hums in satisfaction, even rougher than usually.

His fingers trace the waistband of your panties towards the front, until they find a small, silky bow, and Joel groans. He doesn’t take your underwear off, doesn’t even touch you where you need him the most, just keeps playing with the little bow, until your hips twitch without your permission. A little lower, and he would be able to feel how wet you are, how wet you have been all night. You didn’t do anything about it, not while you were a guest in his house. It would have felt wrong. You can’t imagine anything feeling more right than Joel’s mouth and hands on you, though.

"Jesus," Joel curses, "I should stop bef–"

"No," you whine, all dignity turned to hot air by Joel’s fingers, "please, Joel, please don’t stop."

He curses again, and moves his big body so that he’s not just hovering above you, but actually on top of you, your thighs falling open for him easily. At the movement, his shirt hikes up your thighs, and you know you’re basically on display for him, your soaked underwear leaving little to the imagination. He’s still fully clothed, his perfect button down all wrinkled now.

"Look at you," Joel breathes, lightheaded with desire, "this all for me?"

So he saw, when you moved to accommodate his broad form, saw how soaked you are, knows you ruined your panties just because he kissed you.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please–"

Before you can beg further, his finger presses down on your clit, and he watches your face contort in pleasure, as it shoots up your spine. You whimper, staring into his eyes, and he stares right back, as you start to grind your hips against his palm.

Your head feels blissfully empty, all worries about this relationship, uni, your parents, gone from you with a simple, practiced movement of his hand. The whimpers keep falling from your lips, and Joel curses.

"So beautiful," he mutters, "tell me what you need, angel."

It’s not a question, it’s an order.

"I – fuck, I need you i–inside," you groan, and Joel’s lips find yours again.

"Yeah? Need me to fuck you good, even though they’ll throw us both out?"

It shouldn’t turn you on. You’re jeopardizing both your own and Joel’s career, and he’s turning it into dirty talk. Still, your pussy doesn’t lie, and the way it throbs for him, aching to get him inside, makes all doubts disappear from your mind.

"Yes," you answer, unable to say much more as Joel keeps drawing tight circles into your clit.

Your hands drift from his arms towards his front, and Joel curses, when you paw at his belt buckle. It takes you a second, but then it’s open, the sound of the metal exciting you – it sounds like a promise.

Joel finally tugs your panties down, and for a second you’re self–conscious about not being clean shaven, but the second he sees you bare and glistening for him, his fingers dip into your folds, gathering your wetness with no hesitation.

"Fuck me," he groans, bringing his hand up to his face and tasting you, holding eye–contact the entire time, "prettiest pussy I’ve seen in my life."

You twitch under him, dragging your gaze away from his eyes and to his fingers. A moan escapes you, your hands have gone slack on his waistband, and Joel smiles down at you. Then, he does the same motion again, drags the tips of his thick fingers through your sticky arousal, but instead of sucking them clean himself, he holds them up to your mouth. His eyes burn, when you wrap your lips around them without a moments hesitation, and he feeds you your own slick.

"Taste so sweet, huh?"

You don’t answer, just swirl your tongue around his fingers, and suck on them. Joel watches your mouth intently, lets you take your time.

"Good girl," he praises you, and you clench around nothing, "so fuckin’ needy for me."

He drags his fingers from your mouth, and finally pushes into you, the stretch much tighter than with two of your own. Your head falls backwards, and Joel curls his fingers.

"No, baby, look down here," he orders, and immediately you lift your head again, and watch him pump two thick digits in and out of you. It’s dizzying to think it’s the same hand that waved to you from over his fence for years and years. You feel a coil building in your stomach, and you moan.

"Fuck, Joel," you moan, his name leaving a delicious aftertaste in your mouth. His beautiful forearm flexes with every movement, your slick is dripping down his fingers, and those damn sleeves are still perfectly rolled up.

With a few more curls of his fingers, you gush around him, barely having time to warn him, and he praises you, calls you his good girl, drags his fingers against that spongey spot inside of you until you see stars.

When he slips his fingers out of you and holds them up to your face again, you clean them up with your mouth as Joel watches with bright eyes. To think that he’s the same man who taught you Dirac not twenty-four hours ago – already, you want him inside again. When you’re done, he fumbles with his own clothes, and you watch him this time instead of helping.

"You look so good like this," you mumble, eyes raking over his broad form, "Professor."

His eyes snap up to yours, and you grin.

"Fuckin’ Christ, kid," he mutters, popping open the buttons on his shirt, "you can’t say shit like that."

"You don’t like it? You know, I watched you during your lectures and dreamed about…well, about this."

His expression is unreadable, but if you’re not mistaken, his hands move even faster now, and then he shrugs out of his shirt. You almost moan at the sight of his naked torso, so broad and solid.

"You need to pay attention in class," Joel answers, as he opens his pants. Your breathing grows a little shallow when he reveals his boxers underneath, his bulge huge.

"Can’t," you mumble, "not with you looking like this."

He chuckles at that, at the honesty and need in your answer.

"Don’t worry," he says softly, "I’ll fuck it outta you. Won’t be needing’ me in class, not if I’m still leakin’ out of you."

Your lips part, your pussy clenches – a smile tugs on the corners of Joel’s mouth at your reaction. He drags down his boxer shorts, and your eyes snap towards his cock, so thick and dripping in precum. You whimper, you can’t help it, and Joel’s smile widens.

"We’ll make it fit, baby," he says, reading your mind, and then bends down and kisses you again. You try to tug your shirt upwards, but Joel’s hands find your wrists and he holds them tight.

"No, want to fuck you in it," he breathes against your lips, and you press your hips upwards until he groans. He pumps his fist over his cock a couple of times, and aligns it with your entrance.

"Deep breath, baby," he mutters, and you obey, staring up at him as he starts pressing into you. It’s tight, much tighter than his two fingers, and your eyes glass over with pain, but Joel goes slow. His hand strokes your tummy, helps you relax, while he pushes on consistently. You feel like he’s punching the air from your lungs, eyes wide with the stretch of him, as he nips at your jaw and neck to distract you.

"Know it’s a lot, but you can take it, angel."

"Y-yes," you moan, and screw your eyes shut, "please don’t stop, Joel."

 Joel’s breathing is ragged with restraint, and suddenly his hips snap forwards – and he’s fully buried inside of your tight body, nestled right against your cervix.

"Back to Joel, are we?" he teases, and gives you a couple of seconds to get used to him. You whimper and claw at his arm.

"I – ah – I’ll call you Professor Miller ’f you want," you slur, as he starts dragging his cock out of you again. You tremble under him, the feeling almost more intense than when he pushed inside of you.

"Yeah? That get you off? Or – fuck–  is it the fact that I’m friends with your parents?"

It really, really should be a turn off, to be talking about your parents right now, but the way Joel says it, the way he points out just how debauched it is what you’re doing – you can’t help but moan. You blush, too, can feel the heat in your face, but you’re tired of being ashamed of wanting him the way you do.

"Both," you answer, and this time Joel groans, his hips snapping into you at a rougher pace. The head of his cock hits your spot every time, and you let out little sounds of pleasure with every drag of his cock, unable to form a coherent sentence. Joel’s hand finds your clit again, rubbing circles as his other one pressing down on your stomach.

"Feel that?" he asks you, and you do, you feel him all up in your guts, "you take it so well baby, take all ’f me."

"Yes," you answer, eyes glassy with pleasure, "want all of you, Joel."

He bites your shoulder, keeps rutting into you, and soon you feel another orgasm building.

"Close – ah – so close," you whimper, and Joel speeds up his thrusts just slightly. You clench around him, right on the edge.

"Come for me, angel, give it to me."

You do, your hips bucking, back arching.

"Ah – fuck, Joel, Prof–"

"Say it," Joel orders, fucking you through the waves of pleasure.

"Professor."

He comes, too, twitching deep inside of you and spilling rope after rope of come. It feels right, like you’re his. His groan is rough, his thrusts sloppy, and you feel your pussy spasm around him in a third, weaker orgasm, or maybe it’s just aftershocks from your second. You’re limp underneath him, letting him use your body how he needs to.

"Fuck," he curses, "did so good for me."

He slips out of you, and you can feel his spend drip out of you. You’re weak, soft like jelly, sweaty and entirely satisfied.

"Jesus," you breathe, when he falls down next to you, his couch mercifully being big enough.

"Yeah," he answers, "Jesus."

***

Turns out, Joel Miller is a dirty talking bastard during sex, and a big softie afterwards. He makes you tea, strokes your hair while you sip it, then carries you up to his shower and gently washes your body his his sponge. Throughout, he’s quiet, and you wonder if it was too much, the mention of him being your professor, of your parents, but you’re too afraid to ask. He brushes your forehead with his lips when he dries you off, and pulls another of his shirts over you head. Your panties are entirely ruined, it’s all you’re wearing.

When you’re clean again, and relaxed, Joel pulls you onto his bed, wrapping you up in his arms.

"Did you…was that too much?" he asks you softly fingertips tracing over your thigh lazily.

"It was just right," you answer quietly, and he hums.

"You didn’t feel like you…I mean when you called me Professor, you wanted to do that, right?"

You look up at him, and press a soft kiss against his jaw.

"Of course, Joel. Wanted everything we did, I promise."

He nods, but you can tell there’s still something bothering him.

"You know that’s not what you are to me, though, right?" Your voice is soft. "You’re just Joel."

He brushes the top of your head with his lips.

"I mean it," you press on when he doesn’t answer, "it’s like a costume, Joel. I know it’s your job, but it’s…I don’t think of you as like, an authority figure or something. I just thought you looked hot in that slutty shirt."

"Slutty–?" he sputters and you laugh.

"Sure, you know, with your sleeves rolled up, and that first button popped open."

"’S not slutty."

"You showed your forearms. Half the lecture hall felt like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time."

Joel makes an exasperated sound, half amused and half offended.

"I mean it," you say again after beat, humor gone from your tone, "and it’s not just sex to me. You know that."

"Yeah," Joel answers slowly. "’S more to me, too."

It’s a hell of an admission.

"What are we gonna do?", you ask quietly, and Joel sighs.

"You’re gonna go to class," he says, voice dark, "and I’ll try very, very hard not to call your father and tell him I’m fallin’ for his daughter."

You bury your face in his chest. With anyone else, it would be too much, too fast, too intense. But this is Joel. It’s not fast if you’ve known him your whole life, is it? You kiss his chest, and he seems to understand.

"We’ll figure it out," Joel says quietly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

For a second you do want your parents to know, want them to see that someone does treat you like an adult, want to look them in the eye and say I’m with Joel now and there’s nothing you can do about it. I have my own life now and it includes this kind man. It’s childish, you know it is. You lean up, catch Joel’s mouth in a kiss.

"Yeah," you answer, “We’ll figure it out, Professor.”

[growthhyp]

Vincent's Growing Notes II

Vincent stepped onto the scale, the digital display blinking as it calculated. His breath hitched. 320 pounds. Pure muscle. He glanced at the mirror, his reflection staring back with a chiseled jawline and veins snaking across his forearms like rivers of power. The nanobots had done their work—5% body fat, a towering 6’5”, and his cock… he smirked, running a hand over the bulge in his spandex shorts. 15 centimeters in length, 18 in girth. A weapon of mass seduction.

He flexed, his back muscles rippling like waves under his skin-tight tank top. Every inch of him screamed dominance. The gym had become his kingdom, but today, he had a different conquest in mind. “Showtime,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over one shoulder, and headed for the library. The air shifted as he walked, heads turning, whispers trailing behind him. He didn’t need to look back to know they were watching. They always were.

Vincent’s towering frame cast a shadow over Adrian’s table, his presence both commanding and strangely comforting. Adrian looked up nervously, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with one finger. The sight of Vincent’s chiseled jawline and piercing gaze made his heart skip a beat.

Vincent’s eyes locked onto Adrian the moment he stepped into the library. The kid was hunched over a table, surrounded by a chaotic sprawl of textbooks and circuit boards, his unkempt hair and oversized hoodie screaming "loner genius." It was like looking at a younger version of himself—before the nanobots, before the transformation.

A smirk tugged at Vincent’s lips as he strode over, his muscular frame cutting through the quiet hum of the library with effortless confidence.

“Hey,” Vincent said, his voice smooth but commanding, as he slid into the seat across from Adrian. “You look like you could use a hand with all that tech.”

Adrian’s head snapped up, his glasses slipping down his nose as he took in the towering figure before him. His eyes widened, darting from Vincent’s chiseled jawline to the veins snaking across his forearms. “Uh… hi,” he stammered, pushing his glasses back up. “I’m Adrian. And yeah, it’s… a lot.”

Vincent leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his biceps flexing under the tight sleeves of his tank top. “Vincent,” he introduced himself, extending a hand. His grip was firm, warm, and lingered just long enough to make Adrian’s cheeks flush. “I’ve seen you around here. You’re the quantum computer guy, right?”

Adrian blinked, surprised. “Yeah, that’s me. How did you—”

“Word gets around,” Vincent interrupted with a wink, his tone playful yet confident. He leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders filling the space. “So, what’s the holdup? Cooling system giving you trouble?”

Adrian’s mouth opened, then closed. He hesitated, glancing down at the mess of wires and schematics in front of him. “Yeah,” he admitted, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s supposed to revolutionize computing, but without the right cooling mechanism, it’s just… stuck.”

Vincent nodded, his gaze sharpening with interest. “Cooling systems can be tricky. But I’ve got some experience with unconventional solutions.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air like a challenge. “What if I told you I could help you crack it?”

Adrian’s eyes widened again, this time with a mix of hope and disbelief. “You’d do that? But… I don’t even know how I could repay you.”

Vincent chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Don’t worry about repayment, Adrian. Helping a fellow nerd in need is its own reward.” He flashed a grin, his teeth gleaming in the soft library light. “Besides, I’ve got a feeling you’re going places. Might as well give you a push.”

Adrian swallowed hard, his heart racing. There was something magnetic about Vincent, something that made him want to trust him despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind. “Okay,” he said finally, nodding. “But… let’s keep this between us, yeah?”

Vincent’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, his chest brushing against the edge of the table. “Deal,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Now, show me what you’ve got so far.”

As Adrian began explaining his project, Vincent listened intently, his piercing gaze never leaving the younger man’s face. Every now and then, he’d interject with a question or suggestion, his confidence infectious. By the time they were done, Adrian felt a spark of excitement he hadn’t felt in months.

“This is incredible,” Vincent said, leaning back in his chair with an approving nod. “You’ve got talent, Adrian. With the right guidance, you could change the world.”

Adrian’s cheeks flushed again, but this time, there was a hint of pride in his smile. “Thanks,” he said softly. “I… I didn’t think anyone would take me seriously.”

Vincent leaned back in his chair, his biceps flexing under the tight sleeves of his tank top. “But before we get into that,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, “tell me more about your life, Adrian. How’s it going outside the lab?”

Adrian glanced up from his notes, his fingers nervously tapping the edge of the textbook. “It’s okay, I guess,” he mumbled, his eyes darting away. “Just trying to keep up with the workload and avoid getting into too much trouble with the jocks.” He bit his lower lip, cheeks flushing. “They don’t really get why I’m here.”

Vincent’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding in his piercing eyes. He stretched his arms slightly, the muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his tank top. “I know the type,” he said with a smirk. “But you don’t have to deal with them anymore, not when you’ve got a secret weapon.” He winked, his gaze lingering on Adrian’s trembling lip. “I’ve got a proposition for you, Adrian. Something… extraordinary. A way to change the game. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before, and I think it could help you with more than just your quantum computer.”

He leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against Adrian’s cheek. “Let’s just say I’ve made some… modifications to myself,” he continued, a sly smile playing on his lips. His eyes darted around the library before he lowered his voice. “I’ve got these little helpers—nanotechnology bots. They can alter your body in ways you never thought possible. No more bullies, no more hiding behind your books.” He flexed his arm, the veins snaking across his forearm like rivers of power. “They’ve turned me into this,” he said, gesturing to his transformed physique. “And I want to help you, Adrian.”

Adrian’s eyes widened, his imagination racing. “That… that’s incredible,” he stammered, trying to process what Vincent was offering. He glanced down at his own body, feeling a pang of inadequacy. “But what do you get out of it? Why me?”

Vincent’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for fellow nerds,” he replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve seen how the world treats us, and I want to even the playing field.” He leaned in closer, his hand resting gently on Adrian’s shoulder. “And I can tell you’ve got a spark in you, Adrian. You just need a push in the right direction.” His grip was firm but not painful, his touch grounding. “Imagine, no more hiding in the shadows, no more fear. With these nanobots, you could become the envy of everyone—especially those jocks who think they’re better than us.”

Adrian’s thoughts swirled with skepticism and hope. He’d heard of steroids and their side effects, but if what Vincent was saying was true, this could be his ticket out of the nerd stereotype. He looked up at the towering figure before him, the man who had once been in his shoes, and saw sincerity in his eyes. “But how can I trust you?”

“You don’t have to trust me blindly,” Vincent replied, his voice soothing. “Think of it as a… trial run. If it doesn’t work out, you can just tell everyone it was a crazy rumor.” He winked again, his hand still resting on Adrian’s shoulder. “But I can guarantee, you won’t be disappointed.” He glanced around the library, ensuring no one was close enough to overhear. “And as for what I want, I just want to see someone else experience the power and confidence these little guys have given me.”

Vincent paused, his expression turning serious. “Now, here’s the thing,” he said, his voice low and persuasive. “The beauty of these nanobots is that they transfer through bodily fluids.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the armrest. “And the best way to introduce them to your system is through… intimate contact.”

Adrian’s face flushed crimson, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his textbook. “Vincent, I’m… I’m flattered by your offer,” he stammered, his voice shaking slightly. “But I’m straight. I’m not sure if this is something I can… do.”

Vincent nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “I understand,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “But this isn’t about attraction, Adrian. It’s about transformation. About unlocking the potential inside you.” He leaned forward again, his gaze intense. “Think about it. This could be your chance to rewrite the rules, to step into a version of yourself you’ve only dreamed of.”

Adrian swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The weight of Vincent’s words hung in the air, heavy with possibility.

As Adrian pondered over Vincent's proposal, the air grew thick with anticipation. The very thought of it sent a shiver down his spine, a cocktail of excitement and apprehension. The allure of unbridled power, the kind that could make anyone's jaw drop in awe, was a temptation too potent to ignore. Yet, the implications were vast, like the uncharted expanses of the universe, filled with questions and doubt. Vincent had given him the ultimate gift, four weeks to mull over the decision that could change his life forever.

Vincent had always been an enigma, a man of mystery with a smile that could charm the stars out of the sky. His eyes, deep pools of emerald, held secrets that seemed to speak of strengths beyond the mortal realm. Now, as he awaited Adrian's response, he knew he had to be patient. The transformation was a gradual process, a meticulous dance of biological alchemy that couldn't be rushed.

During those four weeks, Vincent had devoted himself to his workout regimen with a fervor that would put the most dedicated of gym rats to shame. Each day, the mirror reflected a man more god-like than the last. His body grew at a rate that defied belief, his muscles bulging out of his clothes like they were trying to escape their fabric prisons. His arms looked like they could crush boulders with a simple flex, and his legs had taken on the appearance of tree trunks that could topple the mightiest of oaks.

The transformation was a slow burn, a testament to the power of the nanobots coursing through his veins. Each day, they went to work, sculpting his body into a masterpiece that would make even the most seasoned of bodybuilders weep with envy. His shoulders grew wider, his chest a vast plateau of unyielding muscle, and his abs a series of rigid valleys that spoke of unparalleled dedication to his craft. His neck had thickened, becoming a sturdy column that supported his now heavy, chiseled head with ease. His back was a landscape of power, each muscle group distinct and defined, rippling like the waves of the ocean beneath the sun's warm embrace.

But it wasn't just his body that was changing. His cock had also undergone a transformation of its own, growing to a size that was both terrifying and thrilling. It had swollen to a length of 18 centimeters, a girth of 19 centimeters, a behemoth that was more than enough to satisfy any partner's deepest desires. It was a symbol of his burgeoning power, a constant reminder of the change he was undergoing.

Vincent had been meticulous with his measurements, tracking his progress with the enthusiasm of a scientist documenting a new species. His height had shot up to 6'9", making him a towering giant that dwarfed the average man. His weight had ballooned to an astonishing 400 pounds, but not an ounce of it was fat. His body fat percentage had plummeted to a mere 1%, leaving him with a physique that was more akin to a Greek statue than a mere mortal.

The final week of the ultimatum had arrived, and with it came the crescendo of changes. His skin took on a luminous sheen, as if kissed by the light of a thousand suns. The veins on his arms bulged with the pressure of his newfound strength, a testament to the Herculean blood that now flowed through him. His face had become more angular, more masculine, with a jawline so sharp it could cut through the densest of metals.

The conversation with Adrian had been brief but intense. Vincent had laid out the terms, his voice a velvety purr that seemed to resonate with an underlying power. He had promised Adrian a transformation that would make him irresistible to anyone he desired, a force to be reckoned with. All Adrian had to do was come to his place at 4 pm, the moment of truth, and accept the gift that was being offered.

The clock ticked away, each second feeling like an eternity. Vincent was a cocktail of nerves and anticipation, his muscles twitching with the excitement of what was to come. Would Adrian come?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

An open copyright casebook, featuring AI, Warhol and more

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

Few debates invite more uninformed commentary than "IP" – a loosely defined grab bag that regulates an ever-expaning sphere of our daily activities, despite the fact that almost no one, including senior executives in the entertainment industry, understands how it works.

Take reading a book. If the book arrives between two covers in the form of ink sprayed on compressed vegetable pulp, you don't need to understand the first thing about copyright to read it. But if that book arrives as a stream of bits in an app, those bits are just the thinnest scrim of scum atop a terminally polluted ocean of legalese.

At the bottom layer: the license "agreement" for your device itself – thousands of words of nonsense that bind you not to replace its software with another vendor's code, to use the company's own service depots, etc etc. This garbage novella of legalese implicates trademark law, copyright, patent, and "paracopyrights" like the anticircumvention rule defined by Section 1201 of the DMCA:

https://www.eff.org/press/releases/eff-lawsuit-takes-dmca-section-1201-research-and-technology-restrictions-violate

Then there's the store that sold you the ebook: it has its own soporific, cod-legalese nonsense that you must parse; this can be longer than the book itself, and it has been exquisitely designed by the world's best-paid, best-trained lawyer to liquefy the brains of anyone who attempts to read it. Nothing will save you once your brains start leaking out of the corners of your eyes, your nostrils and your ears – not even converting the text to a brilliant graphic novel:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/03/03/terms-and-conditions-the-bloviating-cruft-of-the-itunes-eula-combined-with-extraordinary-comic-book-mashups/

Even having Bob Dylan sing these terms will not help you grasp them:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/25/musical-chairs/#subterranean-termsick-blues

The copyright nonsense that accompanies an ebook transcends mere Newtonian physics – it exists in a state of quantum superposition. For you, the buyer, the copyright nonsense appears as a license, which allows the seller to add terms and conditions that would be invalidated if the transaction were a conventional sale. But for the author who wrote that book, the copyright nonsense insists that what has taken place is a sale (which pays a 25% royalty) and not a license (a 50% revenue-share). Truly, only a being capable of surviving after being smeared across the multiverse can hope to embody these two states of being simultaneously:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/21/early-adopters/#heads-i-win

But the challenge isn't over yet. Once you have grasped the permissions and restrictions placed upon you by your device and the app that sold you the ebook, you still must brave the publisher's license terms for the ebook – the final boss that you must overcome with your last hit point and after you've burned all your magical items.

This is by no means unique to reading a book. This bites us on the job, too, at every level. The McDonald's employee who uses a third-party tool to diagnose the problems with the McFlurry machine is using a gadget whose mere existence constitutes a jailable felony:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cold-war

Meanwhile, every single biotech researcher is secretly violating the patents that cover the entire suite of basic biotech procedures and techniques. Biotechnicians have a folk-belief in "patent fair use," a thing that doesn't exist, because they can't imagine that patent law would be so obnoxious as to make basic science into a legal minefield.

IP is a perfect storm: it touches everything we do, and no one understands it.

Or rather, almost no one understands it. A small coterie of lawyers have a perfectly fine grasp of IP law, but most of those lawyers are (very well!) paid to figure out how to use IP law to screw you over. But not every skilled IP lawyer is the enemy: a handful of brave freedom fighters, mostly working for nonprofits and universities, constitute a resistance against the creep of IP into every corner of our lives.

Two of my favorite IP freedom fighters are Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle, who run the Duke Center for the Public Domain. They are a dynamic duo, world leading demystifiers of copyright and other esoterica. They are the creators of a pair of stunningly good, belly-achingly funny, and extremely informative graphic novels on the subject, starting with the 2008 Bound By Law, about fair use and film-making:

https://www.dukeupress.edu/Bound-by-Law/

And then the followup, THEFT! A History of Music:

https://web.law.duke.edu/musiccomic/

Both of which are open access – that is to say, free to download and share (you can also get handsome bound print editions made of real ink sprayed on real vegetable pulp!).

Beyond these books, Jenkins and Boyle publish the annual public domain roundups, cataloging the materials entering the public domain each January 1 (during the long interregnum when nothing entered the public domain, thanks to the Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act, they published annual roundups of all the material that should be entering the public domain):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/20/em-oh-you-ess-ee/#sexytimes

This year saw Mickey Mouse entering the public domain, and Jenkins used that happy occasion as a springboard for a masterclass in copyright and trademark:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/15/mouse-liberation-front/#free-mickey

But for all that Jenkins and Boyle are law explainers, they are also law professors and as such, they are deeply engaged with minting of new lawyers. This is a hard job: it takes a lot of work to become a lawyer.

It also takes a lot of money to become a lawyer. Not only do law-schools charge nosebleed tuition, but the standard texts set by law-schools are eye-wateringly expensive. Boyle and Jenkins have no say over tuitions, but they have made a serious dent in the cost of those textbooks. A decade ago, the pair launched the first open IP law casebook: a free, superior alternative to the $160 standard text used to train every IP lawyer:

https://web.archive.org/web/20140923104648/https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/openip/

But IP law is a moving target: it is devouring the world. Accordingly, the pair have produced new editions every couple of years, guaranteeing that their free IP law casebook isn't just the best text on the subject, it's also the most up-to-date. This week, they published the sixth edition:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/openip/

The sixth edition of Intellectual Property: Law & the Information Society – Cases & Materials; An Open Casebook adds sections on the current legal controversies about AI, and analyzes blockbuster (and batshit) recent Supreme Court rulings like Vidal v Elster, Warhol v Goldsmith, and Jack Daniels v VIP Products. I'm also delighted that they chose to incorporate some of my essays on enshittification (did you know that my Pluralistic.net newsletter is licensed CC Attribution, meaning that you can reprint and even sell it without asking me?).

(On the subject of Creative Commons: Boyle helped found Creative Commons!)

Ten years ago, the Boyle/Jenkins open casebook kicked off a revolution in legal education, inspiring many legals scholars to create their own open legal resources. Today, many of the best legal texts are free (as in speech) and free (as in beer). Whether you want to learn about trademark, copyright, patents, information law or more, there's an open casebook for you:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/14/angels-and-demons/#owning-culture

The open access textbook movement is a stark contrast with the world of traditional textbooks, where a cartel of academic publishers are subjecting students to the scammiest gambits imaginable, like "inclusive access," which has raised the price of textbooks by 1,000%:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/07/markets-in-everything/#textbook-abuses

Meanwhile, Jenkins and Boyle keep working on this essential reference. The next time you're tempted to make a definitive statement about what IP permits – or prohibits – do yourself (and the world) a favor, and look it up. It won't cost you a cent, and I promise you you'll learn something.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/30/open-and-shut-casebook/#stop-confusing-the-issue-with-relevant-facts

Image: Cryteria (modified) Jenkins and Boyle https://web.law.duke.edu/musiccomic/

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/

[mysticstronomy]

WHAT IS 'NEGATIVE TIME'??

Blog#443

Wednesday, October 9th, 2024.

Welcome back,

Negative time may sound like the last committee meeting you attended that should have been an email, but researchers from the University of Toronto and Griffith University have reported that photons — particles of light — can spend a “negative” amount of time exciting atoms as they pass through a medium. Published in the pre-print server arXiv, the researchers report this strange phenomenon, confirmed by experiments and theory, challenges traditional views of light-matter interaction and sheds new light on the concept of negative time in quantum systems.

The study, which investigates the group delay experienced by photons, also suggests that this negative time has more physical meaning than previously thought and could have implications for quantum technology, such as quantum computing.

At the heart of the research is the concept of group delay. When light passes through a material, its speed is affected, causing a delay in how long it takes to travel from one point to another. Normally, this delay is positive, meaning that the light slows down as it interacts with the atoms in the material. However, in certain cases, especially when the light is tuned to specific frequencies near the material’s atomic resonance, something strange happens: the group delay becomes negative.

This means the light appears to exit the material before it should, creating a paradox that has puzzled physicists. Essentially, it’s as if the photon caused an effect, like making the atom excited, before it even arrived — something that can happen in the quantum world but doesn’t make sense in our everyday experience of time. (Welcome to the weird, wonderful world of quantum mechanics.)

To better understand this phenomenon, the research team set out to answer a fundamental question: Does this negative group delay correspond to the time photons spend as atomic excitations? The answer, as it turns out, is yes. By using a method called the cross-Kerr effect, the researchers were able to probe the degree of atomic excitation caused by transmitted photons, even when the group delay was negative.

The results showed that the time spent by the photons as atomic excitations was directly related to the group delay, suggesting that the negative time observed in the group delay has real physical significance.

Another fundamental question the researchers sought to answer was: how much time do atoms spend in an excited state when a photon is transmitted through a medium?

“We define the average time that the atoms spend in the excited state (τ0), or average atomic excitation time, as the time integral of the expectation value of the number of atoms in the excited state,” the researchers write.

They further explored the quantum nature of this interaction, asking how this time changes when photons are transmitted rather than scattered.

The idea that photons can cause atomic excitations for a negative amount of time may seem counterintuitive, but it fits within the framework of quantum mechanics. In classical physics, time is always positive—a particle moves forward in time as it travels. However, in the quantum world, time can behave differently. When the researchers tuned their light pulses to specific frequencies close to the atomic resonance of rubidium-85 atoms, they observed that the group delay of the transmitted photons became negative. This implies that the peak of the light pulse exited the medium before it logically should have, based on when it entered.

To explain this, the team used quantum theory and the concept of “weak values,” a formalism that allows certain measurements in quantum mechanics to take on values outside the normal expected range. In this case, the weak value of the atomic excitation time was found to be negative, corresponding to the negative group delay observed. Essentially, the photons were interacting with the atoms in such a way that the atoms were excited before the light even arrived—at least, from the perspective of the group delay measurement.

This strange behavior was measured using the cross-Kerr effect, which allowed the team to detect tiny phase shifts in a secondary beam of light (the probe) caused by the atomic excitations from the transmitted photons. By carefully synchronizing their measurements and using post-selection techniques to focus only on the transmitted photons, the researchers were able to directly measure the atomic excitation time and compare it to the group delay.

Originally published on https://thequantuminsider.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, October 12th, 2024)

"DO MICRO BLACK HOLES EXIST??"

[techtoio]

The Rise of Quantum Computing: What You Need to Know

Introduction

Quantum computing is poised to revolutionize the tech industry, promising to solve problems beyond the reach of classical computers. As this futuristic technology rapidly advances, it’s essential to understand its basics, potential, and implications. This article will delve into what quantum computing is, how it works, and why it matters. Read to continue

[davidson-eric]

The Quantum Financial System (QFS) is a theoretical financial system that aims to challenge the existing banking system and address issues like corruption and manipulation in the financial sector.

It's believed that the QFS would use artificial intelligence (AI) and quantum computing to revolutionize financial transactions and eliminate the need for traditional systems like SWIFT.

The QFS is designed to resist encryption-breaking attempts by quantum computers, which could redefine data security in the digital world.

While direct investment in the QFS is possible, some believe that ISO 20022-compliant may play an important role in the new system.

Quantum-based technologies in finance offer benefits like enhanced computational power, advanced data analysis, increased security, portfolio optimization, and more.

QFS is the Future, Trump is Fighting for the Future and for the betterment of United States of America.

Move your funds into the QFS ledger account and be safe from the incoming bank crash. I will be here to navigate you onto your transition into the QFS ledger account

[jcmarchi]

Fast control methods enable record-setting fidelity in superconducting qubit

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/fast-control-methods-enable-record-setting-fidelity-in-superconducting-qubit/

Fast control methods enable record-setting fidelity in superconducting qubit

Quantum computing promises to solve complex problems exponentially faster than a classical computer, by using the principles of quantum mechanics to encode and manipulate information in quantum bits (qubits).

Qubits are the building blocks of a quantum computer. One challenge to scaling, however, is that qubits are highly sensitive to background noise and control imperfections, which introduce errors into the quantum operations and ultimately limit the complexity and duration of a quantum algorithm. To improve the situation, MIT researchers and researchers worldwide have continually focused on improving qubit performance. 

In new work, using a superconducting qubit called fluxonium, MIT researchers in the Department of Physics, the Research Laboratory of Electronics (RLE), and the Department of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science (EECS) developed two new control techniques to achieve a world-record single-qubit fidelity of 99.998 percent. This result complements then-MIT researcher Leon Ding’s demonstration last year of a 99.92 percent two-qubit gate fidelity. 

The paper’s senior authors are David Rower PhD ’24, a recent physics postdoc in MIT’s Engineering Quantum Systems (EQuS) group and now a research scientist at the Google Quantum AI laboratory; Leon Ding PhD ’23 from EQuS, now leading the Calibration team at Atlantic Quantum; and William D. Oliver, the Henry Ellis Warren Professor of EECS and professor of physics, leader of EQuS, director of the Center for Quantum Engineering, and RLE associate director. The paper recently appeared in the journal PRX Quantum.

Decoherence and counter-rotating errors

A major challenge with quantum computation is decoherence, a process by which qubits lose their quantum information. For platforms such as superconducting qubits, decoherence stands in the way of realizing higher-fidelity quantum gates.

Quantum computers need to achieve high gate fidelities in order to implement sustained computation through protocols like quantum error correction. The higher the gate fidelity, the easier it is to realize practical quantum computing.

MIT researchers are developing techniques to make quantum gates, the basic operations of a quantum computer, as fast as possible in order to reduce the impact of decoherence. However, as gates get faster, another type of error, arising from counter-rotating dynamics, can be introduced because of the way qubits are controlled using electromagnetic waves. 

Single-qubit gates are usually implemented with a resonant pulse, which induces Rabi oscillations between the qubit states. When the pulses are too fast, however, “Rabi gates” are not so consistent, due to unwanted errors from counter-rotating effects. The faster the gate, the more the counter-rotating error is manifest. For low-frequency qubits such as fluxonium, counter-rotating errors limit the fidelity of fast gates.

“Getting rid of these errors was a fun challenge for us,” says Rower. “Initially, Leon had the idea to utilize circularly polarized microwave drives, analogous to circularly polarized light, but realized by controlling the relative phase of charge and flux drives of a superconducting qubit. Such a circularly polarized drive would ideally be immune to counter-rotating errors.”

While Ding’s idea worked immediately, the fidelities achieved with circularly polarized drives were not as high as expected from coherence measurements.

“Eventually, we stumbled on a beautifully simple idea,” says Rower. “If we applied pulses at exactly the right times, we should be able to make counter-rotating errors consistent from pulse-to-pulse. This would make the counter-rotating errors correctable. Even better, they would be automatically accounted for with our usual Rabi gate calibrations!”

They called this idea “commensurate pulses,” since the pulses needed to be applied at times commensurate with intervals determined by the qubit frequency through its inverse, the time period. Commensurate pulses are defined simply by timing constraints and can be applied to a single linear qubit drive. In contrast, circularly polarized microwaves require two drives and some extra calibration.

“I had much fun developing the commensurate technique,” says Rower. “It was simple, we understood why it worked so well, and it should be portable to any qubit suffering from counter-rotating errors!”

“This project makes it clear that counter-rotating errors can be dealt with easily. This is a wonderful thing for low-frequency qubits such as fluxonium, which are looking more and more promising for quantum computing.”

Fluxonium’s promise

Fluxonium is a type of superconducting qubit made up of a capacitor and Josephson junction; unlike transmon qubits, however, fluxonium also includes a large “superinductor,” which by design helps protect the qubit from environmental noise. This results in performing logical operations, or gates, with greater accuracy.

Despite having higher coherence, however, fluxonium has a lower qubit frequency that is generally associated with proportionally longer gates.

“Here, we’ve demonstrated a gate that is among the fastest and highest-fidelity across all superconducting qubits,” says Ding. “Our experiments really show that fluxonium is a qubit that supports both interesting physical explorations and also absolutely delivers in terms of engineering performance.”

With further research, they hope to reveal new limitations and yield even faster and higher-fidelity gates.

“Counter-rotating dynamics have been understudied in the context of superconducting quantum computing because of how well the rotating-wave approximation holds in common scenarios,” says Ding. “Our paper shows how to precisely calibrate fast, low-frequency gates where the rotating-wave approximation does not hold.”

Physics and engineering team up

“This is a wonderful example of the type of work we like to do in EQuS, because it leverages fundamental concepts in both physics and electrical engineering to achieve a better outcome,” says Oliver. “It builds on our earlier work with non-adiabatic qubit control, applies it to a new qubit — fluxonium — and makes a beautiful connection with counter-rotating dynamics.”

The science and engineering teams enabled the high fidelity in two ways. First, the team demonstrated “commensurate” (synchronous) non-adiabatic control, which goes beyond the standard “rotating wave approximation” of standard Rabi approaches. This leverages ideas that won the 2023 Nobel Prize in Physics for ultrafast “attosecond” pulses of light.

Secondly, they demonstrated it using an analog to circularly polarized light. Rather than a physical electromagnetic field with a rotating polarization vector in real x-y space, they realized a synthetic version of circularly polarized light using the qubit’s x-y space, which in this case corresponds to its magnetic flux and electric charge.

The combination of a new take on an existing qubit design (fluxonium) and the application of advanced control methods applied to an understanding of the underlying physics enabled this result.

Platform-independent and requiring no additional calibration overhead, this work establishes straightforward strategies for mitigating counter-rotating effects from strong drives in circuit quantum electrodynamics and other platforms, which the researchers expect to be helpful in the effort to realize high-fidelity control for fault-tolerant quantum computing.

Adds Oliver, “With the recent announcement of Google’s Willow quantum chip that demonstrated quantum error correction beyond threshold for the first time, this is a timely result, as we have pushed performance even higher. Higher-performant qubits will lead to lower overhead requirements for implementing error correction.”  

Other researchers on the paper are RLE’s Helin Zhang, Max Hays, Patrick M. Harrington, Ilan T. Rosen, Simon Gustavsson, Kyle Serniak, Jeffrey A. Grover, and Junyoung An, who is also with EECS; and MIT Lincoln Laboratory’s Jeffrey M. Gertler, Thomas M. Hazard, Bethany M. Niedzielski, and Mollie E. Schwartz.

This research was funded, in part, by the U.S. Army Research Office, the U.S. Department of Energy Office of Science, National Quantum Information Science Research Centers, Co-design Center for Quantum Advantage, U.S. Air Force, the U.S. Office of the Director of National Intelligence, and the U.S. National Science Foundation.  

[stellarred]

THROUGH LINE

I've heard that writers will often link separate stories like in a trilogy, for example, with some kind of connector or through line, I think it's called.

There's reason to believe that Q is the through line in all three seasons of Picard. He is subtly woven through the series, from start to finish.

Season 1: Episode 1

Data draws the Q cards--either because Q inserted himself into Picard's dream. Or Picard dreamt of Q on his own. But, it involved Data.

Season 1: Episode 10 Pt 2

We have a butterfly/moth guiding Picard's soul to his android body after Irumodic Syndrome had finally taken its toll on his body.

Q has a butterfly motif in his dialogue in Season 2, doesn't he?

"I am the flutter of a butterfly.."

"...your griefs, your pains. You're like butterflies with your wings pinned..."

(I challenge you to listen VERY carefully when Data shows the Q cards. I can hear the sound of something flitting--like, butterfly wings beating hard. Not joking, I swear. It's very quick.)

Where does Q lead Picard to?

The sitting room in his own chateau, but with everything a monochromatic beige. The clock on the mantle has no hands. Hence, Time doesn't matter. The room is bland, with no character. It has no meaning, really.

Even the ceiling of the room is nothing but stars.

The sitting room is a fabrication.

Data is there, waiting for him. He even tells Picard that they're in a "quantum simulation", a stage of sorts, courtesy of a few red computer chips.

But, Data seems to know a lot about his "circumstances" for someone, who's been by himself. Has he had any visitors (of the omnipotent variety, lately?) Or has someone perhaps, helped in the creation of Data's "world"

all for the purpose

of *helping Picard to let go of the persistent feelings of guilt he has been carrying around with him since the day when Data sacrificed himself in Nemesis to save him?*

Picard didn't want to let go, to "unshackle" himself from the past with Data's death in the first episode, didn't he?

"I don't want the game to end."

But, here he does let go.

Picard was able to let go of Data at last, and Data literally disolved into dust.

Kinda like this?

And courtesy of the brilliant and spot-on analysis by @celestialholz ,showing how Q is represented by the Sun (which is canonically confirmed in the post-credits scene of the final episode of Picard:Season 3, btw), you can see how dark Picard's sitting room is while he's talking to Data:

And now look, as Picard lets Data go:

The Sun is shining brightly.

Q had to be involved.

Through line.

Check this out, too. In the Sitting Room/Data Goodbye scene, notice that the camera focuses--not once, but TWICE at a few **specific** artifacts in the room.

The sculptures of the Hindu gods on Picard's table:

It's rather interesting that these Hindu artifacts would capture the attention of the camera more than once during this scene.

After all, the other objects in the room are tucked away in the background behind Data and Picard, with no color to them, no prominence. They're just filler.

But, what is so special about these figures?

Honestly, it's hard to say.

However, they are in the last episode of Season 1, and I'm proposing that Q was a "through line" from start to finish in Picard's story.

What is Q wearing in THE final scene of Season 3?

As @celestialholz explained, Q is wearing a silver eight-pointed star with nine rubies in it, the largest, representing the Sun, in the center.

It's akin to the "navaratna", which in Hinduism, is where each of the nine planets is represented by a specific jewel, and they surround the Sun.

The navaratna shows the relationship between the Sun and the planets. Eternally bound.

Here is the link to the analysis by @celestialholz explaining the navaratna in more detail:

What I would like to also offer at the altar of Qcard fandom is that it should be noted that a true navaratna doesn't have just one kind of stone, which in Q's case, is the ruby.

I lean into the thought that while Picard's birth planet, according to Vedic astrology, is the Moon, which is actually represented by the Pearl, his birth month, July , which is Cancer, (Jean-Luc Picard/Patrick Stewart), has the Ruby as its birthstone.

9 rubies= 9 Cancer birth stones all circling the Sun (Q).

An eternal relationship between Q and Picard.

*****

Again, while this whole series was a convoluted and painfully messy shitshow, there were people including, the writers and costumers, who deliberately included these subtle hints and details into the very images we saw, but didn't take notice of in our casual viewing, and into the dialogue, which, unless we paid very precise attention to, missed during our attempts to understand the story.

Q was there all along in Picard's story, from the very start to the very end, and it was planned that way.

Q helped Picard accept his loss of Data in Season 1, helped Picard get past his trauma in Season 2, and as for Season 3, Q was connected to the previous two seasons by way of his "miraculous" reappearance, resurrection, whatever (I have another theory on that, as well), and the subtle nod to Hinduism by way of his costume in the final scene.

I think certain people (Pat Stew, JDL, Cindy Apfel, Imario Susilo et al) wanted Q's story with Picard to continue, despite the decision to have Q "die."

Perhaps, certain higher ups in directorial positions didn't approve of even a Qcard kiss, let alone an on-screen union

but others wanted it, regardless.

Patrick Stewart and John de Lancie, for a good example, have tried to push for Q and Picard to do more ( Tapestry kiss, anyone?), but for seven years, we got a whole ton of dialogue and ear whispers on-screen, and canon confirmations from the actors and even Ron D. Moore.

Honestly, what is it about Qcard that we can't even get a Lower Decks canon-fest, like Garashir????

I'm dreaming of a Qcard wedding for Pete's sake.

So, in STP, they had to default to the safe route, once again.

They gave us more Qcard--but had to do it in a very subtle way.

So, for what it's worth, Q connects the three stories of Picard.

He is Picard's constant.

Q is and has always been there for Picard, all the time. He always will be.

Abiding with him, guiding him, and loving him all the way.

[mindblowingscience]

New research using neural networks, a form of brain-inspired AI, proposes a solution to the tough challenge of modeling the states of molecules. The research shows how the technique can help solve fundamental equations in complex molecular systems. This could lead to practical uses in the future, helping researchers to prototype new materials and chemical syntheses using computer simulation before trying to make them in the lab. Led by Imperial College London and Google DeepMind scientists, the study is published in Science.

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