Adrian leaned against the glass wall of the therapy center’s observation room, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the ten-year-old boy sitting across from Maya. The child, Alex, was withdrawn, fidgeting with a lump of blue clay in his lap. No eye contact. Minimal response. Just quiet nods.
“He hasn’t said more than five words in two sessions,” Maya whispered. “But he’s starting to use shapes to communicate. That’s something.”
Adrian glanced at the iPad in his hand, where LogicMind’s dashboard pulsed with charts and behavior predictions. “According to the mood and language algorithm, his emotional indicators are flatlining. Zero spikes. No meaningful engagement.”
Maya shot him a look. “Because he doesn’t speak in algorithms.”
“He doesn’t speak at all.”
She exhaled, folding her arms. “You see a blank screen. I see a kid sculpting the same shape over and over—a tower that keeps crumbling. That’s not nothing.”
They watched Alex press the clay tower down again, slowly, deliberately, until it flattened.
Adrian turned toward her. “Maya, I’m not dismissing what you do. I’m saying that in order for LogicMind to help more people, we need consistency. Data we can track, test, replicate.”
“You want emotional healing to behave like a spreadsheet,” she snapped, voice low but firm. “But people aren’t code. They’re messy, inconsistent. Sometimes we talk in tears. Sometimes in silence. Sometimes… in towers made of clay.”
The room was quiet for a beat too long.
Adrian stared at Alex. “So what would you do? There’s no baseline. No verbal cues. No therapeutic standard.”
“I’d sit beside him,” she said, moving toward the door, “and build a tower too.”
Maya stepped into the room and gently picked up a lump of clay. She said nothing, just molded a matching tower beside Alex’s.
After a few minutes, the boy looked up — just a flicker — then began reshaping his clay again. This time, his hands were steadier.
Adrian stayed rooted behind the glass, watching something his metrics couldn’t quantify. A fragile human moment. A signal that defied logic, yet said everything.
That night, he stayed late in his office, reviewing footage of the session. He replayed the same moment—Maya and Alex, side by side in silence—again and again.
He didn’t understand it.
But he couldn’t stop watching it.
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