The judge tilted her head slightly. "Override what assumptions?"
Arnold swallowed, aware that hundreds of eyes were on him. "Right now the model expects disruption in one zone at a time. It redistributes traffic based on that logic. But if three major arteries are blocked at once, the base pattern collapses. The system has to stop thinking in terms of recovery and switch to survival mode."
A quiet murmur rippled across the hall.
He turned his screen toward her. "First, the algorithm freezes all non-essential routing updates for three seconds to prevent chaotic recalculations. During that window, it marks emergency corridors as absolute priority. Then it divides the city into temporary zones and limits cross-zone flow. That prevents a chain reaction gridlock. Public transport gets rerouted to edge loops instead of central hubs, reducing pressure on the core."
The judge's gaze remained fixed on the screen. "And private vehicles?"
"Delayed," Arnold said. "Just staggered in timed waves so the network doesn't collapse under sudden reroutes. The system shifts from optimization to stabilization first. Once flow is restored, it goes back to efficiency."
Silence spread through the space like a held breath.
One judge whispered something to another. A third folded his arms, studying Arnold as if trying to see past him.
The woman in front of him didn't speak. She simply tapped her pen against her clipboard, once, twice, three times.
Arnold's throat tightened. Had he gone too far? Was it too bold? Too different?
Finally, she looked up.
"That is correct," she said.
The air in Arnold's lungs rushed out.
"Your approach prioritizes containment before optimization. Most of the others tried to force efficiency in a broken network. That would have caused total system failure." She faced the hall. "Fifteen-minute break before Round Two."
Noise exploded instantly. Chairs scraped. Voices rose. Screens dimmed.
Arnold remained seated for a moment, staring at his monitor as the adrenaline drained from his body. He had done it. He had answered the hardest question in the room, and he had been right.
A laugh sounded behind him.
"Guess the stray dog can bark after all."
Arnold turned slowly.
Four students stood there, all wearing matching navy jackets stitched with a gold university crest. Their badges gleamed. Their shoes alone probably cost more than his monthly expenses.
One of them smirked. "You got lucky with that answer. Doesn't mean you belong here."
Arnold faced forward again. "I'm here, though."
Another stepped closer. "You barged in through security like some street kid. You think that's impressive?"
A shove hit his shoulder. Not hard enough to cause a scene, but enough to send a message.
He straightened his back and said nothing, pretending to be busy with something in his notes.
"Bet you've never even seen a lab like this before," the first one continued. "People like you should be grateful just to watch."
Arnold kept his hands resting on the table, his jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"You got lucky the first round," one muttered. "But we'd see just how long filth like you can last here before you remember your place."
Another shove hit his shoulder, but Arnold only clenched his notes to stop himself from retaliating. The sound of footsteps approaching made the boys quickly step back instantly, their faces rearranging into polite masks. A male judge appeared in front of Arnold, towering above him, his face stern.
The boys scattered with forced casualness, pretending like they'd only been passing by.
Arnold looked up, unsure whether the judge wanted something or had just come to his rescue.
Before he could ask, the judge reached for his note and slammed it shut, his expression cold.
"You're overstepping." His voice dropped to a whisper so only Arnold could hear. "People like you should know when to stop. You're giving the wrong impression, making others think background doesn't matter."
Arnold blinked. "I'm just competing."
"You're disrupting a system that exists for a reason. You've made your point," the man continued. "You're smart. Good for you. But dragging this further will only embarrass you."
"I'm not embarrassed."
The judge's eyes hardened. "Let's be practical." He slipped a hand into his pocket. "There are participation stipends. I can authorize one for you. Enough to make today worth your time."
Money. The word hung in the air between them.
For a moment, the offer tugged at him. He wouldn't have to worry about losing. He thought of unpaid bills, of nights stretching meals thinner than they should be. Then another thought rose louder. The flash drive. The message. This was a challenge.
"With all due respect, sir, if your top students are as good as you believe," Arnold said quietly, "then you have nothing to worry about."
The judge's eyes narrowed slightly. "Stubbornness can cost you."
"Maybe," Arnold replied, "but quitting would cost more."
The man held his gaze a moment longer, then turned away without another word.
The next round began with a new task projected onto the main screen. Participants had to design a rapid shelter deployment system for disaster zones with limited resources. Arnold got to work immediately, sketching modular units that could be assembled without heavy machinery.
Across the hall, one team moved with practiced coordination, pieces of their design already refined. Their layout allowed faster setup with fewer steps. Arnold saw it too late. When results were reviewed, he placed second for the round.
He pressed his lips together. Frustration burned, but he forced himself to stay calm. There was still one final stage.
The last challenge arrived. A citywide blackout scenario. Critical services had to be restored in order of importance with limited supply.
Arnold moved with unwavering focus, mapping out hospitals, traffic control, and communication networks first. He balanced resources carefully, shifting power where it would save the most lives.
Time blurred. Voices faded. It was just him and the problem.
When the final scores appeared, his system had restored essential services faster and more efficiently than anyone else.
"Winner of the final round," the judge announced, "Mr. Arnold Palmer."
Applause rolled through the hall. Some clapped eagerly. Others did so out of obligation. Arnold walked to the stage in a daze as cameras flashed.
A medal was placed around his neck. A certificate was pressed into his hands along with a cheque for five hundred thousand dollars. He barely heard the words spoken into the microphone.
All he wanted in that moment was to call Arya and his sister.
He stepped away from the crowd, reaching for his phone just as it buzzed. His screen lit up with a message from an unknown number. He opened it to find just a sentence:
You found it faster than I expected.
Goosebumps prickled along Arnold's skin as he glanced around, trying to see if he was being watched. Just then, the flash drive in his other pocket vibrated, and his phone screen went blank. White text appeared at the center, just as it had the previous day:
Challenge one complete:
Prize released: $10,000,000
He forgot to breathe.