My fingers found the manual bypass toggle on the primary load bank.

“Priya, hold the vent valve open,” I said, keeping my voice as level as possible.

The metal switch felt icy cold against my thumb.

I flipped it down.

The high-pitched warning tone stopped instantly, replaced by the deep, reassuring hum of the coolant pump.

“Bypass engaged,” Priya whispered, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “The pressure is stabilizing.”

I turned back to face my family.

My mother had not moved an inch.

She stood perfectly still, her leather handbag gripped tightly in her manicured fingers.

She kept her eyes fixed on Derek, her chin tilted at that familiar, commanding angle.

“Well?” she asked, her voice quiet and sharp. “Are you coming, Derek?”

My father stood a step behind her, his eyes focused on his polished leather shoes.

He looked smaller than usual in the bright California sun.

Derek slowly took his hand off the warm metal of the prototype.

He stood up straight, squaring his shoulders under his blue cotton shirt.

“No,” Derek said.