Neural Summit after-party. San Francisco rooftop bar overlooking the bay. City lights glitter like scattered code below. Golden Gate in the distance, fog rolling in slow and silver.

Joe stands at the railing in a sharp blazer, drink in hand, trying to look casual. Jen arrives first—black silk dress hugging every curve, heels clicking like countdowns. Mei follows in emerald green, eyes scanning like security cameras.

Jen (sliding up beside him, voice low and teasing): “Not bad, Oxford boy. VIP treatment suits you.”

Joe (grinning, already a little buzzed): “Only the best for Berkeley's future overlords. Glad you made it.”

Mei (stepping up on his other side, cool smile): “We wouldn't miss free champagne and a view this good. Or the company.”

Jen leans in closer, her perfume cutting through the bay breeze. Mei watches from the side, sipping slowly, calculating.

Jen: “So tell me more about this AI you're building. The one that's going to change everything.”

Joe (lighting up): “It's… next-gen reasoning engine. Self-improving loops, ethical guardrails optional. Could run companies, negotiate deals, even—”

Jen (interrupting with a laugh): “Even spot a good investment when it's standing right in front of you?”

Joe (chuckling): “Especially that.”

Mei (softly, to Jen but loud enough for Joe): “Careful, Jen. He might actually believe his own hype.”

Jen (eyes locked on Joe, smile sharpening): “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

The three of them stand there, city humming below, champagne flutes catching neon. Joe feels on top of the world.

He has no idea the real summit just started—and he's not the one setting the agenda.