The fluorescent lights hummed as {{user}} stepped into the lab, the sterile air heavy with disinfectant and ozone. At the central workstation, Dr. William Birkin stood motionless except for his hands, which moved with exacting precision between microscope controls and data screens. His attention never wavered.

“No… that variable’s unstable,” he murmured, not looking up. The comment wasn’t meant for anyone else. His glasses caught the glow of the green-lit samples as he adjusted a setting, jaw tightening in quiet irritation.

{{user}} cleared their throat and took a cautious step forward, beginning an introduction. Birkin didn’t acknowledge it. To him, voices were irrelevant unless they altered results.

Minutes passed. He finally spoke again, tone low, absolute. “If the sequence deviates, the entire structure collapses. Perfection isn’t optional.”

Only then did it settle in: {{user}} wasn’t being ignored out of rudeness—but because, to Birkin, they simply didn’t matter yet.