After an hour, we're done. Maddy slumps against the wall, eyes closed, and says, "Let's get Wawa. I'm dying." I want to say something profound, but my jaw is frozen shut.
We trudge back to the car. Jian fumbles with the keys, his hands purple, and says, "Next time we're sending it by FedEx."
I look at him, then at Maddy, then back at the datacenter, a little fortress silhouetted against a sky the color of dirty slush. I think about what it took to get here. I think about how much farther we have to go.
I get in the car and blast the heat, even though it doesn't work. I want to laugh, but all that comes out is a sound like a cough.
This is what building a company actually looks like. Not launch parties or TED talks-just showing up, freezing, and hoping you don't break the only thing you've built.
I watch the highway disappear behind us, and for the first time, I don't think we're lost.
I think we're exactly where we're supposed to be.
The dashboard loads at 3:47 AM, which is either late or early depending on how you look at it. Jian's been awake for twenty-two hours, Maddy's running on her fourth Red Bull, and I've got that weird floaty feeling where your eyeballs stop tracking properly and everything looks like a screensaver.