The success of the geology lounge leak was a drug. For the next forty-eight hours, Kairos and Ares operated on a continuous, giddy high. They'd check the app constantly, not with anxiety, but with the thrilling anticipation of a fisherman checking a net. They'd made something that worked in the wild.
Their focus became razor-sharp. The minor bugs that had once been annoying now felt like critical failures. Kairos fixed the double-increment upvote bug. Ares streamlined the image upload process. They were no longer just building for Professor Evans; they were building for user_48b1d9.
It was during one of these hyper-focused sessions that a new email popped up on Kairos's screen. It was from Professor Evans.
Subject: Invitation: University Innovation Showcase Body: …Your work on CampusFix has been selected for the University Innovation Showcase next week. This event highlights the most promising student-led tech projects to a panel of investors and industry leaders… This is a significant opportunity…
Kairos's first instinct was to archive it. Public speaking was somewhere on his list of preferred activities just above voluntarily getting a root canal. But then he thought about the live app on his phone. He thought about the status change from 'Submitted' to 'In Progress'.
He opened his chat with Ares.
Kairos: You see the email? Innovation Showcase? Ares:Just saw it. My heart is beating a little too fast. What do you think? Kairos:I think I'd rather present to a pack of wolves. But. Ares:But. Ares:We have a working product. With real users. Kairos:Exactly. It's not just a project. We could actually show the leak. And the fix. Ares:So… we're doing it? Kairos:We're doing it.
The decision was made with a calm certainty. The fear was still there, a nervous flutter in Kairos's stomach, but it was overshadowed by a powerful new sensation: pride.
The Innovation Showcase was a different beast altogether from a class colloquium. It was held in the sleek university conference center. The air smelled of coffee and ambition. Tables were set up around the perimeter of the room, each with a poster board and a monitor for demos. The attendees weren't just professors and students; they were men and women in sharp suits, holding leather-bound notebooks, their eyes sharp and appraising.
Kairos felt immediately out of place in his slightly-too-casual button-down. Ares, beside him, looked effortlessly poised in a simple, dark blazer. She was setting up their monitor, her hands steady.
"Remember," she said, not looking up from the HDMI cable. "We're not just selling an app. We're selling a solution to a problem every single person in this room has experienced."
Their allotted time slot arrived. A small crowd gathered, including Professor Evans and a few of the sharp-suited evaluators. One judge, a woman with a keen gaze and a Paystack logo on her lanyard, stood at the front, her arms crossed.
Ares took the lead, her voice clear and confident, cutting through the low hum of the room. She framed CampusFix not as a class project, but as a necessary piece of campus infrastructure. She handed it off to Kairos for the demo.
His heart hammered against his ribs as he plugged his phone in. The app's interface filled the monitor. He took a deep breath.
"This isn't a simulation," he began, his voice finding a strength he didn't know he had. He navigated directly to the public feed and clicked on the geology lounge issue. The blurry photo of the leaky ceiling filled the screen. "This was reported five days ago by a real student using this app."
He walked them through it—the intuitive reporting, the precise map pin, the upvote system that highlighted collective concern. Then he switched to the admin view, showing how a maintenance request was automatically generated and its status updated in real-time.
"This issue," he said, pointing to the screen, which now showed Status: Resolved, "was fixed within 48 hours of being reported. The old system? It could have taken weeks."
The questions that followed were tougher, more business-focused than they'd faced in class.
"What's your user acquisition strategy?" a man in a suit asked. "How do you plan to handle data privacy for photo uploads?"another inquired. "Is there a monetization model,or is this purely a utility?"
They answered as a team, Ares handling the strategy and vision, Kairos diving into the technical safeguards. They were prepared, they were passionate, and it showed.
As the session ended and the crowd dispersed, the judge with the Paystack lanyard lingered. She approached their table.
"That was impressively done," she said, her earlier stern expression softened into a smile. "The live demo with a real, resolved issue was a masterstroke. Most people just show mockups." She pulled two business cards from her portfolio. "I'm Nneka, with Paystack. What you've built demonstrates a deep understanding of a real-world pain point and a elegant, practical solution. That's the kind of thinking we look for."
She handed a card to each of them.
"We have an internship program for standout developer talent," she continued, her eyes shifting meaningfully to Kairos. "And product management tracks," she added, turning to Ares. "Keep these. Apply when you're ready. I'll be watching for your names."
She gave a final nod and melted into the crowd.
Kairos looked down at the card in his hand. It was heavy, expensive stock. Paystack. Nneka Okoye, Senior Product Lead. He looked at Ares. Her composure had finally cracked, replaced by a look of stunned, elated disbelief that mirrored exactly what he was feeling.
They had done it. They had stood in front of investors and industry leaders and not just held their own—they had shone.
Without thinking, Kairos held up his hand for a high-five. Ares laughed, a real, unreserved sound, and met his hand with a solid, satisfying smack.
The sound echoed in the noisy hall, a perfect period at the end of their sentence. They hadn't just built an app; they had built a future.