Three years after the dockside proposal, the Vance-Copley Microbial Asset Headquarters was a testament to their successful, spectacular merger. The facility was housed in a reclaimed industrial loft: sleek stainless steel walls (Caleb's choice) were softened by chaotic shelves of mismatched ceramic bowls (Eliza's touch). The air smelled perpetually of exotic flour and efficient disinfectant.
Eliza, now legally Eliza Vance-Copley, walked into the main lab wearing a stained apron over a professional silk dress. Her signature messy bun was held together with a pencil, not a calculated hairpin.
"Vance!" she called out, leaning over a console where Caleb was meticulously monitoring a dozen jars. "The metrics on 'The Starter of Subtle Spite' are amazing. It's showing 98% consistent passive-aggressive bubbling. We've captured low-level marital discord beautifully."
Caleb, who now preferred to be called C. Vance-Copley (Structural Integrity and Financial Modeling), looked up. His tie was only crooked by three degrees (a major improvement from the pre-merger era), and he had a slight smudge of flour on his otherwise pristine cheek.
"The passive-aggressive metrics are satisfactory, yes," Caleb confirmed, turning a dial to adjust the air pressure. "However, the Net Profit Projection for the new Starter of Quiet Contentment is concerning. It simply doesn't require enough maintenance to justify the high price point. Tranquility is, financially speaking, a low-value commodity."
"That's the qualitative challenge!" Eliza argued, tapping his arm. "The narrative is that the tranquility is so rare and precious that the price must be exorbitant. It's like buying a single, perfect, empty spreadsheet. It's about the potential for nothing to go wrong."
Their argument was interrupted by a low, demanding moan from the center of the room. Larry, the original sourdough starter, was now retired. He resided in a custom-built, climate-controlled Historical Asset Chamber, complete with its own humidity regulator and a small, built-in speaker that played recordings of classic rock (Eliza's compromise) and tax law podcasts (Caleb's insistence).
Larry was the patriarch, but he was not alone.
"Larry III (The Poet) needs his noon feed, C. Vance-Copley," Eliza announced, checking the clock. "He's running dangerously low on existential angst."
"I'm aware," Caleb sighed, pulling a tiny, pre-weighed packet of rye flour from his lab coat. "I've already scheduled a ten-minute session where I read him an article about corporate downsizing. That should provide the necessary emotional instability."
Larry was no longer their most high-maintenance dependent. That distinction now belonged to the dozens of volatile microbial offspring they managed for their exclusive clientele.
As Caleb carefully fed the melancholic Larry III, he reached into his breast pocket and felt the blue thread, which was now permanently stitched to the inside lining of all his coats.
He looked at Eliza, his wife, his partner, his beautiful chaos.
"The data shows, Eliza," Caleb said, without looking at his computer, "that since the Merger, our Overall Life Satisfaction Index (LSI) has increased by a statistically significant 45%. Our Conflict Resolution Time has dropped from an average of 48 hours to 48 minutes, primarily due to the introduction of the 'Two-Minute Unquantifiable Affection Protocol.'"
He finished Larry III's feed and walked over to her, pulling her close. "The final metric is this: being right about the efficiency of order is less satisfying than being beautifully, illogically wrong with you."
Eliza smiled, resting her head against his chest, which, years later, was still the most comfortable place in the world.
"Hypothesis confirmed," Eliza murmured. "Maximum sustainable volatility achieved. Now, let's go argue over the name of the new starter. I think we should call it The Starter of Quiet Contentment (High Value Edition)."
Caleb kissed her. "Agreed. But only if we file the name under the Vance-Copley Irrevocable Joint Asset Portfolio."
The kiss was their ultimate contract—messy, passionate, and the only truly unquantifiable metric that mattered.
Final Metric: Merger Longevity Projection: Infinite.