Chapter 11: The To-MAY-to Incident
The Penny Blossoms money had been trickling in steadily over the past few weeks, bringing Kayel's balance to the dizzying heights of $189.40. For the first time since arriving in this universe, he had what could generously be called disposable income—money he could spend on something other than basic survival.
The feeling was intoxicating. And dangerous.
Kayel sat at his kitchen table, staring at his laptop screen and contemplating ambition. He'd been building basic websites for small businesses—contact forms, simple blogs, nothing that required major system intervention. But with nearly two hundred dollars in his account, he could afford to think bigger.
"I need a portfolio. Something that shows I can build real applications, not just static websites. Maybe a mobile app. Something simple but functional."
[SIMPLE APP SCRIPT AVAILABLE: $10.00. TO-DO LIST APPLICATION WITH LOCAL STORAGE AND BASIC UI.]
Ten dollars. It was a reasonable price for what sounded like a complete application. And unlike the massive enterprise projects that required days of forced unconsciousness, a simple app script should only take a couple of hours of system processing.
"Ten dollars to build something I can show potential clients. Something that proves I can do more than basic HTML. It's an investment."
"System," he said aloud. "Generate the To-Do List application. Ten dollars."
[ACCEPTED. TIER 1 PROCESSING INITIATED. ESTIMATED COMPLETION: 2 HOURS. PROCESSING WILL COMMENCE IMMEDIATELY.]
The pain hit him like a sledgehammer to the skull.
Kayel barely had time to lock his apartment door before the system's processing began in earnest. This wasn't the gradual buildup of a minor headache—this was immediate, overwhelming agony that made his vision white out and his stomach lurch toward his throat.
He stumbled to his bed and collapsed face-first into the pillow, pressing his palms against his temples as if he could physically hold his skull together. The pain was sharp and relentless, like someone was performing surgery on his brain with a rusty spoon.
"Two hours. I just have to survive two hours of this."
But thinking about the duration only made it worse, as if his consciousness was being stretched and compressed simultaneously. Every heartbeat sent fresh waves of agony through his head, and the familiar copper taste of impending nosebleeds began coating his tongue.
Time became meaningless. Minutes stretched into eternities of suffering, while the system methodically constructed code pathways through his neural tissue. He could feel the process happening—algorithms being written directly into his consciousness, user interfaces being rendered behind his eyelids, database structures being carved into his gray matter like digital scrimshaw.
The nosebleed started during the second hour, a steady trickle that stained his pillowcase red and made breathing even more difficult. But Kayel barely noticed. He was trapped in a feedback loop of technological agony, his brain serving as both the processor and the victim of the system's relentless efficiency.
When it finally ended, the silence in his head was almost as shocking as the pain had been.
[PROCESSING COMPLETE. TO-DO LIST APPLICATION GENERATED. BALANCE: $179.40.]
Kayel lay on his bed for several minutes, afraid to move. His head felt hollow and fragile, like blown glass that might shatter at the slightest jarring. The nosebleed had stopped, but his face was crusted with dried blood, and his shirt was soaked with sweat.
Slowly, carefully, he sat up and looked at his laptop. The screen showed a complete mobile application—clean interface, smooth animations, local storage functionality, and even some basic customization options. It was exactly what he'd paid for, and it was genuinely impressive work.
It was also the product of two hours of voluntary torture.
"Worth it. It has to be worth it. This is my future we're talking about."
He cleaned the blood from his face, changed his shirt, and spent the next few minutes testing the application. Everything worked perfectly. The interface was intuitive, the functionality was solid, and the code structure was clean and professional. It was the kind of portfolio piece that could land him real freelance contracts.
By the time he emerged from his apartment—looking pale, exhausted, and slightly shell-shocked—the sun was setting, and the building's usual evening chaos was in full swing. As he stepped into the hallway, the unmistakable sound of Sheldon Cooper's voice drifted up from the stairwell.
"To-MAY-to, to-MAH-to, to-MAY-to, to-MAH-to!"
The singing was off-key, repetitive, and delivered with the kind of manic intensity that suggested someone had finally snapped under the pressure of modern life.
"What the hell is happening down there?"
Kayel made his way downstairs, following the sound of Sheldon's increasingly frantic vegetable-based vocalizations. He found Leonard standing outside apartment 4A, looking like a man contemplating the benefits of moving to another state.
"How long has this been going on?" Kayel asked.
Leonard jumped, apparently not having heard him approach. "Oh, hey. About an hour. Maybe longer. Time loses all meaning when someone's singing about tomatoes in the stairwell."
"To-MAY-to, to-MAH-to!" came Sheldon's voice from inside the apartment, followed by what sounded like someone kicking furniture.
"What happened?"
"We had a fight," Leonard said simply. "About pronunciation. And life choices. And whether I'm qualified to have opinions about either."
The door to 4A burst open, and Sheldon emerged wearing his full winter gear—heavy coat, scarf, gloves—despite the fact that it was seventy degrees outside.
"Leonard!" he announced dramatically. "I'm leaving! Forever! Or at least until you acknowledge that the correct pronunciation of 'tomato' is a matter of regional linguistic variation, not personal moral failing!"
"Sheldon," Leonard said with forced patience, "you can't leave forever because you disagree with how I say 'tomato.'"
"Can't I? Watch me!" Sheldon marched toward the stairwell, then stopped. "Also, I'm taking the TV!"
"You can't take the TV. It's mine."
"I contributed to the cable bill!"
"You contributed five dollars. Once. In 2006."
"This is amazing. They're having a domestic dispute over vegetable pronunciation. These people are disasters."
Howard and Raj appeared from upstairs, drawn by the commotion like moths to a flame.
"Are they really fighting about tomatoes?" Howard asked.
"Apparently," Kayel said. "Though I think there might be some deeper issues at play."
Sheldon had now begun loading his belongings into what appeared to be a child's red wagon, muttering about "intellectual persecution" and "the decline of proper elocution in American society."
"This is better than cable," Raj whispered.
For the next twenty minutes, Kayel watched as Leonard and Sheldon engaged in the kind of argument that could only happen between two brilliant people who'd known each other too long. It involved linguistic theory, regional dialects, childhood trauma, and at least three references to scientific papers about pronunciation patterns.
The fight eventually moved back inside, where it continued with increasing volume and decreasing coherence. Howard pulled out his phone and began recording, claiming it was "for posterity."
"You guys are like a really smart train wreck," Kayel said, watching Sheldon dramatically pack his comic books while explaining the phonetic differences between British and American English.
The comment hung in the air for a moment. Leonard paused mid-argument. Howard looked up from his phone. Even Sheldon stopped packing long enough to consider the metaphor.
"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Leonard asked.
"Yes," Kayel said.
Howard snorted with laughter. "That's actually perfect. Smart train wreck. I'm stealing that."
Sheldon, meanwhile, was staring at Kayel with the intensity of someone analyzing a particularly interesting specimen. "Creative metaphor usage," he murmured, as if filing the information away for future reference. "Juxtaposition of intellectual capacity with catastrophic dysfunction. Quite apt, actually."
"Great. Now Sheldon's psychoanalyzing my joke. This is exactly what I need after two hours of brain surgery."
The fight eventually fizzled out the way most Leonard and Sheldon arguments did—with exhaustion, grudging acknowledgment of each other's points, and the mutual recognition that they were stuck with each other regardless of their philosophical differences.
By the time everyone dispersed to their respective apartments, Kayel was exhausted in ways that went beyond the physical. The system processing had left him drained, the social dynamics had been emotionally taxing, and the whole experience had reinforced just how complicated his new life had become.
But as he sat in his apartment, looking at the completed app on his laptop screen, he couldn't help feeling a small spark of pride. It hurt—literally, physically hurt—but he was building something. Creating a portfolio. Taking steps toward a real future in this strange universe.
"Small victories. Expensive, painful, but genuine small victories."
He uploaded the app to his portfolio website and sent a few inquiry emails to potential clients, then collapsed into bed with the kind of exhaustion that comes from voluntary suffering in service of long-term goals.
Outside his window, Pasadena continued its evening routine, blissfully unaware that one of its residents had just spent two hours having applications written directly into his brain tissue.
Just another Thursday night in paradise.
+1 CHAPTER AFTER EVERY 3 REVIEWS
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
Love [ In The Big Bang Theory With AI GPT ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ In The Big Bang Theory With AI GPT ] with exclusive access to 26+ chapters on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse, Breaking Bad , The Walking dead ,The Hobbit,Wednesday].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!