I build things that only work if two strangers show up at the same time. So far that has been the problem.
I'm a computer science student at Texas A&M University–Texarkana, graduating May 2027. Before Texas I was in Kathmandu, and my first job in tech was data work for CloudFactory at a desk in Nepal, for a company whose office I never once walked into. Working with people I would never meet was normal to me before it was normal to most people, which is probably why I keep building software about being in the same room.
Two of those now exist. Someone Today pairs anonymous strangers for a conversation. Out shows you who is free and nearby right now. Both of them work beautifully with a thousand people online and not at all with four. I built the second one already knowing that, which is the part I am least proud of and the reason I am writing it down here instead of leaving it off the page.
Since then I have been building a small thing a week on a workbench instead — a game, a display, a sprite of my grandfather that walks along the bottom of my screen. All of it works for one person on day one, which is the thing the first two got wrong.
The rest of my time has been less romantic. For most of 2025 I was the person you called when a classroom projector died ten minutes before a lecture, or when a student locked themselves out of the account holding their only copy of a term paper. Before that I was a resident assistant and a first-year coach, which is four years of evidence that I would rather be in the building than remote — and, I suspect, the actual reason both of my products are about presence.
I am looking for a software engineering internship for summer 2027.