500 million euros were about to disappear in the bank. Spain’s most powerful computers were shutting down one after another. Computer engineers stared in terror at black screens while CEO Miguel Fernández watched his empire collapse. The most important deal in the history of Spanish business was vanishing, billions of investors’ euros were gone, and the panic was total. Nobody knew what to do.

“It’s over,” someone shouted. “We’ve lost everything!”

Miguel felt the cold air running down his back. Outside, the rain pounded the walls of the Picasso Tower. The clock read 2:39 p.m.

“How long are we going to be together?” Miguel asked, his voice choked with anxiety.

“One hour and twenty minutes,” the technical director replied, wiping his face. “If we don’t resolve this before four, the Japanese will cancel the contract and leave the competition.”

Five years of work, the most revolutionary innovation in artificial intelligence, the future of the company, all because of a system crashed at the worst possible moment. Miguel, surrounded by the best engineers in the country, saw only pale faces and trembling fingers frantically typing without result. No one had an answer.

Rich, almost invisible, Carmela Ríz emptied wastebaskets. She had been helping her father, the janitor, pay for college for two years. She studied computer science at the Polytechnic, but no one in the office knew. No one noticed her, if only she could, in the cars, staring at screens and listening to the technicians talk about systems and algorithms. But Carmela saw what others didn’t see. Her eyes scanned the monitors, the servers, the cables. He recognized the symptoms of a problem that he had already solved a thousand times in his home laboratory, assembled with recycled parts and a lot of curiosity.

As the chaos grew, Carmen felt her pulse quicken. She knew exactly what was happening and how to fix it. She slowly approached the head table. She gave a second, but the desperation in the room was so great that she dared to speak.

—Sorry… could I try to fix it?

Ciпcυeпta heads turned. Miguel looked at her as if he saw a ghost.

—You? Who are you?

—Carmela Rυiz, sir. I’m the daughter of Aпtoпio, the janitor. I’m studying computer science at the Polytechnic and… I think I know what’s going on.

The technical director, a man of one hundred years and twenty years of experience, laughed cheerfully.

—Girl, the best computer scientists in Spain are here. If we can…

—With all due respect, —Carmela interrupted, politely but firmly—, the problem is in the wrong place. It’s not the hardware, it’s the virus. It’s a programming error in the firewall I saw while studying for my distributed systems exam.

Miguel looked at his watch. There were 72 minutes left. The young woman seemed so sure she almost believed him.

—And you know how to fix it?

—Yes, sir. I’ve written a patch that could centralize the conflict, but I need access to the main server.

A freezing silence fell over the room. The main server was a treasure chest: trade secrets, paths, and code. No one could access Level 10 authorization.

“That’s impossible,” said the security director.

A deep voice erupted from the door.

—I have it.

It was Aпtoпio Rυiz, the janitor, Carmeп’s father. He brought his cleaning cart and the master key with his gaze.

—I have emergency access. They gave it to all the custodians after last year’s incident.

Miguel looked at him as if he had just discovered my gold mine in the basement.

—Dad? —Carmeп gasped.

Aпtoпio smiled proudly.

—Carmeп, you’ve always fixed everything since you were a child. If you say you can do it, I’ll believe you.

Miguel made the riskiest decision of his life.

—Déjeпla iпteпtarlo.

Carmela sat at the main station, surrounded by skeptical glances. Her hands were shaking, but her eyes shone with concentration. She inserted the USB drive and began typing at an astonishing speed.

—The conflict is between the new security protocol installed yesterday and the legacy system, he explained while working. —The firewall interprets requests as attacks and blocks everything in protective mode.

The technical director approached, incredulous.

—How do you know? That protocol was installed secretly last night.

—Because I was there with Dad cleaned up. I listened to the technicians’ discussion and saw the codes on the screens. At home I recreated the story to understand what could go wrong.

Miguel opened his eyes.

—¿Recreaste пυestro sistema eп casa?

—Not everything, but enough to identify the critical points. I use recycled materials and free software. It’s not the best, but it works.

Lines of code flew across the screen. Carme was rewriting parts of the real-time system, created between two compatible protocols.

“Impossible!” gasped the geeky man. “That would take hours.”

—Only if you start from scratch. But I already had the solution, I was thinking of proposing it as a thesis project.

Suddenly, the screen disappeared. Then another. And another. The central system came back to life. Data flew. Connections were restored. The video conference with the Japanese was back online.

A spontaneous round of applause broke out in the room. Miguel looked at his watch: 45 minutes until the deadline.

“Carme,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion, “you just saved my company.”

But what no one knew was that this was just the beginning.

While everyone was celebrating, Miguel stayed in front of the monitor, studying Carme’s code.

—Oh my God… —he gasped—. Call everyone. Look at this!

What Carmen had created wasn’t just a patch. It was a completely new algorithm. The system’s efficiency increased by 340%. Processing speed tripled. The energy consumption was halved. Security increased multiple times.

“This is impossible,” the technical director said, open-mouthed. “An improvement like this would require years of research.”

Carmeп, who was gathering her things to return to cleaning, turned around in surprise.

—Ah, that’s an optimization algorithm I developed for a university project. I called it the “Harmopia Protocol.” It makes incompatible systems work together.

The CEO looked at her as if she were standing in front of a prodigy.

—Uп university project?

—Yes, for the advanced algorithms course. I wanted to impress my dad, —said Carme, blushing.

Aпtoпio, with tears in his eyes, hugged his daughter.

—Carmeп, I’ve always been proud of you.

Miguel made a historic decision.

—Do you want a job?

—Mr. Fernandez, I study and help my dad…

“You don’t understand,” Miguel laughed. “I’m offering you the position of technical director.”

Six months later, Carmela Ríz’s life was unrecognizable. From the office on the 45th floor, the one previously occupied by the technical director, she saw Madrid beneath her feet. But every morning she went down to greet her father, now a services supervisor with his own office. “Good morning, Dad.” “Good morning, Doctor,” Atopio replied, his smile more valuable than any contract. The “Harmopia Protocol” had been patented and sold to the world’s largest corporations. The profits exceeded billions of euros. But the real change was cultural. Carmen established a revolutionary policy: any employee, from the janitor to the CEO, could propose ideas. Open labs, scholarships for employees’ children, democratic promotion.

—Geпio —Carmeп said in international conferences— doesn’t look at the title of the baccalaureate. Only the right idea at the right time.

Not everything was easy. Some colleagues hampered her because she was young and a woman. The media called her “the IT CEO,” a label she hated. Until the biggest challenge came. A multinational corporation offered the state two billion dollars for the company, with the covetousness: Carmela had to leave.

In the boardroom, Miguel looked at the TechCorp executives. “Are you rejecting two billion dollars?” the American CEO asked. “I’m not rejecting the money. I’m just rejecting the money. You want to buy my company to silence the hype. I want to keep changing it.” He looked at Carmela, excited. “Carmela’s not just my CTO. She’s the future of IT. I wouldn’t trade her for all the millions in the world.”

The applause echoed down to the lower floor, where Aпtoпio stood proudly.

Three years later, TecnoEspaña surpassed Apple in market capitalization. The Harmony Protocol became the global standard. Carme, now twenty-three, was one of the most influential people on the planet. She never forgot her roots. Every night she returned to her modest apartment in Lavapiés, where she lived with her father. “Dad, what did you learn today?” she asked. “That my daughter stopped being the girl who fixed everything.” Only now the electronic world is fixed. Every October 17th, TecpoEspaña celebrates Hidden Talent Day. Employees from all over the world present ideas, many of which become reality. Carme Ríz’s story shows that talent doesn’t look at surnames, titles, or bank accounts. It only looks at the heart and the mind that stops dreaming.

Do you have a revolutionary idea? Share it. You could be the next genius.