Her mother, a retired judge with a stare that could convict a guilty conscience, was not charmed. Over dinner, Leo tried to explain his work. “It’s not just for kids,” he said, gesturing with a breadstick. “It’s about finding the soul in the inanimate.” Her father, an anesthesiologist, nodded slowly, then asked, “And what’s your 401(k) situation?”

“I’m sure I’d rather build a ladder with you than stand on any skyscraper alone.”

She abandoned the system.