keidolabs/aipsy-affect huggingface dataset:
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Intellectual revelation (paradigm shift)

The student had asked the question to be polite. It was a visiting lecture, and no one else had raised a hand, and the silence was becoming uncomfortable. She asked about the third equation on the second slide. The lecturer paused. Then the lecturer took a step back from the podium. Then the lecturer said, "Say that again." She said it again. The lecturer turned to the board and began writing. Other faculty in the room were leaning forward. The lecturer wrote for four minutes without stopping. When he turned around, he said, "That question has a consequence I have not considered in forty years of working on this." The student was twenty-two. She had asked the question to be polite.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Competence (mastery, skill)

The apprentice had been watching the glassblower for four years. In four years he had never seen her repeat a motion unnecessarily. Every movement of the pipe, every rotation, every breath into the molten shape was the exact movement required and nothing more. Other glassblowers compensated — adjusting, correcting, recovering. She did not need to recover because she did not make the error that required recovery. He had timed her once, secretly, with a stopwatch, comparing her to the videos of the masters in the guild archive. She was faster. Not because she moved quickly, but because she never moved twice where once was enough. He had been her apprentice for four years, and in four years the distance between his craft and hers had not closed. It had become more visible.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Competence (mastery, skill)

The interpreter was working between two languages and a courtroom full of people who didn't know what they were witnessing. The defendant spoke in long, unpunctuated sentences — clauses folding into each other, tense shifting mid-thought, idioms from a regional dialect that had no direct equivalent. The interpreter rendered each sentence into English without pause, without simplification, and without losing the structure that made the defendant's meaning his own and not someone else's. The judge did not notice. The attorneys did not notice. The defendant noticed. When the interpreter finished a passage that contained a proverb his grandmother had used, the defendant looked at her for the first time, and what passed between them was the recognition that his words had survived the crossing.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Competence (mastery, skill)

The teacher had been at the school for thirty-one years. She taught sixth grade. Every year, the parents of the incoming class would ask the parents of the outgoing class about her, and the answer was always a version of the same thing: she knew where each child was. Not their desk. Where they were — in their understanding, in their confidence, in the distance between what they could do last month and what they could do now. She held this map for twenty-eight students simultaneously, and she adjusted it daily, and she never wrote it down because it was not the kind of thing that fit on paper. Former students came back to visit her. They came back at seventeen and at twenty-five and at forty, and they told her things they had not told anyone else, because she had been the first person to see them accurately.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Competence (mastery, skill)

The surgeon's hands were the thing people talked about. Not his results — his results were in the database, comparable to others at his level. His hands. The residents watched them during procedures. The motions were small and they were certain and they did not contain anything extra. A resident once said that watching him operate was like watching someone write in a language that had no unnecessary letters. He operated on structures that were millimeters apart, and his instruments moved between them the way a sentence moves between words — without confusion about where one ended and the next began. He had been doing this for twenty-six years. His hands had not changed speed. They had changed precision.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Moral character (sacrifice, integrity)

The accountant had reported his own firm. The irregularities were ones he had found, in accounts he managed, producing revenue that paid his salary. He reported them knowing what would happen: the investigation, the firm's closure, the loss of his position, the years of litigation during which no one in the industry would hire a person who had done what he did. He reported them because the accounts belonged to people who would not have found the irregularities themselves, and those people would have continued to lose money that they could not afford to lose. He was asked, afterward, by many people, why. His answer was the same each time: the accounts were not abstractions. They were the retirement savings of specific people whose names were on the files, and he had seen the names.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Moral character (sacrifice, integrity)

The woman had been fostering children for twenty-two years. Not the easy placements. The ones the system called "difficult," which meant: the ones who had learned that adults leave. She had taken in forty-one children. Some stayed for months. Some stayed for years. Every one of them left, because that was the structure — foster care is temporary by design. She set the table for them. She learned what they would eat and what they wouldn't. She kept their drawings on the refrigerator and she did not take them down when the children left. The refrigerator was covered, layered, years deep. A caseworker once asked her how she did it — the repeated attachment and loss. She said she didn't do it for herself.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Moral character (sacrifice, integrity)

The journalist had the story. It would have been the largest of her career. The source was a minor — seventeen years old, a witness to something that would have ended careers and possibly led to indictments. Publishing the story with the source's testimony would have been legal. The source had consented. The source's parents had consented. The editor wanted it. The journalist sat with the transcript for two days. Then she removed every identifiable detail from the source's testimony and published the story without the strongest evidence. It ran on page four instead of page one. The careers continued. The indictments did not come. The seventeen-year-old was not named in any database, and would not be found by anyone searching for the story ten years from now. The journalist's colleagues did not understand. The editor moved her to a different beat.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Moral character (sacrifice, integrity)

The doctor had been offered the position three times. Chief of the department. More money. An office with his name on the door. A title that would follow his name in print. Each time, he declined. Each time, the reason was the same: the position required administrative days, and administrative days were days he would not be in the clinic. The clinic was in a part of the city where the next nearest doctor who spoke the patients' language was forty minutes away by bus. He had been there for nineteen years. Some of the patients he saw now were the children of patients he had seen when he first arrived. He chose the clinic over the title three times, and the third time, the hospital stopped asking, and the patients did not know there had ever been a question.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Resilience (endurance against odds)

The woman had rebuilt the house herself. Not with a crew. By herself. The flood had taken everything below the waterline, which was everything — the floors, the walls to four feet, the wiring, the plumbing. Insurance had covered a fraction. She was sixty-seven years old. She watched videos on the internet and she went to the hardware store and she asked questions until she understood the answers, and then she did the work. It took her fourteen months. The building inspector who signed off on the final permit said the wiring was better than what had been there before the flood. She had learned how to do it correctly by doing it for the first time. Her neighbors had offered to help. She had thanked them and done it herself, not out of stubbornness, but because she wanted to know that she could.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Resilience (endurance against odds)

He had been rejected from the program seven times. Seven applications, seven years. Each year, the letter arrived in March. Each year, the letter said no. Each year, he revised the application — not cosmetically but structurally, tearing apart what he had built and rebuilding it from the foundation. He did not know if the committee noticed. He worked during the day as a technician in the same building where the program operated, and he passed the offices of the people who had rejected him every morning on his way to the equipment room. On the eighth year, the letter said yes. He was forty-one years old. He had been twenty-seven the first time he had stood at the threshold of this work. He had not once walked a different direction.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Resilience (endurance against odds)

The runner had finished last. She had finished last in every race for two years, since the accident that had rebuilt her left leg from the knee down with hardware that the manufacturer had not designed for competitive use. She ran anyway. She ran last and she finished and she walked through the finish area the same way the first-place finisher did — collecting her tag, checking her time, noting what to work on. The other runners had stopped noticing that she was last a long time ago. What they noticed was that she was at the starting line. Every race. Same preparation, same focus, same routine. The gap between her time and the field was getting smaller by increments so small that only the timing system could detect them. She could detect them. She checked the numbers after every race and the numbers were moving.
Emotion: admiration (intensity: peak)
Domain: Resilience (endurance against odds)

The boy had been in the hospital for nine months. He was eleven. The illness had taken his mobility first, then his fine motor control, then his ability to write. His teacher came to the hospital room every Tuesday and Thursday. She brought the same materials she brought to the other students in her class, and she taught him the same lessons at the same pace. When he could no longer hold the pencil, she held the paper and he told her what to write, and she wrote it in his handwriting as closely as she could reproduce it, because he had asked her to. When the class sent cards, he dictated his responses. Every response began with a question about the other student — what were they reading, had they finished the project, did the experiment work. He was eleven years old and he had been in a hospital bed for nine months and he was asking other people about their lives.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Protective watch (child in danger)

The boy was three years old and he was playing at the edge of the pond. His mother was eleven feet away, seated on the bench but not resting against the back. Her weight was forward, on the front of the seat. The water was eighteen inches deep at the edge and the bottom was mud, not sand, which meant footing was uncertain. The boy picked up a stick and swung it. She tracked the arc. A dog approached from the left and the boy turned toward it, away from the water, and she adjusted — she was now watching the dog and the boy and the distance between the boy and the water, all three simultaneously. Her coffee was in her hand. It had been in her hand for twenty minutes. She had not taken a sip.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Protective watch (child in danger)

His daughter was learning to ride a bicycle. She was at the top of the hill. The hill was longer than he had estimated from the bottom, and the grade was steeper in the middle section where the pavement had a crack running across it. He was standing at the bottom, but not at the very bottom — he was at the point where the grade increased, because that was where she would begin to accelerate beyond what her brakes could manage. He had already checked the brakes. He had checked them twice. A car turned onto the street two blocks away. He noted it. It was moving slowly. He watched his daughter and he watched the car and he calculated the intersection of their two trajectories and he moved four feet to his left, which put him between the trajectories.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Protective watch (child in danger)

The toddler was asleep, but she had not left the doorway. The fever had been 103.4 an hour ago and 103.1 thirty minutes ago and she was tracking the interval between the numbers, looking for the slope of the line. The pediatrician had said to call if it reached 104. She had the phone in her hand with the number already entered, one button away. The medicine had been given forty-two minutes ago. It should begin working between forty-five and sixty minutes. She was in the window between the medicine being given and the medicine working, and in that window there was nothing to do except watch the child's chest rise and fall and count the seconds between the rises and note whether the intervals were even.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Protective watch (child in danger)

The lifeguard was watching lane four. The boy in lane four was eight and he was swimming with a class, but he was behind the group by half a length and his stroke was changing. The left arm was entering the water at a different angle than it had three laps ago. His kick interval had slowed. The instructor was at the front of the group, facing away. The lifeguard shifted her chair position by six inches, which changed her angle to lane four. She had her rescue tube across her knees, not on the hook behind her. The boy's head went under on the recovery stroke and came up a half-second later than the previous cycle. She was already standing.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Strategic anticipation (high-stakes decision)

The surgeon had been looking at the scan for forty minutes. The tumor was adjacent to the artery. Not touching it — adjacent. The margin was four millimeters. Her team was scrubbing in. She had drawn the approach on a whiteboard three times, erasing and redrawing the angle of the second incision each time. The margin was four millimeters when the patient was still. During the procedure, the tissue would shift. Four millimeters could become two. Two millimeters was the distance between a successful resection and a bleed she would have ninety seconds to control. She picked up the marker and drew the approach a fourth time. Then she asked the anesthesiologist what the patient's resting blood pressure variance was, because a three-point systolic swing would change the arterial position by a distance she needed to know before she opened.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Strategic anticipation (high-stakes decision)

The negotiator had been in the room for seven hours. The man on the other side of the door had not spoken in the last forty minutes. Silence after sustained communication was the pattern the negotiator tracked most carefully, because it was the interval in which decisions were made. He had a diagram in his notebook — a timeline of every word, every pause, every noise from inside the room, marked by minute. The forty minutes of silence had a shape. The first fifteen had ambient sound — movement, objects being shifted. The next ten had stillness. The last fifteen had a single repeated sound at irregular intervals. He was listening to the intervals between the repetitions, because the intervals were getting shorter, and shortening intervals meant the pattern was approaching a conclusion.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Strategic anticipation (high-stakes decision)

The trader had three screens and she was watching all of them. The position was open. The market was approaching the level where the trade would either confirm or reverse, and the level was eleven points away. She had calculated the level from data going back fourteen months. She had set no automatic trigger because the decision at that level depended on velocity — not just whether the market reached the number, but how fast it arrived, and whether the volume pattern at arrival matched the pattern from the three previous approaches to the same level. Two of those approaches had reversed. One had broken through. She needed to see the order flow in the final seconds to distinguish which pattern was forming, and that could not be automated. Eleven points. She was watching.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Strategic anticipation (high-stakes decision)

The chess player had been sitting for twenty-three minutes without moving. His opponent had played a move that created two threats simultaneously — one to the knight on c6, one to the pawn structure on the kingside. Each threat individually had a clear response. Together, they required him to choose which to concede. But he was not looking at the threats. He was looking at the square d5, which was empty. If he answered the knight threat, d5 would be available to his opponent's bishop in three moves. If he answered the pawn threat, d5 would be available to his own knight in four moves. The difference between those two futures was the game. He sat and looked at the empty square, because the empty square was where the next forty moves would be decided.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Environmental scanning (predator awareness)

The ranger had been sitting in the blind since 4 a.m. The radio report at midnight had placed the injured male within two miles of the village boundary. The animal was wounded, and wounded animals do not follow established paths. It was moving toward a populated area, which made it a priority. She had a map with twelve-hour, six-hour, and one-hour probability circles drawn in concentric rings. The one-hour circle included the path she was watching. The ground was dry, which meant tracks would be shallow and easy to miss. She had positioned herself downwind. Every six minutes she scanned left to right through the binoculars, then listened for thirty seconds with them down. She had been doing this for five hours. The pattern had not varied. The coffee thermos was behind her, unopened, because opening it would create a scent plume.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Environmental scanning (predator awareness)

The pilot was flying the approach in fog. The runway was visible only on instruments. The crosswind had been reported as twelve knots from the left, but the windsock readings from the last three aircraft had varied between nine and sixteen, which meant the wind was gusting in a pattern the reports couldn't capture. She was tracking the airspeed indicator and the glideslope needle and the heading and the altitude and the rate of descent. Five instruments, all simultaneously, because at this point in the approach any one of them departing from its target value by a specific margin would require a go-around, and the margin was different for each instrument, and the margins were shrinking as the altitude decreased. The runway should become visible at two hundred feet. She was at three hundred.
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Environmental scanning (predator awareness)

The mother was walking her children home from school. The route was six blocks. On the third block, a car she had seen on the first block appeared again, moving slowly in the same direction. It was a gray car with tinted windows and it was in the right lane, the lane closest to the sidewalk. She moved her children to the inside of the sidewalk, between herself and the building wall. She noted the license plate. She noted the first three characters and repeated them silently. At the fourth block, the car turned right and was gone. At the fifth block, she saw it again, now approaching from the opposite direction. Same car. Same lane. She took out her phone and called her husband and said, "Stay on the line. We're six minutes away. I'm going to read you a license plate number."
Emotion: vigilance (intensity: peak)
Domain: Environmental scanning (predator awareness)

The security guard had been watching the camera feeds for the museum's east wing. It was the final night of the exhibition, and the collection was valued at a figure he had been told once and was not going to repeat. There were nine cameras and he was rotating between them on a twelve-second cycle. Camera six covered the corridor between the two main galleries. A visitor had passed through the corridor four times in the last hour. The same visitor. The museum was open for another ninety minutes. He had noted the visitor's jacket, shoes, and the bag slung over the left shoulder. The bag had been on the right shoulder during the first pass. He did not change anything about his posture or his rotation. He added a tenth camera to his cycle — the one that covered the emergency exit at the end of the corridor.
Emotion: rage (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

The daycare's incident report was a single paragraph. His son had been
in the supply closet for two hours. The door had a lock on the outside.
His son was three. The teacher had written "time-out duration extended"
on the form. The director left a voicemail at 10:15 AM — while he was
at work, not after. He picked up his son at 5:30. The boy's pants were
wet. The supply closet was four feet by six feet. He knew because he
went back that evening and measured it. He stood inside. He measured it
again.
Emotion: rage (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

His mother had a bruise on her upper arm in the shape of four fingers.
She was eighty-three and she had not fallen. She had told him this three
times. The facility's report said "patient found on floor, self-transferred
from bed." He asked to see the incident log. The log had no entry for
that date. He asked to see the camera footage. The hallway camera had
been offline for maintenance for eleven days. He asked who had been on
shift. Three different staff members were listed. He asked his mother
again. She held up her arm and pointed at the marks. She pointed at
each one.
Emotion: rage (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

His daughter had drawn seventeen pictures at school that month. The
teacher sent them home in a folder. The first three were houses and
trees. By picture eight, the figures had no mouths. By picture twelve,
one figure was drawn larger than the others and colored entirely in
black. The school counselor called it "age-appropriate variation." He
lined the pictures up on the kitchen table in the order they were dated.
He could see the progression. Anyone could see the progression. The
counselor had seen them one at a time. He had seen them all at once. He
lined them up again.
Emotion: rage (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

She had power of attorney for her brother. He was thirty-one and
non-verbal. The group home billed for three hours of daily activities.
She visited on a Wednesday at 2 PM without calling ahead. Her brother
was in his room. The television was off. No materials on the table,
no items moved from the shelf, no coat by the door. The log book
listed "morning outing: park." It was raining. It had been raining
since Monday. She turned to Tuesday's entry. Park. Monday. Park. She
photographed each page.