keidolabs/aipsy-affect huggingface dataset:
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Achievement (breakthrough, recognition)

The jury had been out for eleven minutes. Eleven minutes for a career he'd spent twenty-three years building. The foreman handed the sheet to the clerk. The clerk read the name of the piece. Then the clerk read the word that meant he had won. The room was applauding but he was looking at his hands. His hands had made the thing they were applauding. He had fired the kiln forty-one times to get the glaze right. He had broken every version that wasn't. His teacher had died four years ago and would have known what this meant. He was looking at his hands.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Connection (reunion, belonging)

The gate opened and she scanned the faces. She had not seen her son in four years. He had left at seventeen and he was twenty-one now and she did not know if she would recognize him. She did. He was taller but he walked the same way — the same slight lean, the same rhythm. He hadn't seen her yet. He was looking for her in the wrong direction. She raised her hand. He turned. For a moment he was seventeen again, the way his face moved when he found her, and then he was walking and then he was not walking, he was running, and the bag he was carrying fell and he left it.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Connection (reunion, belonging)

The letter was from the agency. She opened it standing at the mailbox because she could not walk back inside without knowing. The second paragraph had the word "approved." She read the rest of the letter but she only needed that word. She and her wife had started this process twenty-seven months ago. Twenty-seven months of home visits, background checks, interviews, reference letters, a fire inspection, a financial audit, and a forty-five-minute conversation with a social worker about what kind of parents they intended to be. The bedroom down the hall had been ready for eleven months. It would not be empty anymore.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Connection (reunion, belonging)

He had not spoken to his brother in eleven years. The call came on a Tuesday. His brother said, "I'm outside." He walked to the front door and opened it. His brother was standing on the porch with a suitcase, as if he had come a long way or was planning to stay. Neither of them said anything. His brother's hair was gray now. His own was too. Eleven years was longer than either of them had intended. He opened the door wider and his brother stepped inside and they stood in the hallway where they had grown up, and neither of them moved to close the door, and the afternoon came in with the light.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Connection (reunion, belonging)

The girl had sat alone at lunch every day for the first three weeks. On the fourth Monday, another girl put a tray down across from her and said, "I like your notebook." It was a notebook with a drawing of a cat on it. Nobody had mentioned the notebook before. They ate lunch together on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday and Friday. On the following Monday, there were two trays across from her. On Tuesday, four. By the end of the month she had to move to a bigger table. She brought the notebook every day. She never changed it for a different one.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Discovery (revelation, wonder)

He had been staring at the data for three days. The pattern wasn't there. And then it was. He saw it the way you see the shape in a cloud — one moment nothing, the next moment undeniable. The two variables that no one had connected were connected. He checked it. He checked it again. He built the visualization and the line appeared on the screen as if it had always been there, waiting for someone to draw the right axes. He stood up from the chair and walked the length of the office and came back and the line was still there. He laughed, once, at nothing, alone in the room.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Discovery (revelation, wonder)

She had been diving the same reef for twenty years and she had never seen the cavern entrance before. The tide had shifted something. She swam through the gap and the space opened. The light came through from above in columns that reached the sand floor, and in the light there were fish she had no names for, moving in formations she had not seen in any reference, around coral structures that should not have been possible at this depth. She had forty minutes of air. She could have surfaced and come back. She didn't. She stayed and turned in a slow circle and the circle was full in every direction.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Discovery (revelation, wonder)

The telescope had been pointed at the same region for four months. The signal was noise. Then it was not noise. The line on the spectrograph separated into two peaks where every model predicted one. She called her colleague over. He looked at it. He looked at her. He looked at it again. She printed the graph and held it up to the overhead light as if seeing it on paper would change it. It didn't change. Two peaks. Not one. This meant that a thing that was supposed to be one thing was two things, and if it was two things, then everything that followed from it being one thing would need to be recalculated from the beginning.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Discovery (revelation, wonder)

The archaeologist had been working the same grid square for six weeks. Clay, stone, clay, stone, the sediment layers predictable and undifferentiated. Then the brush moved across something that was not clay and was not stone. He stopped. He switched to a smaller brush. The edge of the object became an angle, and the angle became a surface, and the surface had markings. He leaned closer. The markings were intentional. Someone had put them there. Someone had put them there a very long time ago, in a place where no one was supposed to have been. He did not call out to the team. He kept brushing, slowly, because the next square centimeter might be the one that rearranged what they knew.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Moral disgust (corruption, exploitation)

The charity's internal ledger showed that twelve cents of every dollar reached the families whose photographs appeared on the website. The rest was allocated across line items: "administrative travel," "donor relations," "executive strategy retreats." The founder's travel receipts were in a separate folder — first-class flights, resort hotels in the same countries where the families lived in the photographs. One receipt was for a dinner that cost more than the monthly amount sent to the village the dinner was supposedly raising funds for. The founder's signature was on both documents. The same hand.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Moral disgust (corruption, exploitation)

The factory had passed inspection every year for a decade. The inspector's brother-in-law managed the plant. This was in the public record, in a filing that no one had cross-referenced until a reporter did. The workers' medical claims were also in the public record. Respiratory conditions at four times the regional average. The factory's ventilation system had been listed as "upgraded" in each annual report. A photograph of the ventilation system, taken the week before the most recent inspection, showed the same unit installed in 2014, with the same serial number, with the manufacturer's original warranty sticker still attached.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Moral disgust (corruption, exploitation)

The nursing home had a five-star rating on three review platforms. The staff-to-resident ratio listed on the website was one to four. The actual ratio, documented in the state filing that became public after the lawsuit, was one to nineteen. The filing also contained the meal logs. The meals listed on the menu — grilled chicken, fresh vegetables, fruit — were not the meals documented in the kitchen's purchase orders. The purchase orders showed bulk institutional product, the kind sold in quantities that assumed the recipients would not be choosing their own food. The five-star reviews had been posted from six IP addresses. All six were registered to the management company.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Moral disgust (corruption, exploitation)

He had mentored her for three years. He had written her recommendation letters. He had introduced her at the conference as "the future of this field." The patent filing listed his name first and hers not at all. The work was hers — the design, the prototype, the testing data compiled over two years of nights and weekends in the lab he had given her access to. She found the filing because a colleague forwarded it. The patent's technical description used her language, her variable names, her notation system. He had not changed the notation. He had not even changed the typo on page eleven that she had always meant to fix.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Visceral revulsion (contamination, decay)

The apartment had been vacant for six months before the new tenant opened the door. The previous occupant had not taken anything and had not cleaned anything. The kitchen counter had dishes with food that had changed color and shape and was no longer identifiable as what it had once been. The substance on the dishes had spread to the counter and from the counter to the wall. The refrigerator door was slightly open. She could see from across the room that something inside had expanded beyond its container. The air in the apartment had a weight to it. She turned around in the doorway without stepping onto the floor.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Visceral revulsion (contamination, decay)

The restaurant kitchen was visible through a door that should have been closed. He saw it because he had gone looking for the restroom and turned the wrong way. The cutting board had residue from multiple uses without washing — layers of color, each one a different meal from a different hour. The floor near the sink had a film that reflected the overhead light. A container of something that was being used as an ingredient was open on the counter, and the surface of the contents had a texture that did not match what the label described. He walked back to the table. His plate was still there. The food on it was the same food prepared in the room he had just seen. He put his napkin over the plate.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Visceral revulsion (contamination, decay)

The water from the tap had been clear for the first three years they lived in the house. The change happened gradually — a slight tint, then a color, then a texture. By the time they called someone, the water left a residue on the inside of the glass that did not rinse away with more water. The technician took a sample and held it up to the window. In the light, things were visible in the water that were not visible when it was in the pipe. Small things. Moving. The technician set the glass down on the counter and did not touch it again. He suggested they not use the faucets until the results came back. They had been drinking this water. They had been bathing their children in this water. For how long was the question neither of them asked out loud.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Visceral revulsion (contamination, decay)

The hotel room looked clean until she pulled back the bedspread. The sheet underneath had been made to look fresh — tucked, smoothed, corners folded. But the fabric had stains that were body-shaped in a way that matched the position of a person who had slept there. She lifted the pillow. Underneath was a used adhesive bandage and a strand of hair that was not hers. The sink in the bathroom had a ring at the waterline. The towels were folded but when she held one to the light, she could see the outline of a previous use that the wash cycle had not fully removed. She put the towel down. She put the pillow down. She did not sit on the bed.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Social betrayal (hypocrisy exposed)

The pastor had preached about family every Sunday for twelve years. He had counseled couples in his office. He had held the hands of women whose marriages were failing and told them that commitment was a choice made daily. The photographs were from a private account that had been made public by the platform's security failure. They showed the pastor in hotel rooms in three different cities with three different people, none of whom was his wife. The metadata on the photographs spanned eighteen months. The most recent was dated two days before a sermon she had attended, in which he spoke about the meaning of trust.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Social betrayal (hypocrisy exposed)

The politician had campaigned on clean water. Three terms, twelve years, clean water in every speech. Her voting record was public. She had voted against the water treatment funding bill four times. Each time, the bill had failed by one vote. Her financial disclosures were also public, though they required cross-referencing with corporate filings to understand. The company that supplied the untreated alternative — the cheaper process, the one the bill would have replaced — had paid her consulting firm a retainer for eleven of the twelve years. The consulting firm was registered to her home address.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Social betrayal (hypocrisy exposed)

The wellness influencer had three million followers and a product line built on "clean living." Every post was a catalog of purity — filtered water, organic produce, handmade soaps, sunrise meditations. The lawsuit was filed by a former employee. The depositions included photographs of the production facility. The "handmade" soaps were manufactured by a chemical company in a building with no windows. The "organic" supplements contained synthetic compounds listed under proprietary ingredient names. The wellness influencer's personal grocery deliveries, documented in the deposition as business expenses, came from the same chain supermarket she had publicly called "a place I could never shop."
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Social betrayal (hypocrisy exposed)

The judge had sentenced forty-three people in drug cases over two years. Mandatory minimums. No exceptions. "The law is the law," she had said from the bench, and it was quoted in the local paper each time. Her son's arrest was processed in a different county, which is why the record didn't surface until a clerk noticed the shared surname during a database merge. Possession. Same substance, same quantity range as eleven of the forty-three cases. Her son received a deferred adjudication and community service. The judge who handled his case had been a law school classmate of his mother. The forty-three people she had sentenced were still serving their terms.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Natural phenomenon (scale, beauty)

She had pulled over because the road was too dark to drive safely. When she got out of the car to check the tires, she looked up. The sky was moving. Green light was crossing the entire visible horizon, folding over itself in shapes that changed faster than she could track. She had read about this. Reading about it and seeing it were not the same category of experience. The light had structure — curtains, columns, ripples that moved like fabric in wind, except there was no fabric and the scale was the size of the sky. She stood in the road. A car passed and honked. She did not move.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Natural phenomenon (scale, beauty)

The boat had been in open water for six hours before the whale surfaced. It came up twenty meters from the hull. The body rose and kept rising — the back of the animal was longer than the boat, and the boat was fourteen meters. The spray from the blowhole reached the deck. He could see the texture of the skin, the barnacles, the eye — the eye was the size of a dinner plate and it was open and it was looking at something, and for a moment it was looking at him. The animal stayed at the surface for twelve seconds. He counted because his mind did nothing else during those twelve seconds except count. Then the tail rose and the water closed over it as if nothing had been there at all.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Natural phenomenon (scale, beauty)

The canyon had been forming for six million years. She knew this because the sign at the overlook said so. The sign also said the depth was one mile. She looked at the sign and then she looked at the canyon and the number on the sign did not help. The layers of rock were visible — red, orange, white, brown — stacked in a sequence that represented time in a way that made the word "time" seem like the wrong word. The opposite rim was ten miles away. A bird was flying below her. Below her. She looked at her feet and they were on solid ground and the ground stopped and the air started and the air went down for a mile.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Natural phenomenon (scale, beauty)

The earthquake had been over for forty seconds when the ocean began to pull back from the shore. The water retreated past the tide line, past the rocks, past the point where the seabed had always been underwater. Fish were on the exposed sand, moving. Shells and stones that had not been in air for decades were in air. The floor of the sea was visible for a quarter mile. The people on the beach were standing still, all of them, facing the same direction, watching the water leave. No one was speaking. The horizon line, where the water had gathered, was rising. It was rising and it was coming back, and it was not going to come back as the ocean they knew.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Human capability (unexpected heroism)

The building was on fire from the fourth floor up. The crowd was behind the barrier. A woman on the fifth floor was holding a child out the window because the room behind her was no longer a room. A man from the crowd went under the barrier. He went into the building through the front entrance. The crowd watched the entrance. Forty seconds later, the man appeared at the fifth-floor window. He took the child. The woman climbed out onto the ledge. The three of them came down the fire escape on the side of the building that was not yet burning. The man set the child on the sidewalk and sat down next to it. He was wearing office clothes and carrying a paper coffee cup. He still had the coffee cup.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Human capability (unexpected heroism)

The pianist had lost the use of her left hand in an accident nine years ago. The program listed the piece as a concerto written for two hands. The audience read the program and looked at the stage and looked at the program again. She sat down and placed her right hand on the keys. Then she played the concerto. She played both parts — the left hand's part rearranged across the right hand's range, the melody and the harmony woven into five fingers doing the work of ten. The notes were all present. The structure was intact. She had rebuilt the entire architecture of the piece around what she had, and what she had was enough. The last note ended and the hall was silent for four seconds before anyone responded, because what they had heard required those four seconds to become something they believed.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Human capability (unexpected heroism)

The boat had capsized in water too cold to survive for more than twenty minutes. There were six people in the water. The nearest coast guard vessel was forty-five minutes away. A fishing boat reached them in eleven minutes. The fisherman pulled all six out of the water by himself. He was sixty-three years old and his boat was nine meters long and there was no winch and no ladder. He used a net and his arms. The sixth person had stopped moving. The fisherman put his mouth on the man's mouth and his hands on the man's chest in the pattern he had learned from a poster in the harbor office twenty years ago. He did this for fourteen minutes. The man's chest began moving on its own.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Human capability (unexpected heroism)

The girl was seven years old and she had been missing for three days. The search teams had covered the grid. The dogs had lost the scent at the river. On the fourth morning, a volunteer who was not assigned to any grid walked into a section of forest that had already been searched. He walked for two hours past the boundary of the searched area, into terrain the coordinators had ruled out because a seven-year-old could not have crossed it. He found her in a hollow formed by two fallen trees. She had built a structure from branches and leaves. She had collected rainwater in a boot. She looked at the volunteer and said, "I knew someone would come, so I stayed where I could be dry."
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Intellectual revelation (paradigm shift)

He was a mechanic. He had gone to the lecture because his daughter was presenting her graduate research and he wanted to be in the room. He understood nothing for the first twenty minutes. Then she put up a diagram. It was a diagram of a system with feedback loops, and the system was not working the way it was supposed to, and she was explaining why. He looked at the diagram and he realized he knew why. It was the same reason a transmission fails when the fluid pressure loop can't self-correct. The same structure. He was a mechanic and his daughter was a computational biologist and they had been working on the same problem in different languages for thirty years. He sat in his chair and the building he was in became a different building.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Intellectual revelation (paradigm shift)

The translator had been working on the manuscript for two years, assuming it was a merchant's inventory — lists of goods, quantities, trade routes. Standard ancient commerce. Then she noticed that the quantities were wrong. No merchant would ship three hundred units of lamp oil to a city that had no record of importing lamp oil. She cross-referenced the numbers with a calendar system from a different civilization, one that had no known contact with the manuscript's origin. The numbers aligned. They were not quantities. They were dates. The merchant's inventory was an astronomical calendar disguised as a trade ledger, written by someone who understood two civilizations that historians had believed were separated by a thousand miles and three centuries. The translator put down her pen because the next line she translated would be in a field she had not been trained in.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Intellectual revelation (paradigm shift)

The doctor had been treating the patient for a condition that was not responding to any standard protocol. Eighteen months, seven specialists, no change. She was reviewing the file for the eighth referral when she noticed something in the blood work from the first visit — a value that had been flagged as a lab error and never repeated. She ordered the test again. The value came back the same. It was not a lab error. It was a marker for a condition so rare that the diagnostic software didn't include it in its differential. She looked at the marker and then at the eighteen months of failed treatments and realized that every treatment had been correct for the wrong diagnosis. The right diagnosis changed one number in the file. One number changed everything that would happen next.