Ada was born in 1815, the only legitimate child of poet/loveable whack-job Lord Byron (you know, the guy who hung out with Shelley and Keats? And wrote Don Juan and Childe Harold? And then went a bit nuts and tried to take over Greece? Yeah, that guy). Ada never met her father, since he was off being kind of nuts, and her mother was like “Ada, you are ONLY learning MATH and SCIENCE lest you become like your CRAZY FATHER by indulging in EVIL POETRY.”
But you just couldn’t hold Ada down because she did what she wanted to, you know? Ill a bunch as a child (and not like, “the illest” or whatever; like, ACTUALLY sick), Ada spent a lot of time reading (shout-out to frail, shy kids that read a lot of books) and developing her interest in the sciences. But fascinated by stories of her father, Ada wasn’t all about numbers – at 12, she decided that she wanted to fly, and used her wild imagination and scientific know-how to design a pair of mechanical wings, so basically she INVENTED Steampunk. By 18, she was having an affair with her tutor (YEAH SHE DID), but Ada’s mother covered it all up by sending her to court and marrying her off to a Baron, with whom she would have three kids but WHATEVER.
But do you think Ada let the married life slow her down HELL NAW SHE DIDN’T. She loved gambling and parties, and her chillness with dudes meant she was often followed by scandalous gossip (some things never change, amiright?). Obsessed with fairies and the “unseen worlds around us,” Ada would come to describe herself as an “Analyst (& Metaphysician),” studying “poetical science,” and publishing papers about how the brain creates thoughts and how music relates to math. Holy DAMN try to tell me that’s not kick-ass because I WON’T BELIEVE YOU.