《Psychedelic Mind》 Prologue - Smiling in the Rain Someday. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday. Someday soon. Death waits for nobody. Hayden stood motionless before the entrance gates, staring into space once again. Raindrops fall in a soothing haze. The refreshing sensation helps drive the chaos from his mind. Spring showers were a blessing amidst the heat of May. His senses attuned to static until the commotion of passing university students no longer reached his ears. Lifeless eyes deprived of sleep reflected the canvas of grey clouds that loomed overhead. Time itself ground to a halt. Then... Elegant footsteps. Growing louder. ¡°Found you~¡± The voice of a girl slaps my brain awake. A distracted mumble escapes from my mouth as the world reforms around me. Colour returns, followed by sound. My consciousness boots and I return to reality, though I can''t say for sure that I look so alive. ¡°...hmm? What''s the matter? Anyone there?¡± the girl leans forward on her toes and jerks a hand before my face with snide attitude. I blink on reflex. ¡°Tch... I told you to quit daydreaming. Jeez, you look like a corpse.¡± she turns away with a flick of her straw coloured twin-tails and folds her arms with a little too much emphasis. Harsh.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Despite her apparent frustration she musters a warm smile beneath the shade of her umbrella. A smile which quickly turns sour when she notices the state of my clothes. ¡°Eh!? Why are your clothes so wet?¡± with force unbefitting for a lady she grabs my sweater vest and throttles my shoulder, beads of water seep from the seams, ¡°If your going to dawdle in the rain at least wear an overcoat.¡± She sighs once more, ¡°Honestly... idiot...¡± There''s no denying that my clothes were sopping wet, but I had more important things to worry about right now. ¡°Well... at least you remembered to pick me up today.¡± Try as she might to hide it, her gratitude inevitably slips out. ¡°So...¡± ¡°Thank you~¡± What is this? I can''t describe this feeling. I feel sick. Why can''t I bring myself to speak? A sudden hot flush of anxiety courses from my head to my stomach. Don''t get any strange ideas, I don''t care for romance. This overwhelming sensation was undoubtedly, fear. The smile of this girl was so kind. A reassuring smile that glared with resolve toward the future. She seemed pitifully stubborn at the best of times, yet somehow in a positive way. How could anyone ever smile like that, while knowing they were terminally ill? Living with the knowledge that every day might really be their last, that their plans for the future were nothing more than fantasy. I didn''t understand, I would never understand. We were living alongside an ambiguous time bomb, and every single smile was a reminder of that fact. Her smile was so cruel. Fwap! An umbrella is forced over my head. I flinch, which no doubt makes me look rather pathetic. I hear her chuckle in light of my skittish behaviour (which makes me feel a little ridiculous) but I wasn''t going to protest. I''ve never been good at making comebacks, or any jokes for that matter. Instead of arguing in a flirtatious manner like regular freshmen, we continue down the side-walk without a word. The ambient patter of rain fills the silence. ¡°Chisaki.¡± ¡°Hm?¡± she gave me an inquisitive glare, ¡°Oh, you finally decided to speak.¡± But in truth I had no idea what I wanted to say. Maybe I just felt reassured to hear her respond. A haze of fatigue washes over my muscles. I can feel the disarray returning to my head. But I can''t give up. Yesterday''s prototype ended in failure. Never mind. I''ll try again tonight. Chapter 1 Part 1 - Decrepit Disclosure [May 23rd 2018 : Yokohama City : Japan] The rain lets up as the evening comes around. Gradually the storm clouds divide, giving light to a peaceful orange sky. Rays from the setting sun illuminate the river flowing through the city, while turning the skyscrapers into mere silhouettes. Once again we find ourselves walking home together, just like we had always done. Yokohama National University was only a short distance from our residential area, making it easy to commute by foot and sparing us the fees for public transport. Plus I wasn''t really given a choice, Chisaki demanded that I walk to account for my daily exercise. It was only once I began this exercise that I realised how weak I actually was, unlike the girl striding a few feet ahead. The young, healthy... No. That''s a lie. Without warning she slowed to a stop in the middle of the pavement. I stutter slightly as I raise my head. ¡°You forgot to bring your phone huh?¡± ¡°...!¡± I pat my pockets frantically but to no avail. Oops. With her back still facing me she continued, ¡°I figured as much, else you would''ve stopped at the convenience store like I asked in the message.¡± ¡°Er... Sorry...¡± I lower my drooping eyes, seemingly out of shame, but really I was deep in thought. Chisaki must''ve sensed my peculiar behaviour because the next thing I knew she had turned around to shoot me a prying scowl. Her entire demeanour had changed, there was almost an intimidating aura of formality surrounding her. I try to avert my eyes. ¡°You okay? I mean, you''re always quiet but this is just creepy.¡± This is bad. She''s much sharper than you''d think, stubborn too. Once she latched onto something she wouldn''t let go. The pattering sound of her shoes approaches, soon followed by the rich scent of her hair conditioner. ¡°Hey. Look me in the eyes.¡± My pupils reluctantly quiver in her direction. Like a puppy being scolded for misbehaving. ¡°Remember what I said about your experiments?¡± Chisaki was never mean, but she wouldn''t stand for other people''s nonsense. She had a very mature outlook on life, despite her tendency to become easily flustered she was one of the most level-headed people I knew. I have no choice but to grit my teeth and look away. She got me. ¡°No more Hayden. I won''t let you waste any more time on this ridiculous fantasy. Besides, you need to focus on your report for Professor Rutherford.¡± But she was right, and that hurt more than anything. ¡°.....got it.¡± ¡°Good!¡± she straightened her back and loosened her expression, ¡°We can probably still make it to the store before they close, either that or there''ll be no sandwiches for lunch tomorro-¡± She froze in place. The next few seconds slowed to what felt like minutes. I knew what was about to happen, and so I lunged forward to steady her falling body. She flopped against me, completely paralysed, her limp frame put a surprising amount of strain on my feeble toothpick-arms. This was her curse. She''s out cold. The unpredictability of these attacks only made them harder to deal with. Sometimes she would wake within seconds, sometimes it would take hours, sometimes days. They told us that one day she would drift away and never return, but that was no reason to be afraid, in a moment or two she would come to her senses and swat me away for being too close, just like she always did. Ungrateful as that seems, it''s all that I want to hear. The sun bids farewell from beyond the horizon, casting its final glimmer of life over my pale, cadaverous hands. ¡°That''ll be 480 Yen. Thank you, have a nice night!¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. It takes another 20 minutes to finally arrive at Chisaki''s house, including the detour we took to the food store. With her hands fully occupied carrying shopping bags, she hopelessly fumbles around her body for the door key. Her brow furrows between varying levels of frustration in the process. After about a minute of watching Chisaki dance around on the spot while mumbling curse words at nothing, I hear the sound of soft, cushiony footsteps. Then I notice a hunched silhouette approaching the door from within the house. The latches click from the inside. An elderly man with a courteous wrinkly face opens the door. He greets us with a chuckle and a warm smile, ¡°Ah, welcome back! I see you managed to buy some bread after all eh?¡± The man, apparent from his age, was Chisaki''s grandfather. As we exchange pleasantries we are welcomed into the cosy abode. Chisaki''s grandparents were a charitable pair in their late 60s. Loving, tolerant and most of all generous, exactly the kind of people who would always buy you too many presents for Christmas. We first became neighbours when I moved to Japan with my father back in 2003. I was born in England but we migrated on account of my dad''s job. ¡°Sorry paps, no cream bread today...¡± ¡°Don''t trouble yourself dear, an old hermit like me can hardly taste the difference anyway GHA! HA! HA! ACK-!¡± ¡°Haha... right...¡± I met Chisaki at a very young age and we quickly became friends, she had been forced to live with her grandparents as a result of a bad divorce between her mother and father. ¡°Tea Hayden?¡± ¡°O-Oh... yeah... thanks.¡± Unfortunately, my dad passed away when I was five. I didn''t have any relatives in Japan at the time so Chisaki''s family decided it best to take me in. Perhaps they understood the pain of a child losing their parents all too well from Chisaki herself? Maybe they didn''t want Chisaki to become separated from her only friend? Who knows. All I am certain of is that I can never repay them for their incredible generosity. I try to help out as much as I can to appease the guilt, and shopping for the family is just the tip of the iceberg. Chisaki stretched her arms and let out a groan, ¡°Ahhh... Well, I''m gonna take a shower.¡± she shoots me a cold glare as I finish unpacking the groceries. ¡°Remember what I said.¡± ¡°Erk-... of course...¡± Her grandfather simply gave a dumb smile. But I knew what she meant. It was a warning. A warning that I would no doubt ignore. The faint snap of the light switch breathed life into the dead air of the basement. Stony walls were grey and cold, papers and computer components lie strewn about the floor in disarray. Despite the cobwebs and visible dust particles hanging in the air, there was a certain comforting unity to the room. It was unkempt for sure, but one might refer to it as an organised mess. This was where I lived. A sofa to sleep on, a desk for my computer, an awkward brown table in the centre of the room littered with dismantled robotics, what more could an engineering student possibly need? Anything I wasn''t currently using was forcibly shoved into the storage room, out of sight and out of mind. ¡°Right.¡± I rubbed my hands together. Don''t ask me why. Time to get started. I lift away the sheet, revealing a hideous machine sitting on the table. Seriously this thing looked like a preschooler had assembled it, truly a bastard child of dimwitted student ambition and low budget resources. I guess the correct term would be ''fugly''. But appearance was irrelevant. For in science it was the function that counted, and this metallic tumour of a device would hopefully contain the solution to all of my problems. This is the basic idea. In collaboration with the biology department I have been searching for a way to cure Chisaki''s brain disease. Despite her constant protesting I refuse to give up, so here I am working in secrecy. The trouble is that nobody truly knows what''s wrong with her. Some friends and I have come up with a basic theory on how we could stimulate her brain to stay awake by sending electrical pulse signals to the areas responsible for regulating consciousness, namely the Anterior Insula. The details are surreal and complex, but all that mattered right now was proving that this prototype was capable of creating these electrical signals. So I don my safety goggles and activate the power. The only real obstacle (aside from my crippled wallet) is Chisaki, but as long as she doesn''t hear the commotion I can experiment to my heart''s content. Electricity flows from the mains socket and fires up the apparatus. A horrible droning sound plagues the air. Hmm... That didn''t happen last time. I bury my concerns and narrow my eyes. The more it sparked, the more I began to wonder if this might be just a tiny bit illegal. As I stand there praying for the machine to hold together, almost by fate''s cruel design I hear a troubling pop from the interior. I recognise that sound, but more importantly I know how to fix it. I grab my screwdriver and reach for the rear panel. It''s dangerous to operate on an active machine, even more so an untested one, but somehow I feel it would be more risky to leave it be. I''m too tired for this. My eyes are throbbing and I can feel myself struggling to stay awake. What I should be doing right now is working on my report for the professor, but I have to know if this research has any potential. My hands fumble through the wires in a daze as I search for the problem... But by the time I realised my mistake, it was already too late. Blinding light explodes from my hands as I stumble and fall to my rear. With a fantastic crack the lightbulb blew, casting the room into darkness. I shield my head as shards of glass rain down from the ceiling. Yep, just as I suspected, in a short sighted maneuver I managed to short the circuit with my screwdriver. Then I hear a feminine shriek from the room above. ¡°GYAAAA!¡± Game over. Chapter 1 Part 2 - Decrepit Disclosure I''m kneeling on the floor in remorseful silence. Standing in front of me is a girl tapping her foot, her hair is dripping wet with a bath towel in hand. Across the hall I can hear the steady tinkering of Chisaki''s grandfather as he fixes the consumer unit. ¡°Hayden.¡± ¡°Y-Yes.¡± I sit up as if I had been prodded with a taser. ¡°Explain yourself, and choose your words very wisely.¡± Cold sweat beads on my face. ¡°I... can''t...¡± ¡°This is the third incident we''ve had this month, and above all you lied to me again!¡± I can''t lose my resolve. She''s only acting scary to intimidate you. If only she knew what was really going on, just tell her already. ¡°...but I''m doing this for y-¡± ¡°NO!!!¡± ¡°...¡± I''m cut speechless. She screamed at the top of her lungs. ¡°Just... Stop! Stop pitying me to justify this stupid game! You really think some University student is gonna discover the cure for a terminal illness in his basement? All you''re doing is wasting time! You''re wasting your own youth on a science-fiction illusion that will never happen! I don''t wanna be the reason that you never accomplish anything! This isn''t funny any more Hayden! You''re not just hurting me, you''re hurting yourself more than anything, and I can''t take it any more!¡± All I can do is stare with a pathetically baffled expression. Even Chisaki seems taken aback by the compassionate motive behind her bottled aggression. Though her expression is grim, her cheeks glimmer pink as she gazes at the ground. I notice my dim reflection in a crooked piece of sheet metal propped up behind her. My skin is so pale, my eyelids are grey. I lift a hand to my face and run it down my cheek. Cold. ¡°Y-You''re right... maybe it''s time... that I stopped...¡± What have I done to myself? All this stress. Maybe it really was just a waste of time. ¡°I-I''m gonna go make dinner now...¡± Chisaki turns to the stairs after touching my shoulder, her face now more sorrowful than mad, ¡°Remember to clean up the mess...¡± The gentle shutting of the door leaves the room in solemn silence. I take a deep breath, for what feels like the first time in years. A few hours have passed. The only sound that fills the basement is the monotone humming of my computer fan, occasionally interrupted by the rustling of glass shards as I sweep the floor. I shoot a distracted glare toward the soot-covered device sitting atop a scorched table in the centre of the room. ¡°Such a waste.¡± Of what? Time? Money? Effort? It didn''t matter. I''m packing this up once and for all. It takes the combined strength of every malnourished muscle in my puny body to lift the contraption up from the table and load it into the storage room. ¡°Hnng! ...There.¡± I shove it between two other aborted devices from experiments long since past. Welcome to the scrapyard of my brain. Left to right, wall to wall, every shelf was littered with these stupid things. Useless piles of garbage, all they were good for now was gathering dust. It was a strange feeling, gazing up and down at the sheer size of your own failure. ¡°ACK!¡± I choke on the dust as it flies into my lungs. Squinting hard to see through the darkness I shove the components aside to make more space, that''s when it all went wrong. One after another I''m assaulted by the weight of numerous gadgets plummeting toward the ground. The result is a bruised leg and a pile of metal carnage. ¡°Ow! Ow! Ow!¡± That marks the second stunt of clumsiness from lack of sleep, why don''t I ever learn? My teeth are grinding against the pain, but break into a gasp when I notice something irregular lying amongst the wreckage. Something brown. Something smooth. Fabric? No, leather. I reach out and retrieve the rectangular object only to discover a large suitcase with traditional golden buckles. The kind of flashy accessory that a popular detective might use in a crime-thriller movie. The material is worn and tattered, revealing its age when I place it under the light of my desk lamp. ¡°What... is this?¡± I definitely do not recall ever owning a vintage briefcase, even I have a limit to how retro I''m willing to dress. But for a case made of leather its surprisingly heavy, which only makes the contents seem more suspicious. The locks, too rusted to put up a fight, crumble away under the force of my curious prying. Scraps of leather peel away as I lift the lid. The novelty smell of ageing paper erupts from within, so much that I momentarily find myself indulging in the sweet scent. But what really catches my attention is the jumbled collection of photographs crudely held together by rubber band. I don''t even need to double check, they''re of me and my father. At this point I''m assuming that the case belonged to him. Amongst the photos I find another oddity, a small metal key-chain in the shape of a Griffin. Its golden surface glistenes under the lamp, of course it''s not real gold, just tinted steel. The mighty Griffin was a beast from... something or other...? It probably represents some superstitious nonsense. I''m not an expert on mythology, and besides the design is far too tacky for my taste anyway. Yet strangest of all... Lying dormant under all of this crap... Was another suitcase. This isn''t a magic act, what''s going on here? I carefully remove the second case with the steady hands of a surgeon. This one, unlike the first, was a sight to behold. Instead of crumbly old leather, it was made using hard, impervious steel. Talk about unnecessary security measures. While turning it around in my hands I realise that it''s locked. Eight number wheels are lined up by the handle, obviously requiring an eight digit code to open. I twiddle the wheels in my boredom. Is this really important right now? But something about this lock is scratching my brain... If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Then it hit me like a knife to the head. ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAH!¡± My vision contorts into a rapid sea of turbulence. Colours sink into shapes, shapes twist into images, images flicker like memories. People and places I don''t recognise. Voices I''ve never heard. I''m going to vomit. I can''t stand. Someone please help! My skull feels like its spinning on an axis, like my neck could snap at any moment and launch my head into space. My fingernails grate through skin and scalp as I desperately clutch my head, threatening to rip my hair from the roots. This is unbearable. What are these things I see? I remember... But all it takes is a blink, and I return to the world. The suitcase falls to the floor with a sonorous clang. My hands are trembling as if I had Parkinson''s disease. My breathing fluctuates in uncontrollable spasms to the rhythm of my heartbeat. I can''t even begin to comprehend what just happened, yet somehow I know that I never want to see that suitcase again for as long as I live. Without even acknowledging my surroundings I scrabble for the infernal case and sling it into the storage room. It lands with a resounding thud against the rack of wire shelves. I don''t care that the floor of the closet is littered, tidiness is the least of my concerns right now, I slam the door shut and hastily fasten the lock. If this were a cartoon then my character would promptly swallow the key, but this was real life. Not a cartoon, not a video game and not a movie. Am I, scared? I didn''t want to admit it. Perhaps my brain has finally cracked from over exhaustion, maybe that''s all it is. Yeah. These were my final thoughts as I slung my carcass across the sofa. Springs dug into my skin from below the fabric, but I couldn''t feel them at all. I just needed to sleep. I just. Needed. To sleep. ... ..... Peaceful morning... The sunlight struggles its way through the tiny basement windows, clouded with mould and grime. I''m ushered awake once the rays finally reach my face. You''d think it was trying to blind me, I raise a trembling hand and squint against the light. Something feels off. Where am I? Birds are chirping from outside, their jovial tunes are an easygoing alarm compared to Chisaki''s usual hollering. Then I snap to my senses. ¡°Erk...!¡± I''m sitting on the basement floor, slumped against the wall. My spine is in knots from being pressed up against the frigid stone bricks. ¡°Wha- OUCH!¡± Why am I down here? I swear that I fell asleep on the sofa. Did I sleepwalk? The questions don''t stop coming. Finally I lift my head to look around- And from that moment on... the questions would NEVER... stop coming. On the opposite side of the room, sprawled across the wall, were markings. White markings to be exact, from back here they looked like chalk drawings. Furious inscriptions that had been scribbled down in a frantic haze of desperation and panic. Some resembled characters and text, while others depicted charts and diagrams. Upon closer inspection I can see equations and formulas, scientific notations, complex blueprints that I couldn''t wrap my head around for the life of me. ¡°There''s no way... W-What am I looking at?¡± I scramble to my feet and shuffle my way over to the wall, tripping over my feet countless times in the process. My eyes are glued in place. Upon closer inspection, I notice some recurring words. Brain. Brain. Brain. ¡°What does this mean!? HOW DID THIS GET HERE!?¡± Did someone break in? Yeah sure, a burglar scientist who leaves knowledge on the walls of his victims. Oh shut up that doesn''t make any sense at all. Has this always been here and something caused the paint to dissolve? Listen to yourself, how would that even happen, use your brain you fucking moron. But does this mean that... Did... Did I do this? A pasty dust rubs onto my fingers as I stroke the wall in my daze, it has to be chalk, but I can''t see the stick anywhere. Without another word I find myself instinctively reaching for my smartphone to take a photograph. My thumb is trembling over the button so much that I end up taking more pictures than intended. Ca-click! Ca-click! Ca-click! Along with three swift flashes of light. I stumble backwards into the table while clutching my hair. There''s just no way. Even if sleepwalking (er... writing) was a possible explanation, I myself don''t even understand what''s written here. I''ve never seen this information before in my life, so there''s no way I could have written it subconsciously! Panic ensues once again as I curl to my knees in a pathetic ball. Then the door handle turns, ¡°Hayden? Are you awake yet?¡± CRAP! Chisaki can''t see this, after all that was said last night- Right... last night... the experiment, her outburst, and most significantly the suitcase. I had promised... to stop for good. ¡°Can I come in? Um... I need to talk with you...¡± Without bearing a second thought I seize the jumbo sized whiteboard sitting next to me and practically throw it on the wall. Thankfully it hangs nicely over the flimsy nail and manages to conceal most of the chalk, albeit looking ever-so-slightly suspicious. ¡°Um-! Sure! One second-!¡± After frantically adjusting the whiteboard in my paranoid frenzy of terror, I straighten my posture and turn around as if nothing had ever happened. To my surprise the basement door peels open more gently than usual, on the other side I can see Chisaki, a sorrowful expression plastered across her face. Her unusual change in demeanour throws me of guard for a second. ¡°Hey...¡± ¡°...Hey?...¡± The air grows heavy, I can almost hear her breathing. ¡°A-About yesterday...¡± ¡°Oh! You mean last night?¡± Her expression stiffens, ¡°...yeah¡± I literally cannot remember the last time I saw her this subdued, something was clearly troubling her. The best I can do is hear her out. ¡°Look, what you did was stupid... Like really stupid... But I think I overstepped the mark a little. I said some things that I regret, I know that you mean well and I wasn''t prepared to listen. In the end I just ended up hurting you even more...¡± ¡°...¡± My inner voice is begging me to reassure her ''Oh it''s okay'' ''Never mind, we all make mistakes''. But no, I axe the words before they can reach my mouth. This is something she feels she has to do, it would be insensitive to cut her off after she mustered the courage to come here. ¡°A-And I know that you''re doing it for me, but that doesn''t mean I don''t worry about you.¡± She''s frowning now, and blushing? Make up your mind already, I really don''t understand her most of the time. ¡°So... if you really want, and only if you''re extra careful! I''ll... let you continue your research...¡± I wanted to smile. I wanted to feel relieved. But... Thank you Chisaki. But this was never your decision to make. ¡°You sure? There''s no guarantee that I''ll ever accomplish anything...¡± ¡°Quiet you! Seriously... you make me go through all that mushy crap and then still insist on doubting yourself? You''re a self-deprecating idiot you know that?¡± ¡°Sorry...¡± ¡°And quit apologising so much too! Jeez, what kind of man are you... Anyway, what do you want for breakfast?¡± And just like that she''s back to her usual self, which somehow I find more relieving than anything else. I didn''t hear her question. ¡°...Well once you''ve decided be sure to come through to eat. You know what they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day- Oh! And don''t forget to bring your paper for Professor Rutherford either!¡± Her voice disappears into the kitchen, leaving an awkward emptiness behind. Right... the paper... I''m honestly surprised I haven''t been kicked from the course yet, my hand-in rate for assignments isn''t exactly great. The last thing I need right now is to lose my place at Uni, after all, no engineering club equals no funding for lab equipment. Fantastic, something else to worry about. ¡°...haah...¡± And then there''s this whole ''chalk wall'' debacle. I heave a sigh as I lounge my hands into my pockets- When I feel something inside... Is it my phone? No I forgot to take it yesterday. Then what- I pull out the object and unclench my fist. In my hand, is a furiously worn stick of chalk. White chalk. My eyes widen in shock. Is this where my pupils start shaking? Chapter 2 Part 1 - Nerds of the Round Table Cold water splashes against my face. ¡°haaa...¡± Again and again. It''s indescribably refreshing. Every drop reinvigorates my pores, driving back the drowsiness. This was the wake up call that I needed. I''m gazing into the bathroom mirror with hands resting firmly against the sink. Water trickles from my nose and chin with every staggered breath. For a second it looks as if a little colour has returned to my cheeks. The mirror glares back, I focus my attention toward the young man standing before me. He looks awfully tired. His eyes seem distant and empty, as if his gaze was stretching on forever. Just what exactly are you staring at? While growing up, I would often marvel at the worlds within mirrors. What if we are the reflection from their perspective? Before long you end up doubting your own perception of reality. What is real and what is fake? Does it even matter? A separate me... A different person... Yet somehow, exactly the same... ¡°The time is 7:00 AM. Good morning Sir!¡± In that instant I nearly soil myself. A mechanical voice erupts from my pocket. ¡°Here''s a quick rundown of today''s reminders: Hand in thesis, Purchase medication, Stop by at-¡± My moment of terror is short lived. I find myself feeling a little humiliated. What part of me seriously thought that the mirror started speaking for a second there? Come on... I need to pull myself together... ¡°Sir...? Are you there?¡± ¡°Ah! Yeah, sorry Ravi... Here-¡± I hastily yank my phone out of my trouser pocket and hold it up to my face. ¡°...Pardon me Sir, was I interrupting anything...?¡± ¡°No! No! I was just... kinda zoned out again.¡± ¡°Oh my, you aren''t overworking yourself again are you Sir? You know what the Mistress would say if she found out.¡± This is... Ravi. At least that''s what I call mine. In reality he''s just an AI (Artificial Intelligence) built into my smartphone. I guess you could say they''re the new fad these days. They call them Virtual Assistants, designed to help you throughout the day by setting reminders and offering advice when you need it, basically a level of human input to make your life easier. But ever since they were released their usage has grown much more versatile, to the point where people are using them as stand-in friends, business affiliates and even idealised romantic partners. We really are victims of our own engineering sometimes. Something tells me this may be ''the beginning of the end'' for future generations. ¡°A quick warning for your own safety Sir: The Professor will most likely be displeased to see yet another incomplete thesis.¡± ¡°I know... don''t remind me...¡± ¡°But reminding you is my job Sir. I can''t help it.¡± Everyone wants one, and those who have one usually put great effort into changing their appearance and making them unique. But not me. Ravi is... well... plain, to say the least. While most guys my age would rather have a cutesy female assistant inside their phone or perhaps their favourite fictional character, I left mine at default. Absolute 100% factory settings, that''s what Ravi is. Just a blue sphere on a blue screen, with the monotone voice of a young man playing through cheap speakers. But it didn''t bother me at all, in truth I didn''t care. I don''t see the fun in making it look pretty. It''s just a machine after all. ¡°By the way Sir, that was quite the scolding you endured last night, if it weren''t for my lack of legs I would have surely fled for my artificial life.¡± ¡°Hehe... Don''t even start, we''re on good terms now anyway.¡± But I have to say. There''s something strangely human about Ravi. It''s always felt that way, but I can''t place my finger on it. The way he talks, the way he listens, the way he picks up on the stupidest of details and throws them back at you. Even his sophisticated vocabulary. I know it''s just me overthinking things again. Or even worse, perhaps I''m starting to grow attached to my phone too, now there''s a scary thought. ¡°Right, best not keep her waiting.¡± ¡°Affirmative Sir, I''m sure that she''s made you a delicious breakfast. If I had a nose I''d surely be drooling!¡± Bacon sizzling. The rich aroma of salt fills my nostrils. Chisaki is standing with pan in hand, shielding her eyes from the burning fat as it spits into the air. ¡°Need some help?¡± ¡°Eh-! As if! A-And even if I did, why on earth would I ask you? You don''t know a thing about cooking...¡± Sharp words coming from someone who isn''t even wearing an apron over her uniform. But yeah... I''ve never made anything more advanced than toast, if toast even counts as cooking. Natural light illuminates the house as the morning sun shines. Believe me when I say, it''s certainly a breath of fresh air from the stuffy man-made lightbulbs that decorate the basement. Chisaki''s kitchen is one of those fancy modern ones that merges into the living room to make one giant space. Of course, this makes the rule of ''No TV at the dinner table'' kind of a grey area. I lazily reach for the TV remote and lounge onto the sofa. There''s nothing good to watch. There never is. Why is modern television so crap? Even commercials sound more appetising in my boredom...This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°The revolutionary wireless earpiece brought to you by HiVE. With improved battery life and speech recognition control, say goodbye to the days of tangled wires and cumbersome buttons. Science-fiction is within your grasp-¡± Ah, that''s right. I remember Yuuto mentioning something like this once. I really need to keep up with the trends, or I''ll end up like Chisaki''s grandfather... ¡°-keeps you up to date with everything the world has to offer! Don''t get left behind. Stay connected! With the new ''MiND NeuroPod'', trademark of HiVE industries. ~HiVE, engineering humanity~¡± Their logo fades onto the screen along with a flashy animation, everyone who hadn''t been living under a rock for the last 30 years would recognise it. That iconic orange hexagon. ¡°NeuroPod huh? They''ll call it anything just to sell another pair of wireless earpieces won''t they...¡± HiVE are the masters of modern technology marketing, with a monopoly over the digital industry unrivalled by anyone else. Everything from TVs, Microwaves, Vacuum Cleaners, Smartphones, you name it, they make it. I''m sure this comes as no surprise but they were also the masterminds behind the Virtual Assistant Application. You''d better believe that the world as we know it couldn''t survive without them. ¡°Hayden! Quit watching TV, your food''s going cold!¡± She doesn''t have to yell. Although, I guess you never know when I might be spacing out these days... Fair enough... In the kitchen I find her grandfather shuffling around with a giddy smile beaming across his face. ¡°Ah Hayden! H-Have you seen those new ''earpod'' gizmos? It''s amazing what these gadgets can do these days eh?¡± ¡°Well... it''s not that amazing. Wireless technology''s nothing new-¡± ¡°Oh ignore him paps, he thinks he''s a lot smarter than he is~¡± Her playful wink puts me in my place. Darn you Chisaki. Can''t you let me be good for something? ¡°Be safe poppet!¡± Chisaki''s grandmother waves us out the door with a chubby face and a wrinkly smile. Chisaki smiles back, but it''s painfully obvious that she wants her to go away. ¡°Hayden! Make sure you look after my girl! And don''t forget to buy those meds either!¡± ¡°No worries Mrs Ogawa.¡± You''d think after eight years she''d trust me. ¡°...*sigh*...You really need to do something about those geezers...¡± ¡°They''re just old, they mean well. And besides, they are leaving me in the care of Hayden Reed. If it were my granddaughter I think I''d be worried too~¡± ¡°Erk-! ...Surely you jest?¡± ¡°Mmm... I wonder...¡± I wish I could humour her like this forever, but as soon as I look away I''m reminded of my situation. If we could make it to University without further incident, I''d be grateful beyond words. Then, only then, will I finally have a chance to shed some light on this calamity. The club will be in session today, and I have the photos to back my story. I can only hope that their genius minds will be able to infer more than I could. Of course I have faith in them, they''re my friends after all... ¡°Nerd-society at lunchtime today right? I''m guessing you all want me to bring bentos again?¡± ¡°A-Ah... That''d be great, if it''s no trouble for you.¡± ¡°Don''t sweat it, I wouldn''t expect you nutcases to be capable of self-catering, someone''s gotta do it.¡± {Reader Note: A ''Bento'' or ''Bento Box'' is a carefully crafted Japanese lunch box containing a well-balanced meal with a variety of tastes and textures. In other words, real food, unlike the lazy diet of instant noodles customary to most University students.} The piercing ringing of a bell slaps me from my daydream. ¡°And that concludes today''s lecture on the wonderful theory of Hyper-Combustion. I''m sure you all had a splendid time and simply can''t wait for next week!¡± Ah, that''s right, the head of physics was giving a lecture. A scrawny young man in his late twenties with a spring in his step, every so often he would habitually tilt his glasses to illustrate a complicated point. A model geek. At least I have yet to bump heads with Professor Rutherford, you could say I''ve been purposefully avoiding him. No doubt he''d show no mercy and grill me alive for my incomplete thesis. Students mumble about their desks as they shovel mountains of books into their bags. The collective rustling of paper is so loud, like a cluster of needles to my weariness. ¡°Fret not! For I have taken it upon myself to prepare some additional study material, which you can use to get ahead...¡± You''re not making any friends here Professor, but I admire your enthusiasm for the subject... ¡°Remember class, we''re scientists! If we have a problem, we find a solution! The curiosity should run rampant in your very blood, there''s nothing we cannot do if we set our minds to it!¡± Lunch break. That busy hour at noon when every lecture is dismissed. Students leave their classrooms to stretch their legs and gossip with their friends, usually over a sandwich or Ramen bowl. Even those who are only timetabled for afternoon lessons might still arrive early to eat. The canteens were good, albeit expensive. The amount they charge for a soda is basically highway robbery... But am I the type to spend my lunch break laying back in the communal parks with a group of good-looking youths? Absolutely not. My time is far too valuable to waste on such nonsense. The only other alternative to hanging around the campus was to join a lunch society. To sum it up, lunch societies are essentially ''clubs'' that run three days a week in specific classrooms. ''Created by students, for students!'' The general idea is to give undergrads a way to find friends with similar interests and pursue their hobbies in a friendly environment. Yes I am aware that it seems a bit nerdy, but the benefits that come with running a society are nothing to scoff at. For a start you have permanent access to the University''s cutting edge equipment and resources, as well as being able to participate in competitions to win prizes. If your society shows enough constructive potential, you can also receive funding from the University to pay for club activities and better assets. If you play your cards right, you can profit something fierce. But as I browsed the list of existing clubs: Sewing... Gaming... Writing... Cooking... Literally nothing decent. So that''s why I decided to compose an application, and start my own society. A club that would actually be useful, a club where dozens of brilliant minds could get together and pitch ideas that would one day lead humanity to greatness. The Engineering Society. Well I thought it was a good idea anyway...