I don't remember much about that dream last night. It was distinctly horrible, but also surreal. I remember hearing the front door, someone putting all their frustration into trying to get it open. But when mom comes to open it, the hallway turned into a wind tunnel, sucking us both out into a black void. Then there's the screaming...

My older brother was conscripted to the New Babylonian Militia, a subsidiary of the Guardian Unit of Nations, and disappeared. I haven't heard from him for years by now, even after his tour of duty was supposed to be completed. He teased me for my weight and was a bit of a jock, but I didn't know what happened to him. At least, for now...

My father was dead for a long time already, about four years or so. Grandfather was pretty paranoid after his son's death. Mom wasn't the same either, being a lot more unstable and antisocial. She lost her job soon after his death and now works at minimum wage for a warehouse. Plus, our place became a total mess. Sharps everywhere. Mom says it was because of her diabetes, but I am not so sure. Our place reeks, as stated before. She also became extremely abusive and even though I get really strong grades she always expects me to do better. She wants me to get a job early so I can move out of the house sooner, while I want to go to post-secondary. At least she didn't have reason to kick me out of the house yet.

That should be enough background information to continue the story.

Georgian Calendar, ARK Perspective, June 24 3180

I get up and walk to the living room.

I polish my glasses. Not that I need them to see, but my smartglasses got quite dirty during yesterday's misadventures. Plus there were a bunch of neat features I put which I like having when walking to school. Calendars, journals, to-do lists, homework notes... I find them to be very versatile.

As I clean my glasses, I turn on the monitor and listen to the news. While streaming, a newsflash popped up.

"BREAKING NEWS

KINGDOM OF ACORN UNVEILS ARMORED VEHICLE"

It was apparently some sort of engineering vehicle equipped with armor and a flamethrower. Pretty crude stuff compared to our technology, but considering what the kingdom was like during this time the development would prove to be disturbing.

After I finish, I pick up a note that was left on the table, next to a hypodermic needle for "insulin". It reads as follows:

"AT WORK. MIGHT BE STAYING LATE.

-MOMMA"

I would be surprised if it was because she wanted to work overtime for the extra cash.

Well, I guess I'll make breakfast and lunch for myself again. More eggs. Honestly I got pretty good at eggs, if not for the fact that I keep fogging up my glasses as I do it. I add pepper, ham, some cheese, and a few chives. Less than 5 minutes I have something to keep my stomach full at school.

...

I'd probably still be hungry at school so I guess I should make myself something extra. I wish we had baguettes. I remember when mom made chicken salad sandwiches stuffed into baguettes. Grapes, chicken, some celery... it was delightful - a mix of sweet and salty flavors rounded out by a bit of freshness. Too bad she doesn't make them anymore... or remembers how to.

I go into my fridge to grab some soup made two days ago for me to use at school. It's a really simple one - just cabbage and onions. Sour cream was to be added when served, along with a slice of rye bread. Sometimes instead we have some sort of fish soup with potatoes and carrots.

That's about a kilogram of food. Should be enough for the day, so I pack up the rest of my books and head to school.

There was one other person in my Social Science 11 class that I didn't mention yet who is important to the story. He too is a child prodigy, being able to skip a grade, and even though I pushed past four through extreme perseverance I still respect the fact that he got to where he is now.

I'll nickname him as Connecticut. It's not like the name is in use ever since the Evacuation of the Sun. Not like the dead could care...

Connecticut waved me down as we walked to class. I sometimes seen him at homework club, but he usually plays sports. Heck, he even looks like a supermodel at the young age of 16. Too bad I wasn't into men.

"Yo. I heard that things didn't go so hot when you tried applying for NBU."

I am floored. "How did he get this information?"

"Well... I am not telling you."

"Am I thinking out loud?"

"Yeah."

I stop. My eyes widen. I realized I couldn't hide the frustration on my face. I clench my teeth and close my lips, making a conscious effort to conceal the ideas coming together in my mind.

"Did you seriously not read the graduation requirements? You needed to complete a certain amount of physical activity and work experience to receive your diploma." I know those words aren't mine, because if I knew that fact.

...If I knew...

"GOD. FUCKING. HELL. DAMNIT!"

I slammed my fist into the locker besides me. Clumsily, I hit the locker door frame instead of the locker itself. The punch was weak, pitiful, not even leaving the slightest dent in the metal, while the nerves in my finger joints filled with fire. The pain seared through my arm, and soon after my vision blurred and my hearing dulled. All feeling in my legs gave out as the world became enveloped in darkness. I knew I was screaming in pain, but couldn't make out the words people are saying around me. No doubt after the previous incident, it was rife with gossip.

And that was my right hand. My good hand. It is now the hand that is trying to teach me a lesson of self-control.

An instructor rushed to my side. She was female, old, but beautiful in a motherly way. She escorted me to the nurse's office while Connecticut was being escorted to the principal's office for questioning.

He isn't going to receive any reprimands. I did this to myself, after all.

Another ice pack, this time for my hand. I didn't even break anything, but it was pink from the stupid episode of self-inflicted trauma.

Normally, I would have been much more composed. Reserved. But seeing my trivial ambition almost being thwarted by one man and my true ambitions being thwarted by what can only be described as blatant idiocy, I had put myself into a position where the only thing I can feel is frustration. I want to make my mark on the world as a man of science, as an individual that has the wits and ingenuity to bring the next generation of human innovation to light. But during the past few weeks my life has been inverted, from the relatively comfortable experience of being the grandson to one of the greatest scientists in the world, to a chaotic hell without explanation. No individual can survive such a sharp turning point intact.

But this is the here and now, and I do not have the knowledge necessary to reach that conclusion.

I missed the beginning of the physics lecture. It was no major loss, as I usually used that time to catch up on homework while the lecture was taking place. It was now time for an experiment. I was enthusiastic. The experiment is about measuring the coefficient of friction between multiple surfaces. I worked with less enthusiastic students to finish the assignment, and after the lab questions were done I compiled my results and compared them with my peers. There were differences in the calculated results, and I learned that even I made a few mistakes in the rushed pace that we were going, and redid a few tests to affirm or debunk whatever inconsistencies we had.

Obviously, I had a LOT of fun. But my handwriting was a lot messier than usual.

Afterwards, I got to work on editing some Literacy 12 homework so that it looks professional by the time I hand it in.

Classes went about as smoothly as one could hope for, in spite of my injury. After the class for Literacy 12 was done for the day I sat alone at a table in an empty classroom to eat lunch. I was visited by Connecticut. He wanted me to join his table at the cafeteria.

"Jeez, this place is dark and depressing. Why don't you come with me? We could always use another face."

I declined. Rudely, in fact.

"No way. I have things I need to do and have to get my affairs in order. It's only a week before the final exam. While I know that I can pass it, I have a potentially troublesome cli-"

"Christ, I get it. Some chick asked you out. You want to look your best."

"Is that a metaphor, or an insinuation?"

"Whatever your right hand wants it to be, man."

"I assure you, I'm a professional."

"And I assure you, not being admitted to NBU isn't the end of the world - I know a guy that's graduating who got accepted out of a sports scholarship - soccer, apparently."

"Wait, you don't call it football? It's a sport where you literally kick a ball with your feet, how is it not football?"

"I dunno. I just like watching American-rules football more. Contact sports just give a kick of adrenaline that I can't find anywhere else. Though you don't kick balls there - it's unsportsmanlike to do that to someone."

"Snide-ass son of a-"

"Hey, you can either brood here, eating... what the hell is that, an omelette? Is that your breakfast?"

"Well if I want to judge what you eat, your tastebuds probably didn't touch anything aside from a kale smoothie and raw egg."

"You seem to have an obsession with eggs here if that's your comeback, Eggman."

"If you're going to treat me like this, what do I gain from joining your table?"

"A shot at NBU before you develop widow's peaks."

Unfortunately, he got me in a bind. I really, really wanted to get into NBU early on, and was willing to do practically anything to reach that goal.

"Fine. I'll come with."

The table was filled with unfamiliar faces, many of them looked menacingly at me. The longer they looked at me, the more uncomfortable I get. But despite the whole table being filled with jocks, none of them are mobians.

What kind of supremacist group did CT drag my ass into?

"Quite a cast of characters..."

"Indeed. We have been running into problems getting people to join our martial arts club. Because mobians are so much more spectacular in their physical feats, few people want to watch humans compete against each other. Few measures make the playing field fairer for us. The only sport where humans could compete and even beat mobians is baseball - and martial arts sits in the peculiar position where every facet of it is skewed to the mobians' strengths."

"What do I have to do with any of this? I want to become a roboticist or a physicist, not an athlete."

"We hoped to bring someone outside who could show people that no matter how unfit or busy your life is, you would always benefit from practicing some of the things taught to our ancestors. The ideal of hard work, balance of body and mind..."

"So you need a slob like me to get the message across? This better count towards work experience too."

I noticed some of the people at the table crack a smile.

"It will get you into NBU faster, but it won't cover work experience, no matter how hard I tried to negotiate on that angle. I wanted to get in early too but organizing all these clubs left no time for quote-unquote 'actual work'. It's bullsh-"

"I'll consider it. I probably won't be able to make any real impact this term and I already have the summer spoken for. So I might not be able to do it until the start of the next school year."

"Better than nothing, I guess..."

Everyone at the table sighed and looked down at their plates.

"I guess you can leave now if you want to."

Kassim was also at this table. His lunch was in a paper bag, and contained nothing more than a single piece of flatbread wrapping lettuce and chopped hard-boiled egg.

"Is that a pita wrap?"

"No, it's a laffa."

"Never heard of it."

"Mostly the same thing."

I resumed eating my food, but the table was silent. It's the last two weeks of school, and the atmosphere is tense.

The next two classes passed by. By the end of the school day, I waited in the front for my new client.

She arrived but said nothing. The car that picked her up yesterday pulled up to greet the two of us.

"Oh, you're already here? I thought for sure that you'd come on the weekends, not on school days. I even agreed to give you a free lunch every time you came by..."

"Well, lunch at 3PM is awfully inconvenient, but who doesn't like caviar?" I flash a grin at the old man who could be seconds away from strangling me in front of the school gates. His face hardened at my sense of humor.

"I should have agreed to the earlier rate you proposed."

"No turning back now, but I'm seriously not picky. You could even show me your grandma's casserole recipe. It's tiring knowing only one way to get calories in my stomach for half of the day."

"Just get in the car, damn you."

We boarded the vehicle and drove off to parts unknown.