Write with the door closed. Rewrite with the door open. - Stephen King.

With the second day back at Clone High now behind him, Mahatma Gandhi doesn't know for sure how to feel about anything.

The fact that he is now in the future was scary at first, nothing could prepare him for a situation such as this.

Everything doesn't seem as scary, however, once he saw these new students for himself. They may be much younger than he is, and they grew up in a time he's not at all familiar with, but at the end of the day, these are human beings.

Human beings whose value of life are no more or less than the previous generation.

This may be the Gandhi inside of him talking; but the best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.

His best friend, Abe Lincoln, seems to be doing just that. He has been spending all his time showing interest in the people who refer to themselves as 'Generation Z.' These were people born after the year 2000.

On the other end of the line is his other friend, Joan of Arc. While Abe has opened himself up to the newer generation, Joan has shut herself off.

This isn't exactly what he would call new for her. She had shut herself off from people before everybody froze. He doesn't know what led her to develop romantic feelings for his best friend, but that was the point in time when she began to open up. They truly had some good times back then.

After taking some time to think for himself, he's comfortable with being in somewhere between the two. Socialize with Gen Z once in a while, but not to the extent that Abe is doing.

Today, however, he isn't in a socializing mood.

The internet has become really helpful to him, even if what it has shown him wasn't the best news he's received in his life.

First and foremost: Michael Jackson. Died on June 25th, 2009. Turns out he overdosed on something called propofol. He'll never listen to his music the same way again.

The same could be said for Prince Rogers Nelson, more commonly known as Prince. Died on April 21st, 2016. Cause of death was also an overdose. This time of fentanyl.

It had taken Gandhi a solid minute to look up another person he considered to be one of his heroes: Robin Williams. Luck wasn't on his side.

August 11th, 2014 was a dark day for the world. Gandhi could never imagine in a million years that suicide would be the cause of death for this famous comedian.

As depressing as that was, it kind of made sense. Perhaps the funniest people are the saddest ones after all.

There's no other direction that he should go but forward. He had overheard a quote from President Confucius Foster. 'It doesn't matter how slowly you move forward as long as you don't stop.'

It was just after four in the evening when he walked into one of the newer corner stores in Exclamation. Stores that weren't around during the time he wasn't frozen.

At first glance, the new store doesn't look any different than the ones he was used to going to. Products were more or less the same. Prices however, were an entirely different story.

He never thought he'd regret not looking into economics. Because he'd have a better understanding if he did.

"$1.24 for a candy bar!? It was only seventy-four cents not too long ago!" He scratches his head.

"Don't blame me, blame capitalism!" He hears a voice coming from the front counter nearby. It took him only a second to recognize the accent. This is a Syrian teenager.

As Gandhi walks over to the counter, he sees the clerk in a more clear light. He's about his age and has more than a little facial hair, but it does appear recently trimmed. "Hey man, uh, you go to Clone High too?"

The teenager smiles at Gandhi.

"Yeah… I forgot you're… one of the… older clones. Mahatma Gandhi, right? G-Spot rocks the g-spot?

It's great to meet you. I am Yusuf ibn-Ayyub… But everybody calls me Saladin."

Gandhi scratches his chin. "Saladin… Wasn't he the guy who conquered Jerusalem a thousand years ago?"

Saladin chuckles a little.. "Oh, there's a lot more to it than that. I could ramble for hours about the crusades and the battles they lost and who got executed and all that, but I'd just end up boring you. Besides, I think we both find the modern world much more interesting. I'm sure of it."

"Well, I'm not having a very good time so far." Said Gandhi. "A few of my favorite singers have died. You know a lot about Michael Jackson?"

"Well… Hm. Let me see." Saladin thinks for a bit. "I think I was about three years old when he died. So… there's that. But there are so many talented newer musicians today. I should show you."

He then took out his smartphone.

"Look, I'm going to introduce you to another singer. He's a lot like Michael Jackson. Calls himself 'The Weeknd.'"

Gandhi sighs. "Alright, since you're wanting to show me, I should be open to it. You really think I'll like it?"

Saladin nodded. "Oh yeah! Definitely! Look, this one is called, 'Blinding Lights.' One of the best songs in 2020! Here, take a listen."

The song lasted a little over three minutes, but it was more than enough to convince Gandhi that the future might have some unique talent after all.

If there are many songs in the future that sound just as good as this one, he's going to get along just fine.

The look on Gandhi's face was enough to amuse Saladin. "You know, you just made my day. I mean, a clone of Mahatma Gandhi!? I had always thought it would be interesting to speak to one. And now I am. It's funny what life gives you sometimes."

Gandhi looks down on the floor. "Yeah man, I was acting stupid all the time… Now that I got a chance to look back on everything, what was it all for, you know?"

Saladin leaned on the counter. "Nah man. No… You are also a lot of other things than just stupid. You've done a lot of stuff in the past, but it's what you do TODAY that's gonna be defining you you are. Okay, none of that stuff matters anymore. If anybody wants to say otherwise… I'll beat the shit out of them."

Gandhi sighs again.

"You seem passionate about me. I mean, yeah, you're right. I just gotta accept that things are different, you know? I don't know what's gonna happen, but whatever it is, I'll face it."

Saladin nods. "That's what I want to hear. I'm glad you're seeing things in my way. Now how about I show you some more songs?"

Saladin and Gandhi spent the next half hour looking through music together. The next day at school, while they shared no classes with each other, they made sure to spend their time together at lunch.

At this point, a little more than half of the millennial students at Clone High have become, in some way, acquainted with the students of Gen Z.

The rest, however, are making it very clear that they don't mind being outcasts.