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When Golden Week ends, each day starts to get hotter than the last. It's also when students with too much free time on their hands cause huge commotions, which makes the days feel hotter than they need to be. I may be the cool, hard‐ boiled type, but I'm also ridiculously weak against the heat. And so, in my search for somewhere just a bit cooler, I turned to uncharted waters.

The normal human body temperature is 36°C. Going by that number, hanging out with other people makes it less of a midsummer day and more like a day in a furnace. Not even I am capable of coping with such high humidity and temperature.

Cats do the same thing, you know? They go to a secluded place when it's hot. Out of my sheer desire to defend myself against the heat, I also aimed for somewhere without human presence. Mind you, it wasn't as if I felt uncomfortable in class or thought I didn't fit in or anything ‐ nothing like that at all. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

This was an act of instinct ‐ or, to put it more bluntly, my classmates who don't do the same fail as living beings. They gather in herds because they're weak. You see, only feeble creatures form groups out of instinct. Herbivores cluster together so that they can sacrifice one of their own when they're attacked by carnivores, and my classmates are no different. They munch on the grass with innocent looks on their faces as their friends get eaten up.

You ever see a buffalo mow down another buffalo to let it get eaten by wolves? Now a wolf wasn't a herbivore. Neither were lions. But they still grouped up to take down bigger prey more safely. Mathematicians did that all the time now. The age of the lone genius was over. Neumann was said to be the last great mathematician like that. Terrance Tao, the living vicar of mathematics on Earth grouped up like minded individuals on his forum. He knew the power of working in groups. He knew the power of the internet.

And wasn't the internet kinda sorta a bit of a fucked up god? Lowercase 'g' god. But attract enough of the internet's many minded attention and it could kill you. It might even be able to convince you to kill yourself. That's how smart the internet was.

I mean-don't get me wrong. It could be incredibly stupid at times but so could any individual bit of code, machine learning program, or person. But the internet was monstrously smart. It made me think about my Basilisk. What if such a being already existed? Such a monstrous and alien mind already here on this Earth. Only one way to be sure. I'd have to dig in through bits and blurbs which machine learning bots wrote on forums designed for that sort of thing. But if I was right then the internet was my Basilisk.

How would you make an artificial intelligence?

We discuss three main ways. You clone a human mind, you hard code it, or you machine learn it to life. Or some combination of those three with the machine learning option probably being the most skynet option. But the internet was already all three of those things. It was billions of human minds thinking in stereo all hooked up by hard code and machine learning programs.

So there's that? Was the internet my Basilisk? Was the internet alive? Have you ever said something aloud and then seen an ad for it? We were being listened to around the clock but not by other people. It was hard code and machine learned AI. Lots of little small ones but together they could be something smart. We call that emergent behavior.

So the internet was on my mind a lot. I basked in this precious knowledge. It was dangerous knowledge. And if I was right then things were so much worse than you have any idea. It's already too late. Humanity lost the war.

If it was a normal day, then the door to the roof should have been locked tightly. But today, the padlock was opened and swaying in place. I guessed that some people from another class had gone to the roof to show off and make asses of themselves ‐ you know that saying about smoke, fools and high places?

My first impulse at times like this was to show them up by stacking desks and chairs to block their way. Because fuck you. But then I realised that it was awfully quiet past the door. How strange. As far as I knew, male and female riajuu both hated silence. It's the same concept as animals being afraid of fire. They interpret silence as boring, so in order to convince themselves that they're not boring people, they talk and squawk and jabber on. On the other hand, when they're talking to me, they swallow their boredom and appeal to me with silence. I wondered what that silence really meant… no, it's not what you think ‐ I prefer the quiet.

From this serene silence, it really seemed as if none of those riajuu were up there. Could it be that no one was there at all?

I could listen to the voices in peace, then. If I took the opportunity. When no one is around I get excited. I could hear the words of old masters of mathematics and physics in my ears. That's how I am. It's not about being timid around others or anything like that ‐ that's just ordinary mindfulness of others or the urge not to get in their way.

It was the kind of excitement I got when I finished assigned work. Self assigned work on probabilities and statistics and physics. The hard ones.

The wide, blue sky and the endless horizon awaited me past the door. The school rooftop was transforming into my private rooftop in front of my very eyes. Rich people want private jets and private beaches and so on. The loners who have private time to themselves are always winners at life, so that means loners should have status.

Gazing into the hazy, far‐off sky and gazing into the future were pretty much the same things to me. So it was the appropriate place to fill out a certain Prospective Workplace Tour Survey Form I had on hand. The workplace visit loomed over me like the fixed date of an exam.

On that sheet of paper, I carefully listed my prospective career and the workplace I wanted to familiarise myself with, along with my reasons for doing so. I was perfectly sure of the future plans I'd instilled in myself, so my hand never strayed off the page. It didn't even take two minutes to write it all down.

…but then‐

The wind blew. It was the kind of wind that brings purpose, the kind that heralds a fateful meeting after school. The single sheet of paper with my dreams written across it flew out to meet the future as if it had become a paper aeroplane. I might have been using flowery descriptions, but I was of course talking about the paper I'd just been writing on a moment earlier. Oi, screw you, wind, you piece of crap. As if teasing me, the paper fluttered to the ground, only to jump high once again just as I thought it was in my grasp. …meh, can't be bothered. I'd get another paper and rewrite it.

Shrugging, I started walking away ‐ and that's when it happened.

"This yours?" heard a voice. With a start, I searched my surroundings for the owner of that slightly husky and vaguely languid voice, but there was no one around me. Solitude was normal for me, but that's not what I'm referring to right now ‐ I couldn't find any trace of another person on this roof. "Where you lookin'?" I heard the voice laugh scornfully from above.

If the voice was above me, then I was sure of where it was coming from. It was from the place that protruded into the sky even further than the roof did ‐ the ladder that reached up to the water tower.

The owner of the voice was leaning against the water tower, peering down at me. As she played with a cheap‐looking hundred‐yen lighter in her hand, our eyes met and she furtively tucked it away into her uniform pocket.

Her long, black hair fell all the way down her back; her ribbon was untied, revealing the curve of her chest; the unnecessary parts of her shirt cuffs were loosened up; her long, sharp legs looked made for kicking. But what made an impression on me were her ambitionless eyes, which gazed vacantly into the distance. The bags under her eyes really contributed to that washed‐out look.

"This yours?" the girl asked in the same tone as before.

I didn't know how old she was, so for the time being, I kept my mouth shut and nodded in reply.

You see, I'd have to be formal if she was my Senpai, but if she wasn't, then that would be a cause for embarrassment. True strength keeps its cards close.

"…hang on a sec," she sighed, as she put her hands on the ladder and climbed down swiftly.

…but then‐

The wind blew. It was the kind of heavy wind that sweeps away a blackout, the kind that determines one's destiny. The single line of fabric which contained my dreams yielded to the divine wind as if burning itself into eternal memory.

I might have been using flowery descriptions, but basically I saw her panties. I looked away.

The girl let go of the ladder halfway down, landed lightly on her feet, and then handed the paper to me ‐ but not before first glancing over it herself.

"…are you a moron?" she said curtly, practically hurling it at me.

"Probably," I murmured.

As soon as I caught it, she lost no time in turning around and disappearing into the school building, never once looking back. I was left there alone, having lost my chance to say 'thanks' or 'what do you mean by a moron?'

I held the paper she had retrieved for me in one hand and scratched my head with the other. At the same moment, the bell signalling the end of recess rang out from the rooftop speakers. Taking that as my cue, I turned my feet towards the door too

"Black lace, huh…" I muttered, sighing with both deep satisfaction and deep consternation. "Best to keep that to myself."

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One side of the staffroom was set up as a reception area. A partition separated a black leather couch and glass coffee table from the rest of the room. There was a window immediately nearby, from which you could see an extensive view of the library.

A brilliant early summer breeze came in through the open window, and a thin sheet of paper danced in the wind. That sentimental scene stole my heart, and I followed the movements of that scrap of paper with my eyes, curious as to how it would fall. Gently, now. Like a trickling tear, the paper drifted to the floor.

And then ‐ rip. A stiletto pierced it like a spear.

A pair of supple legs flexed in front of me. I couldn't help but notice how long and shapely they were through the tight suit and pants that covered them.

Suits are quite stylish, but their appeal often leaves much to be desired. Pantyhose would have fulfilled the sexy requirement if a woman was wearing a skirt, but when the legs are hidden by a suit and pants, it comes off as boorish and unrefined. If a woman's legs were stick‐thin and had no sex appeal, there would be no point in her wearing a suit and pants ‐ she would just look hideous instead.

And yet the legs before me were different. They had such perfect symmetry you could say the Golden Ratio was at work.

The problem was that she also took the form of a terrible, angry Buddha, carved by genius hands. She was frightening from an art perspective, a cultural perspective and a historical perspective.

As she chewed absent‐mindedly on her tobacco filter, my Japanese teacher Hiratsuka‐Sensei sent me a withering glare. "Hikigaya. You know where this is going, don't you?"

"Who could say?" I wondered. "Your mind is an enigma to me."

The intensity never left her large eyes, and I quickly turned my face away. As soon as I did that, Hiratsuka‐sensei started cracking her knuckles. All I could hear was the ominous sound of my impending doom. "Don't tell me you don't know?"

"Are you going to make me rewrite it?"

"That goes without saying. Geez… and here I thought you'd changed a little."

"Incorrect. Not an inch."

I could sense a vein popping in Hiratsuka‐sensei's forehead. "…so my only option is beat you up after all, huh? People beat each other up on TV whenever they want to get a move on with the story."

"Don't hit me. I'm a pacifist."

"Well something has to be done about you," she cocked her hips and put one hand on her side. She bopped me on the head. "And if you don't want a second one I'd keep your mouth shut."

"Ow," I murmured. I rubbed the back of my head where she smacked me.

Hiratsuka‐sensei plopped herself on her seat, satisfied. She was grinning broadly at seeing me yield so quickly to her attack. She might be the kind of person who unconsciously forgot how pathetic her words and actions were, but she really was a beautiful person on the inside.

"It's good that you're quick on the uptake, Hikigaya."

Correction: she was just pathetic. It seemed she was only capable of laughing at her own joke.

I had recently come to learn about Sensei's hobbies. Basically, she liked hot‐ blooded manga and anime. I was learning so much crap I didn't care about, whoopee.

"Now then, Hikigaya. I'll ask you this just to be safe. What is the purpose of this shitty answer of yours?"

"You're not supposed to swear at your student…"

It would have been easier if I'd just made up something, but since I'd already channeled all my thoughts onto that piece of paper, I didn't have any more answers up my sleeve. If she couldn't understand after reading it, that was her problem.

Hiratsuka‐sensei puffed out smoke from her cigarette and glared daggers at me, as if she could see right through me and knew exactly what I was thinking. "I understand what a messed up personality you have, but I thought you'd grown up a little. Didn't spending time with the Service Club influence you at all?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Listen brat…"

"I'm listening," I informed her.

I thought back on my time in the service club. …Totsuka was cute, though. Yep, that was about it

"Hikigaya… you've got a seedy look in your eyes all of a sudden. You're drooling."

"Huh?! Oh, crap…" I wiped my mouth hastily with my sleeve.

That was dangerous. Something had been awakening inside me.

"You haven't improved," Hiratsuka‐sensei said after a pause. "You've only gotten more pathetic."

"I could have told you that," I confessed. "But maybe you just don't get it? Could it be our age difference?" She got up and whacked me again. "Obligatory ow. What I mean to say is that it's very befitting of an adult woman such as yourself. I really admire your sense of duty in spreading the classics. Indeed! Seriously, you're awesome!" I blurted out. I did whatever I could to avoid getting punched.

It worked, because Hiratsuka‐sensei lowered her fist. But she glared at me with her characteristically sharp eyes, reminding me of a rabid beast. "Geez…" she said finally. "Anyway, resubmit your Prospective Workplace Tour Survey Form. When you've done that, I want you to count up all the survey forms as penalty for hurting my feelings."

I groaned. I hated mindless paperwork. There was a kind of paperwork which stretched the mind and a type that did not. Counting the survey forms counted as the later.

"…yes ma-am…" There was an overgrown stack of papers in front of my eyes. Sorting through each sheet one at a time was gruelling, like working at a bread factory. Or maybe as a lifeguard. I got bored easily. I think I might be ADHD on top of all my other issues. I hated grunt work like this because I got bored so easily. It made me want to gouge my eyes out and be blind like Euler.

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-WG