*March 1, 2125*

Elion tapped his stylus on the acrylic-topped desk, the faint sound was a rebellion against the sterile classroom air. A random array of beats transformed into a sequential one. 1, 2, 3, 4—he counted as he tapped. It was a habit he'd formed whenever the world became too bland, though, truth be told, it was always bland.

The grey walls of his classroom bled onto the floor and ceilings. The bluish-grey uniforms—designed to ensure conformity—clung tightly to everyone's bodies. No buttons could be undone. No pin could be askew.

Even the weather was controlled. It seems they opted for a featureless display of overcast today.

"Your tapping is too loud," Kira informed him via their neurolink.

He halted. He looked across at her, careful not to move too much, but her eyes were trained on the teacher. Everyone's eyes were. No one ever shifted. No one ever made a sound.

The teacher—a synthetic voice and body— drifted across the front of the room, mimicking hand gestures to imitate real people. Its monotonous voice droned on about the function of the human heart, each word appearing on their desks as notes.

"The heart beats one-hundred and twenty-one times per minute when a human is excited."

What does it know about excitement? Elion quipped in his mind. He sent the thought to Kira

Kira's lips twitched—just enough to form the barest of smiles. Her eyes shifted just a bit.

The teacher's lensed eyes locked onto the movement

"Excessive emotion detected."

The heavy atmosphere doubled in pressure. Elion's chest tightened when the Enforcers voice boomed through the comms, filling the space with its heavy, imposing weight.

"Kira Steele, report to the Enforcer's office."

Kira stood up with her trained mechanical motion. Her long, matte dark hair fell loosely down her shoulders and over her back. She kept her arms firmly to the side, with stiff open palms.

Elion's hand shot out, grabbing hers just as she took a step.

"Wait! I should be punished. I was tapping. She heard it—"

The Enforcer's omniscient cold voice cut him off.

"Elion Strider, remain in your class."

Kira pulled her hand away. Without a glance, she walked off. Her steps were so light that she could have been floating. Elion's chest twisted. He hoped she would keep her composure for the rest of the day. Otherwise, he might not see her again.

"I'm sorry, Kira," was his last message before the cruel message returned: USER HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED.

She must be angry.

~~~~

At lunch, students stood in orderly lines waiting for their share of the same food they had every day. As one was served, the entire queue moved a step closer. Throughout the expanse of the pristine white space, Intelligent Regime Police dotted the area, clad in grey suits. They had screens for faces and pincer-like fingers. They didn't need to move to control everything—they watched and scanned. Their sole purpose was to maintain perfect order.

During their lunch period, they had "free time". But not free enough. Last week, another student was escorted to the Enforcer's office for talking about a girl he liked. Elion had been careful not to make that mistake.

He scanned the space without moving too much, but there was no sign of Kira. What could he do with the anger building in him? Scream? Break something?

No. He had to control it. Emotions were forbidden.

He reached the food dispenser. The options were the same as every other day—chicken and rice, or a slice of pizza. It hardly mattered. The food was all chemically identical, manufactured by his father's company. Was every food made with the same flavour?

After placing the small black squares on his tray, the machine beeped, readying his meal. The food looked warm like it might have a taste. But it was a hollow illusion of variety.

He sat alone at a cold metal table, nibbling the meal as the window scenes changed. Elephants marched through a desert land, then waves crashed against a cliff. The changing scenery was a display of an unnatural, peaceful world.

Yet, it felt off. Is this what the world was always like?

Jax slid into the seat across from him without a greeting.

"Did you finish the mathematics worksheet?" Jax asked as he placed his choice of chicken and rice on the table. He was only concerned about school and work.

"What's the point in doing it?" Elion jabbed at his food, disinterested in anything related to schoolwork.

Jax looked around at the RPs and whispered. "Lower the negativity." None of them seemed to hear him.

He might have said it out of genuine concern for Elion, or he could be a part of the problem.

"I did it. Or, should I say, GERMAN did it."

Jax missed the subtle distaste, chewing his food with the same mechanical precision he gave everything.

"What about the history essay?" He spooned the rice into his mouth. He ate it with the painstaking task of not spilling anything. His uniform was always perfectly pressed and spotless. He often wondered why they were friends; if they were friends. But he's the only one apart from Kira whom he spoke to.

"I will get to it."

"It's due tomorrow."

"Doesn't matter when we have GERMAN to do it for us."

"Well, how else would it get done?"

Many scenarios crossed Elion's mind. He could research it himself. Maybe even record the information on his desk at home. Check it for grammatical errors, too. Do more than ask GERMAN to write it.

"Right. I will start producing the best history paper on how the Artisans were the antithesis of human development as soon as I get to the house."

An RP stationed adjacent to their table flickered to life. Its face lit up with a yellow light and black dots for eyes. It scanned Elion's face with a yellow laser emitting from the top of its head. Elion was stone-faced, and Jax kept his head down. After a moment, the light turned green, and the RP powered down.

Jax finished his meal without conversation. 

"I must go to the bathroom." He announced before getting up with his tray. He followed the determined path to dispose of his tray, cleanse his hands with the laser cleaner, and leave. Elion wondered why he even bothered.

~~~~

At home, Elion sprawled across his bed in the expansive, empty room, staring at his white plastered ceiling. He'd shut the blinds tight, ensuring the fake outdoors didn't stream in. His room's walls were a featureless ash tone, with no trace of personality. His mother had made sure of that.

"They might inspire," she'd said when Elion asked if the drawing he'd generated using GERMAN could be hung on the wall. The word "inspire" was foreign to him. At age twelve, he looked it up. It was safe to say he wasn't at risk of being inspired—not in this world

He tried Kira's neurolink for the thirteenth time today. It was their only means of confidential communication. But the response was the same as before: USER HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED.

Why had she been called in and not him? A dangerous question began to form in his mind. One he couldn't ask. His father had designed this world—a grey and tasteless reality, devoid of meaning.

"It's time for dinner," his AI assistant announced over their home comms.

"Great," Elion muttered.

His sluggish movements to join another plain dinner prompted another notice.

"Elion, we are waiting," his mother, Nyran's voice, said.

"Yes, I am coming," he answered with a slightly raised tone. The massive, barren foyer amplified his voice when he walked down the staircase.

Everyone else was seated at the long, metallic dining table. His father, Quinn, sat at the head of the table, his mother on his right, and his younger sister, Arion, on the left. The emotionless atmosphere made it feel like the walls were closing in on him.

In the far corner, their robot assistant, CANA, stood waiting for its prompt.

Elion took his designated seat across from Arion and beside his mother.

Quinn Strider, his father, flipped through a digital paper, eyes scanning each word without interest. He sat upright with squared shoulders, not bothering to address his family. "The Artisans are causing trouble again," he said. 

"What did they do this time?" Nyran asked, fixing the layout of the cover. She always ensured that every fork and knife was perfectly aligned. 

"Painted the wall of the mayor's building."

"They must be insane," her voice was void of surprise.

"The RPs caught them," he stated.

Elion's curiosity piqued. "What colour?"

"Excuse me?" Quinn looked up for the first time since Elion sat down. Elion took interest in the empty silver-rimmed face, to avoid his father's gaze. 

"I wanted to know the colour they painted on the wall, father," Elion pressed.

"Does it matter? They vandalize in the name of creativity," Nyran answered.

"Be careful of the words you use," Quinn reprimanded his wife, "and the questions you ask," he directed at Elion.

"CANA, prepare our meal," Quinn directed. The conversation was over.

The robot activated at the sound of their name. It busied itself with preparing the meal. Its eyes were a brilliant blue, the brightest thing he'd seen in the house. It wore a silver apron and black shoes. Its face was made of the purest silicone manufactured to date. You couldn't tell it wasn't human by looking from afar. But you could see the imperfections if you looked for them. The company hadn't quite worked out the fingernails yet.

"Master Strider, what would you like to eat?" It asked the programmed question.

"Steak, medium rare, mashed potatoes with cream, and a side of fresh carrots."

CANA placed three black squares on his plate, similar to the ones at the academy. It covered it with a mobile version of the food dispenser. In seconds, the box steamed, and CANA lifted it to reveal a freshly generated meal. There was no change in odour. The process repeated for each plate, except they had no choice in what they ate. His father's choice was the choice.

They ate the meal in uncomfortable silence.

Arion fidgeted with something under the table.

Their mother's sharp eyes caught the movement faster than CANA.

"Arion, what do you have under the table?" There was no anger or warmth present in her voice.

Arion hung her head. She lifted a battered brown teddy bear with a missing eye. The arms of the teddy bear were breaking away at the seams, revealing the white fluffy stuffing. Elion's eyes widened, but he regained his composure before anyone or anything noticed. He recognized the toy from when Arion was a baby. Children weren't allowed to have toys after the age of three. Arion was ten.

Quinn eyed the toy and looked at Nyran.

"Arion. We told you to throw that away." Nyran's dark brown eyes bore into her daughter. But no emotion was evident. How could they suppress any feeling so well? Especially when talking to their child.

Arion mumbled. "I just wanted a friend."

"You have a friend, and you have a family. You don't need toys at this age." Nyran took up the toy. Arion grabbed onto its leg before it was taken away. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Elion's chest ached.

"Let her have the bear," Elion spoke softly.

Quinn ignored him. "Tears are forbidden, Arion."

Her wide, pure eyes switched from sadness to fear.

She inhaled deeply. Not a drop of water rolled down her plump cheeks. Her grip loosened around the bear.

Nyran gave the bear to CANA.

"Discard."

CANA took it and left the room.