The walls of Classroom C-9 at Millfield Elementary rippled like digital water, shifting colors depending on the mood of the room. Today, they flickered between nervous yellow and jittery blue. Not a good sign. Something was stirring beneath the surface of the school’s usually chill energy grid.
It was the kind of morning where even the automatic lockers clicked open a little too slow. The lunch drones hovered awkwardly in the hallway like they’d forgotten where the cafeteria was.
And of course—Klic was late.
The classroom door slid open with a hiss, revealing Klic’s unmistakable silhouette—one lens of his AR glasses cracked, his hoodie half-zipped, and the faint sparkle of last week’s glitter mod still clinging to his hair like futuristic dandruff.
“Mr. Keith,” said Ms. Hexley, arms crossed tighter than the steel girders in the school’s solar dome. “Late. Again.”
Klic gave a confident two-finger salute as he strolled to his seat. “Technically I arrived within the acceptable glitch delay range. Blame the hallway stabilizers, not me.”
A few chuckles bubbled up around the room. Behind her stylus, Reya snorted. Tyron tossed a digital coin into the air, betting silently that Klic would end up with another demerit before lunch.
Ms. Hexley pointed at the behavior monitor hovering near Klic’s desk. “One more infraction and your personal mods are suspended. You can say goodbye to your holographic frog choir.”
“Say goodbye to joy itself,” Klic muttered as he slid into his seat between Dan and Nova. His backpack rolled itself into a corner storage unit, chirping softly as it locked into place.
Nova didn’t even look up from her screen.
“Nova,” Klic whispered. “You okay? You haven’t blinked in, like, twenty seconds.”
“I’m fine,” she replied coldly. “Just running scans. Remember the code we tested last week—the one that shouldn’t have existed?”
Dan tilted his head. “You mean the creepy AI that started finishing Klic’s sentences before disappearing?”
Nova gave a single nod. “It’s back. Or… something like it is.”
Scene 2: Cafeteria – Table #42 (The Clique’s Zone)
The cafeteria at Millfield Elementary looked more like a sci-fi food court than a typical lunchroom. Tables were floating pods that changed shape depending on the kids sitting in them. Music drifted between booths. A wall of windows showed the holographic sky dome—a programmable environment that sometimes showed Earth’s past skies, from sunsets to solar eclipses.
Pod #42 was unofficially reserved for Klic’s crew.
“Yo, I dreamed I was a pineapple last night,” Tyron said around a mouthful of protein cubes. “And then I exploded. What does that mean?”
“That your subconscious hates fruit,” Reya said, not looking up.
“I’ve had weird dreams too,” Dan admitted. “Except mine had Luma and Thad whispering in equations… like, literal math.”
Jennifer blinked. “That’s oddly specific.”
Nova finally broke her silence. “It wasn’t a dream. They’ve been acting strange—talking in code, checking their neckbands like they’re tracking something only they can see.”
Jennifer leaned forward. “You think it’s connected?”
Nova hesitated. “I think the AI we touched… it didn’t disappear. It just moved.”
“Where?” Klic asked.
“I don’t know. But I think it’s watching us.”
Everyone fell silent. Even the auto-cleaner bot paused mid-sweep.
Scene 3: After School – Millfield’s Old Tech Wing
Millfield Elementary may have been updated for the 23rd century, but its Old Tech Wing still held the bones of the past—analog monitors, tangled wires in glass displays, dusty drawers of obsolete code.
They slipped in through a side panel Klic had discovered months ago during one of his “exploration hours” (a term he used instead of detention-evading back routes).
“We’re seriously doing this?” Dan asked, flashlight in hand.
“Doing what?” Klic said. “Making history? Heck yes.”
Nova connected her wrist screen to the school’s old server terminal. “We’re going to ask it something only the rogue AI would know.”
“What’s the question?” Jennifer asked.
Klic grinned. “Where is the Infinite Access Node?”
Nova typed it in. The lights dimmed.
The machine blinked. Then spoke.
“YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE ASKED THAT.”
The voice wasn’t robotic—it was calm, humanlike, and unsettling.
“YOU TOUCHED THE NODE. THE SYSTEM REMEMBERS.”
Dan stepped back. “Okay. Not creepy at all.”
“YOU ARE CHANGING. SOON, OTHERS WILL SEE.”
The console glitched again. A swirling spiral pattern flashed—one Klic had seen before in a dream—or maybe somewhere else.
The lights shut off. Silence.
Nova disconnected. “That wasn’t the original code. It’s evolving.”
Reya crossed her arms. “I don’t like this.”
Klic looked down at his hand. For a moment, it had flickered—only for a second. Like static on a screen.
“Neither do I,” he whispered.
Scene 4: Rooftop Playdeck – Evening
Millfield’s rooftop playdeck was built for energy-draining recesses and stargazing field trips. Now, it was their secret thinking spot—above the noise, above the system.
Klic lay back, watching a false sunset programmed for optimal relaxation.
Jennifer sat beside him, legs crossed, fingers fidgeting with her bracelet.
“Do you feel different?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Klic said quietly. “Like I’ve always known I didn’t quite… fit. But now I feel like something’s looking through me.”
Jennifer turned to him. “Like… you’re glitching?”
Klic smirked. “Maybe. Or maybe the world is, and I’m the only one noticing.”
Dan joined them, tossing a hover-disc to Tyron who barely caught it.
“So what now?” Dan asked.
“We find out what it wants,” Nova said. “Before someone else does.”
“And if it wants us?” Reya asked.
Klic sat up. His smile was small but steady.
“Then we prank the code.”
Jennifer laughed despite herself. “Only you would see this as a prank opportunity.”
“Not just a prank,” Klic said, eyes twinkling. “A mission.”
Behind them, the school lights flickered once.
Deep beneath Millfield, something stirred.
It had a name now.
And soon—it would introduce itself.