Scene: Mira's bedroom. 1 Month Earlier

The room is dark, faint streaks of neon from the city outside casting a bluish glow across the girl’s bed. Suddenly, a soft bzzt sounds, and the girl’s body jolts upright as a minor electric shock courses through her system. Her eyes snap open, glowing faintly as she groans.

Girl (grumbling):

"Ugh… stupid wake-up pulse. Thanks, Dad..."

She rubs her neck, where a small implant at the base hums briefly before deactivating. She glares at the ceiling as she sits up, clearly in no rush to start her day.

Girl (under her breath):

"Of all the upgrades you could've given me, you went with the electric alarm clock. Classic."

She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, stretching her arms out and rolling her shoulders. The soft sound of servos and mechanical whirring follows her movements. Still grumbling, she heads to the mirror. Her synthetic skin looks flawless, but her joints and neural connections require maintenance. She grabs a small toolkit from the nightstand and sits down in front of the mirror.

She pulls back her hair, revealing the seam at her neck. With precise movements, she opens a small panel and adjusts the wiring beneath. A soft whirr fills the room as she checks her energy reserves.

Girl:

"Battery's at 85%. Good enough. Let’s just get this over with."

Next, she pops open her wrist compartment and oils a joint that had started to stiffen. A soft hiss of releasing pressure follows. After a few more quick calibrations, she closes up the panels and stands.

Girl (mockingly):

"Don't wanna disappoint the academy! Ugh, like I care. They can deal with a few squeaky joints."

With a resigned sigh, she tosses on her academy uniform—an oddly casual combination of high-tech fabrics designed for combat training and tech studies. She pulls her hair back into a messy bun and trudges downstairs, following the smell of synthetic food.

Downstairs, the kitchen is sterile and metallic, a far cry from any homey breakfast nook. Her 'Professor,' a tall, older cyborg, sits at the dining table. Tubes of synthesized food are lined up in front of him as he eats methodically, his robotic eye glowing red as it scans over the morning news feeds projected on the wall.

Professor:

"You're late. Again."

She rolls her eyes, heading to the counter and grabbing a bottle of thick, orange liquid—her version of a ‘breakfast shake.’

Girl (sarcastic):

"Good morning to you too, Professor. Love the enthusiasm. Real heartwarming."

She drinks the shake in large gulps, not bothering to sit down. Her father pauses from his meal to glance at her, his face an unreadable mix of metal plating and synthetic skin.

Professor:

"You know the academy expects punctuality. You can’t afford to—"

Girl (cutting in):

"Yeah, yeah. 'Punctuality is the mark of discipline.' Or whatever. Spare me the lecture, please. It’s not like I’m gonna get expelled for being late a few times."

He raises an eyebrow—his one remaining human eye showing some trace of impatience.

Professor:

"They don’t tolerate slackers in guardian course. You’re built for more than just rebellion, you know. I didn’t spend years creating you so you could throw it all away by acting like a brat."

She narrows her eyes at him, but her response is less venomous than it could be. There's an odd mix of affection and tension between them.

Girl:

"Yeah, well… maybe if you didn't wake me up with a zap every morning, I'd be a little more 'pleasant.' Ever think of that?"

The Professor just grunts in response, returning to his tube of food, as she finishes her drink. She watches him for a moment longer, her expression softening just slightly. Then, with a smirk, she sticks her tongue out at him.

Girl:

"See you later, Professor."

Without waiting for a reply, she turns and heads out the door, her boots clicking against the sleek metal floor. The door slides shut behind her as she heads out into the bright, futuristic cityscape, leaving the tension of the morning behind her.

Scene: City Streets

The girl, now dressed in her academy uniform, steps out into the bustling city. The streets are alive with the hum of flying vehicles above, sleek transport pods weaving between towering skyscrapers. Neon signs in various languages flicker on the sides of buildings, advertising everything from advanced prosthetics to immersive VR experiences. The ground level, though crowded, is surprisingly clean, with moving walkways that guide pedestrians along the steel-and-glass landscape. Overhead, the sky is a murky gray, the distant sun filtered through layers of pollution shields.

The streets are lined with people—most androids, others cyborgs—going about their daily routines. Delivery drones zip between them, hovering low as they navigate through the throngs. Every few blocks, massive holographic billboards flash the latest academy rankings or the schedule for the next major Grav-Ball match.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

She walks past food stalls selling synthetic snacks and vending bots advertising nutrient cubes. The city, though futuristic, feels mechanical—more cold and efficient than welcoming.

Finally, she approaches a sleek, minimalistic bus stop with glowing signs indicating the next transport's arrival time. Two familiar faces are already waiting.

Rhea waves enthusiastically the moment she spots her, her long silver hair flowing over her shoulder. She has a kind face, but her eyes always seem to have a playful glint. Her academy uniform is neatly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight, which matches her personality: caring but not without a sharp tongue.

Rhea (teasing):

"Look who decided to join us this morning! Mira’s actually on time for once. I’m shocked. Did your professor finally install a working clock in that metal head of yours?"

Mira rolls her eyes, though there’s a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Funny. I think I’d prefer malfunctioning over dealing with you every morning."

She walks over, punching Rhea lightly on the arm as she leans against the bus stop railing.

Jax, leaning casually against the railing with his arms crossed, snorts at the exchange. His dark hair is messy in a way that somehow always looks intentional, and his uniform is far from regulation—his jacket hanging open, sleeves rolled up. He’s got that smug, carefree vibe that often gets him into trouble, but he’s quick-witted enough to talk his way out of it.

Jax (mocking):

"Please, Rhea. Let’s not pretend Mira’s ever gonna be on time consistently. She’s only here because of the Grav-Ball match today. Right, Mira? Can't miss the one thing you're actually good at."

Mira scoffs, folding her arms.

"First of all, I’m good at a lot of things. Second, Grav-Ball is a team sport, so technically I’m just carrying all of you on my back."

Jax laughs, but Rhea just rolls her eyes affectionately.

Rhea:

*"Right, sure. Just make sure you're actually there for the match this time. You’ve been disappearing a lot lately."

Mira's smile falters for a split second, but she quickly recovers, trying to brush it off.

Mira (deflecting):

"I haven’t been disappearing. I’ve been… busy."

But Jax isn't one to let things slide.

Jax:

*"Oh, busy, huh? You mean like when you 'disappeared' for a whole week just two days ago? Everyone was talking about it, you know."

Mira stiffens, her eyes flashing with something akin to anxiety, but she hides it behind a forced laugh.

Mira (quickly):

"I told you, it was nothing. Just... academy stuff. Extra training, that's all."

Rhea (frowning):

*"Extra training? For a whole week? Without telling anyone?"

Mira shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but clearly uncomfortable. She avoids Rhea’s concerned gaze.

Mira:

"You know how it is. They call you in for these stupid things and make you sign confidentiality agreements. Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal."

Jax (smirking):

*"Sure, Mira. Super top secret training, right? Sounds more like you’re hiding something."

Mira clenches her jaw slightly, her patience thinning.

Mira (irritated):

"Drop it, Jax. I said it’s nothing, so it’s nothing."

Rhea and Jax exchange glances, but don’t press further. They can tell something's off, but they're not the type to push too hard—yet.

Just then, the sleek, hover-bus arrives, its doors sliding open with a soft hiss. The three of them board, the tense moment passing as the conversation shifts back to their upcoming match.

Mira exhales quietly, grateful for the distraction, but a shadow lingers in her eyes as they take their seats.

Scene: Academy Bus

The hover-bus hums softly as it glides through the city streets, its sleek chrome body reflecting the neon lights. Inside, rows of cushioned seats line either side, with large transparent windows offering a view of the sprawling, futuristic cityscape. The seats are designed for comfort, with built-in neural connectors for those who want to study or entertain themselves during the ride.

Mira, Rhea, and Jax make their way to the middle section, where the seats have more space and a bit more privacy. Mira takes a seat by the window, while Rhea sits beside her, leaving Jax sprawled out lazily across the aisle in his usual laid-back manner.

As the bus gently hums forward, Mira gazes out the window, watching the city zoom by. Her friends are talking about the upcoming Grav-Ball match, but their voices fade into the background as her thoughts drift elsewhere. Her eyes narrow slightly as she remembers something from 10 days ago...

---

Mira's Inner Monologue:

"It was just another quiet night, about ten days ago. I had my VR headset on and was halfway through some cheesy romance drama. You know the kind—the kind that makes you roll your eyes but you still can’t stop watching. Ugh."

I was lying on my bed, sinking into the overly perfect world they’d created. The lead was this brooding guy with that smoldering, mysterious look, falling for the sweet, clumsy girl. It was predictably sappy, but…

I sighed and pulled off the VR headset, tossing it aside as the episode ended. I frowned at the ceiling, feeling this weird blush rise in my cheeks. What is it with these romance shows? They always get to me. And then, of course, the thought hit me—

"What's an android gotta do to find a boyfriend these days?"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. Seriously, I was so overthinking this. So, like any normal person, I decided to do something about it.

I grabbed my comm device and called Rhea.

---

Rhea’s voice over the comm, half annoyed, half amused:

"Mira, it's midnight. Why are you calling me?"

"Rhea, I need your help. I’ve just been watching this dumb show and it got me thinking. How does anyone even date around here? Like, all the guys at the academy are either brainwashed by the system or total jerks."

Rhea sighed. I could practically see her rolling her eyes through the call.

"Oh my god, you're watching those awful VR romances again, aren't you? Fine, fine. If you're that desperate, have you heard of LoveSync? It’s this dating network for people like us. You know, androids, cyborgs, augmented humans. Try it out or something."

Her teasing got to me a little, but I wasn’t about to admit she was right. So, of course, I looked up LoveSync immediately.

---

I was way more excited than I’d expected. I uploaded a profile picture, selected my specs, and filled out a short bio. Simple enough. The app was sleek and easy to use—like it was made for impatient people like me.

And then, I started swiping.

"I swiped through profiles like a maniac. There were so many options. Cute guys, smart guys, mysterious guys… but nothing really clicked for the first hour. It was like scrolling through an endless menu with no clear favorite."

I mean, sure, I found a few interesting ones. There was a guy who worked in neural programming and another who was into Grav-Ball like me. But none of them stood out. I kept scrolling. Kept swiping.

And then… I found him.

His profile picture caught my attention right away. He had black eyes that looked like they held a thousand secrets, and his wavy hair had this careless, just-got-out-of-bed look. Not too polished, but definitely my type.

He wasn’t flashy or trying too hard. His bio was short—mysterious, just like his eyes. ‘Looking for someone real in a world full of simulations.’ Cheesy? Maybe. But it worked on me.

---

I swiped right and—ding!—we matched immediately.

"I tried to play it cool. Really, I did. I wasn’t about to seem desperate."

He messaged me first:

"Hey, Mira. Your profile caught my eye. What’s someone like you doing on here?"

"Ugh, smooth. He had game, I’ll give him that."

"I typed back, trying to sound nonchalant: 'Oh, you know, just seeing what’s out there. What about you?'"

But he didn’t miss a beat. His replies were fast, confident, and before I knew it, I was hooked. We talked for hours—about everything and nothing. He had this way of making me feel like I was the only one he was talking to, even though I knew he probably had girls lined up for him."

"He had this energy… like he knew exactly what to say to keep me interested. And the worst part? It worked. I was trying so hard to play it cool, but deep down, I was already head over heels."

But, of course, I wasn’t about to let him know that.

---

The memory ends abruptly as Mira shifts in her seat, her eyes narrowing slightly as the bus continues its journey. Something about that night—the way things unfolded after that conversation—still didn’t sit right with her. But she shakes off the thought as Rhea nudges her, bringing her back to the present.

Rhea:

"Earth to Mira. You good? You’ve been zoning out for like, five minutes."

Mir

a (forcing a smile):

"Yeah, yeah. Just thinking about the match. Let’s go win this thing."

But even as she says it, her mind can’t quite let go of that memory, the start of something she still doesn’t fully understand.