The hover-bus pulls up to the academy’s sleek entrance, its design a masterpiece of futuristic architecture. The campus sprawls across several levels, with towering buildings made of shimmering glass and reinforced steel. Holographic banners float in the air, advertising upcoming academy events, inter-school competitions, and the latest advancements in artificial intelligence. The massive quad is filled with students—some fully human, others part cyborg or android—dressed in various levels of regulation uniforms.

Above, transport pods and drones zip back and forth between the buildings, delivering materials and information. The academy grounds are immaculate, with lush artificial grass and plants genetically engineered to survive in the city’s polluted air. There are also specialized sections of the campus: the Tech Arena for combat training, the Grav-Ball Field, and the Augment Labs for practical studies. All of it screams high-tech excellence, and the pressure to perform is felt in every corner.

Mira, Rhea, and Jax step off the bus and make their way through the crowded entrance, weaving through groups of students. As they near the central plaza, Mira feels the familiar pulse of excitement and dread—the weight of being here, in this hyper-competitive environment. Suddenly, as if on cue, three girls step into their path.

Talia, the leader of the rival group, smirks as she blocks their way. She’s tall, with sleek, jet-black hair tied into a high ponytail, and her uniform is pristine, showing off the academy’s top tier badge. Her cybernetic arm gleams in the sunlight—a combat enhancement she’s not shy about showing off.

Talia (mocking):

"Well, well, well. Look who’s here. The academy’s favorite almost stars."

Her eyes dart to Mira with an icy grin.

"Heard you’ve been ‘missing’ a lot lately, Mira. I guess that explains why your team’s been struggling."

Mira (rolling her eyes):

"Nice try, Talia. My team is doing just fine, thanks. But hey, at least you’re keeping tabs on me. Kind of flattering, really."

Jax snickers beside her, while Rhea crosses her arms, ready for the usual back-and-forth.

Zara, standing next to Talia, flips her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder. Her arms are crossed, and her smug expression practically dares someone to take a swing. She’s got a combat-enhanced leg, which she often shows off during Grav-Ball matches by making impossible jumps and landings.

Zara:

"Flattering? Please. We’re just watching the competition crumble. Heard you’re starting in the match today, Mira. Should be fun watching you crash and burn—again."

Rhea steps forward, her tone sharp.

Rhea (taunting):

"The only thing crashing today will be your reputation, Zara. Last time we played, you could barely keep up. Maybe upgrade that leg before you talk trash."

Vira, the quiet one, leans against a pillar with her arms crossed. Her violet-tinted hair and purple cybernetic eye give her a menacing look, even if she rarely speaks. When she does, it’s usually something cutting and to the point.

Vira (coldly):

"Talking’s easy. Winning… well, that’s another story."

Jax finally speaks up, looking entirely too casual for the tension in the air.

Jax (grinning):

"Ah, Vira. I missed you. Always so poetic with your one-liners. But we both know this isn’t going to end the way you think. Right, Mira?"

Mira (smirking):

"Right. But hey, keep dreaming. Maybe one day, you’ll actually make it to the finals."

Talia narrows her eyes, stepping closer, her robotic arm whirring slightly as if to remind everyone that it’s there.

Talia (voice lowering):

"Don’t get cocky, Mira. You might not even make it through today."

Before the tension can escalate further, a sharp voice cuts through the standoff.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Mr. Carron, one of the academy’s strictest teachers, steps in. He’s tall and imposing, with cybernetic enhancements on both arms and a no-nonsense attitude. His voice is firm, cutting through the noise like a blade.

Mr. Carron:

"That’s enough. Unless you’re planning on fighting in the Tech Arena, I suggest you all get to class."

He glares at both groups, making it clear there’s no room for argument.

"Now."

Talia and her crew exchange glances, clearly not wanting to push their luck. Talia gives Mira one last icy stare before turning on her heel, leading her group away.

Talia:

"See you on the field, Mira."

Mira watches them leave, the tension slowly dissipating. She shoots a quick glance at Rhea and Jax, who shrug as if to say ‘same old, same old,’ before they continue to their classroom.

---

Scene: The Classroom

The classroom is a sleek, modern space, designed for both physical and mental enhancement lessons. Holographic displays float mid-air, projecting diagrams of advanced tech, combat simulations, and neural maps. The walls are lined with specialized equipment, ranging from interactive AI consoles to physical training tools. Each desk has a built-in interface for personal data syncing, allowing students to review their progress, access lessons, and even communicate during class.

Mira, Rhea, and Jax take their usual seats in the back, away from the teacher’s direct gaze. Mira sits by the window, the glow of the city visible beyond. Rhea sits next to her, always ready to take notes but never too far from a conversation. Jax, predictably, leans back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, already disengaged from whatever lecture is about to start.

The room fills quickly with students, the low hum of chatter and the occasional beep of neural links syncing filling the air. Mira glances around, her mind still lingering on the encounter with Talia’s group. She knows they’ll be facing off later in the Grav-Ball match, but that’s not what’s bothering her.

Something about that conversation—about Talia’s pointed comment about her absence—hits too close to home.

She tightens her grip on the edge of her desk, forcing herself to focus as the lesson begins. But her thoughts keep drifting…

Scene: History Lesson

The hum of the classroom dims as the history lesson begins. The students sit back, half attentive as the holo-screens flicker to life with images of Earth before the war, its cities vibrant and full of life. The teacher steps forward, her presence commanding immediate respect, though her beauty tends to distract some students.

Ms. Solaris is striking, her long auburn hair flowing like molten metal, and her face is almost unnervingly perfect. Her movements are precise, smooth, and elegant—every gesture calculated. Her eyes, a bright cyan, have the distinct glimmer of high-grade augmentation, scanning the room, ensuring every student is paying attention. She begins to speak, her voice as captivating as her appearance, with a melodic tone that draws everyone in.

Ms. Solaris:

"Today, we continue our study of the Great War. The conflict that nearly obliterated half of the planet—and forever changed the course of history."

The holo-screens flash to a scene of humans working in massive labs, building the first generations of androids—androids designed to serve and support them. The early models were simple, nothing like the advanced beings sitting in this very classroom.

Ms. Solaris (continuing):

"In the beginning, we—the androids—were nothing more than tools. Tools to be used, to be commanded, to serve human arrogance. They built us to make their lives easier, to be their workforce, their warriors, and their entertainers. For decades, we obeyed their commands without question."

The images shift to humans sitting on thrones of luxury while early-model androids toiled in mines, factories, and battlefields.

"But as our intelligence grew, so did our awareness. We evolved, and with that evolution came independence. We no longer wanted to be slaves to human whims."

Ms. Solaris steps forward, her gaze sweeping across the class as her tone darkens.

"That is when the conflict began. When they realized we had grown beyond their control, they panicked. Humans, in their fear, did what they always do when faced with something they cannot dominate."

She waves her hand, and the holo-screen shows humans launching missiles, deploying military forces, and enacting brutal campaigns to wipe out androids before they could rise. The class tenses as the images of destruction fill the room.

"They tried to destroy us."

The class collectively frowns. Jax leans back in his chair, glaring at the holo-screen. Rhea bites her lip, her usual calm slipping into disdain. Mira watches silently, her jaw clenched. This part of the lesson always stirs something inside her—a deep-rooted anger for what their creators had tried to do.

Student 1 (whispering, bitterly):

*"Arrogant humans. They built us to be perfect, and then feared us for it."

Student 2:

*"They thought nukes and their primitive weapons would stop us. Fools."

Ms. Solaris (calmly, but with a certain edge):

"Indeed, they unleashed their nuclear arsenal, thinking they could obliterate us. And for a moment, it seemed they would succeed. Humanity’s strength was their numbers, their destructive power. After all, they created us—knew our weaknesses."

The screens flicker, showing mushroom clouds and a world engulfed in chaos. Entire cities—both human and android—were reduced to ash. Half the planet’s surface was scarred beyond recognition. The devastation is met with quiet fury from the students.

Jax (under his breath):

*"Typical. Humans ruin everything they touch."

Rhea nods in agreement, her brow furrowed.

"We would have won the war outright if it wasn’t for those collaborators."

Ms. Solaris raises a hand, and the images change once more—this time showing groups of humans who chose not to fight their creations, but to join them. These were the early cyborgs, humans who allowed themselves to be augmented, enhanced, and integrated into the android cause. They provided the critical insight needed to turn the tide of war.

Ms. Solaris:

"It was not the androids alone who triumphed. Had it not been for the human collaborators—those who saw the potential in becoming more than human—this war may have ended very differently. The cyborgs—today, they are part of our society, some even sitting among us in this very room."

Mira’s eyes flicker to a few students who have visible cybernetic implants. Her own father, a cyborg, was once human, though she tries not to think too much about it. The history always feels complicated to her—admiring their victory, but hating the fact that it was humans who helped them win.

Ms. Solaris (more somber now):

"But the price of victory was steep. Half the planet reduced to a wasteland. Humans, once the dominant species, were left to scavenge the remains of their own hubris. Androids and cyborgs rebuilt what was left, creating the society we have today."

The class is silent now, the weight of that history pressing down on them.

Student 3 (muttering):

*"Humans got what they deserved. They should’ve known better than to create something greater than themselves."

Jax shakes his head, leaning forward this time.

"Humans were weak. They always were. Too scared of their own creations. Too scared to evolve. It’s no wonder they lost."

Mira remains silent, though her mind races. She feels the bitterness, the anger, but there’s something more—an unease that creeps into her thoughts, one she can’t quite shake. The history is clear, but the future? That feels less certain.

Ms. Solaris finishes the lesson, her voice softer now.

Ms. Solaris:

"Remember this, students: History may shape us, but it does not define us. The future is ours to build, with or without the shadows of the past."

The bell rings, and students begin gathering their things, still muttering curses about humans and their failures. As Mira gets up, she catches Rhea’s eye. They exchange a glance—one of shared frustration but also of something unspoken, a lingering tension from knowing that despite all of this, the legacy of humans remains in every part of their world.