They walked through the soul. A couple of classes must have just ended because it was busy, despite the wide-open green space. It was getting colder, and Hunter reckoned that the snow would come any day now. Yet the cold weather didn’t seem to affect the spirits of the students who appeared so cheerful to be there. Hunter got a few looks, and he wondered whether they were from potential enemies, or merely curious onlookers.

Despite his earlier awkwardness, Tilda seemed adept at defusing nerves. They talked about their mutual interest in constructs and etherium. It made the walk interesting, and helped to distract him from the crowds.

Hunter could remember a few details from the attack, as the weeks went by. Tattoo’s that curled down wrists, onto hands. Bracelets, and rings. One of them had worn boots with the word “CODY” written across one side with what Hunter could only assume was a felt pen.

Aera had told him to let him know if he remembered anything. So far, he’d been reluctant to tell her. He couldn’t be sure why, exactly.

All he knew was that the prospect of telling her made him nervous.

The same kind of nerves he felt when he was in a crowd, and people were looking at him, recognizing him from somewhere. Maybe it was from a news broadcast when his identity as an Oberon was announced to the world. Maybe it was when their friends pointed out that he was the guy who’d gotten beaten half to death during the first week of classes.

It was not the same kind of nervous he felt when he was around Tilda, though. Hunter couldn’t remember ever having felt as flustered as she seemed to make him feel. Except for when they were talking about constructs. There were several times when he wondered if he might be talking too much, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.

Sailor’s Diner was a quaint little place, reminding him of an early-century aesthetic— before they’d breached the edge of the world and discovered that the sky they thought they knew wasn’t real. It was also before Force Glyphs became common— most constructs were still barely considered useful beyond party tricks and lighting the homes of the wealthy. Back then, they’d imagined that they’d be able to reach the stars by strapping a metal hull to a missile, shooting explorers out into space to explore the stars— which they’d assumed would be orbited by planets and moons. As far as Hunter was aware, an attempt was never made, but the imagery had been popular in comic books and literature.

Hunter was kind of glad that it had been a generation which had been used to experiencing rapid change— his fathers generation, who saw an incredible expansion of human potential through electronics and computer technology. He presumed it made the pill, that their entire cosmology was wrong, easier to swallow. He and Tilda found themselves a small booth to sit at. Tilda seemed excited to be there, taking in the diner as if she were actually stepping into the past. A waitress came to greet them and took their orders. Hunter ordered a coffee and a sandwich with some fries, and Tilda ordered a strawberry milkshake alongside some fish and chips.

Hunter sipped the coffee when it came, testing it. He grimaced, and started shoveling in sugar. Tilda raised an eyebrow when she saw how much he was adding.

“To each their own,” Tilda said with a smirk. She closed her eyes in bliss as she sipped her milkshake through a straw.

Hunter regretted not getting one of his own, but the coffee would serve a purpose— keeping him fueled through the session with Aera.

“So,” Tilda said as their food was delivered to them, and Hunter was surprised by how quick the service was, “what else do you do in your spare time, when you’re not dropping screwdrivers?”

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Hunter coughed up some of the coffee he was sipping, but thankfully none of it left his mouth..

When he wasn’t getting his ass kicked by his adopted sister, he would be researching potentially world-changing subjects, like synergies; which could increase the efficiency of a large portion of mass-market constructs by a non-insignificant amount, rendering them more accessible to more people, which would probably cause an exponential increase in not only the amount of artisans in the world but the profit margins for businesses everywhere.

He was delving into revolutionary theories about AR acceleration and the body’s connection to etherium, which could push their species into a quality of life and physical capacity that Hunter wasn’t even sure he could imagine. Apart from that, he was refining his focus to states he’d never thought possible, after having only recently been inducted into one of the four most powerful family’s in the world— and was now targeted by people he’s never met, and might never meet, for reasons he might never know about.

“Oh, you know. Normal, everyday stuff, I guess,” Hunter shrugged.

She rolled her eyes.

“And by normal, every day student stuff, you mean ‘I research constructs all day, every day,’” she said, dropping her voice in a mocking tone, but Hunter didn’t hear any hostility.

Hunter sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I haven’t spent as much time researching as I'd like to. My apartment isn’t set up quite like the Artisan department. I’ve been wanting to find some equipment I can bring back home to convert my table into something a bit more useful, but I haven’t been having much luck.”

“You get your own apartment?” Tilda asked, her eyes going wide, “Of course, figures. You’re an Oberon now.”

She laughed and leaned back into her seat. She sighed and considered Hunter with a contemplative gaze.

“You know, I always thought that if the final round had been any different, you probably could have won,” she said, looking out the window, here eyes seeing something a thousand miles away.

Hunter smiled bitterly.

“That’s what I get for entering on my own,” he said.

“With an AR of 5,” Tilda said, somehow managing to whisper and shout at the same time, “getting fifth place on your own is a feat worth marking down in the history books as far as I’m concerned. Doing it with both hands practically tied behind your back? Its no wonder you managed to grab the attention of the Oberon’s.”

Hunter was silent for a moment. Hearing it from someone else— someone who wasn’t himself, or Trey, felt kind of good.

It felt vindicating.

He nodded as she spoke.

“You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that,” he said. She smiled and rested her chin on her hands.

“You may not have gotten first place, but you got the best prize,” she said. Hunter wanted to agree.

But he was starting to question whether that was true. It was one thing being demonized because of his father. It wasn’t like that stigma had gone away, it had just been outshone by his new middle name. Say what you want about the Comics, their negative attention only came out of Hunters talents with constructs. If they’d known he was a Koar? Who knows how they would have treated him.

In the end, he figured that none of that was any of her business. Their time together had been nice so far. He felt like it would be a shame add a sour note to it.

“It has its advantages,” he said, doing his best to offer a genuine smile. It seemed to do the trick.

They both finished their meals, and the time came for them to leave. Life around Barnum kept both of them quite busy, apparently. As they were saying their goodbye’s and turning to head their separate ways, Hunter was overcome with one of those irresistible urges he’d grown to both love and hate.

“Hey, Tilda,” he asked.

“Hmm?” She asked, turning back to face him.

“It was nice spending time with you,” he said, suddenly nervous about asking, but pushed the nerves away and focused on the feeling he’d had just a second ago, “Do you want to maybe do this again sometime? Like, maybe next week?”

She smiled. She really was kind of cute.

“Same time?” she asked.

“Yeah, that works for me,” he said, feeling his cheeks start to heat up.

She smiled and nodded.

“Me too,” she said.

As Hunter walked back home, he considered all that had happened to him at Barnum so far.

Up until today, it had felt either unbearably hostile, or boring and uneventful. But today the worlds seemed colored in a different shade.

Despite the grey sky, draping the world in a monochrome palette, Hunter felt that everything seemed a bit more colorful. The grass, the concrete, even the benches seemed more vibrant.

Hunter was feeling pretty good.

He smiled and nodded at a patrolling guard, who nodded back but kept his eyes on the street ahead of him, alert for trouble.

Maybe Academy life wouldn’t be so bad Afterall.