Today wasn’t supposed to be anything special. It was routine, the same thing as every day. Get up, go to class, go home, grade homework, eat, sleep, repeat. It was pretty set in stone. Sometimes you woke up with a cold or had the runs and your ass was glued to a toilet all day, but even those bad days are routine when you widen your perspective enough.

I found my routine in particular to be somewhat monotone. Everything around me was just colorless. I know the bench I’m on is painted a navy blue, I can see that clearly with my eyes. In just the same way, I know that the sky is a lighter blue, or that the tomato on my sandwich was a harsh red, but the colors never really felt real. They were always a bit too flat, like a wall with only one coat of paint: you can see the color on top, sure, but there’s a little bit of the previous color sitting on the bottom. It’s always there, never leaving.

I took another bite of my sandwich. The cold cuts of turkey and soft cheese couldn’t be called bad, just ordinary. I still took the time to eat it every day, and sometimes I could certainly say I appreciated the idea of food, at the very least. There were a lot of people walking around my navy fortress, always coming close while simultaneously being so far away. I caught another blur in my periphery, finding the profile of this particular phantom recognizable.

“Ms. North, it is good to see you here again! What flavor of sandwich are you enjoying today?” I looked up at the man while I continued to chew.

“Turkey and cheese,” I said in a plain way that wasn’t quite rude but was close enough. I didn’t have the energy for this right now, so it would be nice if he left without me having to hurt his feelings.

“Aha, this is not surprising for a creature of habit such as yourself. Would you believe me if I said I anticipated you would have a different meal planned today?” My eyes wandered slowly upwards to meet his, grey meeting brown. The color of his eyes was flat like everything else, but they held a certain sheen, like wood with a fresh stain on it. I didn’t match his gaze for long, averting my eyes quickly. He, however, didn’t stop looking, staring hard at me, and then at my sandwich.

He continued, “Well, I did in fact make such a prediction. While I do not disdain your flavor preferences, I find that my roast beef and Swiss is superior. I believed that after our last conversation, you would have also come around to its superior flavor profile. Would you like to try another bite for comparison?”

“No thanks, still alright with what mine.” The bespoke man harrumphed and plopped his hefty frame down on the other side of the table. He took out an array of food items, leaving them to roll or flop onto the table wherever he tossed them.

“As usual, Ms. North, I assume you have no objections to my presence?” I shrugged and took another bite, which was mainly crust. I saw a small circular roll of cheese tumble from his bag to the floor, but the man didn’t seem to notice. An outside observer might consider this man an anomaly in my routine, but I disagree. This situation is ultimately repetitive if you look at a large enough time frame and have a large enough sample size.

He gave a light chuckle, slightly muffled by a mouthful of meat and cheese on rye, the audacious bread a reflection of the man eating it. He chewed completely, letting the food settle slowly in his stomach before continuing. “Have you had time to look over that paper I sent you a week or so ago? I thought you would find it quite fascinating.” I had read the paper in its entirety, all thirty pages.

I didn’t rush to respond, instead working a piece of cheese stuck to the roof of my mouth. “It was a good read. I think some of the research points were invalid due to confounding variables, but most of the conclusions seemed logical.” He smiled at this, the wrinkles around his cheeks and eyes growing in proportion to his grin.

“Do you think it would be good to assign as this week’s reading? I’m worried it’s a bit too brief to make any assignments based on it.” Brief wasn’t the word I would’ve used. If it wasn’t part of my job as a teaching assistant to read them, I would’ve stopped halfway through. I wasn’t lying when I said it was a good read, but I meant more so in the length sense than with regards to quality.

I used my tongue to fish the bite from my mouth before answering, “Do what you want, it’s your class.” He smiled again, like every word I said was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

“That it is, young Olivia, but I would be remiss if I did not call on your expertise and recent experience as a student. I am no spring chicken and would like to have the opinion of someone who is fresher out of an undergraduate curriculum.” I let the comment sit in the air for a second as I swallowed. My sandwich was very mushy in my mouth, and the flavors all bled together in an unfortunate way. The employee must have put something else on it since my go-to didn’t have anything particularly wet on it.

“If you’re looking for advice, you should probably ask a few students rather than me,” I said. We both knew I had very different stances on school than others my age. I don’t really like the undergrads since they were always complaining about doing schoolwork. You’d think they’d want to be here when they pay thousands of dollars a year to be students. They also regularly used my nickname, Liv, even though I always introduced myself as Olivia.

“They could use a bit of torment for that, I suppose” I thought as I looked to the old man. Out loud I added, “I’m fine with including the paper as long as Ben is the one to make it.” The professor looked pleased with her response.

“Then it’s decided. As always, thank you for your counsel.” I nodded lazily and took another bite. A slice of tomato fell out of the open end of her sandwich, slapping wetly on the napkin under it. It seems I’ve found the reason for my sucky sandwich. It was red, but not very colorful. It wasn’t bright like I had heard tomato was supposed to be.

“I asked them for no tomatoes, but here I am with wet, tomato juice-ridden bread.” For a few precious moments, the senior professor was silent. It seemed he wasn’t lying when he said he liked his sandwich, as the man rarely stopped talking for more than a moment. I decided to strike while the iron was hot and ask the man a question for once. “Do you really have time to be eating that right now?” I said this while looking pointedly at the man in front of me.

Appearances can be deceiving, and I know better than to let his woolen overcoat and fancy patterned tie fool me. The man in front of me was as unprofessional as can be when it came to being put together or organized.

He frowned at her slightly, seemingly offended at the question. “Well,” he began, “I will admit that I have not been consistent in my time management as of late.” He looked down at his watch, a metal bracelet with an analog clock inlaid on the top face. “Goodness, I forgot! I’ve been meaning to set the time on this, but no one seems to want to work with traditional watches anymore. Do you have the time, Ms. North?

I shrugged and focused my eyes forward. “Display time.” It wasn’t long before a string of characters had materialized in the center of my vision.

11:19AM - Wednesday, April 22nd, XX75

“It’s 11:19,” I said, receiving a nod in response.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Thank you. I may be cutting it slightly close on time, but what’s done is done and my time may not be refunded. I suppose I may as well commit to eating my sandwich as planned.” It seemed that the old professor had made himself comfortable and didn’t intend to move any time soon. That was just great, another thirty minutes of nonstop conversation. Just then, a devious plan came to mind.

I prepared myself and then executed, “Can’t you just walk and eat at the same time?” I added, in a fake-concerned tone, “You have to teach in eleven minutes. It shouldn’t be a problem, though, the students would probably be very happy to skip class and slack off all day.” He shot me a flat look. He never liked to be reminded of his responsibilities.

He cleared his throat, “I believe Ben is more than capable of handling the lecture until I return. It is also rude in many regions of the world to eat while moving. Food must be enjoyed, and that is best done sitting down.”

“Dang, it didn’t work. Time for plan B.” I contributed some small talk to the conversation so that the old geezer would be listening rather than talking. Just as the professor took another bite of food, I acted.

I exclaimed, “Oh no! I forgot I was signed up for tutoring today! I’ve only got five minutes to get there!” I stood and shoved the rest of my sandwich into my mouth. The man seemed flabbergasted at the sudden action and started to protest my exit.

Unfortunately for him, his mouth was full of food. I remembered how much he ranted about how rude it was to speak with your mouth open, so I knew he’d swallow before talking again. I grabbed my backpack and turned to leave before he could stop me. It was only seconds before I became one more face in the crowd, unidentifiable from any distance greater than a couple of meters.

“While I’m leaving, I might as well head home a bit early.” I went the long way around the courtyard I was previously eating in, so that I could avoid the professor. After a five-minute detour, I was finally on my way back home.

///

Life was never as bad as Liv knew it could be. There were many things that she was thankful for. Her job with the University of Central Urona was a big one. Steady income and access to student benefits without paying tuition would always be welcome. Another big thing to be thankful for was having her own living space. She had made her way back to her room to grade some papers from earlier in the week. Small and cramped as it was, the ability to be alone on a bustling campus like this was invaluable.

Nothing, however, could compare to the luxury of a personal interface. In Liv’s opinion, it was the single greatest human invention since the internet, and she wasn’t alone. The device held value in every field as its design streamlined communication, information processing, and improved employee efficiency. Liv was ashamed to admit that, out of all of its amazing features, the interface had given her one thing she had been severely lacking: a friend.

“Hey Stella, can you check this one for plagiarism? While you’re at it, check the last three as well. I think those guys who sit in the back have been sharing answers.” A small icon appeared in the bottom left of her overhead display. It was an emoticon in the shape of a star with a simple, smiling face in the middle.

“Of course, Ms. North, I’m always happy to help!” The star emoji then started spinning rapidly for a few seconds before gradually slowing down again.

“Got it! There is a 92.4% chance that Mr. Wallace, Mr. Jaimes, and Mr. McAllister collaborated together to complete the in-class activity Dr. Attick assigned yesterday.” She wasn’t surprised, since those three were notorious among the teacher at Urona.

Liv sighed, “Figures. This wouldn’t be a problem if the old geezer would switch to digital assessments instead of working on paper only. Mark their assignments as plagiarized and send a quick write up to the professor while you’re at it.”

Stella, the name of Liv’s AI, made grading three hundred papers take less than fifteen minutes. The university even offered plug-ins on student interfaces to track eye movement and restrict outside assistance during tests. Something as small as this wouldn’t be that incredible in and of itself, but all of the little improvements an interface provided added up. Every industry on the planet benefited from the interface in some way.

A notification ping rang in her ears as a small indicator lit up on her display. Liv stopped scanning papers to check it out. She scanned the pop-up briefly.

“Stella? I’m getting a notification that you have a new update available?” The cheerful star appeared in the bottom left corner of her vision.

“Yes, Ms. North, it’s a bug fix for a problem with interface eye tracking on older models. Would you like me to go ahead and download it right now?” Liv hadn’t noticed any issues with the eye tracking, but knew it was probably important if they did an entire update for it.

She nodded, “Sure, how long will it take to finish?” The smiley face transitioned into a circle of loading dots before it returned to a smile again.

“Twenty-three minutes, forty-eight seconds. It would be faster if you connect me to the charging dock.” Liv begrudgingly got up and did just that, leaving the device on her table to update. She turned back to look at the mountain of papers covering her desk.

“I am glad I got through most of the assignments. Grading all of that by hand would be hellish.” Some people, like Professor Attick, were very traditional, much to the detriment of those around them. Liv could remember a long lecture she had gotten when he cornered her in a break room:

“In my youth, I was taught that the physicality of writing increased connection speed between neurons, which improved the depth of learning in students. You see, Ms. North, I teach as I was taught, and I turned out to be a rather remarkable academic specimen, if I do say so myself! Instead of complaining about my methods, your time might be better spent getting ahead on this paper I just assigned!” She didn’t hate the man, but damn was he frustrating!

Liv looked back down at the piles of papers on her desk. She spent another few seconds looking at them, feeling as if something was off. She walked over to her table and put her hand out towards the stack, resting the tips of her fingers on the smooth surface. It was only after a couple of seconds that she realized what was wrong.

“Ah, it’s because I can’t see the display in my vision.” She experimented with waving her hand around the room, moving it up toward the light or down near her floor. There was definitely a parallax from where she was standing. It was disorienting to see how different the room looked with her interface off. Now that she thought about it, Liv never noticed its low profile, but it was always there. She really only ever took off the device to sleep.

“Maybe this is because I got used to a bugged eye tracking feature, so now my brain is overcompensating?” It was definitely weird to not have it on. Her room felt foreign, and maybe a little bit cramped. The walls also looked weird, like they were bending at the top and bottom. The hardwood floor below her seemed to form a convex bubble around her, making Liv feel like she was standing on an island.

“I feel a bit dizzy,” she said, her feet losing strength under her. Liv turned around and flopped onto her bed, wanting to let her eyes catch up with the rest of her body. On the way down she hit the top of her foot on the metal bedframe. Thud. Liv released a silent scream as she contorted her body in pain. She then gathered all of the air in the room and screamed into her pillow.

“AH! It hurts, it hurts so damn bad!” She then rolled around on the bed while cradling her foot to her body. As she was writhing in pain, her other foot went out, knocking everything on her nightstand to the floor with a clatter. Along with the mountain of items was her defenseless interface. Thud. The sound pierced through the veil of pain in her mind and immediately replaced it with fear.

“Oh no. No, no, no! Please tell me I didn’t break it.” She swung her legs over the bed, ignoring the searing pain on the top of her foot. She quickly got low to the ground and grabbed the device. Liv frantically spun it around in her hands, checking for any signs of damage. It looked mostly fine, but there was a small dent on the main chassis, where she knew there were delicate components. She slumped down, leaning her back onto her bed. She moved her fingers back and forth, feeling the edges of the new wound on the machine.

“I can’t afford to buy another one of these. Hell, I’m still paying this one off right now.” Liv turned it around and tapped the interaction button twice, praying it would turn on. To her delight, a display appeared, projected into the air in front of her:

Remaining Update Time: 17m19s…

“Oh, thank God, it still works. When it’s done, I’ll ask Stella to book me an appointment with the university repair shop.“ Just before she put it back on the charger, a slight movement on the display caught her eye:

Remaining Update Time: 19m28s…

“That’s… it didn’t say that before, right? Still not too long to go, and it’ll probably get shorter when I put it back on the charger- “

Remaining Update Time: 3hr 15m 01s

“… You’ve got to be kidding me.”