Moving the books open to the right pages to the side, Monica pulled out the original drawing. She turned her gaze to the notebook in front of her and sighed tiredly - the calculations again did not add up.
“Well, fuck it...” the girl leaned back in her chair, throwing her head back - the sun was shining outside the window from under the clouds. The weather is normal in these parts. Today was a completely ordinary, exactly the same day. She stopped counting the days a long time ago. The time has long passed when she was guided by the schedule by day. Now, rather, it was the schedule that helped her determine what day it was and what week it was.
Monica jerked forward and stood up from her chair. The heels of the boots hit the concrete like metal.
We need to visit Jonah. The curator isn't particularly busy right now, is he? The holidays aren't over yet? Well, it doesn’t matter - he will find time for her.
Monica put the drawing into the spacer pocket on her shorts and picked up the board standing next to her. Having buttoned the open one under the throat a light jacket to the waist and turning the cooling power on the lower suit up, the girl left the room.
The sunlight hit her eyes. She winced. The Academy was warm in any weather, but today... Today was especially hot.
Although those around him apparently liked it. The students were gathering in an indoor park, and parts of the suits had apparently had their cooling circuits turned off. Monica could not say anything about those who did not have this useless backlight.
The particularly crazy ones didn’t even button up their undersuits all the way. What a moron you have to be to voluntarily increase your chances of accidentally dying outside the home, especially at the Academy. Fucked up, what else can I say...
Truly, thermoregulation is one of the greatest inventions of mankind, Monica thought slightly irritably, walking past another open window from the corridor leading into the Academy.
The tall windows that reached to the ceiling offered a view of the park. In the center of the park there was a teaching tower. The tower, like the Academy itself, was created from some kind of durable white material. Seeing this for the first time, for some time Monica even tried to figure it out, to find out what it was. But there was no exact data about this construction anywhere. Yes, so many people took part in the construction of the Academy that after so many years it is no longer possible to find out what happened here. At least not for her. One of the sponsors was the Council itself, and one of the main contractors was the Northern Center construction company. She didn’t have any acquaintances who could look for information for her either here or there.
Regretting those attempts, she glanced at the tower out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly her attention was attracted by a figure that suddenly rose from the ground. Monica slowed down. Eyebrows raised in surprise.
Professor De-Lassi? He said that he would return only in a month. Any changes at the faculty? It will be necessary to ask the guys from the spacer department to see why their extremely punctual Head suddenly changed his plans so dramatically. Although, this will only benefit her - she can try to catch him again and ask him about the aerodynamics of the board. His fingers involuntarily squeezed the cold model.
She started this project last year. Then it was credited to her in unfinished form - everything was more or less, but it worked and was not bad for a freshman. This year she could have started doing something else, but bringing this board to the appearance of a copy had already become a matter of principle - she had been a fan of Double Wings for several years, studied on the enchanting one, and still had not made herself something even remotely resembling copy! Unthinkable!
Marlin repeatedly helped her create the physical base of the board - during testing of prototypes and contours, test versions were constantly damaged. They repeated this so many times that today she could make her own foundations without much difficulty.
Before the holidays, she agreed with her supervisor, and he allowed her to continue the same project for this year. However, the condition was the creation of not just a functioning board, but a working board for everyday use. Now, no matter what the guys from other faculties say, creating a device that works stably for at least one month, or one that works for at most one week - you know, a very significant difference.
Marlene... Monica involuntarily smiled, remembering her. Their acquaintance was completely accidental - last year, Marlene suddenly showed up to Jonah while he was studying with Monica. As she later explained, apologizing to the girl, she decided to give Yona a surprise.
It turned out that she and Marlene had been dating for several years. But for him, her sudden work here came as a complete surprise.
Monika's acquaintance with Yone was completely unremarkable - one fine day, when the girl was sitting in the recreation room, her attention was attracted by a short red-haired man in a yellow suit. At that moment, he had already walked past her several times with a confused look, looking around as if looking for someone. As it turned out later, he was looking for the Head of the Faculty of Mechanics. Yone then decided for some reason that the Head would be here.
When the redhead went for another lap, Monica politely stopped him and asked what was the matter. There was something about him that was enough to make her look up from the latest scientific journal article and decide to approach him. Yone, as he introduced himself, had a pleasant, soft voice. Although there was some uncertainty in his gestures, he gave the impression of a man who knew exactly what or who he was looking for here and why.
After some thought, Monica mistook him for a senior student - maybe he was looking for a curator or one of his friends. And without thinking twice she tried to either make friends or suggest dating - the girl no longer remembered what exactly.
Yone was then embarrassed and somehow laughed it off - only then Monica realized that it was all about Marlene. And somehow their conversation turned out that the next day she was already sitting in the work apartments of Professor De-Shelder and listening to explanations of the work of some new circuit of her newly appointed curator.
Approaching his office, Monica knocked. When a muffled, bored voice came from inside with an invitation to come in, the girl did not keep her waiting.
Yone was lying on the sofa by the window to the left of the work table. Papers were again scattered on the table, and Yone was again glued to the screen.
Now his office looked like a typical freelancer's living room: educational books lay in several stacks on the floor next to the table. Lying next to the professor, also on the floor... Monica let out a laugh. The curriculum he left unattended.
Some sheets were even peeking out from under the sofa. Instead of cabinets, shelves were glued to the walls in outlines, in a strange order: some were empty, some were already bursting with the number of things piled on them. Only additional contours kept them from falling. Round lamps hung from the ceiling on long threads.
This was one of the few places at the Academy where Monica felt at home: what could be better than sneaking from the bedroom to the kitchen at two o’clock in the morning, in the dark trying to silently push aside with her foot another stack of things that had not been put away from last week magazines?
This office was the only one she had ever visited at the Academy that had fabric curtains. The professor used them as a board with reminders - all covered with sticky notes, some notes and sketches of contour connections. Dark parquet floors, walls the color of summer foliage with swirling patterns and yellow curtains against the wall.
Carefully, trying as much as possible not to step on the papers, Monica approached Yona. Using the toe of her boot to slightly move his legs and placing her board on the floor, the girl sat down next to him.
“Yone,” she began, leaning forward so that he could see her from behind his screen, “I have one question here, and I would like to consult with you.”
Yone turned his gaze to Monica.
"Is something not working out again, or is it a new idea?”
"The calculations don’t add up – could you look at what’s wrong with them?”
“Show me,” he sighed and turned off the screen, placing it on the floor next to the sofa.
The girl took out a drawing and several bound sheets of writing. Yone gestured to lift them into the air and pull them towards him. Monica showed exactly where the problem arose. Yone looked through the sheets for a short time, checking the calculations, and finally smiled indulgently.
"You're using the wrong circuit. Yes, they are very similar and in most cases there is no difference between them. But not in your case - the one you use cannot stably keep a person on the board. You will need to replace it and count everything again. Even here,” he pointed his finger at a detail from the drawing, “a controversial point arises: these links can interfere with each other’s work - I would advise spreading them a greater distance or somehow delimiting them,” Yone folded the sheets together and gave them back to the girl. “Overall, everything is pretty good so far. I think if you continue in the same spirit, by the end of the year you may well have a good copy. In the future, maybe you will somehow improve it, bring it to one of the companies that produce them - you will get a very powerful argument in your favor. Unless, of course, you even want to work there.”
“Doubt that,” Monica put away the papers and smiled broadly. “Thank you. I don’t even know what would I have done without you.”
Yone smiled back at her slightly, nodded and picked up the screen.
Having picked up the board, she just as carefully made her way to the door. Before going outside, she turned around - Yone looked away.
Going out into the corridor, the girl motioned for the clock - it was approaching lunch. Monica went down to the first floor and walked along a long straight corridor to the dining room.
The dining room was the third largest in the Academy: the first was the library, the second was the recreation hall on the first underground. From above, the Academy looked like a circle - the dining room was located at the outer wall and passed through all the buildings - the only room with only two walls. The tables were delimited by movable white lattice partitions, which students moved at will: by additionally surrounding themselves with a soundproofing circuit, they created a secluded place to work, or, conversely, by moving the tables they arranged various team meetings or meetings with the whole group.
During the day, the room was illuminated by sunlight through the panoramic windows. As in most of the classrooms here, the glass went up to the ceiling. As elsewhere, it was possible to activate solar shading on individual windows - on sunny days like today, Monica constantly used it.
When it got dark outside the window - many small light bulbs lit up on the ceiling with muted light - the ceiling became like a starry sky. For brighter light, students could attract the turned-off spheres floating in the air and activate them by adjusting the brightness.
Monica walked up to the table standing close to the glass, threw the board onto the chair and fell into the next one, activating the blackout. Rising up on her elbows, she pulled the interactive plate - the menu - towards her. It was with its help that the students chose their food: they selected the desired dishes, confirmed their choice and waited for the circuit applied to the tabletop to work. Thanks to it, the selected food was automatically teleported from the kitchen to the table. As Monica found out, it was prepared in advance by the cooks. She had a chance to meet one of them - it was Charlie who told her how this system works and explained the principle of operation of the connection.
Now there were few people in the hall - after all, there was still a whole month left before the start of the year. Two large companies on opposite sides of Monica were actively discussing something, covered with one-sided domes. At the smaller tables it was quieter: someone was working, someone was glued to the screen, one small company was marking something, perhaps its approved project.
Looking boredly at the other students, she turned her gaze to the nearest entrance - a guy was just entering the dining room. It was clear from his frowning, twisted face that he was very annoyed about something and did not hide it at all. A gray camping cloak was draped over his shoulders. Did he just arrive?
Having looked around the hall, he walked past Monica, pulled off his coat by the collar with one hand and threw it at the table next to the girl. The raincoat thudded against the glass and fell onto the back of the chair, sliding onto the seat. Exhaling irritably, the guy plopped down next to him. But he immediately sat down abruptly, leaned forward strongly, and instead of moving the chair forward, he collapsed with his whole body onto the table, propping his head with his right hand and, with a gesture with his left, pulling the interactive plate towards him.
He had dark brown hair down to the middle of his neck, below the beginning of the collar of his black second suit, but above the dark purple collar of his summer jacket. The long bangs were divided into three thick strands: the central one ran between the light gray-brown eyes and fell almost to the tip of the neat nose; the side ones elegantly framed the thin oval face and curved towards the central one on the cheeks. Thin long fingers nervously drummed on the table. Her mentor before the Academy had almost the same ones - for some reason she remembered.
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Casually flipping through the menu, the guy finally chose something for himself and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Awesome, of course,” she involuntarily read her lips. He exhaled silently and took out a card from his pocket, which Monica was surprised to recognize as a freshman clue card. With sharp movements, he turned it over several times, as if trying to find something other than two addresses, and with the feeling of a man who had long ago realized what hole he was in, perfectly aware of his own powerlessness, he threw it onto the table. Then, nevertheless, wrinkling his nose with displeasure, he pulled it back and put it away.
Monica's desk glowed with a yellowish light, teleporting her a cold mint lemonade and a chilled fresh tuna salad. She looked again at the newcomer - he chose hot tea and carrot cake. Strange choice for lunch.
He smiled tensely at the cake and began to eat it slowly. However, before reaching halfway, he suddenly stopped and, with the same frozen smile, began to slowly, irritably break it into pieces. With such rapture, as if this particular cake was the culprit of all his problems.
Monica picked up her board and, leaving the salad unfinished, walked over to him.
“Hello,” she greeted friendly. “I'm Monica. From the third year of charming. I see you have some problems? Freshman?”
He paused the destruction of the cake and, without releasing the fork from his hand, raised his head in surprise.
“Yes. How did you guess? Name’s Jimi,” he realized he didn’t introduce himself, gesturing to pull out the next chair. “Spacer.”
“That card that you later removed,” Monica answered, dropping down next to her. “What happened?” she nodded at the cake spread on the plate. Jimi looked at his hand in confusion. Got it. He put his fork on the table and answered with a nervous grin:
“My apartment is completely empty and I have absolutely no idea where to get the furniture.”
“Furniture?” she asked again incomprehensibly. “Ah,” Monica remembered. On the first day, she also was quite perplexed at what was happening - on the map on the Academy’s website one could find the general structure of the buildings: a library, a dining room, classrooms, approximate options for arranging apartments and other things that interested applicants. But most of the premises were not on the public map - no wonder he didn't know.
“The Academy has, let’s say, a warehouse – that’s what we call it – and the furniture is stored there,” Monica explained. “That’s it. You just come, choose what you need, and in about an hour they will teleport it to you. Therefore, after – a couple of hours it’s worth taking a walk somewhere so that something doesn’t accidentally fall on your head or grow into, say, your leg. Incidents...” she hesitated awkwardly. “Happened. Academy, of course, has very good medical personel,” she immediately hastened to reassure him, “but the feeling when an object is partially stuck in you is, to put it mildly, not the most pleasant. Therefore, you wait an hour or two and then arrange it as you want. By the way, since you haven’t even started yet, I advise you to pay attention to floating furniture - it can also be placed in the air - such high ceilings just allow you to swing in height.”
“And where it it? This warehouse or whatever it is?” Jimi asked impatiently, having forgotten about the cake and his recent irritation.
Monica smiled. Jimi looked... interesting.
“I can show you. Right now. Let's go to?”
“I would be very grateful,” he jumped up and immediately asked in bewilderment. “Oh, well, there’s nothing like a catalog there? Are they more convenient? To simply – what about food? – he nodded towards the table.”
Monica stood up.
“No,” she answered with a chuckle. “There is no such thing. You come in person and personally evaluate the size and contours – if it fits or if it doesn’t fit. This, of course, is one of the Montis Academies, but what you said - catalogs with full-size three-dimensional visualization - are produced by furniture manufacturers. The Academy's warehouse... In general, the local leadership did not bother with such things.”
Having gone down to the first underground, they walked along the same main large corridor as on the floors starting from the second. The only difference between them was the complete absence of windows - their place was taken by illuminated stained glass windows with images of landscapes of Montis.
Stopping at a large automatic door, Monica placed her palm on the scanner on one of the doors, which was located in the standard place of the handle. The device read the identification number and the doors opened, letting the students inside.
Jimi followed him in, looking around. He didn't look surprised, but he still had a clear look of amazement on his face. At first, he even hesitated, but quickly got his bearings and hurried after his new acquaintance.
The place, unofficially called a warehouse at the Academy, consisted of large rooms completely filled with various furniture, materials and decor. Here students, and not only them, teachers were also frequent visitors. Here everyone could find almost anything: from wooden beams, Monica knew people who used them as supports under the floor of a makeshift second floor in their personal apartments, to a portable safety net for unsafe experiments in a work classroom.
Objects were located literally everywhere. They filled the space of the warehouse as much as possible, which is why it looked like expensive projections crookedly superimposed on each other: now the guys were just passing under the lime velvet sofa and armchair. The chair was suddenly surrounded by a white spherical outline, and it disappeared, teleporting, apparently, to someone’s apartment.
Monica stopped, turning around Jimi.
“This,” she gestured around the room, “is the warehouse.” You go and choose what you like. Each item has a small panel in a visible place - you can easily find it. You touch it with your hand with an identifier, and the item is added to your list. There are screens throughout all the rooms where you can also look at your list using an identifier - this is where you finally select what you need and send it where exactly you need it. Sometimes something breaks here,” she pointed upward. Just at that moment, one of the newly appeared tables finally cracked and fell in two. The halves were instantly engulfed in the porta-light. – But here it’s normal. The furniture here has a much smaller margin of safety, as it is intended for temporary use. Constantly updated and also constantly broken. Well, you know, especially in work classrooms - there is always someone accidentally breaking something. If it breaks, just come down here and remove the item from your room. That, it seems, is all.
“Thank you very much,” Jimi breathed out with relief. - Listen, do you have mail?
“Of course,” Monica nodded, unable to contain her chuckle. Who doesn't have mail? – But I suggest it’s better to exchange accounts in Echo. Are you there?
“Yes, there is,” Jimi took out the screen, and they exchanged contacts. K. Klaus.
“K – does your last name start with K?” Monica asked.
“No,” he grinned. “K is just K. My last name is Mor. So, and you are, what, Nay? Or Es?”
“Intri.”
“Monica Intri,” he drawled. “Sounds familiar.”
“We haven't crossed paths before?” Monica suggested. It seemed to her that she had already seen Jimi somewhere. Perhaps they had once crossed paths at some event, but she didn’t remember it at all.
“No,” Jimi disagreed with an incomprehensible confidence. “Definitely not.”
“Then I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Okay, then you get used to it here, we’ll talk to you later.”
Smiling widely, Monica saluted him, turned on her heel and quickly walked towards the exit.
Voice. Jimi's voice was almost the same medium timbre as her mentor 's - suddenly it dawned on her. Only higher. Okay, the girl threw her head back with a sigh, burying her hand in her hair, touching the top of her forehead with her wrist, it’s time to admit that she really already sees Dorian’s “name” everywhere.
In the meantime, we need to move on with the project. Time doesn’t wait, and who knows when her supervisor will decide to go on vacation.
When the holidays were announced, he remained at the Academy, thanks to which Monica could continue working. And since Yone now has more free time, he can devote more of it to her. And the more time she has now, the more time she will have later.
The flame curled into a spiral. Rippling smoothly like sea waves, it formed a ring around Michelle. The girl threw her hands up, changing the variable in the formula. The fire gathered into a thin stream and struck.
The shield sparkled. Liquid fire hissed and dripped onto the floor. It froze in darkening splashes on the white floor. Nika added an outline - the shield was covered with a cloudy film. From the center of contact with the fire, white stripes began to spread across the shield. They emitted steam that flowed out and wrapped around the flames, and slowly extinguished it. The stream began to thin out.
Michelle discarded the non-working outline. She rolled to the side, avoiding the steam rushing towards her. Activated the anatomical shield. She pushed off from the floor and, starting a new connection, rushed towards Nika.
Nika dropped the shield that restored transparency. She pushed up and to the side with one hand, and with the other weaved a pattern that launched Michelle into the air. At the same time, another one, who created a thin air thread, tried to knock down the bundle.
Michelle created a temporary plate underneath her. It pushed her higher and collapsed as soon as her feet left the surface. The thread wrapped around Michelle's arm, blocking her mobility. But the connection was already completed.
The shock wave knocked Nika off her feet and threw her several meters away. Her fingers traced dark grooves on the floor, slowing her slide. This moment allowed Michelle to get rid of the rope and weave a new bundle.
The air became heavier and fell on her opponent, who did not have time to rise. Nika fell to her knees, strengthening the shield, weaving contour after contour. The air around Michelle's ankles turned to steel, holding her in place.
A thin arrow of water flew out from under the floor, stopping just under Nika's chin. The steel shard stopped at Michelle's neck.
“Stop!” a voice came from above. The girls deactivated the contours. We returned to the center and shook hands with each other, smiling contentedly.
“Okay,” landing silently, Hansel jumped down to them. “There are places where the performance is lame, but overall it’s very good. Michelle, you need to train yourself to maintain pure elemental control for a longer period of time and work on your own speed. Nicolet,” the professor turned to her, “I advise you to pay more attention to materialization - you are doing well, but due to the use of air in your instruments, the ligaments are slowing down. I'm not suggesting that it should be replaced by anything else, but controlling clean air and using it as an intermediate material have major differences. You should not assume that since you manage to manage the thread, the same will happen with materialization. Regarding materialization,” she turned to the stands, addressing the rest of the students who were watching the progress of the battle from above. “During the battle, we are not the creators. We do not set ourselves the task of creating a real subject, we have the task of materializing the temporary weapon and using it.”
Hensel returned to her seat and nodded to the next couple as the girls went upstairs. Monica rose from her seat and walked over to Michelle.
“It was cool.”
“But not fast enough.”
“Can you use additional strengthening on the muscles?” Monica suggested.
“Already. Increasing it even more may no longer be safe for constant use. No, Mon,” she shook her head, “Professor Lebel is right – I need to train more.”
“You can handle it. There’s still time,” Monica tried to cheer her up, patting her on the shoulder.
“I hope so,” Michelle sighed.
“Will you have any project work this year? Or is it just a practical exam again?”
“The project..” Michelle thought about it. “No, I don’t think so. Perhaps there will be several people who will undertake to do something more or less working, but you yourself know how difficult it is. Me personally, no. I will be preparing for practice. After all, we didn't come here for inventions. Wrong specialty. This is not the kind of work that will happen later.”
“It turns out that those who take on projects at your department want to develop new types of combat circuits?”
“It turns out that’s true,” Michelle agreed. “Like I said, most of us won’t need this. I have a classmate who wants to do sniper stuff, but she also doesn’t touch projects now - she says that she doesn’t care about finishing her studies in space studies later. By the way, how's your board doing?”
Monica sighed. It would be wrong to say that Michelle is easier. But every time, comparing her exam and her project, it seemed to the girl that it was not equivalent: project work took more time and required more preparation.
Most of the militants, for the most part, did not even need to visit the library, let alone spend many hours searching for the necessary information - they only needed to practice connections, improve their reflexes and repeat what they had learned.
“Enchanted. While there is time and Yone is not so busy, take it easy, but when school starts, there...” the girl waved her hand. “I can handle it.”
“What can I say, you are cool. I don’t think I would have the patience to work on one thing for even a year, let alone two.”
Michelle constantly said that she could not study in any other specialty. It was difficult for her to focus on one thing for a long time - she wanted movement, action. Monica could probably understand her. And although, unlike her friend, such endless energy and unbridled optimism were completely unusual for Monica, this did not prevent them from having a pleasant time together.
“We should start teamwork this year,” Michelle suddenly said.
“How is that?” Monica didn’t understand. In her department, everyone worked individually throughout all years of study; she read about this even before she arrived here. But she wasn’t too interested in what was happening with others.
“In the Security Bureau, each person is part of a team, the composition may change, but the fact that these are three people complementing each other is always unchanged. They all have different specializations - this allows them to perform work tasks well. In the Bureau, the team always has one spacer specialist and one fighter, and the third depends on who is more suitable. But we will work with our classmates, so practice in a standard team will be after graduation.”
“But why do that?”
“I can assume that before the beginning of this year we will be given the opportunity to choose specializations, and further training and division into threes will take place taking this into account - that is, we will definitely not be completely the same now.”
“You don’t already,” Monica grinned and asked in surprise. “Didn’t you ask the guys from the third?”
“From the fourth, actually,” Michelle corrected. “We are the third. But no. I didn't ask. I read about this, but now I don’t remember exactly when this should happen - before the start, or in the middle of the year.”
“So, you have already decided?” Monica asked impatiently.
“Yes,” Michelle laughed quietly, expecting such a reaction from her friend. “I want to be an operative.”
“And why am I not surprised?” Monica smiled.
“Look,” Michelle suddenly pointed down to the court where Anthony and another girl were fighting. Monica didn't remember her name. “He’s going to become a criminologist – it’s quite possible that we will overlap at work. That would be very nice. He has good technique, and if he really chooses that specialization, I think he can go far.”
“Who are you talking about here?” Nika came up from behind, leaning her hand on Michelle’s shoulder.
“About Anthony,” Michelle smiled.
“Ah,” she said understandingly. “Anthony. Yes, he’s not bad,” Nika turned her gaze to the court. “By the way, he won. However, this is not surprising.”
Anthony and his rival stood nearby and listened to Hensel. Professor Lebel analyzed their competition and made recommendations. When she finished with Anthony, he looked up, found Michelle and waved at her in a friendly manner. Michelle repeated his gesture. Anthony smiled at her before turning to Hensel.
“How long have you known each other?”Monica asked, looking at him with interest.
“Two years. We also met at the Academy.”
“Yeah? Looking from the side you can't tell.”
“One day, we all went out into the city to have fun, closer to night, groups of similar interests formed, and Michelle and I ended up with Annie. He talked very interestingly about new toys for close combat on the hunt, and Michelle, as we know, was also very interested in this then. So they started talking, and then...”
“We turned out to have very similar interests,” Michelle interrupted. “That’s how we became friends later.”
“Somehow this...“ Monica shrugged uncertainly. “Doesn’t sound very plausible.”
Michelle leaned closer and said quietly:
“Well, that’s true. I'll tell you later, the story is actually really funny.”
“What are we whispering about?” Anthony’s clear voice was heard nearby – the next couple had already started training, and he was able to approach the girls.
“About our acquaintance,” Michelle answered. “Not the very first time, but the one after which we became friends.”
“Ah,” said Anthony, understandingly. “I’ll be interested in listening too. Only, you’re not here, are you?..” he nodded towards the other students.
“Of course not. By the way, do you have any ideas where we could go after a lesson?” Michelle asked him.
“To talk?” he clarified, waiting for a nod. “Yes, well, I know one place. I myself go there from time to time when I go out into the city. You will like it,” Anthony assured them, smiling.