The school bus was already rumbling down the street as Mik jogged to the stop. They clambered aboard, the doors hissing shut behind them. The bus was packed, a sea of chattering students and flailing limbs. Mik squeezed into a seat near the back, wedged between a window that wouldn't open and a seventh-grader whose elbows seemed unnaturally sharp.

As the bus lurched forward, Mik felt the heat close in around them. The air was thick and stale, heavy with the scent of too many bodies in too small a space. The bowl of cereal they'd hastily eaten for breakfast churned uncomfortably in their stomach.

'Maybe if I throw up, I'll get out of the presentation,' they thought, then immediately chastised themselves for the idea. No, they couldn't back out now. They'd worked too hard, spent too many nights practicing in front of their bedroom mirror, Nebula as their sole audience.

X9's voice cut in: "Notice the outdated and overcrowded public transportation. In 2045, many schools were still struggling with budget cuts and inadequate infrastructure."

As they approached Millbrook High, Mik's anxiety ratcheted up another notch. The school loomed ahead, its once-proud brick facade now weathered and patched in places. A line of students shuffled through the metal detectors at the entrance, a grim reminder of the world they lived in.

Mik joined the line, fishing out their ID card. They watched as the security guard waved a wand over a student ahead, his face a mask of bored routine. It was a far cry from the open, welcoming campuses of 2065.

Inside, the hallways were a chaotic mix of peeling paint, flickering lights, and outdated lockers. Mik navigated through the crowd, dodging elbows and backpacks, making their way to first period.

In homeroom, Mrs. Patel struggled with the outdated smartboard, her frustration evident. "I'm sorry, class," she sighed. "We'll have to use the textbooks again today."

Groans filled the room. Mik sunk lower in their seat, wondering how they were supposed to learn about cutting-edge science with technology from the 2020s.

As Mik made their way to the cafeteria for lunch, they passed Trevor in the hallway. He was leaning against a locker, absently humming the same country song he'd been fixated on all week. His eyes locked onto Mik, and something in his expression shifted – almost like a glitch in a video feed.

"Well, if it isn't Mikayla," he sneered, but his voice had an odd resonance to it. "Still dressing from the lost and found?"

Mik hurried past, their face burning. It wasn't the first time Trevor had targeted them. Ever since fourth grade, when Mik had accidentally thrown up on him during square dancing in gym class, he'd made it his mission to make their life difficult. The fact that he'd once passed them a "Do you like me? Check yes or no" note made it all the more confusing and painful.

In the cafeteria, most cliques still formed along traditional gender lines. Mik's gaze wandered over the familiar groupings until it settled on a diverse group near the window. Among them sat Jasmine, her long teal hair catching the light as she laughed at something another student said.

Jasmine, with her caramel skin and almond-shaped brown eyes, had been Mik's friend since elementary school. Few knew that Jasmine used to be named Jason; having received gender affirming care from a young age, she simply looked like any other girl in their grade.

As if sensing Mikayla's gaze, Jasmine looked up and waved, gesturing for Mikayla to join them.

Their little group was an island of authenticity in the sea of high school conformity. There was Marcus, his nails painted galaxy purple to match his eyeliner, discussing drama club with Rio, whose brightly colored soccer cleats peeked out from under the table. Diana, first chair clarinet and proudly neurodivergent, was showing something on her school tablet to Ash, whose pronouns changed as often as their hair color.

"My dad lost his job to another AI," a boy was saying as Mik sat down at the table, his voice bitter. "Says there's no point in even trying anymore."

"At least your family can afford food," a girl retorted. "Half my neighborhood relies on community kitchens now."

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Jasmine leaned closer to Mik. "Hey, you okay? You seem out of it today."

Mik sighed. "Just worried about Alex. And my presentation later." They paused, then added hesitantly, "And... I don't know. Just feeling weird lately. Like something's not quite right, you know?"

Jasmine nodded sympathetically. "I get that. Remember, I'm here if you ever want to talk about anything."

As they continued chatting, Mik got up to order lunch from the cafeteria's automated dispensary. The touchscreen menu flickered as they scrolled through options, finally selecting a sandwich that would have seemed impossibly fancy to their parents' generation. As the machine hummed and whirred, preparing their meal, Mik glanced back at their friends, grateful for this small pocket of acceptance in an otherwise chaotic world.

A commotion erupted across the cafeteria. Trevor and his friends were taunting a younger student, shoving him around. But something about Trevor seemed off – his movements too jerky, his laughter slightly out of sync with the moment.

"Hey, freak!" he jeered. "Why don't you go back to where you came from?"

Mik tensed, recognizing the victim as a recent refugee whose family had fled the rising seas in Southeast Asia. Before they could react, a teacher intervened, separating the group.

"This is your final warning," the teacher said sternly to the bullies. "One more incident and you're in for mandatory empathy training."

As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Mik gathered their things, their mind whirling with everything they'd seen and heard. The world outside was chaotic, often cruel, but there were glimmers of hope too – in their diverse friend group, in the swift response to bullying, in small acts of kindness and understanding.

Walking to their next class, Mik's hand brushed against the small notebook in their pocket where they'd written their presentation. Despite everything, excitement bubbled up inside them. In just a few hours, they'd be sharing their passion for the cosmos with their classmates.

As Mik entered their English classroom, their heart was pounding. They took their seat, trying to calm the butterflies in their stomach. Mrs. Gonzalez, their English teacher, smiled encouragingly as she began the class.

"Alright, everyone. Today, we'll be hearing your persuasive speeches. Remember, you're not just presenting information, but crafting an argument. Who would like to go first?"

Before they could second-guess themselves, Mik's hand shot up. Mrs. Gonzalez nodded approvingly. "Excellent, Mik. The floor is yours."

Taking a deep breath, Mik walked to the front of the class. They looked out at their classmates, some interested, some bored, and for a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm them. But then they thought of Nebula's knowing eyes, of all those nights spent stargazing, and found their voice.

"Imagine, for a moment, that we're not alone," Mik started, their voice steadier than they felt. "With hundreds of billions of galaxies, each containing hundreds of billions of stars, the probability of Earth being the only planet with intelligent life is astronomically low."

As Mik continued, they felt their nervousness fade away, replaced by the excitement they always felt when talking about this subject. Their carefully prepared speech flowed smoothly, peppered with facts, humor, and thought-provoking questions.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," Mik said with a grin. "If aliens exist, why haven't they stopped by for a cup of coffee and some VidStream marathons? Well, consider this: on a cosmic scale, our civilization has existed for less time than it takes to say 'phone home' – and speaking of which, has anyone seen the new E.T. remake? Not as good as the original, if you ask my dad."

A ripple of laughter went through the class. Even Mrs. Gonzalez smiled.

Mik went on to discuss recent exoplanet discoveries and the amazing variety of environments where life exists right here on Earth. They smoothly transitioned to addressing common counterarguments, their voice growing more confident with each point.

"Of course, we can't talk about aliens without mentioning Area 51, crop circles, and little green men," Mik said, their eyes twinkling. "While these make for great HoloVids and conspiracy theories, they're not exactly scientific evidence. But they do show how fascinated we are by the idea of extraterrestrial life. From ancient cave paintings to modern virtual reality games, humans have always looked to the stars and wondered: are we alone?"

As Mik neared their conclusion, they noticed that the entire class was paying attention, even Trevor, who usually spent most lessons doodling in his notebook.

"In conclusion," Mik said, "while we don't have definitive proof of extraterrestrial intelligence yet, the sheer size of the universe makes it more likely that we're not alone than that we are. And personally, I find that incredibly exciting. Because every time we look up at the night sky, we might be seeing the light from someone else's sun."

As Mik finished, there was a moment of silence, then the class erupted into applause. Even Trevor looked impressed.

Mrs. Gonzalez beamed. "Excellent work, Mik! A well-researched, persuasive, and engaging presentation. You've set a high bar for the rest of the class."

As Mik returned to their seat, they felt a mixture of relief and exhilaration. For those few minutes in front of the class, talking about the vastness of the universe, all the confusing feelings about themselves had faded away. Up there, they had just been Mik - not a girl, not a boy, just a person passionate about the cosmos.