I found my class and seat easily, thanks to the advanced technology embedded in the classroom. Each desk and chair was a marvel of futuristic design, their surfaces smooth and gleaming with a faint metallic sheen. Names were displayed on the desks like watermarks, glowing softly in a pale blue light. My name—Zahara Nia—was clearly visible on the first seat by the window in the third row.
As I sat down, I noticed a small compartment attached to the desk. Following the example of the student across from me, I pressed my thumb against it. The compartment slid open, revealing a stack of thin, translucent tablets that I assumed were textbooks. I picked one at random and opened it, only to be met with a jumble of unfamiliar symbols and formulas.
My heart sank. I had been a history and environmental researcher in my past life, well-versed in chemistry and physics, but these equations were unlike anything I had ever seen. The symbols were alien, the formulas incomprehensible. I felt a pang of frustration. How was I supposed to keep up in this world if I couldn’t even understand the basics?
“Alright, everyone, settle down,” a voice called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I looked up to see a tall, dark-skinned man with grey hair entering the room. He carried a sleek, futuristic tablet in one hand and a straight, white rod in the other. Despite his age, he moved with the energy of someone much younger, his sharp eyes scanning the room with authority.
“I hope you’re all well prepared for today,” he began, his voice calm but commanding. “Filling in your future course of study is crucial. The path you choose today will determine the trajectory of your lives.”
I frowned. That seemed overly dramatic. In my previous life, people changed careers all the time. Surely, it couldn’t be that serious here.
The students around me, however, seemed to take his words to heart. A wave of whispers swept through the room, tense and anxious.
“What to do? I’m not ready to pick a side yet!” I heard a girl behind me whisper, her voice trembling with worry.
The atmosphere grew heavier, the weight of the decision pressing down on everyone.
“Alright, look at this graph,” the man said, raising the white rod in his hand. He pointed it at what I had assumed was a smooth whiteboard, and instantly, a holographic illustration appeared in midair. The graph was complex, filled with lines and data points that I couldn’t begin to understand.
“In this class, I am very confident that we already have students who qualify to join the Scientific Research Institute of Aetheris,” the man continued. “This is a big deal—not just for the school, but for Region D at large.”
Another wave of whispers erupted, and I noticed several students glancing at me—some discreetly, others openly. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, unsure of what their looks meant.
“Go ahead and fill in your data,” the man instructed. “We’ll start with the first row. Come forward to my desk and make your choice.”
The boy in the first row stood up. He was of medium height, with round glasses and a clean-cut appearance. He walked to the front of the room, where the man handed him the tablet. The boy made his selection, and the man nodded in approval, as if he had expected the choice.
The process repeated itself, each student stepping forward to make their decision. The tension in the room was palpable, the silence broken only by the occasional murmur of encouragement or the soft hum of the tablet.
Finally, it was my turn. The classroom fell completely silent, the weight of everyone’s attention heavy on my shoulders. I walked to the front, my mind racing. I couldn’t pick a scientific field—that much was clear. The formulas I had seen earlier were beyond my understanding, and I had no desire to dive into a world I couldn’t navigate.
The man handed me the tablet, and a list of majors appeared on the screen. I scrolled past the scientific fields—Advanced Quantum Mechanics, Aetherium Engineering, Galactic Biology—until I found what I was looking for: History and Ancient Findings.
Without hesitation, I selected the field and pressed my thumb to the screen to confirm my choice. The man looked at me with a complicated expression, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to decipher my decision. I gave him a polite smile and returned to my seat, ignoring the whispers that followed me.
The rest of the students completed their submissions, and the man finally addressed the class again.
“Everything has been set,” he said, picking up his tablet. “The results of your choices will be uploaded to the school forum once your final grades are released. Please check for your names then and see where you’ve been placed.”
With that, he left the room, leaving behind a classroom buzzing with nervous energy.
“Zahara?” a voice called out to me. I turned to see a tall, dark-skinned girl with smooth, flawless skin and sharp, chiseled features. Her white school uniform accentuated her slim figure, as an East African who had lived in Africa for all my life, I immediately recognized her as South Sudanese.
“Did you apply for the Scientific Research major?” she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and inquiry.
“No,” I replied simply.
The classroom erupted into murmurs, the students clearly shocked by my answer.
“What? But that’s always been your passion!” the girl exclaimed, her eyes wide.
“People change their minds,” I said with a shrug.
“But… what will you major in now?” she pressed.
“History,” I replied, since the my choice would be uploaded any way, telling her wasn't an issue.
“History?” she repeated, her voice tinged with incredulity. “People who work in that field are usually nobodies. No offense, but you really need to think twice about this.”
“It’s alright,” I said, keeping my tone calm. “I’m content with my choice.”
The girl sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, I just think it’s a pity. You always got first place in everything you did. Seeing you not pick the most sought-after major—one you’re more than qualified for—is a loss for the school and the Federation.”
With that, she walked away, leaving me to process her words.
She wasn’t wrong. It seemed Zahara had been a star student, excelling in everything she did. But I wasn’t Zahara—not really. I was Safi Amy, a history researcher from a different time and place. My passion lay in uncovering the past, not unraveling the mysteries of futuristic science.
As the students filed out of the classroom, I stayed behind for a moment, staring at the holographic graph still floating in the air. The symbols and formulas were as alien to me as this world itself. But one thing was clear: I had made the right choice.
History was my path, and through it, I would uncover the secrets of Aetheris.
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