The morning sunlight spilled into Reina's lab, the curtains left half-open so golden beams could stretch across the cluttered workbench. Wires, sketches, disassembled chips, and a single halo prototype gleamed faintly in the light, almost like it was alive. Reina stood at the center, hair tied loosely to keep it from falling into her eyes, wearing her usual uniform overlapped with her trusty lab coat.
Today wasn't about theory anymore. Today was about proof.
"ANIER," she said calmly, her hands on the table as she inspected the polished metal frame of the halo. "System status check."
[✔ Halo Unit – Power Stable.]
[✔ Propulsion Chips – Idle Mode.]
[✔ EMF Shielding – Active.]
[✔ Drone Mode – Standby.]
[✔ LCD Projector – Calibrated.]
The AI's voice resonated gently in her head, crisp and polite, yet carrying that tiny playful undertone it always seemed to have when Reina got nervous.
[And—Emotional Status: Subject Saeki Reina – Nervous but excited. Anticipated success rate: 83%. Margin of error: please don't trip while you test.]
Reina narrowed her eyes. "…Unnecessary."
[Necessary for morale.]
She sighed, brushing her bangs aside. "Fine. Begin test."
The halo lifted smoothly from the workbench, the gentle hum of micro-propellers filling the quiet lab. For the first time, it didn't cling obediently above her head. Instead, it floated upward, stabilizing at a meter above eye level, its glowing ring balanced with a steadiness that hadn't been there before.
Reina stared up at it, lips parting slightly. "It's… holding."
[Altitude: 1.2 meters. Stable. No significant drift.]
She extended her hand, testing if it would respond. The halo didn't flinch, staying perfectly still. Then she gave a quiet command.
"Hover… three meters."
With a faint shift in its hum, the ring rose higher, pausing precisely at the mark. Reina's eyes followed it with a trace of wonder—though she didn't let it show much on her face.
[Stability confirmed. Success rate increasing: 91%. Well done, Reina.]
She exhaled softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "…Good. Now, projector."
The hum changed again, this time subtle vibrations running through the halo's structure. From the air, a beam projected downward—light refracting into an LCD projection that shimmered midair like a flat screen suspended in nothingness. Reina had calibrated it to test with simple visuals first: a grid, rotating in three-dimensional space.
And there it was. Clear. Crisp. Floating.
Her chest tightened, but not from fear. From something else. Pride, maybe. Or relief.
"ANIER…?"
[Recording active. This is your Iron Man moment, if you're curious.]
"…Unnecessary." But her voice was softer this time.
She continued the test. The halo rotated slowly, maintaining altitude as it displayed more images: first text, then schematics she had loaded earlier. Then, as a final test, a holographic projection of her solar system model appeared, glowing planets orbiting in delicate miniature above the desks.
Her hands moved instinctively, as though she could guide them. ANIER responded in sync, translating her gestures into movement. The model rotated with her hand's tilt, planets expanding when she pinched at the air, shrinking when she pulled away.
For a moment, Reina forgot about the world. It was just her, the halo, and the stars she loved so much—tiny and close enough to touch.
Hours later, the demo video was ready. She trimmed unnecessary footage but left most of the raw test intact. There was no narration this time, only ANIER occasionally feeding data overlays that viewers could see through her POV lens.
Title: "The Halo Project: Independent Flight Test + Projection Demo"Channel: Saeki Reina OfficialLength: 12 minutes.
Reina uploaded it late afternoon, brushing the crumbs of her neglected lunch from her desk.
"Upload complete," ANIER reported. [Projected viewership spike: extremely high. Recommend bracing for impact.]
Reina clicked her tongue. "You always exaggerate."
[I don't exaggerate. I predict.]
She shook her head with a faint chuckle, leaning back in her chair as the numbers began ticking upward almost immediately. Thousands of views in minutes. Comments flooding in. Shares already spreading.
But Reina didn't linger. She left the desk, tugged her coat tighter, and sank onto the small couch in the corner of the lab, letting her eyes close. She had tested. She had proven. For now, that was enough.
Across the ocean, in the same Washington D.C. office that had been buzzing with this girl's videos for weeks, Dr. Rowan Halberg leaned forward in his chair, his glasses reflecting the glowing monitor.
The moment he saw the thumbnail—her standing in her lab with the halo hovering midair—his pulse quickened. He clicked without hesitation.
The video rolled.
The halo detached from her head, floated freely, and projected a grid into the air. Rowan's jaw tightened, his breath catching.
"Holy…"
He muttered without finishing, scribbling notes furiously as the test unfolded.
Projection stability. Gesture response. Drone autonomy. The ring obeyed her voice and her hand as if it had a mind of its own. Then came the planets—tiny glowing spheres orbiting gracefully, responding to her every motion.
It wasn't just invention. It was art.
Rowan leaned back, staring at the paused screen. His mind was running faster than it had in months, maybe years.
"…She just casually solved half the problems we've been grinding on for a decade."
His fingers drummed against the desk, thoughts spiraling. If she could refine this… project onto a larger scale… scale down the energy cost…
The comments section was a storm already.
"NASA shaking part 3???"
"Bro, this is straight sci-fi now."
"HOW IS SHE SIXTEEN???"
"I can't even do math homework."
"She's literally building an empire in her school lab."
And then, among the chaos, Rowan's own comment—typed almost without thinking:
Dr. Rowan Halberg (NASA): "Independent drone stability AND synchronized projection? You're rewriting the rules, Saeki. Keep going."
He hovered a moment before hitting Post. And then he waited.
Just like before.
Back in her lab, Reina's HUD blinked with new notifications. Her channel exploding. Comments piling faster than she could possibly read. But one caught her attention, standing taller than the rest.
Her lips curved faintly, barely more than a whisper. "…Rowan again."
[Would you like me to draft a reply?] ANIER teased.
"No," she said firmly, brushing the lens notification away with a gesture. "Not now."
[Acknowledged. Emotional reading: pleased. Embarrassment level: 27%.]
"…Unnecessary."
But her cheeks warmed just a little.
The sun dipped beyond the horizon outside her lab windows, painting the sky in shades of pink and violet. Reina sat silently with her halo hovering by her desk, ANIER softly humming data into her mind. The world was watching. The numbers kept climbing. Rowan was waiting.
But for now, she only whispered to herself:
"One step at a time."
And the halo glowed faintly in response, as though agreeing.