Accompanied by a familiar mechanical whisper, the thin library doors slid open for me. I had spent more time in this section of the academy than any other. I felt even more at ease here than in my own dormitory.
The walls were lined with shelves of books stretching for miles and rising at least four stories high. Everywhere, a thousand persons were immersed in silent study: sitting at tables, wandering the aisles, or reading. Small, flying robots zipped between the stacks, carrying or scanning books. In this section of the library alone, there were probably a thousand people, yet the quiet was absolute. It created a calm, appeasing, almost eerie atmosphere where my mind could properly relax and focus.
I approached the woman standing behind the entrance desk. Without a word, I reached out and she slipped a sèngel onto my middle finger. These small rings could scan a book's code and summon a holographic version of it. The duty of a librarian was as much to make knowledge available to all as it was to preserve it. Sèngels served both purposes.
It took me almost ten minutes to search for the title I was looking for. With so many different species and cultures within the Empire, properly sorting the works of all writers was an incredibly difficult task, and finding a specific book was barely easier. This was especially true for topics as rare and broadly ignored as the one I had focused on recently. Unsurprisingly, understanding the origins of the discrepancy in Ikian year durations throughout history was not a big hit.
I found an empty table and sat down to enjoy what was, for me, a fascinating reading session. The writer was from the same planet I was born on, and was about a thousand Ikian years older than me. There was a chance I might meet him after I left the academy. The thought of it, and how many questions I could drown him in, made me happy. It made me smile.
- You would probably stutter and turn red. I should do it for you.[1]
Aliéna, my girlfriend, had joined me. It was true that compared to me, she was good with people. After all, she understood exactly what I had in mind just from my smile. I always felt like one day she would casually announce that she could read my thoughts. I would believe her without hesitation. She wrapped her arms around mine and laid her head on my shoulder.
- Are you not a bit inappropriate?[2], I asked.
I wasn't looking at her, but I could see her smile in my periphery. She held me a bit tighter and ignored my comment completely.
- So? Has this new writer proven useful?[3]
- Not exactly. Nothing I haven't read before. But there's something un...[4], I trailed off, my attention abruptly derailed.
A woman was walking past our table. She was tall, wearing a relatively short black silk dress patterned with flowers. While her outfit was jarring in this academy, her hair was the real surprise. She had very long, blonde hair.
The academy was open to all species, but mostly Araks came here. Our species had very low feature diversity because we were not natives; our norm was a thick, extremely white skin, six clawed fingers, red eyes, and black hair. Blonde hair was unnatural, but not unheard of. Nobility liked to dye their hair, yet a noble in this academy was unheard of.
- I guess you're not the most inappropriate student here.[5]
- Student? She's no student. She's a teacher.[6]
The academy accepted students up to their 80th Ikian year. On my home planet, an Ikian year lasted around 250 local years. Teachers and students here were often indistinguishable by age. This long lifespan was the reason for my confusion: since our people did not die, new teachers were incredibly rare—so rare that they usually coincided with the introduction of a new topic of study.
- You seem a bit too interested[7], Aliéna said, sounding more amused than annoyed. Do you find her that attractive?[8]
Lost in my thoughts, I had been staring without realizing.
- She is objectively very beautiful[9], I conceded. But I myself embrace the subjectivity of beauty. Making yours an undisputed perfection.[10]
I turned and kissed her. Her smile was radiating.
- Who's inappropriate now?[11], she challenged.
- Touché.[12]
We both smiled at each other.
- Still, I am curious. What is she teaching?[13]
- I asked Essae, even he was not sure. Something called 'Fighting,' apparently.[14]
- 'Fighting'? I've never heard of this.[15]
- Neither has everyone I asked.[16]
Unsurprisingly, she had arrived to teach a new topic. "Fighting" was a weird word. It was clearly something new, yet the term itself*—ending in "o", usually a marker for remnants of the previous Common Language—sounded ancient and outdated.
The image of this teacher came back to my mind. She had a gentle expression, almost like a child's smile, but somehow radiated an aura that made me want to leave the room. Aliéna must have felt the same way; I could see the worry on her face. She knew me all too well. I was obviously going to try and attend at least one of her lessons. Since there was no need for me to explain, I simply asked her:
- What do you say? Wanna come along?[17]
- You? Attending a class? I would never miss that.[18]
* "èkto"
[1] kègsprah ta sikrii hyègs zaz' i êyts
[2] so suiri danan
[3] nèh - sôzhô micéµois myocûsyan
[4] bérahônû gûnû hyaôbs sa sa sa'no -
[5] séda asuirit'atrélis tinû fios
[6] atrélis - sa so sa ra'atralis da
[7] tyûfyaraséi ramas
[8] lanyan
[9] ra'aski hass
[10] néhosa dèm ska ikahfèra anoz hyil néi'tiska morcas
[11] suiris sédapn
[12] haséa'
[13] léhaz askalinap rébli'pn
[14] essae yanô kofaranû léhis kayha mi bôr'ékto cês
[15] ékto - hyèz caûûa'
[16] sa ti sa ah'yanin da
[17] nèh - nûtri'ti lyan
[18] miti - myaskalini - paéµaréiniis