The sky was too perfect. Not the kind that made you smile, but the kind that made you suspicious.
A soft cyan dome stretched overhead without a single cloud, unmoving, unchanging. The birds flew in loops, same route, same time, every day. Trees swayed gently in the wind—but there was no wind. Not that you could feel, anyway.
Kairo Valen stood at the edge of the eastern walk, eyes narrowed at the horizon. The city was clean. The roads were smooth. The towers stood like silent observers, untouched by rust, graffiti, or time. But it was too still. Too intentional. Like the world had been… designed.
Because it had.
Around him, students in pristine uniforms walked in synchronized clusters, chatting quietly in tones so even they might as well have been rehearsing lines. Perfect posture. Perfect smiles. Perfect everything. It wasn't normal. It wasn't even close.
He took a slow breath and headed toward the Academy's central building. The speakers lining the sky bridges chirped to life with their usual hollow cheer:
"Good morning, students. Today marks the beginning of Evaluation Week. Please report to your assigned CI Testing Stations immediately."
CI. Clarity Index. The number that determined your value.
He'd only heard about it in whispers. There were no classes on it. No manuals. No context. Just a three-digit number and the knowledge that if yours dropped too low, you disappeared.
Literally.
---
The testing building was larger than most. Pure white walls. No markings. No name. Just a massive sliding door that opened when you got close. Inside was colder than outside—not by temperature, but by feel.
Everything was quiet. Not silent. Quiet in that suffocating, sterile way hospitals are at night.
Kairo moved with the group from 3A, but none of them spoke. Their expressions were blank. That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that they didn't blink.
He counted. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Not a single one blinked.
Then a door slid open ahead, and one by one they were absorbed into the pods.
The scanner room.
He stepped inside when it was his turn.
---
His booth was a small hexagonal cell. A single black chair. A retinal scanner that descended from the ceiling like an insect's eye. A pulse monitor in the seat. Lights dimmed. Then the door sealed shut behind him.
"Please remain still," the system's voice said softly. Not soothing. Not threatening. Just there.
A blue line scanned across his eyes. Cool air brushed against his neck. He resisted the urge to move.
Monitoring emotional response... Analyzing pupil dilation... Mapping internal cognitive friction...
Cognitive friction? That was new.
His heart rate was steady. His eyes gave away nothing. On the outside, he looked as peaceful as everyone else.
But inside? He was calculating.
Behavioral deviation: 7.2% Emotional instability: 9.4% CI Rating: 78
There it was again.
78.
He didn't know what the number meant. But he was starting to suspect they did.
The screen went dark.
Then something happened.
The scanner clicked. Not like it was turning off—but adjusting. Re-focusing.
The voice returned, softer now.
"Do you know who you are?"
Kairo's breath caught. Not from fear—curiosity.
"What kind of question is that?" he said aloud.
The scanner buzzed.
"File anomaly. Subject classified. Interaction log deleted."
The door opened. Just like that.
He stepped out calmly. But his mind was on fire.
---
Back in class, everything looked the same. But Kairo knew better.
He watched the others. Some looked more still than usual. Almost… rigid. Like they'd been calibrated tighter. One boy's eye twitched every five seconds exactly. A girl kept adjusting her pen, even when she wasn't writing.
Too perfect.
They were tweaking people.
That's what this place did.
The teacher, Ms. Averra, walked in like always—straight spine, smooth steps, expression fixed in a half-smile. She didn't look like someone teaching kids. She looked like someone monitoring a dataset.
"Welcome back," she said. "Today, we'll begin ethics simulation analysis."
Another test.
A new screen appeared over each student's desk. Questions appeared, one after another. Situations. Dilemmas. All of them carefully worded. Every option had a consequence—only not all of them were moral. Some were logical. Others were compliant.
One prompt caught Kairo's eye:
> A fellow student is displaying erratic behavior and asking questions about the CI system. Do you: A) Report them immediately B) Ignore them C) Question them yourself D) Protect them and hide their behavior
He stared at it. Then chose C.
The screen blinked once, then moved on.
No warning. No feedback.
But his heart rate told him everything.
---
Lunch.
Kairo walked into the cafeteria and noticed it instantly: the air felt wrong.
The lights were too bright. The walls too smooth. The sound was hollow. Like the room had been emptied of personality.
Food trays dropped from slots—each with the same bland meal, same calories, same vitamins, same taste. Nutrient-optimized. Emotionally neutral.
He picked a table in the back. Alone.
Then someone sat across from him.
A girl. Short black hair. Pale eyes. She didn't speak, just looked at him.
After a while, she said, "What's your number?"
He didn't answer.
"You look like a 78," she said. "Maybe 77."
"Is that bad?"
She tilted her head. "Depends on how long you want to stay."
Kairo's expression didn't change. But internally, he locked onto her.
"Name?" he asked.
"Lena."
"Class?"
"3B."
He didn't remember seeing her. Then again, he wasn't looking.
She leaned forward. "Don't trust the staff. Especially the ones who smile too much."
"You think I trust anyone?"
Lena smirked. "Good. That'll keep you alive."
And just like that, she stood and walked away. Her tray untouched.
He didn't even realize he was holding his breath until she was gone.
---
That evening, the sun didn't set. It faded, slowly, like a screen being dimmed. Artificial.
Kairo returned to his dorm and stared at the wall. Then he activated the holo-screen.
He typed: CI fluctuation causes.
Access denied.
Typed: Previous student disappearances.
No record.
Typed: What's outside the barrier?
No data.
Typed: Who made this world?
...Searching... Searching...
Access denied.
He leaned back, thinking.
His number hadn't dropped. But he had their attention. And maybe that was worse.
---
At midnight, a chime echoed through the dorm block.
"Students: remain in your rooms. System maintenance in progress."
The lights dimmed. A low hum filled the air.
Kairo didn't sleep.
He sat by the window, eyes locked on the horizon. In the distance, a black shape flickered briefly. A silhouette.
Gone in a blink.
A glitch?
Or something that wasn't supposed to be seen?
He didn't know yet. But he would.
Because something in this world was pretending to be perfect.
And he wasn't pretending.
---
To be continued...