(First Person POV)
(Aaroon)
Morning light broke through the blinds like thin knives of gold, tracing across the ceiling of my dorm room. The city outside was already alive not with birds, but with the low mechanical hum of traffic gliders and the distant thrum of oceanic turbines rotating just beyond the coastline. In this world, even the sea worked for someone.
My phone buzzed against the metal desk, a dull vibration beneath a pile of old case notes and snack wrappers. I reached for it half-awake, thumb swiping across the holographic projection that flickered above the screen. 7:32 A.M.
Another morning. Another cycle of lectures, caffeine, and the slow march toward a future I wasn't sure I wanted.
I sat up and stretched, the light catching the faint scars across my forearm marks from a swim accident back in my teens, or so I told people. The truth was blurrier. Sometimes I dreamed of drowning in another life. Sometimes I woke with the taste of saltwater in my mouth and no memory of why.
My roommate, Kai, snored in the bunk above me, sprawled in his usual post-battlefield pose. His VR gloves still glowing faintly, he must've fallen asleep playing Tides of Ruin again. A survival game. The irony didn't escape me.
"Morning, Kai," I muttered.
He groaned something that might've been English.
The mirror flickered on as I walked past it. "Good morning, Aaroon," it greeted in that annoyingly pleasant tone. "You have Criminalistics class at nine. The weather outside is thirty-three degrees with mild humidity. Oceanic mist at fourteen percent. Shall I play the daily news briefing?"
"Skip it," I said.
"Very well."
I'd stopped listening to news cycles months ago. It was always the same: ecological fluctuations, another border conflict, another mysterious anomaly off the southern trench. People loved using the word anomaly these days. It made disasters sound like an experiment.
I pulled on my black jacket and stepped outside into the corridor. The air flowing with artificial oxygen, a symptom of a megacity trying to breathe through steel lungs.
Outside, the campus stretched along the coastal highway, glass buildings shimmering under the sun. The university overlooked the ocean, its holographic banners advertising "THE FUTURE OF HUMANITY IS BUILT HERE." I always found that phrase vaguely threatening.
Students moved in lazy clusters across the walkways. Hover bikes zipped above, their engines whirring like insects. I slid my hands into my pockets, keeping my pace steady.
That's when I saw her.
Shane stood by the fountain, sunlight catching the strands of her hair like woven copper. She was laughing with a friend, holding a digital textbook that projected diagrams of neural networks midair. Even surrounded by people, it looked like gravity and space bent toward her catching everyone's attention.
I didn't even notice I'd stopped walking until she turned and caught my eye.
"Hey, Aaroon!" she called, voice bright over the hum of drones. "You look half-dead already. Rough night?"
I shrugged. "Same as usual. I think Kai's trying to set a new record for staying conscious in a game."
She laughed, that soft, easy laugh that always felt like home. "And you're still playing therapist for him, huh?"
"Someone's got to stop him from dying of dehydration."
She grinned and adjusted the strap of her bag. "You're too nice for your own good."
"I get that a lot," I said.
We fell into step together toward the lecture halls. The ocean glimmered to our right, the waves strangely still despite the morning wind. A row of mechanical gulls floated overhead, scanning for litter. Somewhere far out at sea, a structure like a dark monolith jutted from the water one of the government's old radioactive research platforms. Nobody talked about them anymore.
"Hey," Shane said, nudging me lightly, "you're staring again."
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Doesn't it ever feel like… something's waiting out there?" I gestured vaguely toward the horizon. "Like the ocean's holding its breath."
She gave me a curious look. "You mean global warming? Or something poetic?"
"Both," I said.
She smiled. "You read too many novels."
"Maybe."
But the truth was, I couldn't shake the feeling. The sea had been unusually quiet for weeks. No storms, no currents, no tide fluctuation. Just that vast, silent mirror stretching forever.
When we reached the lecture hall, Shane tapped my shoulder. "You coming to the grad rehearsal later?"
"Yeah," I said, though my mind was elsewhere. "Wouldn't miss it."
"Good," she said, walking ahead. "You promised you'd take a picture with me in our gowns."
I watched her go, the sun tracing her outline like fire through glass.
For a moment, I felt the world pulse like a heartbeat from below the ground.
I blinked. The sensation vanished. The ocean outside shimmered again, deceptively calm.
Too calm.