Mornings came quietly in Jay's room which came under jurisdiction of Aryavart Empire ruled by Emperor Parikshit.
The sunlight did not burst into rooms — it negotiated its way through glass and curtains, as if politely asking permission. Though it was also true that even if someone rejected that negotiation, the sunlight was so cruel that it entered the rooms anyway. At least some morons were intelligent enough to use curtains to block it.
Jay was already awake before the alarm. Maybe because he'd never quite fallen asleep again. His dreams had been too clear, too familiar — flashes of voices, battles, faces that did not belong in this world. And always, a faint echo of something calling him back.
He rolled out of bed, rubbed his face, and stared at the clock.
6:15 A.M.
"Beating the alarm again. Wow, I must be getting old."
Though, in truth, it was the sunlight that allowed Jay Arkwell to beat the alarm clock again today.
He stood there a while longer, watching the digital digits shift lazily. Then, with a sigh of exaggerated determination, he muttered, "Alright, day two of pretending to be a normal student. Let's do this."
---
His apartment was small but modern — one of those minimalist cubes built for the new generation of urban citizens. The walls adjusted brightness based on mood sensors, which meant they stayed a calm grey-blue whenever Jay was around.
Jay always went to sleep with the curtains open, while every light in the room automatically shut off until he woke up.
The kettle hissed again, and he stirred his usual instant coffee. The smell filled the room — bitter, grounding, nostalgic.
"Still bad," he said after his first sip, grimacing. "Still comforting."
He stared out the window as he drank. The city outside glowed faintly — long magnetic trains, streets woven with light, and distant temple towers that stood like ancient spines against a neon sky.
Somehow, this world had merged science and soul together.
It was strange, and beautiful, and almost sad. That's what Jay felt.
He chuckled softly. "A world created by kids… and yet it feels more peaceful than anything adults ever built."
---
By the time he reached New Veda High, the air was alive with morning energy. Hover-bikes whirred past, and uniformed students chatted in clusters, their bags glowing faintly from internal AI organizers.
Jay, in contrast, had a normal backpack with loose straps and one missing zipper. It suited him perfectly.
Inside the classroom, the teacher was already discussing philosophy. The holographic board displayed the title:
Lesson 3: The Age of Collective Genius – How Thought Replaced War.
Jay sat by the window again, half-listening.
"When the Five Prodigies met," the teacher said, pacing slowly, "they realized the world's greatest threat was not violence — it was ignorance. They replaced nations with empires not to dominate, but to streamline thought, culture, and progress."
She turned to the students. "But tell me — do you think peace that was engineered is still peace?"
Silence. Then, a hand went up.
"It's better than chaos," one student said. "Even if it's artificial."
"Good. Anyone else?"
System has long gone, so there was not any reason for Jay Arkwell to hold back as limiter was removed. Jay yawned quietly, then raised a hand halfway. "Depends. If peace is something people had to surrender freedom for… then maybe it's just quiet chaos."
The class turned. Even the teacher paused, intrigued. "That's an interesting answer, Mr. Arkwell. You believe peace has… weight?"
Jay Arkwell smiled faintly. "Everything does. Even silence."
A few students exchanged looks — half impressed, half confused.
He did not elaborate.
He'd lived through a world where peace was built on ashes. Maybe that made his words heavier than he intended. He had learnt through his personal experience because Experience is the key to self improve.
---
At lunch, Jay sat alone under one of the solar trees. Its branches pulsed gently with light, photosynthesizing energy and shade at the same time.
He opened his lunch box — a simple sandwich from the cafeteria of New Veda High. He was not picky, he particularly ate anything, though not everything because some items were not considered edible, for example water etc.
He just liked quiet places.
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Jay looked up. A girl with short silver hair stood before him, holding her own tray. Her uniform badge had a golden outline — meaning she was top of the class.
He shrugged. "Sure, if you do not mind boring company."
She sat down gracefully. "Boring's underrated."
They ate in silence for a while. Birds — or rather, drone-birds — perched nearby, chirping digital tones that harmonized with ambient music from the cafeteria speakers.
"So," she said finally, "transfer student from the western district, right?"
"Something like that."
"Your accent's weird. Like you've been… somewhere else."
He smiled thinly. "You have no idea."
She laughed softly. "Mysterious type. Got it."
They talked a bit more — about the city, the classes, the new history curriculum. She told him her name was Reina Solari, a philosophy major with an interest in "time anomalies" and "pre-revolution civilizations."
Jay found that strangely ironic.
When she asked what he wanted to do after graduation, he thought for a long moment, then said,
"Maybe… just stay alive without breaking anything."
Reina blinked. "That's… minimalistic."
He smiled. "Yeah. But after a while, minimalism feels like luxury."
When lunch ended they parted ways.
---
Evening arrived slowly, the city lights awakening like constellations.
Jay walked home under the twilight sky, watching airships glide silently overhead. He passed a group of kids laughing around a holographic game, and for a second, he saw flashes — other kids, other laughter, a memory buried in time.
He stopped by a vending machine, bought another can of coffee, and leaned against the rail overlooking the river.
His reflection rippled faintly in the water.
The same face, the same name, the same faint ache in his chest.
He whispered softly,
"Why am I here again?"
No answer came, only the quiet murmur of the city.
He stared into the water, his thoughts heavy with contradictions — was this rebirth a gift, or a punishment? Was he meant to live quietly, or to remember everything he'd tried to forget?
Maybe both. Maybe neither.
He opened the coffee can. Steam rose like a faint prayer.
And somewhere, deep beneath that calm city — far below human memory and digital circuits — something shimmered faintly, like a clock ticking in reverse.
---
> He didn't know yet — but the gears of time hadn't stopped turning.
They had only slowed down, waiting for the right moment to begin again.