January 4, 2050. Tuesday.
I woke up without anything interrupting it this time. My eyes opened and that was it. My body still kept track of something, though. Shoulders tight again, but not enough to stop me from moving.
Unit was docked where it always is. No movement at first. I stayed in bed a bit longer, watching it the way I sometimes do when I don't feel like starting the day immediately. It didn't react. I said "Standby" out of habit, even though it wasn't doing anything. There was a pause. Not long. Then it responded. Light flickered with a confirmation chirp. Normal sequence.
I sat up and reached for my device. Before I said anything else, Unit disengaged from the dock on its own and hovered slightly closer. It stayed there for a second, then corrected itself and drifted back, docked cleanly. I told myself it was just a misread. It does that sometimes. Still, it's not something I remember happening this way before. Not twice in the same morning. I left it there and got up.
Turned on the TV. UBC-1 was already mid-motion: Swindon vs. Schalke, live. Finally, a live match. No replay watermark. I never get to watch matches live. Obvious reasons. I usually settle for clipped highlights in my feed the next morning. That and the comments left by my fellow Robins. They're vulgar, they're hilarious, and also probably the only thing not touched by YusoTel content filtering.
I turned the volume down very low. The match didn't demand anything from me. I didn't need to think ahead. Besides, we'd already won by one goal before I even sat down.
Outside sounded different from yesterday. You could tell it was junior secondary. Whistles cut through at regular intervals. Voices responded faster. Instructions didn't need repeating as much.
I checked my device while standing by the window. Notifications had already stacked up again. Alex's message was near the top. A couple of images first, low-resolution, unclear what they were supposed to show. Then text. Said things were already "weird" at campus. That they were flagging whole groups at the gate. Didn't explain what that meant exactly. Said it like it was half a joke, half something he thought I'd find interesting.
Vivian came in right after that. Follow-up from yesterday. She asked if I'd thought about helping with orientation tomorrow. Added a few more details this time, like it would only take a couple of hours, mostly directing people, making sure no one ended up in the wrong place. Nothing difficult. No pressure. Still felt like a decision. I didn't reply to either of them immediately.
School notifications sat under everything else. I opened it this time instead of leaving it alone. Same script as before. Greetings. Reminders. But the wordings had shifted slightly. "Reinforced protocols." "Compliance checks." "Updated entry procedures." It all reads like standard language if you don't think about it too much. There was a line about "undocumented persons." It didn't explain what that actually meant in practice. I read through it once, then again more slowly. Closed it after that.
I replied to Alex first. Said I'd meet him later for "one last day of freedom". Tai Wài Tsūen Station. Vivian took a bit longer. I thought about it for a while, then I said I might be around tomorrow. That I'd let her know. It felt easier to leave it open.
Nothing else to do, but I didn't move immediately. After a quick breakfast of satay beef noodles, eventually I grabbed my things and left. I didn't tell Ah Gong or Ah Ma where I was going. It didn't feel like something that needed explaining.
The city was further along than it had been the last two days. You could feel it settling into its normal pace again. Transit was busier than I expected. Follow the flow instead of cutting through it. Enforcement presence was easier to spot this time. But only because they were positioned differently, closer to entry points.
The train ride itself was uneventful. The usual balance adjustments, nothing more. I found myself watching the stops instead of anything inside the carriage. Entry, exit, spacing, timing.
It's easier to think about things like that. Systems that follow rules. Inputs and outputs. You can trace them if you pay attention long enough. People are harder to read that way. They don't always follow the same patterns, even when they're part of the same system. I stopped trying to read anything beyond what was in front of me.
I met Alex sometime after getting out of the station. He was already mid-conversation with no one in particular when I found him, which is usually how it goes. It doesn't really matter whether I arrive at the start or halfway through something with him. We didn't decide where to go, so we just moved. That's also normal. He notices something, comments on it, then starts walking in that direction as if the decision had already been made. I followed without thinking about it too much. It's easier that way.
We ended up at one of the indoor kopitiam places near the station. I got beef ho fun. Just because it was the first thing I could read off the board without stopping to think. It came in about three minutes. Alex had something with a soft-boiled egg he was already eating when mine arrived. He barely looked at it.
He had already started talking about school before we even sat down properly. Observation dressed up as commentary.
He said things had "shifted" this year. Something about how the announcements sounded different. Less like reminders, more like instructions.I hadn't properly read through any of it yet. I told him that. He didn't react to it directly, which probably means he hadn't either, at least not in detail. He just moved on to the next thing.
He mentioned orientation next. Apparently it's already messy. Of course, too many people are trying to run something at the same time. Different instructions from different sides. People trying to interpret rules that weren't written clearly enough to begin with.
Then he said something about them "scanning biometrics now." The way he said it sounded like a joke. The kind he throws out just to see if it lands. I didn't ask him to clarify. He didn't explain. It stayed in that space between being a fact and a rumor nobody wanted to verify.
I thought about Hutchingson immediately after that. Not the store itself, obviously, though maybe because there was a branch just right across the road. I thought about how I paid in cash. I'm just thinking that things could be tracked in ways I don't fully understand. That's been there for a while, I think. It just doesn't usually surface this clearly.
He was still talking. Something about how people were overreacting to small changes. Or underreacting. It wasn't consistent. That's normal for him.
At one point he pulled up a clip. Already circulating enough that it had lost whatever context it started with. He handed me his device without explaining it. I watched it once, then again. It was of someone being stopped at one of the gates. A pause. A check. A few words exchanged that you couldn't really hear clearly. Then movement again. Either allowed through or redirected. Hard to tell from the angle.
The comments under it were more active than the clip itself. People filling in the gaps with their own assumptions. Some said it was normal. Routine. Others said it looked unnecessary. Overly strict. No one seemed certain about what actually happened. That didn't stop them from deciding what it meant.
I gave the device back without saying much. He didn't ask what I thought. That's one of the things I appreciate about him.
He shifted tone after that. Pointed out something about the place we were in. We stayed there a bit longer than planned. Or maybe there wasn't a plan to begin with. Hard to tell with him. Vivian messaged while we were still there. Said she was nearby and done with whatever she had been handling earlier. Asked where we were. Alex answered before I did. He always does that too.
She arrived not long after. It's always noticeable when she joins, even if nothing about the environment changes. She looked fine. Composed. But there was something in how she carried herself that suggested she'd already done more today than both of us combined. Something in her posture and how she set her bag down.
She started talking about orientation almost immediately. How instructions come in late or change halfway through the day. How different groups interpret the same guideline differently and still expect consistent outcomes. It didn't sound so chaotic. A controlled strain is what it is. Things held together only because people are actively keeping it that way.
She mentioned she'd be back tomorrow to help with senior orientation as well. That part was said more casually. Then she followed up again on if I was helping. Simple enough question that it shouldn't have needed more than a straightforward answer. I didn't give one. I said something about checking my schedule. Seeing how things looked tomorrow. It sounded reasonable. It also didn't commit to anything. I knew that when I said it. She probably did too, and didn't push.
That's the difference with her. She doesn't repeat questions that already have an answer.
At one point, she mentioned that NUF Youth was being stricter this year. She framed it as necessary. More students. More events. More expectations. There just had to be clearer enforcement. It made sense the way she explained it. I didn't argue.
We stayed together a bit longer after that. There wasn't anything new being added, just extensions of what had already been said. We split without much discussion. Alex needed more stuff before tomorrow. Vivian stayed behind for a bit. I left first. It wasn't because I had something else planned. I just didn't feel like staying. Walking away felt easier. I didn't ask myself why until I was already on the train. I didn't check my device again until I was already on my way back.
It wasn't until I was back at the station that something interesting happened. There was an auntie a few steps ahead of me, carrying two TV boxes that were clearly heavier than she expected them to be. She had paused near the base of the stairs, adjusting her grip in small increments that didn't really solve anything.
I asked if she needed help. I didn't think about it too much. She looked at me for a second like she was deciding whether to accept it, then nodded. She insisted we split it evenly. One box each.
The stairs weren't long, but they sure made you aware of your arms halfway through. We moved slowly,, rushing would've made it worse. There wasn't much conversation at first. Once we reached the top, she adjusted her hold and said something about how the price still felt like too much even with the deal. Two for one, but TVs were TVs. I asked if she'd been looking for a while. She said no, just happened to see the sign on the way back from somewhere else and decided it was worth it before the offer ended.
She talked about the place she'd gotten them from, how she still preferred going in person even when it cost more time than it saved. How it used to be simpler to just carry things home without having to calculate whether it made sense.
I responded where it made sense. It was normal. That's the only word for it. Two people getting something done and talking while they did it.
We reached the gate after that. She moved forward first, placing her box down just enough to free one hand for the scan. The system picked her up immediately. She stepped through without issue, then turned slightly to wait for me.
I followed right after. The first scan didn't register. It paused. Long enough for me to notice, probably not to anyone else. The interface stayed neutral for a second, then reset and prompted again. I tried a second time. Same thing. No error. Behind me, I could feel people adjusting their pace. The third attempt went through. Green. Same as hers. From the outside, it probably looked like nothing more than a minor hesitation. Systems do that sometimes. Everyone knows that. But it didn't feel like that from where I was standing. It felt like I had personally been checked. Like the system needed a second pass before it moved on. I picked the box back up and stepped through. She didn't comment on it.
We continued the conversation from where it left off. Something about how her grandchildren were visiting this CNY. It turned out we were both going on the same direction train. I handed her the box back when we got on. She thanked me, briefly, then added something about how young people don't usually stop to help anymore. I didn't know what to say to that, so I just nodded.
But I did have to get off not long after that, Admiralty being the immediate next station and all. I folded back into the flow of people moving through the station without needing to look back.
I stayed on the platform for a while, thinking about the last few days in small pieces. The drone that hesitated mid-air before correcting itself. The service bot that dropped something and reset like it hadn't. And now today's gate delay. All of them had that same quality. Today, it just happened to be me inside that moment instead of watching it from a distance. I realized that systems could pause on me. That I could be part of that flow without fully understanding how it decided things.
By the time I got back, the apartment felt like it had already moved into evening. Ah Gong and Ah Ma were in the living room when I walked in, and it didn't take long to figure out that something had happened while I was out. It wasn't anything serious, but it definitely was the kind of thing that only becomes a story because everyone involved takes it seriously.
Apparently the uncles downstairs had challenged them to mahjong again. Not unusual on its own, but this time it turned into something closer to a tournament. Word spread quickly enough that more people showed up to watch than to play. Three nearby QuickLink riders parked their bicycles just to stand there and judge their strategies. I don't know how that happens, but it does.
Ah Ma had won. It became the only thing anyone was talking about by the time it ended. She didn't make a big deal out of it. She sat there with her tea, like she hadn't done anything particularly worth mentioning. Ah Gong was more animated, more visibly satisfied about it. He went over some of the rounds in detail, pointing out small decisions as if that made all the difference. Ah Ma let him talk, correcting him only when he exaggerated something. Classic them. It was easy to sit there and listen.
My parents were home early, and not long after I settled in, they came back into the conversation. It didn't take long before things curved back to school. Orientation and preparation. They asked if I had everything ready. I said mostly. They reminded me to double-check. I said I would.
But I thought about something this time, though. I wasn't disengaging because I didn't care. I was choosing not to engage. That felt different. It would've been easy to push back. To say something about how I already knew what needed to be done. To point out that repeating the same things doesn't change anything.
I didn't say them. I decided not to. Silence works. It keeps things from escalating. It lets conversations pass without turning into something else. That part is still true. But it also does something else. It removes you from it.
You don't shape what happens next. You don't correct anything. You don't insert your version of events into the conversation. You let everything settle into whatever form it was already taking. I don't know if that's control or the absence of it.
After dinner, I went back to my room and finally opened the timetable properly. I'd looked at parts of it the other day, but not like this. Not in one sitting with the intention of actually understanding how the days would move. The subjects were what I expected. I opened the orientation information after that. Read through it without skipping anything this time. Procedures, locations, roles. It wasn't hard. It just required showing up and doing what was needed.
Vivian's message from earlier was still there. I replied. Told her I'd come by and help where I could. Around enough to commit to being there. She responded quickly. Said that would help.
Later, I ended up in a couple of short conversations. Mikey messaged first, about section assignments. Mostly the usual reactions. Who ended up where, who got separated, who didn't. Some people treat yearly section shuffles like it determines everything. Others pretend it doesn't matter at all. I probably sit somewhere in between.
There isn't even an assigned seating plan yet. That part doesn't get finalized until the first actual day, once everyone's physically there and the teachers decide how they want to run things. But that also means the first few days are flexible in a way that doesn't get stated outright. So I brought it up. I framed it like a question that didn't need to be a question. Asked if he was planning to take a front row seat. He paused for a bit longer than usual before replying, probably trying to figure out where I was going with it. Then I said we could just take it. First day, get there early, sit before anyone else decides otherwise.
In my head, it felt like a negotiation.If nothing's assigned yet, then the first move becomes the assignment. He agreed immediately. No hesitation. He said "yeah, that makes sense." Added that it would probably make things easier anyway, especially with teachers who pay attention to that kind of thing. That part sounded like something he'd already been considering on his own.
Then I did the same thing with Alex. Different tone, same outcome. I didn't even have to frame it carefully. I only mentioned showing up early and taking the front row. He responded almost instantly, "obviously" followed by how he wasn't about to sit at the back anymore and pretend to care from a distance.
Mikey added, half-joking, that if he ends up in the front row, people are going to start assuming he's aiming for class president. I said that sounds like something that would happen whether he wants it or not. He didn't deny it. Just sent back a "we'll see" that didn't really commit to anything.
It wouldn't even be surprising. He has that kind of presence. He's someone I might naturally look to when things need organizing. But whether he actually wants that role is a different question. Alex, on the other hand, said he'd vote for Mikey just to see what happens.
I didn't settle anything beyond the front row. Not down to who exactly sits where. The rest will fill itself in once everyone shows up and starts moving around each other.
It struck me, how easily it came together. Two separate conversations that landed in the same place without needing coordination. It's a small thing. But it felt like the start of something. If the rest of the year works anything like that, then maybe it won't be as unpredictable as it feels right now.
Ky messaged after that. Sent over a set of photos from earlier today's junior secondary opening. Well-framed, clean shots, as always. She tends to get what she needs quickly without making it look like she's trying too hard. She didn't send too many. Entry gates, crowd flow, and a couple of tighter shots that could pass for feature pieces if needed.
She asked if any of them could work for the first issue. I told her they would. More than enough, actually. She said she figured as much. Added that she probably wouldn't need to shoot much tomorrow for senior secondary. Different kind of opening, and all. Less chaotic moments worth catching on camera. Said she might still bring her kit out of habit, but not expecting anything important.
She asked if I was coming in early tomorrow. I said I would. She said she'd be around too, even if she wasn't officially on anything. Might help if things got messy, or just stay out of the way and observe. She'll say things like that, but she ends up doing more than that anyway. We went back and forth a bit after that. Which photos leaned more front-page versus filler, whether we'd need a short caption block or let the images carry it, that kind of thing.
She sent one last photo after that. Said it was her favorite from the set, even if it probably wouldn't be used. I could see why. It was a shot of a student pausing just past the gates, turning back like they weren't sure if they'd missed something. I told her to keep it anyway. She said she always does.
I was just about to set my device down when another notification came in. Emi.
She asked if I was free sometime this week. Followed it up with how I'd been, and how my new year went. I read it once, then again. There wasn't anything complicated about the message. If anything, it was just a check-in that didn't need to be anything more than that.
I didn't reply immediately. More because I wasn't sure how to calibrate the response. It is a detail I overthink. I think we've known each other just long enough that it shouldn't feel like that anymore. Kept it simple in the end. Said I'd been fine. That the new year was quiet. Asked how hers went, and when she was thinking. She replied faster than I expected.
Said hers was the same. Quiet, mostly family. Suggested sometime after Friday, once things settle a bit. Added that it'd be good to catch up properly. I read that part twice before locking my device. It shouldn't have felt like anything significant. It wasn't a big plan. Still, the room suddenly felt smaller.
I set my device down after that and didn't pick it up again for a while.
I'm writing this now with everything already in place for tomorrow. I wouldn't call it readiness. But it's not abstract anymore.