The Holy Land of Technology
We followed the teacher from the affiliated school's entrance, turning around and descending gentle stairs to the side. As we went down the stairs and walked along the path, we could see students in uniforms striped with yellow, green, and blue lines through the school windows lined up beside us. They all looked older, wearing three different colors unlike ours. Real straightforward, huh. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. Six colors in total like that.
Well, whatever. I'd caught glimpses of that on bulletin boards here and there, so it wasn't exactly news. In terms of actual population, Pristine Comprehensive University had the most people, and the affiliated school itself wasn't that big, but kids wrote a ton online. Made info easy to snag.
Anyway, the affiliated school was built in an L-shape below the dorms, which felt kinda weird. Didn't higher grades usually go up top? Nah. The system ramped up toward the center. Pristine Comprehensive University's core was that pitch-black rectangular concrete research institute smack in the middle, fanning out to the university and then the affiliated school, with the basin's terrain sloping upward as you moved outward. Everything except that right-hand gorge we came through formed a perfect circle—not carved by hand, but from some ancient meteor impact or whatever.
Anyway, past the affiliated school, down more stairs. This time, we dropped about as far as from the dorms to school, and unlike the glossy gray composite dorms and school that blended into the surroundings, a building jutted up all on its own. On one side, the name Building 2, Engineering Hall was visible.
"Whoa!"
"Cool."
"Doesn't look that pretty to me?"
"The building we saw from the shuttle was prettier..."
From the chatter of classmates nearby, opinions were split down the middle. Not strictly by gender, just pure taste—kinda fascinating.
I figured we'd tour the inside, but the teacher dragged us down to the engineering hall's basement instead. Normally, big building basements conjure images of chilly utility rooms packed with gear, but this felt like a subway station. Wide stairs, bright open space, convenience spots everywhere. And corridors branching out in a cross pattern caught my eye—one up, opposite down, left and right curving away. Instead of trains, boxes about my height trundled along the tracks sporadically. When they hit the wide intersection, they rose overhead—probably to avoid collisions. Pedestrian paths flanked the sides, some folks sprinting, others strolling leisurely.
So, underground passages linking buildings. No wonder the surface felt empty. Especially in this lingering late-summer heat—down here was way cooler. Yeah. Overall, it screamed "brand-new subway concourse" from my past life. Differences? Cubic boxes instead of trains, and walls that were sorta frosted—not glass?
"Teacher, can't we ride those?"
One classmate pointed at a moving box and asked.
"No. Those are transport carts for cargo. Too dangerous for people, so they're blocked off. No safety features for humans—absolutely do not climb on."
Jeers erupted as the teacher finished. I get it, honestly. Tell kids to walk past something that fun-looking! Buildings were spread out, no moving walkways even! Sure, better than sweltering outside, but still.
"Alright, shall we head to the next university building this way?"
The teacher led us down the downward corridor. Some grumbling, but no one plopped down or flat-out refused. Place was intriguing, even if they complained.
Me? Thrilled. This stuff really hammered home the "future world" vibe. One hitch: my mana sense, absent in my past life, kept buzzing with weird stimuli. Anatomy-wise, everyone here had mana-responsive organs, so it was like a sixth sense. And those carts? Gave off unique vibes each pass. Like how electromagnetic-sensitive critters feel near electric cars?
Clomp clomp down the stairs. Not steep like before—super gradual. A few flights, long flat stretch, more flights. Seriously, put in moving walkways already. They had escalators and elevators elsewhere!
Ask first. "Teacher, question! Why no moving walkways? Can't ride carts, fine, but c'mon!"
Kids chimed in agreement the second I spoke.
"Not carts—transport units, student. There used to be moving walkways. But after a major accident, they got removed."
What...? I knew those things were accident-prone, but total overkill?
"That's on the idiot who caused it!"
"No need to ditch convenience over one screw-up!"
Questions flooded out without me prompting. But the teacher dodged kids' eyes weirdly—not horror, more... embarrassment?
"A group of students modded the walkways to amp up sleep time—turned 'em into accelerators. That's what happened."
She scratched her cheek awkwardly. Some kids marveled at the mad creativity, others nodded like "duh, obviously gone now." Plenty just blinked like "so?"
"What's a moving walkway?"
And Phaenax types who didn't even know what it was.
She asked me, so answer time. How much to explain? Easier if they'd seen one.
"Seen moving stairs on the way to school?"
"Yeah."
Easy then. I crossed my hands into stairs, then tilted flat. "Like that, but laid horizontal."
"Oh, that thing."
She'd seen one after all. Meanwhile, the teacher, egged on by curious kids, spilled the accident details. From what I half-heard: souped-up walkways turned into bullet launchers, projectiles smashing the frosted walls dividing cart paths—major incident. Those "bullets"? People. So they switched to shatterproof material, but no guarantees against future mods. Hence, gone.
Yup. Kids with tech toys? Won't play with 'em. Everyone hung on the teacher's "secret" tale, but Phaenax barely cared about the incident. Quirky personality.
Down more stairs with the teacher. Long walk, rails curving to the ceiling, another wide intersection. Still sleek modern finish, but old brick pillars peeked through here and there. Foot traffic same as before. One more thing: a security gate I'd never seen, subway turnstile-style—scan to enter, thick doors beyond. Raw hydraulics and steel frames exposed, drawing kids' stares. Questions flew; teacher answered.
"That's the entrance to the Grey Ark Research Institute. Someday, you'll graduate the affiliated school, join Pristine Comprehensive University, and if you push beyond for the world and better lives... you'll reach this basin's heart, Grey Ark, marching into the future."
Pride beamed from her face, undisguised. Kids didn't fully get it yet, but sensed it as one shape of a dream. Me? Just snag a diploma, live in the city—no dreams beyond!
Up to the surface. This building: darker gray concrete than the engineering hall, old brick vibes from underground. Oldest on campus. Teacher marched us right in front of the Grey Ark Research Institute itself, halted us, and launched into fervent explanation, carrying that earlier heat. I half-tuned her out, scanning around.
Unlike the dorms' greenery, this was neatly paved. Multicolored mana stones embedded here and there hinted at purposes—left clear. Shimmering lumps too; thought trash bags at first, but humanoid shapes. Mannequins? A couple toppled on the ground—discarded or lab props. Eerily chilly. Midsummer, but mountains?
"Wait, why mannequins?"
"Mannequins? Where?"
Muttered to myself, but luckily Phaenax piped up. Secretly thrilled—bumped her affinity score. Pointed to the empty lot corner.
"There. Black blobs? Mannequins. Magic experiment dump?"
Phaenax's lime-green eyes met mine, then stared long at the spot.
"I see nothing but white ground."
Her eyes sharpened yellow, confirming.
Chills wracked me. Time for action. Glanced at teacher—busy gesturing beyond the institute, explaining something. Pulled my pad, snapped two silent shots. Quick ones, then messages.
She said consult weird stuff, so straight-up send Lambda Lilion the pics.
Work it, detective!
It's me! My eyes and the photos show black lumps, but my friend sees nothing!
> Attached: Black figures in the middle, two_001.raw, Maybe three_002.raw
Neatly sent, pocketed pad. For verification, poked two nameless classmates— "See anything there?" Got "quit bullshitting" glares, back to teacher. Oof. Intimidating.