CyberWorld

Opening

I never knew a single letter could look so intimidating.

After blinking twice, I look back at the paper. My eyes aren't playing tricks on me. I've gotten a D in Accounting. My first one in years.

"It's only one of my grades," Ms. Harris gives me a sympathetic smile. "Besides, I'm sure your future is safe in your family's hands."

I groan as I shuffle back to my seat. It doesn't matter how many A's you get—one D just ruins your whole report card. Haven't I suffered enough studying? Being good at it is one thing, but enjoying it is another. Honestly, the least the school board could have done was make the test slightly more feasible.

In front to my left, Issac Lee is showing off his A to a group of girls like a badge of honour. Turns out all you have to do to get all the girls is beat the smartest kid in class.

"Good job," I overheard one of the girls say.

Issac beams. "Thanks."

A chime comes on the intercom to signal the end of the day—a tranquil resonance that completely clashes with my sour mood.

"Looks like that's time," Ms. Harris says, glancing at her watch. "Alright, you may leave."

Everyone seated around me already started packing their things ten minutes ago, so they began to stand up and stream through the door. I scoop up my highlighters and drop them into my pencil case. I know they're already dry, but I'm not ready to throw them out just yet.

As Ms. Harris compiles her notes in a black folder, Issac weaves his way through the desks to get to me in my peripheral vision. I bend over and pretend to grab something from my backpack, gritting my teeth. From under the desk, I notice Issac holding his study holopad, a newer model that dropped a few weeks ago. It's bewildering why he doesn't use cheaper paperback workbooks instead. Since Issac spends his breaks streaming the games he plays at school, he's never struck me as the academic type.

"Hey," Isaac says. "How was your grade?"

"Fine." I return to stacking my textbooks in my backpack, hoping Issac takes a hint. In my negligence, it hits me that my Accounting paper is still smack dab on my desk for the world to see. It doesn't help that Ms Harris' handwriting always takes up half the page.

"Oh. That's good," Issac says. "Well, if you need any help with schoolwork, come to me."

SCREW. OFF.

"Thank you, Issac," I say.

He nods and returns to his desk, and I throw my backpack around my shoulders and head for the front door through the main hallway. Something's not adding up—Issac's been slacking off, and yet, he's been more consistent than me for the last year.

The front entrance slides open when it detects me, revealing a couple outside who are blocking my way. The guy's face is obscured by that white headset I've seen a thousand times at this point. Although his girlfriend isn't wearing it, she is donning a pair of headphones and watching his game on her holopad as he waves his hands in front of him.

"It's so real," The guy laughs. "This is unreal."

"Just keep moving forward," The girl giggles.

"Excuse me," I say. "I need to go through."

I shouldn't have bothered, because they're too engrossed in the game to notice. My nostrils flare, and I reach out to tap the girl on the shoulder. Just then, the guy makes a sweeping motion with his right hand, narrowly missing my face. I jerk back and accidentally hit the front door with a thump, cringing from the sound of my textbooks getting crushed.

On either side of the entrance are two holograms showcasing the top-performing members from each clique. I'm tempted to walk through them to get to the courtyard, despite knowing that passing through the school holograms can land you in detention. After checking that no teachers are watching, I step through the hologram to the other side. Although it begins to flicker, it stabilizes and resumes its showcase of Issac with the trophy from his second win at the annual Playoffs two weeks prior.

As I make my way through the school courtyard, there are more students wearing headsets in the distance. A few groups are standing in circles causing a stir, while some of them lean motionless against the benches, fully immersed in their activities online.

It's been a common sight ever since the release of the world's most successful video game.

CYBERWORLD