Elara had expected many things from the Imperial Academy.
A great deal of arrogance.
More politics than any institution devoted to education had reasonable use for.
Ancient artifacts treated with the casual familiarity of furniture.
Examinations designed by people who considered ordinary stress insufficient preparation for adulthood.
She had expected all of those.
This?
This was absurd.
Elara's gaze followed the silver boundary as the last traces of her Table scenario withdrew into the floor. A moment earlier, four people had been sitting around a polished dining table discussing patrol funding and provincial roads. Now the table had dissolved, the chairs had vanished, and only a faint geometric line remained where an entire social setting had existed.
Even after experiencing two rounds herself, the Rotunda still felt faintly unreal.
Sound barriers were common enough.
