Chapter 21: Steal or Split
The classroom was quiet after the first lesson. Too quiet.
The students filed out without much talk. Some lingered near the doors, glancing back at me with furrowed brows and unreadable eyes. Heavy choices do that to young minds. They bend thought until it becomes something unfamiliar — real.
The second hour was their designated free time. Most scattered to the mess hall or training areas. A few stayed behind in common rooms lined with old books and new tech. Cyrus believed in mental recovery between lessons. I didn't disagree.
I stayed behind.
And opened their files.
Each student had one. Not a digital one — those were already dissected and scrubbed before enrollment. This was the academy's record. The truths.
Emel Sorin, age 14. Parents died in a civil uprising. Raised in displacement zones. IQ 163.
Haruto Wei, age 17. Military family legacy. Calm exterior, but monitored for emotional detachment.
Juno Cress, age 11. Ordinary suburban family. Unassuming. Tested positive for rapid abstract comprehension before age 6.
Tamir Rahal, age 15. Grew up in systemic poverty. Self-taught programming prodigy. Hacked government surveillance drones by age 12.
Eva Marell, age 13. Diagnosed with alexithymia. Scores off the charts in logic and visual-spatial tasks.
I read each one. Slowly. Carefully.
They weren't just students.
They were fragments of the world. Pain. Privilege. Grit. Genius.
And every one of them was walking a thin line between greatness and collapse.
---
The hour passed. The bell chimed — a low, pulsing tone meant to soothe, not startle.
They came back. Still shaken, but curious.
They stopped when they saw the room.
I had changed it.
In the center of the circle now sat a rectangular table — simple, but sturdy. Around it, two sleek chairs faced each other. Above it, a suspended screen.
"New game?" one student asked, arms crossed.
I nodded. "It's called Steal or Split."
Whispers again.
"Here's how it works," I said. "Two of you will sit. You will each be given a choice, in secret. You may choose to Split, or to Steal."
"If both choose Split, you each walk away with 50 points — academic currency for tech, privileges, or meal upgrades."
"If one chooses Steal, and the other chooses Split — the thief gets 100 points. The one who split? Gets nothing."
"If both choose Steal… you both get nothing. And your points drop by 10."
Tamir whistled. "Classic prisoner's dilemma."
"Exactly," I said. "But here? You're not prisoners. You're classmates. You'll choose your own opponents."
Juno raised a hand. "So what's the lesson?"
I gave a thin smile. "I'm not here to teach you how to win. I'm here to watch what you do when winning isn't the only goal."
Haruto frowned. "Can we lie to each other?"
"You can say anything you want. But the decision is private. The outcome isn't."
They looked at each other.
"First pair?" I asked.
Two raised their hands — Emel and Eva.
They sat. The room tensed.
I handed them each a tablet.
They pressed their choices. The screen blinked.
Split / Steal
Eva had taken the points. Emel blinked. Then gave a small, sad smile.
"I trusted you," she said.
Eva tilted her head. "Mistake."
I didn't intervene.
Two more students stepped forward.
Round after round, choices were made. Some split. Some stole. One pair both stole — and laughed bitterly at their zeroes.
By the end, no one was quite sure who was friend or foe.
I stood.
"This isn't about points," I said. "This is about reflection. Every choice you make here — you'll remember. And someday, it'll echo when the stakes are real."
Some avoided each other's eyes.
Some held their heads a little higher.
I turned off the screen.
Class dismissed.