The villa's automated gates parted with mechanical precision as Neel approached. His personal vehicle, a sleek silver prototype, rested in wait like a living machine. Its design was elegant yet understated—streamlined curves, silent mag-drive coils, reinforced crystalsteel windshield. Unlike most family prototypes reserved for research and display, this one bore the faintest custom touches only Neel himself would notice—minor recalibrations he had performed to optimize its energy efficiency by 2.7 percent.
Sliding into the driver's seat, Neel pressed his palm against the console. The biometric system responded instantly, threads of pale blue light pulsing outward like ripples in water. The car hummed awake, so quiet it felt as if the air itself shifted to accommodate the energy coursing through the machine.
The villa shrank behind him as the vehicle glided forward. The ride through the Core district revealed the marvels of the Mystic Continent's most prestigious city. Towering structures stretched skyward, coated in alloys that shimmered like liquid silver under the early morning sun. Hover-trams wove soundlessly between elevated tracks, ferrying citizens from one district to another. Screens projected glimmering advertisements in the air—announcements of new medical breakthroughs, entertainment expos, and technological showcases.
Though only fourteen, Neel blended seamlessly into this backdrop of ambition and progress. His presence was marked not by arrogance, but by the kind of quiet gravity that drew notice without demanding it. He drove not with adolescent recklessness but with calm precision, merging smoothly into traffic patterns calculated to the microsecond by the city's central system.
Halfway into his journey, his comm-band blinked softly. A call request. Without glancing away from the road, Neel accepted. The holographic display bloomed to life above his dashboard, revealing the lively face of Bella Spark.
Her copper-red hair was tied back into a messy ponytail, a few strands rebelliously escaping to frame her face. Her emerald-green eyes gleamed with playful mischief. She wore the Mystic Prodigy University uniform too, though hers was personalized with a slightly loosened tie and sleeves rolled up to her elbows—rules bent, not broken.
"You're early again, Neel," Bella remarked, her grin sharp yet amused. "You trying to make the rest of us look bad?"
Neel's lips curved slightly. "If that happens, it's not my fault."
Bella snorted. "Typical." She leaned closer to the display. "Zade overslept again. He'll probably drag himself into class half-awake. Want to place bets?"
Before Neel could respond, a groggy voice interrupted from the background of Bella's call. "I heard that."
The hologram split, and Zade Velton appeared on-screen. His dark hair was an uncombed mess, his chocolate-brown eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. He was still chewing on something that looked suspiciously like a nutrition bar. His uniform jacket hung loosely from one shoulder, tie missing entirely.
Bella burst out laughing. "See? I told you!"
Zade groaned. "Why do mornings exist?"
"Because not everyone can function only after noon," Neel replied smoothly.
Zade shot him a tired glare through the holo-feed. "Not funny, genius."
"Funny enough," Bella countered, smirking.
Their banter carried on as Neel navigated through the bustling avenues. Though they teased one another relentlessly, their bond was unmistakable. Bella, fiery and bold, often challenged Neel's reserved composure, while Zade's laid-back nature offered grounding humor. Together, the trio balanced one another—each pushing and pulling in ways that only true friends could.
The car soon approached Mystic Prodigy University.
The campus sprawled across acres of pristine land, its structures a blend of modern engineering and timeless artistry. Tall archways adorned with crystalline inlays framed the entry gates, while levitating platforms carried students to and from buildings. The university's crest—a radiant star encircled by interlocking gears—shimmered above the central dome.
Parking his car in the reserved student section, Neel stepped out. Bella and Zade were already approaching from their own rides, Bella practically bouncing with energy, Zade dragging his feet like every step was a personal insult.
"Morning, prodigy," Bella greeted, nudging Neel's arm. "Ready to outshine us again today?"
Neel adjusted his uniform cuff. "That depends. Are you ready to keep up?"
Bella grinned, clearly thrilled by the challenge. "Always."
Zade yawned dramatically. "I'm ready to nap through whatever's coming."
"Then you'll fail today's machine language quiz," Bella shot back.
Zade groaned again, muttering something about betrayal by education.
The trio moved together toward the lecture halls. Students filled the walkways, their chatter a lively hum of energy. Groups gathered under solar-paneled canopies, others practiced coding patterns on portable holo-screens, while some hurriedly reviewed notes on their way to class. Despite the differences in personality, everyone here shared a common thread: brilliance. Mystic Prodigy University did not accept mediocrity.
Their destination was Lecture Hall C-12, where Professor Michael Clay taught Machine Language Theory.
The hall itself was vast, shaped like an amphitheater. Rows of seats curved downward toward a central podium, where a holo-board projected streams of intricate code in shifting neon hues. The walls were lined with memory crystals, enabling instant recording and replay of every lecture.
At the podium stood Professor Clay.
He was an old man, his posture slightly bent with age, but his eyes burned with sharpness that belied his years. His silver hair was cropped short, his neatly trimmed beard lending him an air of timeless wisdom. His coat, though old-fashioned compared to the sleek uniforms of his students, was immaculate.
"Settle down, settle down," Clay's gravelly voice filled the hall as students poured in. "Machine language does not wait for latecomers, and neither do I."
Neel, Bella, and Zade took their seats near the front. Bella immediately pulled out her holo-notepad, stylus poised with anticipation. Zade, predictably, slumped low in his chair, though Neel suspected his friend absorbed more than he ever admitted. Neel himself sat upright, his attention already fixed on the code flowing across the holo-board.
Professor Clay began, his tone carrying the weight of decades. "Machine language is the bridge between thought and action. It is not merely programming—it is conversation. To command machines is to understand not just their structure, but their essence. And essence," he tapped the board with his stylus, "is always precise."
Lines of code shifted on the projection, transforming into layered schematics. Clay's voice droned on, steady but never dull. "Remember, any fool can issue commands. But only those who listen to the machine will discover its limits—and beyond those limits, its possibilities."
Bella scribbled notes furiously. Zade looked half-asleep, but Neel knew better. The slight narrowing of his friend's eyes meant he was quietly decoding patterns in his head.
Neel himself absorbed every word, but not passively. He cross-referenced the lecture with his own ideas, mentally testing theories against Clay's explanations. His mind worked like a living algorithm, dissecting and reassembling concepts in real time.
At one point, Clay's gaze swept across the class and landed squarely on Neel.
"Mr. Jagger," the professor said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "If I were to give you a sequence of tri-coded instructions with conflicting parameters, how would you resolve them?"
The room went silent. Dozens of students turned to watch.
Neel rose to his feet without hesitation. His answer was calm, precise, delivered as though he had anticipated the question. "First, I would identify which parameters are absolute—those tied to machine survival or integrity. Then I would analyze conflicting instructions in sequence priority. If none are strictly prioritized, I would apply contextual filters—environmental factors, energy efficiency, and probability analysis of the desired outcome. In short, I would allow the machine to resolve ambiguity by mirroring the judgment process of its user, but never at the cost of its core operational stability."
Clay's eyes narrowed. Then, slowly, the old professor nodded. "Correct. Sit."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall. Bella smirked proudly, while Zade whispered, "Show-off."
Neel sat back down, unfazed.
The lecture continued, flowing seamlessly from theory into practical demonstration. By the time the bell chimed softly, signaling the end of class, students were buzzing with energy. Some lingered to review notes, others debated points of theory.
Bella stretched with a triumphant sigh. "I think I nailed that quiz."
Zade muttered, "I think I failed it in my sleep."
Neel simply gathered his things, his mind already leaping ahead to what the afternoon might bring.
The day was far from over.