The smart-paneled screen had already shifted aside when Isadora woke, letting pale, intentional morning light spill across the dorm room. Someone must have activated it earlier.
On instinct, she reached for her stream card.
NEURO-LIT 101
She realized this was only the second time she'd be attending the class, she mused quietly to herself.
With a quiet exhale, she sat up and glanced toward Noelle's bed. It was empty—duvet crooked, pillow pushed back like she'd left in her usual cheerful hurry. A small card rested on it, covered in Naelle's chaotic doodles: uneven stars, tiny flowers, and a badly drawn smiley face.
Isadora picked it up.
"Had to run!! 😭⭐ I'll gist you EVERYTHING when I get back — Nelle."
Isadora stared at the card for a moment.
The doodles, the scattered emojis, the rushed handwriting—none of it matched the Noelle she lived with.
Noelle was usually calm, steady, almost soft-spoken in how she moved through the morning. Her notes, when she left any at all, were usually neat and short.
This one felt… different.
Breathless. Excited. A little chaotic.
It made Isadora pause, as if she were seeing a small, hidden side of her roommate she hadn't noticed before
Rosier's side of the room was the complete opposite—neatly arranged, precise, almost surgically organized. Her uniform was folded perfectly on the chair, her books stacked flush against each other, not a single item out of place.
Rosier was never around when Isadora woke, and somehow never present when she returned either. She moved like a schedule with no gaps.
Her cool floral scent lingered faintly in the air—fresh, elegant, unmistakably hers.
A soft vibration tugged Isadora's attention back to her card.
Malakai had sent her a message sometime while she was asleep. She didn't open it, only staring at the unopened notification before locking the screen."
Not now.
She dressed quickly, smoothing her uniform and tying back her black jhurli curls. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stepped into the corridor
By the time she entered the dining hall, it was alive with morning energy: trays clattering, low conversations, the steady rhythm of students navigating another day.
And then she saw him.
Malakai.
He sat at the table reserved, as usual, for those with influence—Legacies, or those aligned with their course.
Lutris leaned close, laughing at something he said, while the faint glow of their wristbands marked them as part of the established circle.
His eyes flicked toward her, almost attempting a wordless message, but Isadora noticed the dynamic—the subtle hierarchy, the unspoken rules.
Isadora looked away just as quickly, heading for the opposite side of the hall.
She still wasn't reading that message.
****
Isadora left the dining hall with a comfortable fullness in her stomach, replaying the quiet simplicity of her breakfast—warm grain-mix, spiced cream, and a cup of synth-berry tea. It had been good. Satisfying. She wondered absently how the kitchen got the flavor so consistent every morning.
The hallway lights brightened as she walked, automatically adjusting to her movement. Students drifted in clusters around her, their voices soft in the morning buzz as she made her way toward her first lecture.
Her wristband pulsed again.
Mal's message.
Still unopened.
She inhaled slowly and stepped into the lecture hall just as the room settled.
Professor Elleven entered with her usual controlled grace, her holo-slate floating beside her.
"Good morning," she said, her voice steady and unhurried. "Before we begin today's lesson, I'll be showing you your assignment grades.
But first—" her fingers flicked lightly, bringing up the interface "—I'll be explaining the credit system and how your performance determines access and Privileges, in Creisleigh.
Her fingers flicked across the holo-interface, and the chart expanded above the room—clear, precise, and impossible to ignore.
A chart appeared above the holo-board:
A = 5 Credits
B = 4 Credits
C = 3 Credits
D = 2 Credits
E = 1 Credit (Conditional Pass)
She continued, "Your participation, your assignments, and your evaluations all merge into your cumulative credit standing. These numbers determine far more than your grades—they determine access. Labs, research circles, restricted modules. You earn those through performance, not interest."
A soft ripple of unease moved across the students. Some leaned forward. Others sank a little into their seats.
Isadora kept her expression neutral.
"Now," Professor Elleven announced, "your results will be released."
With a precise tap on her holo-pad, the grades appeared simultaneously on every student's wristband, glowing briefly before settling into their steady display.
Her wristband pulsed as the grades appeared:
Credits: +23
Emotional Calibration: A
Isadora blinked, then felt a small thrill bloom in her chest. Her first assignment. And an A. She couldn't help the curve of her lips—just a little, quietly—but it felt like proof that she could do this, that she belonged here.
Professor Elleven's voice cut crisply through the hum of the classroom.
"For this assignment, there were five questions, each worth five points. The breakdown of the credit points are as follows
The holo-board flickered briefly:
A+: 85–100% → 5 points
A / A-: 80–84% → 5 points
B: 70–79% → 4 points
C: 60–69% → 3 points
D: 50–59% → 2 points
E: <50% → 1 point (conditional pass)
"Points determine access to labs, research groups, and advanced projects," Elleven continued, voice precise.
"Anything below 70% will require additional work to maintain standing. Excellence is expected here."
"Your personal interfaces contain all detailed feedback—expected emotional responses, actual scores, and suggested improvements. Make sure to review them carefully."
Isadora's wristband pulsed, and her personal interface lit up with a detailed breakdown only she could see:
* Q1 — Bittersweet
Target: 70-85%
Score: 83% → A
Comment: Excellent recognition of sub-emotive triggers. Well-weighted and resonant.
* Q2 — Yearning
Target: 75–90%
Score: 80% → A
Comment: Good pacing; subtle pause placement enhanced neural response.
* Q3 — Suspicion
Target : 65-80%
Score: 78% → B
Comment: Near A, but sensory layering could be stronger.
Q4 — Survivor's Guilt
Target: 65–80%
Score: 70% → B
Comment: Emotional mapping lacked subtlety in the underlying regret. Review triggers.
Q5 — Quiet joy
Target: 70-85
Score: 80 →A
Excellent work. Emotional cues were well-expressed and clearly registered by the system
Total: 23 points → A
Asmall, private smile lifted the corner of Isadora's lips. The grade wasn't just a mark on a page—it was a quiet nudge, a reminder that she could rise to the challenges ahead
Professor Elleven tapped her pad, and the top five students appeared on the public leaderboard:
1.Luca Veyra – A+
2. Isadora Ryles – A
3. Celeste Hadthorne – A
4. Marion Kaye – A–
5. Tobias Greer – A–
low murmur rippled through the classroom. Subtle glances were exchanged among the higher-ranked students, each silently gauging the others' standing.
Some of the legacy students, in particular, couldn't fathom why a scholarship student had surpassed them. They were already calculating—how the leaderboard revealed who could access influential circles, and how they might signal dissatisfaction without breaking protocol.
Isadora exhaled quietly, letting herself savor the small but significant triumph. Her first formal ranking—and in the top three. A quiet thrill bloomed in her chest.
Professor Elleven's fingers flicked across the holo-pad again, revealing the bottom five students in a subtle sidebar—accessible to anyone who wished to see detailed standings, but not spotlighted for the class.
The contrast was clear: achievement created opportunity, while low performance came with consequences.
Elleven's gaze swept the room.
"While the top ranks show public recognition, your cumulative performance—available on your personal interfaces—determines much more.
It creates advantages, edges that unlock labs, research groups, and special projects. Privilege here isn't assigned
it's earned. Understanding how your performance shapes it is key to navigating your path."
"Creisleigh prioritizes excellence, and anyone falling short risks removal from the program. Those below the threshold—you know who you are—must work harder. The system is precise, and it observes everything."
Students shifted in their seats, some pale, some smug.
"Now," Elleven continued, "in our previous session, we explored neuro-resonant writing and sub-emotive triggers. That discussion answered several questions you raised, and I saw some remarkable results. However, today we will not repeat that exercise."
A pause. Fingers tapping the holo-slate.
"Instead, we will focus on narrative empathy mapping. You will learn to predict how a reader—or an AI—responds to layered emotional cues across a sequence. How a story's rhythm, syntax, and implied context affect perception."
A faint glow appeared across the room, visualizing emotional responses layered on a short text passage.
"Consider this scenario," she said, gesturing. "A protagonist experiences loss quietly. The narrative does not explicitly describe grief, but the rhythm of sentences, pauses between thoughts, and selective imagery convey sorrow.
You will map the expected responses—human and AI alike—onto emotional spectrums. Your goal is precision. Subtlety. Influence."
Isadora's stylus hovered as the first example appeared: a short paragraph describing someone walking through an empty room.
The neural pad traced expected emotional responses, color-coded and timed.
Students murmured softly, some calculating anticipated spikes, others whispering to their neighbors about subtle cues. The hierarchy was evident in the symbols on their uniforms. As first years, they all wore the standard white brooch, but subtle differences made the distinctions clear—white,gold rimmed and white with silver rim marking legacy and scholarship students, bronze for the few regulars—and some interpreted the visualizations with remarkable ease.
Isadora kept her head down, aware of the subtle ordering in the room. Her wristband buzzed faintly—Mal's message— Again. but she ignored it.
Focus was necessary. This class demanded attention.
Professor Elleven's voice cut through the low hum, calm but firm.
"You will create your own mappings for today's assignment. Choose a scenario. Map it. Predict emotional responses across both human and AI modules. The more accurate your projection, the higher your credit reward."
Excitement and concentration rippled across the room. This was different from last week—calculated, technical, cerebral.
Isadora felt the familiar tightening in her chest—the pressure to measure, predict, and excel—but also the thrill of learning something new.
****
The room buzzed with restless energy as Elleven tapped her holo-slate.
"Points have been awarded," she announced simply. "Review them on your wristbands. Those with outstanding performance today—well done. Excellence is always rewarded. For now, if you need clarification on today's module, the library's research terminals are open."
The reaction was immediate.
A shimmer of brooch colors rippled across the classroom. Silver caught the light in sharp glints; gold-tinted ones gleamed proudly; bronze-tinted students glanced anxiously at their wristbands before slipping them under their sleeves.
Some groaned, regretting not trying harder; others wore smug little grins, clearly impressed with themselves. A few remained completely unfazed, already shoving notebooks into bags.
The quiet buzz of speculation and rivalry hung in the air.
Elleven dismissed the class with a soft flick of her wrist, and the hovering leaderboard blinked out.
Isadora's wristband chimed.
+8 points
Her total updated immediately:
Total: 86 credit points
Scrolling down, she glanced at her history:
Assignment Hub: -1 point
Total points before this class: 78 credit points
She exhaled softly. That addition had been exactly what she needed.
A warm pulse spread across her skin. Expected—she'd known she performed well—but still, the confirmation settled pleasantly in her chest..
Across the room, a soft lilac glow illuminated another wristband. It belonged to a girl everyone seemed to recognize instantly. Her brooch — white center, silver rim — marked her as a scholarship student, but the small crowd gathering around her made it clear she was more than that. Popular. Well-liked. Effortlessly so.
She laughed, responding to the congratulations with an easy grace.
People drifted toward her instinctively, drawn by that polished confidence.
Her gaze eventually swept across the room… pausing briefly on Isadora.
As the space around her cleared, she stepped toward Isadora.
"You're Isadora, right?" she asked, her tone gentle but certain. "I remember you from the first class — the way you answered that question."
A few students nearby turned slightly, connecting the name to the girl with the fresh point glow. Isadora offered a small, composed smile and nodded.
Before they could say anything more, the movement toward the doorway picked up again, folding everyone back into the flow of departing students.
****
The hallway was alive—laughter mixing with complaints, armfuls of textbooks, the soft buzz of holo-screens updating in real time. Points flashed briefly above a few wristbands as students compared results.
Isadora had barely stepped into the corridor when her wristband vibrated.
Jace:
Are you done?? How was your class?? Mine was CHAOS. You missed drama, Dora.
She typed back as she walked:
Isadora:
I'm done. It was good… I got a small win today.
Another buzz came almost instantly.
Jace:
Really?? Tell me! I'm coming out of my module now—mine was crowded so I picked a different elective today. What happened?
She laughed under her breath and replied while weaving through the flow of bodies:
Isadora:
Nothing big… just got a decent number of points. I'm still breathing.
Jace launched straight into recounting his own class—wild, loud, typical Jace—complete with the dramatic exaggerations she'd come to expect. She read his messages, smiling as she slowed her pace.
But Elleven's earlier comment tugged at her thoughts.
There was something she didn't fully understand about the lesson.
Isadora:
Anyway—I'm heading to the library. There's something in today's module I need to check.
Jace:
Of course you are. Nerd.
She rolled her eyes, fond, watching as the message
She tapped the side of the band gently.
"Lyra?" she whispered.
"Reactivating Lyra"...
Lyra responded instantly, its voice soft enough for only her to hear.
"Yes, Isadora?, what do you need"
"Library. I need directions."
A quiet acknowledgement tone hummed.
"Navigation set. A route has been displayed on your wristband."
Her screen brightened, showing a minimalist campus layout —, a thin glowing line indicating turns and hallways.