The Ninth Generation

"Rin, wake up! You don’t want to be late on your first day of high school," Mom called, gently shaking me awake.

I groggily sat up, rubbing my eyes, and glanced at her. She gave me a warm smile before heading out of the room.

"Breakfast is ready, head down the stairs after you change to your school uniform," she added as she walked down the stairs.

Still in my sleeping pajamas, I rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom.

Half-asleep, I undressed, tossing my pajamas into the washer. The machine hummed to life, beginning its cycle, washing my clothes and automatically drying it after.

"Lukewarm shower," I mumbled, my voice thick with drowsiness.

A gentle spray of lukewarm water drizzled over me, waking me up little by little.

The bath didn’t take long to finish, and the fragrant aroma of body soap lingered in the bathroom. Before heading out, I gently brushed my teeth for a couple of minutes.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, the shower shut off automatically.

Wrapped in my bathrobe, I returned to my room, opened my wardrobe, and pulled out my new school uniform.

It took me a couple of minutes to get dressed in my new school uniform which perfectly fits my body.

Standing in front of the mirror on my wardrobe door, I adjusted the uniform and caught a glimpse of the black choker around my neck, which almost blends to the color of my hair.

It triggered a vague feeling, something I’d almost forgotten.

I looked again at the mirror for a final check on my face, all clean, I thought as I saw my two brown eyes reflected in the mirror.

"Looks like I’ll be walking to school today," I muttered to myself.

"Time," I commanded.

A holographic display of numbers and letters lit up in my vision: 6:31 AM.

"Twenty-nine minutes left, plenty of time to enjoy eating breakfast and leisurely walking to school," I thought, heading downstairs.

At the dining table, Mom and Dad glanced at me as I sat down. Today’s breakfast is one of my favorites, a couple square-shaped fried chicken, creamy potato soup, a fresh salad, and a cup of perfectly steamed white rice.

We ate in comfortable silence, the soft clinking of cutlery the only sound in the room.

Ten minutes later, my plate was empty, every last bite gone.

"You can leave it there; I’ll take care of it," Mom said as she took my plate and started to wash it at the kitchen sink.

"Thanks, Mom," I replied with a grateful smile.

I gulp the last bit of my hot chocolate.

Heading out the front door, I heard Dad’s voice call after me.

"Watch out for cars," he said.

"Dad, there haven’t been cars for the past 200 years," I replied, laughing at his silly joke. I knew it was his way of saying, Take care.

"Thanks, Dad," I added, feeling a warmth in his concern.

A minute into my walk, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of envy as I saw some students gliding along on a looper.

Loopers were like horizontal escalators, designed to move people forward instead of upward. Integrated into the outer and inner roads of the GRID, they worked in pairs, one heading forward and the other in reverse.

The roads in a GRID are divided into four sections, two walking paths and two loopers.

The loopers, positioned on the inner lanes, operate side by side, continuously moving forward and backward at the speed of 30km/hr.

They follow a quarter-squircle route, pausing for a whole minute at the end of each rotation before resuming their cycle. Roofs are built over the loopers, ensuring comfort for the neomans using it even under the blazing sun.

The thought of a smooth, shaded ride made my walk on this sunny morning feel even more unpleasant. After all, it was my fault that I overslept, which ended up skipping my daily morning jog, which is usually a couple of kilometers running and jogging.

The black choker around my neck served multiple purposes: identification, observer, wallet, and restraint.

It is made from an unknown black metal alloy that expands as the user grows. It also provides a Conceptual Barrier that protects neoman at any given moment.

Every neoman in Matrix Fruma receives a black choker at birth. These devices are linked to the sentient Artificial Intelligence Akasha, also known as the Observer. Through the choker, Akasha can perform a complete scan of a neoman’s body, allowing it to monitor and track their location at all times.

Akasha can also use every Neoman’s eyes like a camera using the black choker which allows her to oversee the whole Matrix Fruma.

The black choker also monitors a neoman’s mental state, enabling it to intervene if someone attempts to harm themselves or others.

In extremely rare cases, it’s rumored to temporarily paralyze a person, triggering the dispatch of officers who retrieve them and ensure they receive care at an institution specializing in mental health.

On the brighter side, the black choker allows me to earn points, which can be used to purchase almost anything from food, beverages, clothes, accessories, gadgets and more.

Points are accumulated by completing everyday activities like jogging, reading, playing, attending school, or cooking.

The only condition is that you must wear the black choker, which is given at birth and remains with you until your eventual death.

And that’s why I’m walking to school on this sunny morning, to earn enough points for a luxury lunch at the school cafeteria.

Simple activities like jogging or walking won’t give me enough points to buy the luxury pork ramen set, so it’s crucial I make it to school on time.

For the sake of the pork ramen set, I was willing to walk a kilometer under the blazing sun.

GRIDs are divided into two parts, the inner areas and outer area’s.

The inner area hosts facilities like schools, hospitals, sports complexes, cultural centers, libraries, parks, playgrounds and other establishments for the community.

Meanwhile, the outer area is home to residential areas, shops, and restaurants.

Residences face the outskirts, while the shops and restaurants are oriented toward the inner area, separated by the road.

After taking more than a thousand steps, I arrived at the school front gate, five minutes early. The points I earned today were enough to secure my luxury lunch in the school cafeteria.

A short walk later, I found myself standing in front of my classroom door.

The room was simple, with white walls and 20 sets of gray desks and chairs.

It felt plain, but that was fine after all, the school year had just begun.

Our first subject was Classical English, focusing on literature from before the Great Mechanical War. The class was taught by Madam Yelena Quartus Docere.

I had heard stories about her from my great-grandmother, who had been one of her students.

According to her, Madam Yelena adored Classical English literature, particularly Shakespeare’s works, and was known for her kind heart.

This year marked her one-hundredth year of teaching. Despite being 124 years old, she looked no older than a 30 year old classic human.

"Mr. Rinares Nonus Prospera," she called.

Without thinking, I stood up and replied, "Present?"

"Mr. Rinares," Professor Yelena said gently, "I’m not taking attendance. From here, I can already clearly tell if everyone is present."

Majority of my classmates turned to look at me, clearly struggling to stifle their laughter.

"Sorry for spacing out, Professor Yelena," I said, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks from embarrassment.

"Since you’re already standing Mr. Rinares, can you name the poet who wrote the poem To See the World in a Grain of Sand?" she asked politely.

"It’s written by Sir William Blake," I answered quickly, recalling one of the many things my great-grandmother had taught me, even though poetry isn’t really my thing.

"Correct, Mr. Rinares," she said with a pleased nod, “You may now sit and how is Little Yuka?"she suddenly asked out of nowhere.

I immediately knew she was referring to my great grandmother, Yukari Sextus Prospera, a traveler, writer and a painter, in my great grandma’s term she’s a self proclaimed wandering artist.

"She’s doing well," I replied. "Traveling the world, writing, and painting with her husband."

Professor Yelena smiled, and it became clear to me that she and my great-grandmother were close friends.

"You may sit, Mr. Rinares," she said kindly.

The rest of the class was filled with Professor Yelena’s passionate discussion of Classical English literature.

Occasionally, she called on students, keeping us engaged and attentive as she told stories about the works and authors she cherished.

Students no longer need textbooks or notebooks, as the desks themselves function as screens, projecting all the necessary lesson materials. Notes are automatically recorded and stored in the black choker for easy access.

After Professor Yelena’s class, we had a three-hour free period to spend as we pleased within the school grounds.