Not Late

The University of Tokyo was considered as not only one of the best schools in Japan, but one of the first to take advantage of the sweeping AI revolution. They integrated the technology into every aspect and function -- from the classes taught to the research conducted -- that in a mere two decades, the entire schooling process was completely automated. It was the main reason that AI gained the ability to help students chart a path in their desired field of study: whether the science department in the south, medicine in the east, engineering in the north, humanities in the west, or magic hovering just above Sanshiro Pond.

And within the Magic Department, in one of those classrooms that could fit a thousand students, was the professor for Magic Theory III, taking attendance one name at a time.

"Uzumaki Takahiro," he read, his voice a bit nasally.

"Here!"

"Wada Gonshiro."

"Present."

In a normal class, especially with a hybrid component, such a task would be impossible, or take an inordinate amount of time. It was akin to searching a hundred books for information easily available on the Internet, or cooking with a rock and stick instead of a proper stove. And yet, due to the class's unusually small size, only about 140 students, the professor could power through in under five minutes.

Some might be wondering why a professor was using such an antiquated method of checking attendance. Well, compared to others, this professor was a bit of an eccentric. His black hair was slicked-back like one of those people in a gangster movie. His dry skin was covered with enough makeup to easily reflect light. That stereotypical white lab coat he wore was as pristine as the day he bought it, doing nothing to hide his sagging chest. Whenever someone asked why he looked like that, he claimed to be walking down a path of his own choosing, free from any AI influence -- a rather bold claim from someone who treated everything in his life as a black box.

His personal assistant conducting his research experiments? That was only for basic data collection and had nothing to do with his analysis.

His Ph.D. in Magic Theory from following an AI's suggestions? He already came up with those ideas beforehand and confirmed it with the AI afterward.

Those AI generated textbooks used in class? Based on 'his' ideas after learning the subject matter.

And what about the random order he was reading the names from his clipboard? Well, to keep the students on their toes. During attendance.

In summary, he was the walking definition of an oxymoron.

Though, if there was one thing that could make his contradictory precepts align...

"Rei Igita--"

SLAM! "Right on time!"

...it would definitely be her.

"No. You're late, Ms. Igita," the professor commented, his tone more strained and demure.

"Hm? But it hasn't turned nine yet, see?" She quickly threw up her watch display, showing the current time: 8:59:58. "See? It just turned nine."

Their interaction played out the same as it had in each of their previous meetings. She would always show up just seconds before the beginning of class, arguing that she wasn't late. Regardless of what the professor said, she would blow him off, sit down, and either sleep or stare off into space. If he tried to throw a question at her in the middle of class, she would ignore him as if he hadn't spoken. And yet, whenever she took an exam or turned in homework, it was always perfect, not to mention fast. The last test only a took her a minute before she disappeared to who knew where. It was rather vexing, to say the least.

Though, in truth, it wasn't as if she didn't respect him. She just didn't think about him or her classmates at all. Her mind was too busy hyper-focusing on the next performance, wondering what to create. The only reason she attended university in the first place was because her workplace required compulsory education -- something about teaching Creators societal norms, not that it worked out whatsoever. After all, her best friend / partner / acquaintance was an exasperated golem.

This time, however, the professor attempted to put his foot down. "I already called your name Ms. Igita--"

"Charlotte."

"...sorry?"

"My name is Charlotte."

"...your name is clearly Rei--"

"Charlotte."

"...I am not entertaining your English fantasies, Ms. Igita. Now, take your seat." The professor sighed at the absurdity, slightly more annoyed than usual.

"Haah... well, whatever old man," she offhandedly spoke. She didn't really care one way or another, not about this conversation nor her attendance. She would rather be thinking about her newest song, so she figured her professor would understand her cutting the conversation short. After all, her personal assistant did, so why wouldn't her professor?

Meanwhile, said professor had clenched his fist so tightly that he gave himself a paper cut.