Chapter 3 Orientation II

12:00–13:00 | Lunch Break

By the time class ended, I was thoroughly exhausted, and judging by the dragging footsteps and heavy sighs around me, I wasn’t the only one. Two straight classes had drained whatever energy we had left, and the moment the bell rang, the entire school surged toward the cafeteria like a Mongol horde.

Once we got there the smell of grilled fish, steamed rice, and miso soup drifted through the air. Trays clattered, voices echoed. As the rows of long wooden tables continued to fill up, with whole clusters of classmates claiming spaces as if planting flags on new territory. Some sat with the people they already knew; others drifted uncertainly before finding a seat with strangers. For most of us, it was the first real chance to break away from our assigned groups, to mingle freely, to weigh each other up outside the controlled environment of the classroom.

After I got my lunch, I began to look for a place to sit. After scanning the room I was able to find a seat next to people I knew. I took my seat across from Miyu Hayashi, who was having an argument with Haruka.

“Ugh, this is so boring. Back home, lunch meant something Instagram-worthy. This? This is… cafeteria food.”

Haruka rolled her eyes. “Not everything has to be a fashion statement, Miyu.”

Just then Miyu turned to me before asking. “Daniel, don’t you think this food is disgusting… and poorly presented?, don't you think that food should be more luxurious in a place like this.”

I sat there for a half second before responding. “Ibrahim, a member of the Saudi royal family, is eating his miso soup and rice with a smile on his face and without a single complaint to be heard. I don’t know what background you’d have to come from to be more spoiled than literal royalty… unless you yourself are royalty. And you said you’re from Kyoto, you certainly have the mannerisms of a Kyotoite.”

She blushed before responding “No I'm well…. Not actually from High Society. I grew up in a typical Kansai household.”

“Okay, then define for me a typical Kansai household.”

“All right then, a typical Kansai home has multiple floors two above ground and one under. The highest floor typically contains the bedrooms and I remember from my bedroom I could see the whole city the other major thi-”

Haruka cut her off. “All right, you very clearly come from money. Not everyone can afford a view of Kyoto like that.”

I then followed up. “I very clearly remembered when I lived in Fukuoka that neither my mom’s house or any other house we went to, whether it be our neighbor's house or the house of a relative, would have any of that stuff. This implies very clearly that your house is new, drawing heavy inspiration from Western design.”

“All right… I guess I do come from money. But I am sure I am not the only one. Or even the wealthiest. Besides Ibrahim I can assume that someone here has an even higher economic status. This school seems to draw people from literally any background.”

“Fair point but I haven't seen anyone who Screams “I got money. ””

After that, we all continued eating in silence. However, conversation continued to swirl around me. The three delinquents from Kanto had claimed an entire table for themselves, eating loudly, laughing even louder. Rimi and Rieko shot them amused glances but stayed put, as if saving their challenge for later. Some of the former college students (Ayami, Miai, Kioto, and Noriko) were peacefully sitting at their own table. From what I could make out Alice and Frederica were having a conversation about the weather. The ex-soldier was seated on the other side of the cafeteria. Seated next to him was a kid who looked like he hadn't gotten a good night's rest over a year. And in the center of it all there was myself, the young man from Fukuoka.

Leadership/Piloting (13:00–13:30)

After the bell rang I began to make my way to my next class. When I got there I found a huge machine at the back. The teacher, Ms. Isobe explained that the machine was a simulator. The teacher appeared to be in her late forties. However, seeing as how this is a school for time travelers, she could have been born yesterday. The rest of the class then filed in, however this was the first class where I wasn't able to recognize anyone. Once everyone arrived, the professor started off with a lecture about the crushing weight of responsibility placed on a commander. And the various systems of a time machine and how they work together.

“Now listen carefully to what I’m about to say, because this may very well save your life. I know being a commander or a pilot isn’t your primary role. However, knowing how to fly a time machine will be invaluable. You may be sent on a solo mission where you must fulfill this and all other roles. You may also find yourself in a situation where a series of unfortunate events leaves you as the only available person to fly the machine back to safety. And before you assume this is a far-fetched hypothetical… that exact line of thinking is what gets people killed.”

The teacher then went on to describe a series of events that happened to the crew of an ill-fated expedition to the Victorian era.

“When the crew first arrived in 1849, they were ecstatic and thrilled to be in a new time period. The first few days went smoothly. However, things began to fall apart after the commander and the time engineer got drunk at a local bar. Before leaving for the Victorian era, they had been warned of the ongoing cholera epidemic. They were told that boiling water would make it safe — or, if boiling wasn’t possible, that drinking beer would kill the bacteria. Evidently, some of the crew decided that drinking at a bar sounded far more enjoyable than boiling water.

One drink led to another, and before long, they were blackout drunk. When the bar finally closed, they were kicked out onto the street. Eventually, they were rounded up by police and fined for public urination and intoxication. While at the police station, an officer feeling pity, offered them a cup of water, which they (In a drunken state) accepted.

After that, things continued to cascade. The head of security, while searching for firewood to boil water, got into a fight with a homeless man who claimed ownership of every fallen branch in North London. The confrontation ended with the homeless man biting him, giving him tetanus.

At that point, the mission was considered a failure. Three crew members were medically compromised and required constant care from the two medics. This left only the co-pilot able to fly the time machine to the nearest era where antibiotics were available — 1942, nearly a century in the future.”

After she finished with that lecture. She then went on to describe the purpose of this class which was: “for the purpose of teaching the skills of leadership and self-management. In settings related to time travel”

Time engineering (13:30–14:00)

After I was finished with the leadership course, I went on to my next course, engineering. When I got to the class, the teacher, Mr. Kuramoto, shook my hand and told me to take up a seat by the window. About a minute later a familiar face strolled into the room. Tadano Fujiwara. He looked more awake than he had this morning, his black hair combed neatly, his uniform collar perfectly straightened. He greeted the teacher with a slight bow, then shook his hand just as he had mine.

“Ah, Fujiwara. Same homeroom as Daniel, he's sitting right by the window.”

Tadano turned his head, spotted me, and without hesitation claimed the desk in front of mine.

After he took a seat, I leaned forward.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He smirked faintly. “Didn’t expect you either. I thought you’d be taking something… less complicated.”

I shot back at him firmly. “So you haven't been to leadership yet, because if you had, you would know that it's mandatory to at minimum be proficient in all aspects related to the operation of a time machine.”

“Oh, so that’s what they’re teaching in leadership.”

“Exactly. You never know what situation you'll find yourself in. Anyways, I'm sure this time engineering thing can't be that complicated. I'm pretty sure they're just going to give us a cut down version since our main role is that of a medic.”

He gave a shrug before saying. “If our professor is a genius, we might pass. If he is wise and of a middling understanding of the subject we will also pass. If the professor is of a middling understanding but lacks wisdom we will fail miserably. If our professor is both wise and a genius we will excel beyond our wildest imaginations.”

I looked at him with a confused expression. “What do you mean by that?”

“You see, in this subject our understanding is relatively limited. So this means that things are going to need to be explained to us in simple terms. The only type of person who would explain it in simple terms are people who have a decent understanding of the subject and know that we wouldn't be able to understand the majority of the technical terms.”

I lean back in my chair. “So basically, if our teacher isn’t an arrogant prick who would rather flaunt his knowledge than explain it, we will pass.”

“Basically, yeah. It is a common trait among people who have a limited understanding of a subject to use advanced technical terms to look smart. Even if they don’t know what they’re saying half the time.”

I looked up towards the ceiling, thinking of a time back in the fourth grade when something like this happened to me.

“Yeah, you definitely have a point. There are really some idiots out there who will say anything but mean nothing.”

“So you had to deal with those types of people too.”

“Yes, back when I was 9 years old, the school I went to brought in a new English teacher who seemed perfect. However, on the first day she subjected myself and my fellow classmates to phrases like. “The reciprocity of the astronomological is equivalent by nature” and “Upon the Peoples who stood forth to the rear of aeronautical craft after it sounded its aeronautical cord. There were none of them that did not render deafness.” She was fired 3 days later when the English speaking vice principal went to investigate all of the complaints he had been hearing about the new teacher.”

Tadano chuckled at my story, shaking his head. “Three days? That’s impressive. At least your administration caught on quickly. Back in my old school, we had a math teacher who lasted half a semester before anyone dared to complain. He used to throw around equations that even the textbooks didn’t bother printing. I swear he was inventing symbols on the spot. Every time we asked for clarification, he’d just say, ‘You’ll understand when you’re older.’ Well, now I'm older and I understand, perfectly, that he was not qualified. In fact he should definitely have not been teaching and he probably faked his credentials.”

I let out a laugh. “Sounds like he wasn’t teaching math, he was teaching fortune-telling.”

Tadano replied with a smirk. “Exactly, except no one’s fortune improved from it.”

For a moment we both fell silent, the sound of chairs scraping against the floor filling the room as more students trickled in. Some were clearly nervous, clutching their notebooks tightly, while others carried themselves with the air of confidence that only ignorance could grant. I watched them with a quiet curiosity after all, these people were not just classmates; They would be my future co-workers.

Tadano leaned back in his seat, turning his head just enough so only I could hear. “So it looks like we're about to begin. I sure hope this Kuramoto guy is not just some engineer who did something on a mission and now has to teach us.”

I replied. “I sure hope Mr Kuramoto is like the colonel, cold and distant but experienced and wouldn't let you make a stupid decision that would get you killed.”

Just then Mr Kuramoto cleared his throat. By now the class was full to the point of bursting. The teacher glanced at the clock, then straightened.

“All right, welcome to Time Engineering. Some of you think this will be equations. Some of you think it will be magic. You’re all wrong. It’s something far stranger than either combined.”

His voice carried easily, it wasn’t loud, but measured, deliberate, like a man who knew silence was just as commanding as volume.

“So, to begin: in the field of time engineering, there are two phrases you need to know. Time dilation and the light barrier. Today we will be talking about time dilation since it is the simplest to understand. Basically there are two types of time dilation: gravitational time dilation and kinetic time dilation. Gravitational time dilation is simple to understand. Basically, the closer you are to a gravitational center, the slower time moves; the farther away you are, the faster it moves. For example, the Earth's core is about 2.5 years younger than the crust due to it being at the centre of the Earth and therefore the center of its gravity well. Does anyone have any questions?”

The girl sitting next to me rose to her feet, straight-backed and direct. “Yes. How will we use this in our careers as time travelers?”

“I personally doubt you're ever going to need to use this in your day-to-day lives even as a time traveler. This is such an inefficient way of moving forward through time especially compared to the other type of time dilation. The only reason why I'm telling you this here is because the headmaster said I have a full half hour to do whatever I want. But that I should “go easy on them” and “tell them only the basic stuff that most of them would have already known about.” So this is the result. Anyways, does anyone have any more questions?”

A hand shot up from the opposite side of the class, It was none other than the 14-year-old from the assembly. “Sir, if gravitational time dilation is so inefficient, why do scientists even bother studying it?”

Kuramoto’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Because science, at its core, is curiosity, not convenience. Inefficiency does not make a thing unworthy of study. The first man who rubbed two sticks together to make fire didn’t know it was inefficient compared to a lighter. But if he hadn’t done it, none of you would be here. Useless knowledge has a way of becoming useful centuries later. Keep that in mind.”

Following Kuramoto’s statement, a murmur of agreement and confusion swept through the class. I could hear Tadano mutter under his breath, “I like him already.”

Kuramoto moved on, writing a second phrase on the chalkboard. “Kinetic Time Dilation.”

“This is where things become interesting. The faster you move, the slower time passes for you compared to those standing still. And unlike gravitational dilation, this one has practical uses in our field. You see, using the technology you will one day wield, you will be able to get as close as you want to light speed. and once you do get up to speed you could then use this law of physics to turn an unfathomably long span of time into something more manageable. Any questions.”

When Kuramoto finished, a long silence descended upon the class, followed by a gust of cold Spring air. Kuramoto let the silence stretch before continuing.

“Do not misunderstand me. You will not be asked to calculate Lorentz factors on the battlefield. That is not your role. But you must understand what your machines are doing to you. A medic who forgets time’s weight may return to find their patient long dead, even if they believe only moments have passed. The consequences are not academic. The consequences will be real, and they're going to affect you.”

When Kuramoto finished his statement he looked to the window outside, seemingly thinking of a followup. In the meantime the rest of the class was once again washed over by that cold spring air, only enhancing the silence. However Kuramoto was not affected, the window adjacent to his desk was closed.

Then he looked upon the class with a glare 10 times colder than the wind. “So. Who among you can tell me the difference between a time traveler… and a time exile?”

No one dared to answer, nobody could answer, nobody knew how to answer. If somebody tried, they would find that their Jaws were frozen in place, unable to move.

After what felt like an eternity, some fool at the back was somehow able to summon the willpower to force out a sentence. “Time exile… that sounds like a—”

He was swiftly silenced by a sharp glance from Kuramoto. The professor didn’t need words to quiet him; his presence alone was enough.

Time continued to pass and the wind continued to wash over us like sand on a beach. I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of the seat beneath me, of the ticking of the clock above the blackboard. The idea gnawed at me: what if a single wrong step, a miscalculation, could strand us forever in a time not our own?

The teacher paced to the other side of the class. “The difference between a time traveler and a time exile is like that of the homeless drug addict and the high royals of the society like heads of state, captains of industry and the boss's boss. It is similar to heaven and hell or the desolation of the moon and the splendor of the Earth. That is the difference between a time traveler and a time exile.”

Kuramoto finally sat down, the office chair and wooden floor creaking under his weight.

“That is the true heart of this course. And by the end of it, you will all know what to do and what not to do so you may retire to the serenity of the Earth.”

Just then the bell rang and the teacher dismissed us. However, even after I left that classroom, I could still feel the teacher's aura.

Tadano walked just behind me, his footsteps measured, unhurried. When the crowd thinned for a moment, he leaned forward, his voice low but steady. “He’s right, you know. One day, someone here won’t make it back. That’s the real lesson he’s giving us.”

I froze mid-step. The hallway kept moving around me, the hordes of students all trying to get to their next class, but Tadano’s words drowned it all out.

I glanced over my shoulder. He wasn’t grinning, wasn’t trying to scare me. His expression was level, almost resigned, like he was stating a fact carved in stone.

I asked, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “Why would you say something like that?”

He raised his gaze to meet mine. “Because it’s true. People like us don’t just bend time without consequence. The professor didn’t say it outright, but he was warning us.”

When Tadano finished, he turned into the mass of students and disappeared.

Communications Officer Training (14:00–14:30)

After the cold reception I received in Time Engineering, I dragged myself into the next class on my schedule: Communications. Compared to the heavy, cold, and martial feel of the Time Engineering and Security rooms, this room seemed to be one of the less modified rooms in the school, having a similar feel to my homeroom or the Leadership room. Except, unlike the Time Engineering room, the aura of the teacher was far less overbearing. Instead, the feel given off by this room was more airy, almost serene. And on the teacher's desk stood an old telegraph machine, its brass fittings polished to a golden shine.

Standing behind the desk was Ms. Kazami. She was a young woman who looked to be in her late twenties. She wore a tailored suit with a black jacket. She radiated composure, the kind of presence that silenced a room without raising her voice. And she didn’t waste a second on introductions.

“Good afternoon, I am Kazami-sensei, and I will be responsible for your training in communications.”

“Ms. Kazami-sensei, I have a question.”

She turned from the chalkboard, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “And what might that question be?”

“This classroom has a very calm feel to it. How did you manage to accomplish that?”

She cracked a small encouraging smile. “Well what was your previous class?”

“Time engineering.”

Kazami’s eyes gleamed with a quiet humor. “That's how I was able to make the class have such a calm and easy going feel.”

I nodded politely, then made my way to an empty seat in the second row from the front, directly next to the wall. About a minute later the teacher began the class.

“Now you may think of this class as secondary, an afterthought compared to your main courses. However you are mistaken. If communication fails, then the mission behind it fails. And when missions fail, there will be consequences. So today we will begin with the most important lesson: how to speak across time.”

Her tone was calm, but it made the air tighten in my chest.

“Under normal conditions, time travelers are never truly cut off. We use a technology called the Quantum Telegraph. It is your lifeline, your anchor, and your last line of defense against becoming a ghost stranded in history. Pay close attention.”

Just then Ms. Kazami pulled down a projector screen and turned off the lights in the room. She then turned to the console at her desk, and a video flickered to life on the screen.

“This is a Quantum Telegraph. It is your lifeline. Under normal conditions, you will use it to send reports back to headquarters, coordinate with other time travel groups, or receive new orders. Today I’ll show you how it works”

On the screen lines of glowing spheres appeared, connected in pairs and groups.

“The principle of the quantum telegraph is deceptively simple. Quantum bits, qubits, once entangled, behave as a pair no matter the distance between them. Observe one closely, and its state collapses to a one or a zero. Instantly, its twin will mirror it. Observe from a distance, and you will see nothing but probability, superposition. But when an entire chain of qubits suddenly resolves into dots and dashes… that is how we read messages.”

We write in Morse code, chosen for its redundancy and simplicity. A dot is 5 seconds of observation. A dash is 10 seconds. A pause of 3 seconds indicates the break between symbols. ‘A’ would look like this”

The spheres on the display blinked: one short burst followed by a long burst.

“Dot-dash. Simple. But elegant.”

Just then, a student raised their hand. After the teacher paused the video, he asked, “So we’re sending telegrams with Schrödinger’s cats…”

Ms. Kazami responded “Basically, yes.”

Then Rieko, seated a few rows behind, raised her hand. “If it’s just Morse code, doesn’t that make it slow?”

Kazami allowed the faintest smile. “Slow compared to a phone? Yes. But reliable. And reliability matters more than speed. With sufficient qubits, we can send sentences in under a minute. Enough to save lives.”

Then Kazami-sensei unpaused the video.

“Accuracy is paramount. A telegraph with three qubits is less reliable than one with ten. For every message, we use at least triple redundancy. That means all qubits must default in unison for a signal to be valid. Otherwise, you risk misinterpreting random noise as a cry for help. And misinterpreting a false or phantom signal means wasting resources on rescuing a crew that is in reality doing just fine. While neglecting a crew that is in genuine need of rescue. Quantum telegraphs are expensive. Entangling qubits requires facilities far beyond anything you will ever see in your typical day to day careers. And only the most critical missions are equipped with large multi-link machines capable of handling dozens of simultaneous connections.While engaged in missions of lesser importance, you will typically be assigned telegraphs of 10 to 50 qubits, with 3 qubits as the absolute minimum.”

The video then went on to demonstrate the operation of a 100-qubit telegraph with 10 qubit each connected to a separate telegraph. thereby allowing the 100-qubit telegraph to act as a major hub.

“If you find that you need to communicate with a time traveling group that you do not have a direct link to. Then you must use a relay. First try contacting headquarters or if that's not suitable then try a party with a hub Telegraph that you know can get you to the people you need to talk to. These people will pass your message along to the proper group. Indirect communication is less efficient, but sometimes unavoidable.”

It was on that note that the video ended. The lights flickered back on and the projector was rolled up but the lesson was not over. The teacher got up and wrote on the blackboard. “Failure conditions”

The teacher then said, “Now, suppose your telegraph fails.” It is rare, but it does happen. The machine may be damaged. The environment may be too warm — qubits require cold, stable conditions, free of interference. If your telegraph becomes unreliable, what should you do?”

A pause. No one answered.

“You return home, as soon as possible. That is your first priority. If you cannot return home, then you fall to the final resort: an emergency time capsule.”

The teacher once again turned to the chalkboard, this time drawing a crude and basic picture of a metal box being buried in the ground.

“If stranded, you must create a physical artifact that can survive until rediscovered. Stone, metal, clay tablets, whatever will endure. Write your distress signal in any form you can. Identify yourself, your mission, your origin date, and your coordinates. Bury it in a place where it is likely to be uncovered, or pass it into the hands of those who might preserve it. All right, does anyone have any questions?”

The class fell silent. We were all still processing what we had just learned. And we couldn't come up with any questions.

“Okay, it looks like that is enough for today. If there are any takeaways you should remember from this class, they are these two rules you must never forget: In normal circumstances, you speak through the Quantum Telegraph. In emergencies, you leave a message for the future. Everything else builds on those two pillars.”

She folded her hands behind her back. “Tomorrow, we will begin hands-on practice with the training telegraphs. Until then, reflect on what you learn today.”

The bell rang as usual and the students began to leave for their final class.