The Floor

January 5, 2050. Wednesday.

I woke up clean again. Sat up, reached for the edge of the bed, already aligned with what the day expected. The difference this time was that I noticed the way each step followed the next. Unit was already active. By the time I fully opened my eyes, a checklist was already projected across the wall. Uniform. ID. Device. Goggles. Bag. I didn’t ask it to bring it up. It was early like it assumed I would follow through anyway. I let it stay there. It didn’t feel worth interrupting something that was already working.

My shoulders were tight when I stood up. I stretched once. It didn’t change much. Everything else followed easily. Clothes where they were supposed to be. Bag already half-packed from last night. I checked it once, then again, even though nothing had changed. I swallowed my morning dose with the last of my water and grabbed my bag.

Breakfast was already set when I stepped out. Both mom and dad were there. Unusual. Normally, at least one of them would be gone by now. They didn’t say anything immediately. At first, they offered only small observations. Eat properly and sit straight. Then the larger things slipped in. Final stretch. YGCE exams. They said it like I was expected to pick up and carry without being told to. I responded enough to keep the exchange moving. There wasn’t anything to argue with. “Hey, don’t pressure the boy.” Ah Gong said it from the side, enough to shift the weight in the room by a small amount. Ah Ma nodded without looking up, continuing with what she was watching from her screen. My parents didn’t push further after that.

I finished eating even though I could’ve taken a few more minutes. They handed me the allowance before I left. Same as usual. 1000 YĐ. Unit gave a soft confirmation chirp somewhere behind me. Sync complete. I acknowledged it without turning around.

The hallway outside was already louder than it had been the past few days of doors opening and closing in uneven intervals. The lift stopped on more floors than usual on the way down. Outside, the air felt heavier and colder than it had over the weekend. I saw students moving in small clusters, some with parents trailing slightly behind.

The student discount had reactivated. Vivian was already at the station platform. Same spot and distance from where the doors would line up. She always stands just far enough back that she doesn’t have to adjust when the doors open. She mentioned her orientation duties after a while. Different reporting times. More involvement than last year. It suited her.

Train arrived on schedule, despite my expectations for another “incident”. We stepped in with the rest of the crowd. It filled quickly. I checked my device while we were moving. The usual. School announcements. Group chats warming back up after the break. Viv checked her device once, then put it away again. She didn’t say anything about what she saw. I didn’t ask. I could hear other conversations all around us. Rankings. Applications. Which university was better, and for what. People talking like decisions had already been made. One voice mentioned getting stuck somewhere lower-tier. I didn’t want to look at them so I focused on the overhead display instead. There was a slight delay when the doors closed at one of the stops. Nothing else happened before the system corrected itself and continued. I noticed it.

When we got to Hawthorne station, we were being actively shepherded by security bots by the exit. Nearby was a small cluster of RYP rallyists already in place. Hard to miss. Simply standing there holding signs and chanting. The bots kept us moving just fast enough that we couldn’t stop, but slow enough that we had to read everything. Claims that young people are becoming “detached” from Yusongese identity. Accusations that Saint Titus, Chui Yin, and Trenton are “too international” and training for "jobs that don’t exist". Students warned against “playing politics too early”. It was maybe a kind of rally only meant to be seen by students my age, when we were sleepy, uniformed, and easier to talk to.

Stepping onto campus didn’t feel like anything. Same buildings, same layout, same students (mostly), and same flow too. I walked past the gates and they opened as smoothly as they always do. Then the second pass of attention settled in and the differences started registering. The holobanners were the easiest place to see it. The words had changed. Last year leaned on exploration and curiosity. This time it was on outcomes and readiness. Doesn’t invite interpretation so much as it closes it off. I didn’t slow down to read them twice and dwell on it. I don’t stand still on days like this.

The crowd sorted itself faster than I expected. Others splitting off into directions with minimal hesitation, guided by a combination of habit, signage, and whatever internal map gets reinforced after years of repetition.

There were volunteer NUF Youth stationed at key points. Pointing people toward where they were already supposed to go with brief directions and small gestures. One of them stepped slightly into my path as I approached the main corridor, hand already angled to redirect. I told them no thanks and that I knew where to go before they finished the sentence. They stepped back, already turning to the next person. I didn’t want to be personal. It was just insulting that I needed guidance for something I’d already done enough times to internalize.

Vivian and I walked together until the path split near the central courtyard. She was headed toward the Aquinas Blocks, and I was going the other direction toward the Dr. Tan Blocks. We nodded and moved. Her side of the courtyard was already filling with people I didn't recognize well. The distance between our buildings isn't really far, but it sure is far enough that you stop running into each other by accident.

The Science department assembly was in the main lecture hall. Seating wasn't assigned but the clustering was predictable enough to feel like it was. Alex was already there, one seat in from the aisle. I slotted in between him and the aisle and that was that.

Someone a few seats behind me muttered something about how Natural always took the better half of the room. Someone else said Natural didn't need the better half to compensate for anything. Neither side escalated. It was too early in the year and too early in the morning for an argument.

The opening ceremony began. Flag. Anthem. We stood. It's the same every time. That's not a criticism. I know that the Ministry of National Integrity will probably, and hopefully, never find and read this journal. It's just that it’s what happens when you've done something enough that the participation becomes the point rather than the content. The school hymn followed without a break. Then Father Dom took the podium. Opened with the usual invocation, closed on something about purpose and readiness.

Sir Zhou walked to the podium like he had a list and intended to get through it. He introduced the faculty in order. Each stepped forward, smiled once, stepped back. I didn't take notes. I'd get to know them properly in class anyway. Sir Zhou stepped aside. Dr. Lam arrived at the podium and the hall's attention oriented toward him automatically. He began with how STC had been designated as a heritage school for the Yusongese Independence Centennial. One of sixteen institutions selected for their historical significance and their demonstrated commitment to “producing citizens equal to the nation's next chapter”. Said it came with responsibility and visibility. The exhibitions, the inter-school programming, and the marching contingent for the National Day Parade. That we would be seen, and what we did with that visibility would reflect on every student in this hall. He said all that as if we don’t already do all of those things every year anyway.

Then he looked right at the S3 rows with what I can only describe as targeted efficiency, at the section most students had been waiting for. You could feel the S1s and S2s relax by a fraction as it became clear the next part wasn't for them. "For your cohort, this year is not a preparation year. This year is the year. The YGCE examinations begin in November. That is not a long time. It is not meant to feel like a long time. Every week between now and then is a week that either builds something or fails to." He then took a sip from his comically small water bottle. "Time management is a skill. Some of you already have it. Most of you think you do. By March, you will know the difference."

He continued for another several minutes, alternating between the school theme for the year of “unity through legacy and demonstration”, and the specific mechanics of what was expected. At one point he smiled. It was the kind of smile that appears when someone enjoys being honest about something most people would soften. "I am not here to frighten you, I don't need to. The examination schedule will do that on its own. I am here to tell you that frightened students who start early pass. Frightened students who do not start early do not." Someone in the Natural Science rows laughed once and then stopped.

Sir Zhou returned after Dr. Lam stepped back. His address covered the department's academic commitments for the year and the centennial programming specific to the science faculties. He then looked at the S3 rows the same way Dr. Lam had. He coughed five times. Alex texted "I did not do exactly that." I responded that I hadn't done it either.

Sir Boon did not walk to the podium so much as arrive at it. He set his folder on the podium, looked at the hall for a moment without speaking, and then smiled the same way he always does, which is to say, not entirely. "Senior secondary, congratulations. You have privileges." He listed them. The ones worth noting were extended study access, flexible lunch periods, and supervised off-campus afternoons. Then he stopped. "These privileges exist within a framework. Let me be very clear about the framework."

He was very clear about the framework. Uniform: complete and pressed. He said the word "complete" twice without seeming to notice he'd repeated it. Hair: above the collar for male students. No other colour but black. He then proceeded to look and smirk at the foreign refugee students who did not have that. Shoes: regulation black, maintained. He says the word "maintained" like he was back working at PetroYusong all over again. Jewelry and makeup: none at all. He did not elaborate.

"Senior secondary students are visible to the junior secondary and even the primary students. What they see from you is what they understand to be the standard. You are not the ceiling. You are the floor." He closed his folder. "Enjoy your privileges. Follow the rules. Those two things are not in conflict." He stepped back. The S1 rows looked too stunned to speak. I remember when I was in their place and looking at them now, it's hilarious.

The NUF Youth chapter’s department prefect board was called to the stage. They walked up in the organized silence of people who had rehearsed this, which they probably had. Head Boy first, Head Girl beside him, the rest of the board filling in behind. All of them had an NUF Youth pin on their chest. I noticed the same things every year: that the students on that stage had a particular kind of composure that didn't look effortful. Whatever had gotten them there, and the NUF Youth pipeline was well enough known that it didn't require spelling out, had also given them the ability to stand in front of two hundred people and look like this was simply where they belonged. The oath was read by Sir Zhou and repeated by the board. Order, service, community. Brief applause.

Then the NUF Youth chapter’s department student union representatives took the stage. Three of them, each covering a different area of focus. Wellness programmes. Competitions between Applied and Natural Sciences, which drew a reaction from both sides of the room. And upcoming inter-school events.

The wellness segment was delivered earnestly. I wrote none of that down because I would never willingly support anything organized by them anyway. The inter-stream announcement was more interesting "We want this year's competitions to be the most contested in recent memory. Applied and Natural both have exceptional cohorts in S3. We expect nothing less than exceptional effort." They say that like of course they find controlled rivalry very tidy. On the Natural Science side, I watched Ky look at her coursemates and mouth something I couldn't read from the distance. One of the Applied students behind me, I forgot his name, quietly said, "we're going to destroy them." I think I’ll agree with that.

Dismissal was ordered. Prefects positioned themselves at the row ends before the instruction was even finished. Rows released in sequence. Applied from the front, Natural from the back, which meant by the time I reached the door Ky was still somewhere in the middle of her section.

She caught up in the corridor before I'd gone more than a dozen steps. "Applied really think they have the department competition," she said. "Applied do have the house competition," I said. She considered this for approximately one second. "Enjoy thinking that," she said, and turned toward the stairwell her year level group was directed to. I watched her go.

Alex came from the bathrooms, still fixing his collar. "Front row," he said, before I could say anything. "Already decided." "Good. Mikey's probably already there." He was. Of course he was. I spotted him immediately. Our room was already half-occupied when we got there. He lifted his chin when he saw the both of us. The seat beside him was taken by someone I recognized from last year. He was sitting with his arms crossed, like he'd decided the room was acceptable. Alex recognized him immediately. "Benz." He dropped into the adjacent seat like they'd reserved it. Phiradet "Benz" Surasetthakul. I guess he's a car. Hence, I have decided to call him "Benny". Now, Benny looked over, assessed, and nodded once. Then he looked at me again. Longer this time. "You're the one from the newspaper thing". I said yeah. "Mm." He didn't say anything else about it. Turned back to the front.

I sat next to Alex. The four of us settled before the rest of the room filled in around us. Peers sorting themselves by some combination of habit, friendship, and the vague social math of first days. A few faces I recognized from previous years but had never shared a section with. A few I didn't recognize at all. New sections always produce that feel. It’s like if I had a set of parts waiting to be assembled.

Our new adviser came in and the room reorganized itself without being asked. It was Sir Tsang. He walked in without ceremony, set his things on the desk, and looked at us. "I was in that assembly too." A pause. "Right." He pulled out his tablet, tapped once, and handed it off to the assistant bot Jerry. "Jerry will handle credentials. I'll handle you." Sir Tsang was not who I expected to be homeroom advisor. I'd had him before. Primary school, actually. He'd been at Prince Edward when I was there. That was six years ago. He still looked the same. Slightly different haircut. That was about it.

As a subject teacher at STC, he'd always been easy to be around. Comfortable. you could feel it if you'd been in a room with him long enough, unlike the way other teachers perform warmth. I'd find myself sitting differently, shoulders lower, answers coming out less rehearsed. He asked questions like he was genuinely curious about the answer. When something was funny he actually laughed, unlike the professional acknowledgment most teachers substitute for it. When something mattered, he got quieter rather than louder. A shift in register so clean you only caught it after the fact.

"Applied Science 12-A." He said it like he was confirming something to himself. "You sat through the assembly this morning. Yeah." He leaned back against the desk, arms loose. "That was a lot. The YGCE bits always run long. And they always lead with pressure because they think it motivates people. It motivates some people. For me, it just tightens your shoulders for the rest of the day." Collective exhale from a group of people that just realized they're allowed to exist normally.

"I'm Sir Tsang. This is your homeroom for the year, which means I'm your first contact for most things and your last resort for a few of them." He gestured toward his assigned teaching bot standing near the wall. "That's T-7. Or you can call it whatever the class decides. It handles logistics. I handle everything else." He straightened up. "I know some of you. Some of you I've had in class before, some of you I'm meeting properly for the first time today. Either way, we're starting fresh. That's what first day is for." He glanced at me once. "S3 advisory. I've been at this school long enough that some of you I'm seeing for the third time in different capacities. If that's disorienting, it's fine. It's a little disorienting for me too." That got a genuine laugh.

He moved on to housekeeping. Three internal roles needed to be filled before anything else. Class President first. Alex's hand went up before nominations were even open. "Mikey," he said. And pointed. Mikey looked at him and pressed his mouth together for a second, looked at the display, then at the rest of the section. "Is anyone else putting their name in?" he asked. Ashley raised her hand. Calm about it. Mikey won by two votes. He accepted it like someone who had prepared for the moment while pretending not to. Sir Tsang looked at the tally, then at Ashley. "Close enough that it'd be a waste. Vice President, if you're willing." She considered it for exactly one second. "Sure."

Treasurer came next. Conner looked mildly startled to be nominated and then increasingly certain as the vote ran in his favor. He accepted like he hadn't thought the role sounded important until suddenly it did.

He put the device down and came around to the front of the desk. "Okay. Icebreaker time. I know. Bear with me." The predictable low groan. Sir Tsang pointed at the person who made it. "That's exactly the energy I expected and it's completely fair. So we're going to do something that isn't just 'state your name and one fun fact' because that's excruciating and it tells me nothing useful." He looked around the room. "Here's what we're doing. One true thing, one false thing, one thing you genuinely want from this year. Don’t say which is which. I'll go first. True: the Dr. Tan block cafeteria makes a better iced coffee than at the Aquinas block. False: I've always found the first day of term energizing. And what I want from this year," he looked at the room evenly, "is for at least one of you to say something in here that surprises me."

It moved around the room from there. Some of it was genuinely funny. Some with more honesty than they probably intended. We found our rhythm faster than I expected. Alex volunteered early. His true thing was that he'd memorized every line of a theatrical production he'd never performed in, just in case. His false thing was that he was unsure about front-row seating. His genuine want was, and I quote, "for one person in authority to finish a sentence without using the word potential." That was funny. Sir Tsang wrote something down. Mikey. His true thing was that he'd been in the same restaurant as Prime Minister Grewal once and spent ten minutes trying to work out if it was actually him. His false thing had something to do with knowing how to drive. His genuine want was to finish the year having built something that lasted past graduation. Benny. His true thing was that he studied two hours a night regardless of whether he had tests coming. His false thing involved a particular tournament result. His genuine want was to be beaten by someone worth losing to. "Now that's a real answer," Sir Tsang said.

When my turn came I didn't overthink it. True thing: I'd taken the same train route since primary school and still counted the stops without meaning to. False thing: I had no opinion on the holobanner formatting. Genuine want: to write something this year that I didn't immediately want to edit into something safer. I don't know why that came out. It was true, and that was the problem. The room received it the same as the other things said too plainly. A pause. Sir Tsang looked at me for exactly one second longer than he looked at anyone else. Then he moved on. We'd gone around the room. The icebreaker actually worked instead of just running its time out. No more of that held-breath feel in the room when everyone is still performing in the same direction.

Timetables, subject outlines, locker assignments, and other things now on the student portal. Classes would begin tomorrow but only as introductions, as usual. He said it like it was a genuine concession rather than a scheduled feature of the first week. "That's everything," he said. "Go eat something." He was already turning away before the sentence was finished.

Vivian's message came in while we were still filing out of the homeroom. She was already staying behind. Orientation assistance still for the primaries and juniors, same as the last two days, apparently needed more hands than were already there. She asked if we wanted to help. Sounded like a genuine offer rather than a guilt trip. Harder to dismiss but also easier to decline. I showed Alex the message without saying anything. He read it, made a sound that wasn't quite a word, and handed my device back. I typed back that we were already heading out. She replied almost immediately. A single meme. From Vivian, that means she's already moved on and isn't bothered. They probably had a replacement lined up before I even responded anyway.

Alex and I moved with the crowd out. "Front row worked," Alex said at some point. "It usually does." The walk to the station took about the usual amount of time. Alex talked most of it, observations more than conversation, as usual. In a room he's aware of his effect. Out here he's just thinking out loud and I happen to be present. I don't mind it. It fills the space and it doesn't ask anything from me.

He mentioned his theatre club almost in passing, the way he always does with things that actually matter to him. Something about the year's production plans not being final yet, and if it was still pending approvals by NUF Youth. He asked if I thought it mattered. I said it probably depended on what they were doing with them. He agreed like he was going to agree regardless of what I said because the question wasn't really about my opinion.

We got to the station. It seemed the RYP rally had long since dispersed. The train arrived on schedule again and still no “incident”. We got on together and found space near the doors. The carriage was quieter than the morning. We stayed standing. Neither of us went for a seat even when one opened up.

Alex started talking about his band sometime around Bách Giai Station. Not his band specifically, but more about the general state of the Contemporary Music Club. Who had graduated, which bands had dissolved, who might need new members, and whether they'd have to rebuild lineups from scratch this year. I know how much he loves being a guitarist-vocalist, even if he rarely talks about it. The way he spoke now was different. He slipped into technical terms without explaining them, which is what people do when they forget they're talking to someone who might not know what they mean.

I followed enough to keep up. It also made me think of Emi. She was in Contemporary Music too, different band, of course. I've only seen a few clips. There's something about seeing someone become completely absorbed in what they're doing.

I realized I hadn't been listening for a second. "You don't talk about it much," I said. Alex shrugged. "It's not interesting to most people." I quipped that he talks about everything else. "Everything else is easier to make sound like something." He glanced up at the overhead display for a moment before looking forward again. "Music's either there or it isn't," he said. "Hard to sell that."

We got off at Admiralty Station as usual. Bistro de Bliss was nearby. The interior was about half full. Lunch crowd already cleared. Lower staff noise. We ordered at the counter, took a number, found a table near the side that was in direct line of the air conditioning.

Alex ordered the hainan chicken rice. He always does that even when he says he's going to try something else. I got the beef brisket curry, as usual. The notifications came in while we were eating. Emi first. Kept it casual. Asked if Friday worked. Said she'd be at her club in the afternoon, and that I could stop by if I wanted, or we could meet after. Either way. I read it twice. Only because there was a gap between what it said and what I was prepared to respond to. Alex glanced over without asking. "Something?" "No." He went back to his food. I typed back that Friday worked. Said I'd come by the room. Short enough not to turn into a big deal, but also long enough not to read as dismissive. Sent it.

The Newspaper club notification came in after that. Tomorrow. First session of the year. Room allocation and time. The usual preamble about what the first session would cover. Then Parliament. Separate message, slightly different format, same structure underneath. Tomorrow as well, different time block. Room listed. Details to follow. I didn't open either one fully.

Alex was looking at his own device by then. He had that expression he gets when something is mildly annoying but not worth commenting on. Theatre, still. Announcements still hadn't come through. "Nothing yet?" I asked. "Nothing yet. You'd think they'd have this confirmed before term started." "You'd think." "It's not even about me. It's the whole ensemble. People need to plan." He picked up his drink. "Anyway." That's how he ends things he's slightly too invested in.

We sat there for a bit after finishing. No particular reason to leave immediately. The place didn't rush you out and neither of us had anything pressing. Outside, the late afternoon had settled. Alex talked about the band section more during this part. More personal. "Is that why you're in it," I asked. He looked at me like I'd asked something obvious. "I'm in it because I'd go insane otherwise," he said. "Theatre too. Different kind of insane." I asked “what's the difference?” "Theatre's other people. You're reacting to someone else, reading the room literally. Band is, you’re existing at a specific frequency for a couple of hours. You stop thinking about the other stuff." I didn't say anything to that.

We left when the place started filling back in for the dinner wave. Paid separately, always. The bus station was nearby, so we walked there. From there, Alex took the bus for the last leg home. He said something about tomorrow being the actual start of everything. Made it sound easy. I said yeah.

Home was the same as earlier. Ah Gong and Ah Ma at the table, watching some drama on RTA-1 about airport customs and immigration staff. Parents present somewhere in the background. I went straight to my room, set my bag down properly this time. Changed. Sat for a bit. Unit drifted closer than usual. It adjusted the lighting near the desk without being asked. I gave it a pat on the dome.

Dinner blurred into the rest of the evening. When I went back to my room later, I opened my device again. Ky's chat was first. Straight to the point. Said she'd see me tomorrow at the club opening. Eric came next. Different wording, same idea. Looking forward to tomorrow. Looking forward to seeing me there. Same assumption built into both, that I'd be there.

Today didn’t feel heavy in the way I was bracing for. No obvious points where something shifted because it was all small and controlled. I used to think systems worked because these were strong enough to hold people in place. Now it feels different. It was teaching me how not to leave.