Cecil Fortuna’s fists were balled so tightly that he could see his knuckles had turned white. He attempted to perform his breathing exercises and stared at his bloodless knuckles which rested on the desk in front of him, feeling the discomfort of his nails digging into his palms.
Sitting next to him was a girl that he suspected to be Yaeh Omalli. Since sitting down he’d only dared two glances her way and both times her gaze had been clamped downwards leaving him uncertain. Whoever she was, she was breathing as heavily as he was.
All thirty members of Class VC37, Cecil included, were arranged in pairs at tables in a dimly lit room. They’d been ushered in one by one over the course of the last half hour, each student accompanied by one of their communal guardians and a City Coordinator.
Only Cecil had been escorted by his parents. In a class of thirty students, he was the only natural born. All of his classmates, along with the majority of Venus City residents, were born in city-operated womb-vats and raised by communal guardians in accordance with the cloud-city’s carefully maintained population schedule.
The door to the room opened and the final student entered and was shown to their seat. Cecil hoped that it wouldn’t be much longer before somebody explained to them why they had all been gathered like this. In person.
This kind of thing just didn’t happen any more. Schools had gone fully virtual centuries ago. Space was the most valuable commodity in a cloud-city. If the function of a building could be hosted on Plugnet, then it wasn’t built. Such was the case for offices and schools, unlike hospitals or housing.
This was the very first time that all thirty members of Venus City Academy Class 37 had ever met in person and the anxiety was so thick in the air that you could choke on it.
Despite constant noises caused by the shuffles of fabric against seats or occasional coughs or sniffles. the students sat in what felt like an oppressive silence.
Cecil desperately wanted to plugin. To escape the nauseating stress of existing in a physical space with other humans. And he knew that the urge was shared to some degree by all of his classmates.
The anxiety squeezing at his heart like a cruel hand was felt by them all. He could see it plainly in every face. In the shallow breaths rising and falling in the backs of those sat before him. In the timid sniffles of the girl sat next to him.
The knowledge that he wasn’t suffering alone, that the terrible anxieties of physical existence were shared equally, not just by his classmates, but by his entire generation of fellow Venusians, was a hollow comfort.
Cecil, with deliberate effort, released the tension in his aching fists, allowing them to relax. He felt his nails release from the soft skin that they’d burrowed grooves into, yet their soft bite of pain lingered.
He really, really, wanted to plugin.
Be strong. Cecil urged himself. For mother and father.
The sound of the door sliding smoothly open again caused Cecil to look up.
Ms Amelie, their social studies tutor, entered the room looking nervous. Not as nervous as her students but still, nervous.
Understandably so. The Desocialisation Crisis had started during her generation. While the effects on those aged in their thirties and forties manifested to a lesser degree than in younger generations, they were still significant.
Cecil was grateful that she had attended in person. Seeing her calmed him.
“Good morning Class VC37.” Ms Amelie called out to the room. The familiarity of the greeting roused the class, and several students raised their eyes to meet that of their teacher.
“Good morning Ms Amelie.” Came the scattered and whispered reply, escaping from only a dozen lips.
As quiet as it was, Cecil flinched at hearing his own voice. The girl next to him shrank into her seat. She had remained silent.
“Follow my breathing Class VC37.” Ms Amelie instructed in the exact same way that she had done so many times before. Her voice contained no tremble of anxiety despite her nervous eyes that betrayed the truth.
She breathed in slowly and the class copied her. More from muscle memory and habit than for any other reason.
Every morning under Ms Amelie’s instruction, Class VC37 did breathing exercises. Although naturally the classroom was normally hosted on Plugnet.
Ms Amelie held a breath then slowly released it. She breathed in again and her class followed suit. She exhaled a moment later.
This continued for almost a minute, during which more and more heads slowly raised to look at their valiant teacher, who stood before them all, alone and vulnerable. Doing her best for her students.
Class VC37 breathed in unison, and Cecil found himself sitting up a little taller. If she could do this, then so could he.
“Well done Class VC37. Now let’s try this again. All of you do the best you can.” Ms Amelie stepped forwards. “Good morning Class VC37!” She repeated slowly and with a smile.
“Good morning Ms Amelie.” The class replied.
Cecil almost didn’t cringe when he replied in a normal speaking volume.
He had been amongst the loudest in the room, and he noticed that he had been joined by a whispered effort from the girl sitting next to him. He turned slightly to see that she had lifted her head up just enough to be able to see their teacher.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
The girl looked similar enough to her Plugnet avatar that he was certain. The same unusual eye and hair colour. It was definitely Yaeh.
<hr>
Ms Amelie smiled at her class''s response. She knew the data. For kids their age, just on the cusp of their biological twenties, not many of their peers across Venus City could even be in this room without breaking down into full blown anxiety attacks, let alone speak out loud to her.
As their social studies tutor she had been working with them for over a decade in order to prepare them for a day like today. She felt immense pride in them. They were being so brave.
“Ok kiddos. First off, well done to all of you for being here today. I know that you weren’t exactly offered a choice in the matter, and I’m sincerely sorry about that. But I was told that all of you came here under your own volition and without… further prompting. That was very brave of all of you.”
The class shuffled in their seats. The implied reference to the City Coordinators who had awoken them all from their Plugtanks earlier in the morning and shepherded them to this building under the unspoken threat of force, made the class visibly uneasy.
“As I’m sure most of you are aware. Many large scale projects have been proposed by City Planning over the last few years to tackle the desocialisation crisis that plagues Venus. Our Social Studies class is one of many seedbeds for these projects.”
All eyes on her.
She felt that familiar ache in her chest, but wouldn’t let it stop or slow her now. She had long ago promised herself that she would master her fears and do everything that she could to help free the next generation from it. She would perform her role with the courage that her kids deserved.
“Today is the day you all find out which project that Class VC37 has been assigned to undertake. Do we want the good news or the bad news first?” She asked. “Raise your hand if we start with the bad news.”
About a quarter of the hands went up.
“And the good news?”
The remaining hands were raised, indicating a clear majority.
“The good news is that the incentives for your assigned program are quite frankly, unbelievably good and will hopefully provide all the motivation you will need to succeed.”
She began to walk between the desks as she spoke.
“Eden University of Earth has pledged to provide honorary degrees to all members of Class VC37 who complete the project.”
A ripple of soft gasps washed across the room.
A degree from a Terran university meant a full solar passport. A golden ticket. An opportunity to leave Venus and an escape from the grip of Plugnet.
“On top of the degrees, graduates of the project will be able to access a full round of cosmetic gene editing, paid for in full by Venus City Council.”
Another round of comotion. Cosmetic gene editing was an eye-wateringly expensive luxury that only the celebrities and elites of Venus had access to.
“Holy shit.” A boy in the front row murmured quietly to himself. While she wasn’t able to recognise all of her students'' physical faces yet, she’d made a point to remember the seating chart. The seat belonged to Lanc Misha, who was uncharacteristically subdued outside of the virtual reality.
In the back row, Yaeh Omalli was almost sitting up straight now. Timid and watery eyes focused intently forwards. When she noticed that the boy next to her was looking at her, she shrank back slightly, but her eyes remained forwards.
“Well that got your attention didn’t it?” Ms Amelie asked the silent class, meeting all of their eyes one by one as she paced slowly between the rows of desks. Unsurprised but a little saddened at how few of her students were able to maintain eye contact when she did so.
“As I’m sure you’re expecting, there is of course a catch. The bad news is… out of all of the projects designed to tackle this crisis. The one that has been assigned to Class VC37 has been classed as amongst the most… ambitious. That is to say, this project is going to be extremely difficult for all of you.”
Several of her students shuffled nervously in their seats, waiting for the penny to drop.
“I’m so sorry kids. They’re going to disconnect you all from Plugnet.”
Cries of shock erupted from the room. Two students rose from their seats and a few others glanced furtively at the doors where the City Coordinators were waiting imposingly. No escape.
“Please stay calm.” The teacher urged her class. “You will be receiving some chemical prescriptions that I have been told have been quite effective at combating withdrawal. But I’m afraid that your disconnections are effective immediately. You will not be able to reconnect to Plugnet until the project has concluded.”
“Your hardports will be removed later today.” She concluded solemnly, becoming more aware of the burning itchiness at the base of her neck where her own hardports had been removed the day before.
<hr>
After a brief round of desperate and ultimately futile pleas, the two students who had risen from their seats sank back down one after the other in stunned silence.
Cecil’s head was spinning. He absentmindedly scratched at the hardports at the base of his neck.
Unplugged?
The thing that he yearned for and dreaded the most. Escape, at a terrible cost.
Hope and despair warred within him as he tried to focus on Ms Amelie’s next words.
“After you’ve all undergone the procedure to remove your hardports, a shuttle will be taking you to your new homes. The city has constructed a special campus island that will be home to yourselves as well as many other VC classes undergoing similar projects.”
“You will live on this campus alongside them for the next three years as you complete your graduate cluster. All classes and class activities going forwards will take place in person.” Ms Amelie finished, pausing a moment to let the consecutive bombshells land.
Cecil was just about keeping up. A million questions raced through his mind. Did this mean he would be separated from his parents? The hand around his heart squeezed tighter.
Ms Amelie continued.
“There is a lot more to cover. You will all be given a digital handout to read that contains a comprehensive guide to the VC37 project. You will have plenty of time to start reading through it all while in transit later today. For now, I can answer a few questions. I’m sure you will have plenty.”
Silence regained control of the room. After some time, a few uncertain hands began to rise, the students unfamiliar with the physical gesture that they mimicked from the Plugnet classroom interface.
Ms Amelie smiled and nodded towards a student. “Yes Isla?” She prompted.
Isla Margale stood shakily.
In their Plugnet classes, Isla was often amongst the loudest and most confident voices in 37. While that seemingly remained true in physical space, the difference was profound.
Isla’s voice trembled as she began to speak, but she quickly cleared her throat and forced out the words the best that she could upon her neglected vocal cords.
“I-I don’t know where to start? Where will we live? Will we have access to Plugtanks? If not, how will we sleep? How will we eat? Without Plugnet how will we complete our classwork, I mean, how will we even access this stupid handout thingy? How- how…” She trailed off, tripping over the words which tumbled out faster and faster as she rattled off the questions.
Ms Amelie held up a hand and gestured for the frustrated student to sit. “Thank you Isla, those are all very sensible and practical questions.”
“Firstly, please be assured that every detail and facet of this project has been planned and prepared for extensively over the last few years by some of the best minds in City Council. All of your physical needs will be catered for and everything that you will need to complete your classwork will be provided to you.”
“I’m told that you will all be given a “tablet” device which will allow you to physically access all academic Plugnet facilities. Including the project handout.” The teacher explained.
“As for where you will all be living. I was saving this for last.”
Amelie Blanca paused, mentally bracing herself to deliver the revelations.
“You will all be living in a student dormitory. The dormitory will contain fifteen separate apartments. Each apartment will contain a bedroom, a kitchen, a living space, a study space and a bathroom. There will be no Plugtanks. You will be sleeping in beds and you will be eating and drinking real food throughout the entire project. No nutrient IV.”
She paused for a moment to let the information sink in, but another hand had already gone up. It was Cecil Fortuna’s.
“Yes Cecil.” The teacher permitted.
“Miss, there are thirty of us in 37… not fifteen.” Cecil pointed out.
While his voice was clearly more adept at being used and wasn’t as raspy and hoarse as Isla’s had been, Amelie could hear the tremble that wavered through every word.
She smiled warmly at her brave student.
“That’s correct Cecil. You will all be cohabitating with the person sitting next to you. You will live together with them, eat with them, study with them and-” She paused. This was the part that she struggled to understand herself. “And share a bed with them. You will be spending every single day with your partner for the next three years. All of you, please do your very best to get along.”
<hr>
Cecil turned slowly, his eyes widening, to face the person sitting beside him who was mirroring the motion herself. For the first time in their lives, Cecil Fortuna and Yaeh Omalli made unbroken eye contact.
They were both too stunned to recoil from the connection.
While a million thoughts and a gallon of panic coursed through his mind, what Cecil was more aware of than anything else in that moment, was how violet Yaeh’s eyes were.