by Tsutomu Sato
“I think you should be a little more honest, Tatsuya. It isn’t every day that Sensei gives you a compliment. I think you should stick out your chest and smile about it.”
Both Yakumo and Miyuki spoke with teasing tones, but Tatsuya wasn’t so dense that he failed to grasp the admonishment from the former and the encouragement from the latter.
His bitter grin lost its bitterness and turned into a plain old grin.
“…I’d still look pretty bad if I did that…”
The people on their way to work or school boarded the small, stationary train cars one by one in an orderly fashion.
The term full train was basically extinct.
Trains had remained the main form of public transportation, but these hundred years had changed the idea behind it. Nobody used the large train cars that could hold dozens of people anymore, save for the few long-distance, high-speed trains where one’s seat needed to be reserved.
Instead, two-person cars called cabinets—small, linear, and government regulated—had become the modern norm. The tracks supplied them with both propulsion and energy, so they were about half as big as an automobile meant for the same number of people.
People were boarding the cabinets lined up on the platform in order, starting with the lead one. Once inside, they scanned in their destinations using tickets and passes, and the cabinets proceeded onto the service tracks.
Train lines were split into three tracks according to speed. An automatic traffic system controlled the distances between cars. It would also move you up the tracks from low speed to high speed. Then, as you approached your destination, it would shift you back down to the low-speed rails and deliver you to the platform. The system was similar to how cars change lanes on highways, but it was highly efficient due to advances in artificial neural networks, securing the same throughput as dozens of larger cars linked together.
In the case of mid- or long-distance intracity travel, your cabinet would be loaded onto a trailer, which would run on a fourth, faster track. Passengers would then be able to exit their cabinet, use the trailer’s facilities, and relax, but they weren’t used for commuting that often.
Coincidental meetings on trains, like the kind in old romance novels, never occurred with this modern train system. But in exchange for not being able to meet up with friends on the train ride, you wouldn’t need to fear the risk of molestation.
There were no security cameras or microphones within the cabinets. Because they were made so you couldn’t leave them while they were running, seats were equipped with emergency dividers between them. More important, the consensus of society was that passengers’ privacy was of utmost importance. Trains had become a private space, just like personal cars.
The cabinets, equipped with measures to prevent more than one person boarding at the same time, worked on a system where you’d be penalized for riding with less than their capacity. You could ride a two-seater by yourself, though if you had two or fewer people on a four-seater, you’d be slapped with an additional tax. But Tatsuya and Miyuki naturally never used separate cars, so they boarded the commute train next to each other again today.
Tatsuya had opened his terminal screen and was browsing the news when a hesitant voice began:
“Tatsuya, actually, I…”
He quickly brought his head up—it wasn’t like his little sister to be so inarticulate. She must have had bad news for him.
“I got a call from those people last night…” she said.
“Those people? Oh… Did Dad and the others get angry at you for some reason again?”
“No, not in particular… They seemed to at least have the good sense to choose the topic of congratulating their daughter on her enrollment. So…like I thought, Tatsuya, you didn’t…?”
“Oh, that’s what you meant… Nothing different here.”
At those words, her face clouded, and she looked down. The next moment, he heard an angry grinding of teeth drift out of the long hair concealing her expression. “I see… I had a faint hope, despite the circumstances, but you didn’t even get a single text in the end… Those people, they’re just so—”
“Just calm down,” soothed Tatsuya, grabbing her hand—she was trembling with such emotion that she couldn’t speak.
The room temperature inside the car suddenly dropped below the regulated level—the heater activated, despite the season, and filled the silent cabin with the sound of hot air blowing.
“…I apologize. I got out of sorts.”
After making sure her magic power was no longer running amok, Tatsuya let go of her hand. He lightly tapped on it a couple of times, then exchanged glances with her and smiled, as though telling her it was nothing to get hung up on.
“I ignored Dad’s order to help him at the company and decided to continue school instead. Of course they can’t congratulate me. You know Dad as well as I do.”
“My own parents being so childish and shameless just makes my blood boil. Anyway, if they wanted to separate you from me, common sense dictates that they first inform me of that, and then our aunt. But they weren’t even brave enough to do that. And apart from that, how much must those people use you until they’re satisfied? Does it not go without saying that fifteen-year-old children go to high school?”
The bit about needing to inform their aunt and such left him with a strong sense of unease—Tatsuya had no intention of leaving Miyuki alone just because someone ordered him to—but he didn’t let that show. Instead, he produced a cynical smile, purposely exaggerated and theatrical.
“It’s not commonly compulsory education, so it doesn’t go without saying. Dad and Sayuri both try to use me because they acknowledge I’m an adult, right? If they’re counting on me like that, I can’t get mad at them.”
“…If you say so, Tatsuya…” Miyuki nodded, though her reluctance caused Tatsuya to heave a sigh.
She didn’t know exactly what the Four Leaves Technology lab, the magical-engineering-device manufacturer their father was the head of R&D at, was making him do. She was under the false assumption that they were letting him do honest work as a side job.
If she had found out he was really just being treated as a recovery tool for research materials, she might have actually frozen up the transportation system. But the commute train, ignorant of his misgivings, smoothly switched over to a lower-speed lane.
The 1-E classroom was a disorderly mess as students began to arrive. The other classrooms were probably in a similar state of affairs.
It looked like there were a lot of students who had met each other yesterday, and they had already formed small groups that were making light conversation here and there.
He didn’t have anyone he needed to go out of his way to greet, so he decided to look for his terminal first. As he scanned the numbers on the desks, he unexpectedly heard his name called and looked up.
“Morning!” The voice was that of Erika, bright and brimming with energy as usual.
“Good morning.” Next to her, Mizuki was smiling at him, reserved but quite pleasant.
They seemed to have become fast friends. Erika was leaning on Mizuki’s desk and waving her hand. They’d probably been having a conversation before they spotted him.
Tatsuya raised a hand and returned their greeting, then made his way over to them.
Shiba and Shibata—it was more alphabetical order than coincidence, but Tatsuya’s seat was next to Mizuki’s.
“Looks like we’re next to each other again.”
“Yes, that it does. I look forward to it,” Mizuki replied with a smile. Then, next to her (actually, “above her” would have been accurate as well), Erika made a dissatisfied face. —Probably on purpose.
“I kinda feel left out!” Her voice had a sort of teasing echo to it.
Of course, Tatsuya wasn’t cute enough to be ruffled by something like that. “It seems like it would be really hard to leave you out of anything, Chiba.”
Erika squinted unhappily at his dry voice
and tone. This time it didn’t entirely look like an act. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean you’re an extremely social person,” said Tatsuya, maintaining his prim facial expression even on the receiving end of Erika’s glare.
Instead, it was Erika who made a subtly regretful face. “…Shiba, you’ve actually got a bad character, don’t you?”
After seeing Mizuki unable to suppress a smile out of the corner of his eye, Tatsuya placed his ID card on the terminal and began to review the information on it.
There was everything from elective rules, disciplinary rules, and usage rules for equipment to events that went along with enrollment, a guide to free-period activities, and the curriculum for the first semester. He scrolled through it quickly, hammering it into his head. Using only keyboard controls, he swiftly registered for courses. He had just brought his head back up to take a breath when his eyes met with a male student in the seat in front of him, whose eyes were wide and staring at his hands.
“…I don’t mind you looking, but…”
“Huh? Oh, sorry. It was just unusual. Couldn’t take my eyes off it.”
“Is it unusual?”
“I think it is. These days, nobody uses keyboard input only. It’s the first time I’ve seen someone do it.”
“If you get used to it, this way is faster, though. Eye cursors and brain wave assistance are a little lacking in the accuracy department.”
“That’s just it. You’re so fast. Couldn’t you earn a living doing that?”
“No… I would probably only be able to get a part-time job with it.”
“That so…? Whoops, forgot to introduce myself. I’m Leonhard Saijou. My dad’s a half and my mom’s a quarter, so I look like a pure Japanese person on the outside, but my name is Western. My specialty is convergence-type hardening magic. I hope to get a job that involves physical activity in the future, like a SWAT officer or a wilderness security officer. You can just call me Leo.”
It might seem odd given the state of today’s youth that someone would have already decided on a course for his future before even enrolling in high school, but magic high schools were different. The abilities—no, the very nature—of magicians (in the making) were deeply tied to their path through life. So when Leo included his future aspirations in his self-introduction, Tatsuya didn’t find it surprising.
“I’m Tatsuya Shiba. You can call me Tatsuya.”
“Okay, Tatsuya. What kind of magic is your forte?”
“I don’t have much in the way of practical skill, so I’m aiming to become a magic engineer.”
“Oh, yeah… You do look pretty smart.”
Magic engineers, short for magic engineering technicians, referred to the technical experts who manufactured, developed, and adjusted devices to supplement, amplify, and strengthen magic. Without tuning from an engineer, CADs, now an essential tool for magicians, were worse than a dust-covered magical tome.
Magic engineers were a step below magicians in terms of social standing, but the business world needed them more than normal magicians. The paychecks of first-rate magic engineers even exceeded those of first-rate magicians. That being the case, it wasn’t unusual that students of magic who lacked practical skill would endeavor to become magic engineers, but…
“Hm? What was that? Shiba, you want to be a magic engineer?”
“Tatsuya, who’s this?” asked Leo, pointing a finger somewhat tentatively at Erika, who had stuck her neck in energetically as if she’d gotten wind of a big scoop.
“Wow, did you just call me this? And point your finger at me? You’re so rude, so rude! You’re a rude person! This is why guys like you aren’t popular with girls.”
“Wha—? You’re the one being rude here! Your face might be a little easy on the eyes, but that doesn’t mean you can run your mouth like that!”
“Looks are important, you know! But I guess a guy who can’t tell the difference between looking sloppy and looking wild wouldn’t understand. And what’s with that expression? They only stopped using it, like, a century ago. Nobody says it anymore!”
“Wha, wha, wha…?”
Erika looked down at an angle with a composed sneer, while Leo was too dumbfounded to do much more than groan.
“…Erika, please stop. You said a little too much.”
“Leo, you give it a rest, too. The same goes for you, and I don’t think you can outtalk her anyway.”
Tatsuya and Mizuki each interposed themselves into the volatile air.
“…If you say so, Mizuki.”
“…All right, fine.”
They both turned their faces away, but kept their eyes on each other.
Both strong-willed, determined, and unyielding—maybe these two are actually a good fit for each other, thought Tatsuya.
The bell rang to signal the start of class, and the students, spread about wherever they pleased, returned to their seats.
This part of the system had been the same for a century, but beyond that, there were differences.
Each terminal that was still off automatically turned on, and the ones that were already booted up refreshed their windows. A message appeared on the screen in the front of the classroom at the same time.
…Orientation will begin in five minutes, so please wait in your seats. If you haven’t set your ID cards in your terminals yet, please do so immediately……
The message was completely meaningless for Tatsuya. He was already at the point where he’d finished registering for his electives, and the online guidance was just a bore with too many visual effects bogging it down. Just as he decided he’d skip the whole thing and search through the school data, something unexpected occurred.
The main bell rang, and the front door opened. It wasn’t a student running late—it was a young woman, not in a school uniform, but a suit.
She was pretty in her own way—though not on the level that everyone would say so without hesitation—and she had a sort of charm about her. She went before the lectern, which had risen out of the floor, placed the large portable terminal she’d been carrying at her side atop it, and looked around the classroom.
Tatsuya wasn’t the only one stricken with surprise—the entire classroom was abuzz with confusion.
At schools with online classes that used a lectern terminal, teachers didn’t stand at the podium and teach. Classes were conducted across the terminal. Delivering messages to classrooms was even lower on the priority list, so schools never dispatched staff members to them. The staff controls in the classroom were used only when something out of the ordinary happened—at least, in theory.
Still, it went without saying that this woman was clearly part of the faculty.
“I see there’s nobody absent. Well then, everyone, congratulations on your enrollment.”
There were a few students who were lured in and responded with a bow—in fact, the male student he’d just met in the seat in front of him lowered his head and said, “Thanks.”
But Tatsuya couldn’t help but be confused at the woman’s odd behavior.
First of all, she didn’t need to physically look around to check attendance. The seating situation was being monitored in real time via the ID cards set up on their terminals. School officials also didn’t need to carry around terminals that large. There were consoles set up all over the school. Actually, even the lectern that had risen up from the floor should have been loaded with a console and a monitor.
And anyway, who was she? He hadn’t seen anything in the enrollment information about this school utilizing the anachronistic homeroom teacher system…
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Haruka Ono, one of the general counselors working at this school. We’ll be here if you need to talk about anything, and if you need a counselor more suited to a certain field, it is our job as general counselors to introduce you to them.”
…Come to think of it, there was something like that…
Tatsuya had skimmed over that bit, since for him the
entire idea of having someone to talk your problems out with was nonexistent. This school having a complete counseling system was one of its selling points, though.
“There are a total of sixteen general counselors in the offices. A man and woman form a pair, and one pair is assigned to each class. Mr. Yanagisawa and I are assigned to this one.”
She stopped there and manipulated the console on the lectern. The upper portion of a man who looked to be in his midthirties appeared on the screen in the front of the classroom as well as on the displays on each desk.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m your other counselor, Yanagisawa. Ms. Ono and I have been assigned to this class, so I look forward to working with all of you.”
Haruka—or “Ms. Ono”—began to explain again, with the counselor Yanagisawa still on the screen.
“Counseling can be conducted through the terminals like this, but we don’t mind you coming in person to talk to us. All communications use quantum cryptography, and any results of counseling are stored in a stand-alone databank, so your privacy will never be invaded.” As she spoke, she held up a book-shaped databank that Tatsuya had mistaken for a large portable terminal.
“We will do all we can to ensure that all of you are able to lead a fulfilling life here at school.” She paused, and her superformal tone did a one eighty, becoming informal and gentle. “With that said, I’m looking forward to seeing you more!”
He could feel the energy in the classroom draining. That was some pretty fantastic emotional control—she had manipulated their levels of nervousness, even factoring her own appearance into it.
Despite her youth—she appeared to be straight out of university—she seemed very experienced. If she were to do this in a one-on-one situation, they might end up talking about things they weren’t planning to. This was an important quality for a counselor, but she could probably also make it as a spy.
One worth being cautious around, thought Tatsuya.
—On the screen behind her, her older male colleague, looking more and more worried the longer he was left up there, gave a bow and the image shut off. If that hadn’t happened, the impression he’d been giving would have been far stronger.