Leo’s Diary – New-york city, January 5th, 2335.
Mom is gone.
I came home from school, and the apartment was… empty. Not just empty like she was out running an errand—wrong empty. The air felt heavy, like something had been erased. The lights didn’t turn on automatically. The home assistant didn’t greet me. The kitchen was cold, untouched.
And then I saw it. A piece of paper on the counter. Real, actual paper! I picked it up. My hands were shaking. Mom’s handwriting, rushed and uneven, like she had written it in a hurry:
Leo,
I don’t have much time. Go to the old library. Find Elias. He will explain everything.
Trust no one!
That was it. No explanation. No “I love you.” Just instructions. I read it five times before I finally let myself breathe. My mind was spinning. Why would Mom write something on paper? Why would she just disappear? She was never late, never broke a rule. I don’t know who Elias is. I don’t know what I’m about to walk into.
Leo pulled his hood up and stepped onto the street, the crumpled note still gripped tightly in his hand. The air smelled sterile, as it always did—filtered, processed, purified. The streets were smooth and flawless, not a single crack in the pavement. Everything around him moved with eerie precision: autonomous vehicles gliding soundlessly along their designated paths, drones hovering overhead, scanning, watching. The city ran like a perfectly written program.
Just like it was designed to.
No one walked without purpose. The few people he passed moved briskly, their eyes forward, their earpieces glowing faintly as the system whispered directions into their ears. Efficiency is happiness. Deviation is error. That’s what the AI told them every day.
Leo never questioned it before. But now, the silence felt wrong. The order felt unnatural. And the deeper he thought about it, the more he realized… he had never really been alone before. There was always a voice guiding him, instructing him. The system adjusted his daily schedule, ensured he arrived on time, monitored his vitals. He had never needed to make a decision before. Not a real one. Not like this.
His mother was gone. She had left him a message in the most primitive way possible—paper. That alone told him something was deeply wrong. If she had sent him a digital message, the system would have flagged it, scanned it, analyzed its intent. If she had called, the AI would have recorded the conversation. She had wanted no trace.
Leo kept walking, his heart hammering in his chest. The old library wasn’t far, but it might as well have been a different world. Most people never went near it—books were obsolete, knowledge was stored in the CloudNet, accessible instantly through the AI. But his mother had told him to go there. And so, for the first time in his life, Leo ignored the path the system had planned for him and took a different one. He was going off-script.
The old library stood in the shadow of towering glass buildings, its stone walls weathered and cracked. It was one of the last physical structures from before the AI takeover, a relic of a forgotten age. The entrance was framed by heavy wooden doors. The government hadn’t torn the place down, but it had done something worse. It had made people forget it existed.
Leo hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open. The hinges groaned like they hadn’t been used in years. Inside, the air was thick with dust and something else—a strange quietness that didn’t feel artificial. It wasn’t the cold, clinical silence of the outside world. It was deeper. Older. Real.
Rows of bookshelves stretched into the darkness, their spines worn and faded. He had never seen this many books in one place before. Physical knowledge. Words that couldn’t be deleted or rewritten with a single command. He ran his fingers over a cover, feeling the rough texture of the paper.
“Most kids your age don’t know what to do with a book.”
Leo spun around.
A man sat at a wooden desk near the center of the room, half-hidden by stacks of books. His beard was streaked with gray, his glasses perched low on his nose. His clothes were old and mismatched—nothing like the crisp, standardized outfits people wore outside. He looked like he didn’t belong in the world Leo knew.
“Are you Elias?” Leo asked, his voice small.
The man studied him for a long moment before nodding. “And you must be Leo.”
Leo’s breath caught. “You knew I was coming?”
Elias tapped a thick book with his finger. “Not many people walk through that door anymore. Fewer still with that look in their eyes.”
Leo swallowed. “My mom—she left me a note. She told me to find you.”
Elias exhaled slowly and stood, pushing the book aside. “Then we don’t have much time.” He motioned for Leo to follow him. Leo hesitated. He had spent his whole life listening to the AI. Following instructions. Obeying the system. This was different. This was a choice.
But his mother had trusted this man. He stepped forward, and Elias led him deeper into the shadows of the library.
Elias led Leo through the maze of bookshelves, his footsteps soft against the dust-covered floor. The library smelled of old paper and forgotten knowledge, a scent Leo found both strange and comforting.
They reached the back wall, where a towering bookshelf stretched from floor to ceiling. Elias ran his fingers along the spines of the books, then pressed against a particular one—a worn, red-covered volume titled Foundations of Computation—and with a faint mechanical click, the entire shelf shifted.
Leo took a step back as the massive bookshelf swung inward, revealing a narrow passageway behind it.
“Come on,” Elias said, stepping inside.
Leo hesitated only for a moment before following. The passage led to a dimly lit chamber, much smaller than the main library, its walls lined with bookshelves filled with thick, ancient-looking tomes. But unlike the books outside—histories, literature, philosophy—these books were different. They were forbidden.
Leo stepped closer, reading the titles. “The Art of Computer Programming”, “Computer Systems: A Programmer’s Perspective”, “Operating Systems: Design and Implementation”.
He recognized none of them, but he could feel their importance. Elias reached for one of the higher shelves, carefully pulling out a thick black book with faded gold lettering on the spine. He placed it on a table in front of Leo, brushing off a layer of dust.
“MINIX: A Small Operating System”
Leo traced the cover with his fingers. “What’s MINIX?”
Elias folded his arms. “It’s a real operating system. One that humans—real humans, not machines—designed and built from scratch. It’s simple, but powerful. If you understand it, you can understand how every system around you works.” He tapped the book. “This is knowledge that the AI doesn’t want you to have.”
Leo swallowed. “Then… I should read it, right?”
Elias chuckled. “Not yet.” He slid the book away. “You don’t start with system programming. You start with the basics. You need to understand how computers really think.”
Leo frowned. “The AI teaches us about computers.”
Elias shook his head. “No. It teaches you how to use computers, not how to build them. Not how to control them.” He moved to another shelf and pulled out a thinner book, its cover marked with strange symbols—just ones and zeroes.
“Binary,” Elias said, placing it in front of Leo. “This is where it begins.”
Leo picked up the book. It felt heavier than it looked.
“I’m going to teach you how to see the world differently,” Elias said. “Not as a system you follow, but as a system you can rewrite.”
Leo looked down at the book again.
For the first time, he felt like he was about to learn something real.
Elias studied Leo carefully, his expression unreadable. “What I’m about to teach you—it’s not a right. It’s an honor. And not everyone is worthy of it.”
Leo frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”
Elias leaned forward. “Because your mother is important. And that means people will expect things from you. But understand this—there will be no favoritism here. Your name, your background, none of that matters. The only thing that matters is what you can do.”
Leo wanted to ask more, but Elias was already moving on. “For now, you have a job to do.”
Leo tensed. “What job?”
“You’re going to the police. You’ll report that your mother is missing. You’ll tell them you don’t know why, that she didn’t leave a message. And you will say nothing about the note, nothing about me, and nothing about what you saw here today.”
Leo replied. “But—”
Elias cut him off. “If they knew anything, you wouldn’t be standing here. But they will start looking. Act normal. Follow protocol. Give them no reason to suspect you.”
He pulled the book from Leo’s hands and peeled away the outer cover, revealing a second title underneath: “Advanced Chess Strategies: Mastering the Endgame.”
Elias smirked. “As far as anyone else is concerned, this is just a book about chess.” He handed it back. “You’ll keep it hidden. Study it. And tell no one.”
Leo nodded, gripping the book tighter.
Elias placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Good. Now go. Say what needs to be said. And wait for me to contact you.”
Leo exhaled slowly, turned, and stepped out of the hidden room—out of the world of forbidden knowledge and back into the world of machines.
Leo stepped out of the library and back into the world of machines. His heart pounded as he kept his head down and walked toward the train station. He could feel the weight of the book in his backpack. A real book. It felt like carrying something forbidden, something dangerous. He glanced at the surveillance drones hovering above, tiny red lights blinking as they scanned the crowd.
He stepped onto the train platform. The transport system operated with ruthless efficiency—trains arrived exactly on time, never a second early or late. The doors opened with a soft hiss, and Leo entered, slipping into a seat near the window.
The train was full of silent passengers, their eyes fixed on their interfaces—thin transparent screens projected before them, each person absorbed in whatever the AI had decided was most relevant to their day. No one spoke. No one looked at each other. Leo gripped his backpack and stared at the city speeding past.
I just have to act normal.
The police station was nothing like Leo had imagined. It wasn’t quiet or intimidating—it was loud, chaotic. Rows of desks filled the massive open space, officers sitting behind them, talking, laughing, barely paying attention to the people lined up to report their problems. The system didn’t fail, so what was there to police?
Leo stepped forward, weaving through the crowd until he reached an officer slouched behind a desk. The man was big, his uniform stretched over his stomach, a half-eaten energy bar on the desk beside him. His name tag read Officer Doyle.
Leo swallowed and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir. I need to report a missing person.”
Doyle barely looked up. “Yeah, yeah, kid. Take a seat.” He yawned, rubbing his face before tapping at the interface in front of him. “Alright, missing person report. Who’s missing?”
“My mother,” Leo said.
Doyle sighed. “Mothers don’t go missing, kid. They just forget to tell their kids where they’re going. Happens all the time.”
Leo tensed. “No. She’s really missing. She wasn’t home when I woke up. I—”
Doyle raised a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Lemme guess. No note, no message, just poof, gone?”
Leo hesitated. “Something like that.”
Doyle turned to the officer sitting at the desk next to him—a younger man who was scrolling through his interface. “Hey, Wilson, you hear that? Another case of ‘Mom Just Needed a Break’ syndrome.”
Wilson smirked. “She’s probably at a yoga retreat or something.”
Doyle chuckled, shaking his head. “Kid, your mom’s fine. She’ll probably show up in a few hours, realize she forgot to log her whereabouts into the system, and everything will be peachy.”
Leo didn’t know what to do. They weren’t taking this seriously.
“I was in the kitchen,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “And my mom… didn’t have any food for me. That’s very unusual.”
The moment he said it, something stirred on Doyle’s desk.
A small box, no larger than a shoebox, emitted a faint mechanical hum. Then, with a rapid series of clicks, it unfolded, metal plates shifting, thin rotors extending. Within seconds, it had transformed into a hovering drone, its single red eye locked onto Leo.
“In the kitchen?” the drone repeated, its voice cold, metallic.
Leo’s breath hitched.
“Your mother cooks? You don’t use a robot for food?”
Leo forced himself to stay calm. “Uh… sometimes. Not always.”
The drone hovered closer, its red eye flickering. A blue scanning beam swept over Leo’s bag.
Analyzing… Unknown object… Possible bound paper.
“Is that a book?” The drone tilted. “A real book with pages? Remove it.”
Leo’s heart pounded. Stay calm.
He pulled it out casually, showing the cover. “Yeah. I really like chess.”
The drone hovered for another second. Then another.
Leo held his breath.
And then—
ALERT!
A deafening alarm blared through the police station. A deep robotic voice echoed through the speakers:
“HACKER DETECTION IN SECTOR 7. ALL PERSONNEL REPORT IMMEDIATELY.”
The drone snapped upright, its red eye blinking rapidly. Without another word, it shot toward the exit, joining a swarm of other drones rushing toward the emergency.
Doyle groaned and stretched, clearly not in a hurry to move. “Ugh. Another hacker alarm? That’s the third one this week.” He looked back at Leo and waved a hand lazily. “Alright, kid, we’ll do everything we can to find your mom, blah blah blah. In the meantime, since you’re underage, the administration will take care of you until she turns up.”
Leo’s stomach sank. “What?”
Doyle pointed toward the reception desk. “Go talk to a lady named Ann. She’ll tell you what to do next.”
Leo’s teeth ground together. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to get out of here. The system wasn’t just watching him now. It was interested in him.
Leo stood at the reception desk as Ann, a tall woman with sharp eyes and a stiff posture, tapped at her interface. The station around them buzzed with noise—officers laughing, drones hovering, alarms blaring in the distance. But Ann was completely focused on her screen.
“Alright,” she said, barely glancing at Leo. “You’ve been assigned a school. You’ll head there immediately.”
“A school?”, asked Leo.
Ann turned the screen so he could see the address. “You’ll report there now. No detours. The city’s facial recognition will know if you stray off course.”
Leo’s heart pounded. “But I need to go home—just for a minute. I need to grab—”
“You don’t need anything,” Ann interrupted, already moving on to her next task. “The school will provide you with a uniform, supplies, food, everything.”
Leo tried to protest. “I—”
Her eyes flicked to his hand. “What’s that? A book?”
Leo’s grip tightened on the disguised programming book.
“Leave it here,” she said. “You won’t need it.”
Panic shot through him. He forced himself to stay calm. “It—it was a gift,” he said quickly. “From my mother. She taught me how to play chess. I want to get better while I wait for her to come back.”
Ann sighed, tilting her head. “Chess, huh? You really are a little weirdo.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Keep it.”
Leo exhaled, holding the book closer. “Thank you.”
“Now go,” Ann said, pointing toward the exit. “The director is expecting you.”
Leo walked the city streets toward the school. Two drones trailed behind him, their red lights blinking softly, keeping track of his every step. He felt trapped, like a rat in a perfectly designed maze.
The school wasn’t far. The building was massive, all sleek steel and glass. It was nothing like the small, home-based lessons he was used to.
As he stepped inside, a man in a neatly pressed suit greeted him with a warm smile. He was tall, with silver hair and a voice that sounded too friendly to be real.
“Ah, Leo! Welcome!” The man extended a hand. “I’m Director Halverson. You’ll find everything you need here.”
Leo hesitated, then shook his hand. The drones hovered closer, scanning his face.
Halverson chuckled. “Don’t mind them. Standard protocol. Just making sure you’re safe.”
Safe. Right.
The director led him down a hallway, past a long row of doors. “You’ll have your own place here, new friends, good food, the best technology available. You’re very lucky.”
Leo wasn’t sure about that.
Halverson stopped at a room and pushed open the door. Inside were several bunk beds, neatly arranged. A fresh uniform was folded on one of the lower bunks.
“I hope it fits.” The director smiled, then turned to the doorway as another student entered.
“This is Eric,” Halverson said. “He’s one of our top students. He’ll show you around and help you adjust.”
Eric, a boy a few years older than Leo, gave him an easy grin. “Hey, new kid.”
Leo nodded. “Hey.”
The director clapped his hands. “Perfect. I’ll let you two get to it. Enjoy your new home, Leo.”
With that, he turned and left, the drones following close behind.
“So,” he said, leading Leo down a bright hallway, “this place is awesome. You’ll love it.”
Leo doubted that.
They arrived at the cafeteria first. It was enormous, filled with sleek tables and no humans in sight. Every station was manned by robots, their metal arms whirring as they prepared trays of food.
Leo looked at the plates being served. Pizza. Hot dogs. Donuts. Sugary sodas.
His eyebrows shot up. “This is what we eat?”
Eric grabbed a slice of pizza and grinned. “What’s wrong?”
Leo hesitated. “Nothing. Just… I didn’t expect this.”
Eric laughed. “What else would we eat?”
Leo didn’t answer.
Next, they went to the classrooms.
Rows of students sat in rigid lines, staring at their screens, their faces completely blank. Some of them were absorbing “feeds”, where information was directly streamed into their brains. Others were playing video games, their fingers twitching over holographic controllers.
Eric nudged Leo with his elbow. “Cool, huh?”
Leo swallowed. “They’re… learning?”
Eric smirked. “Yeah, in the best way. No boring lectures, no dumb books. Just straight knowledge, or games.”
Leo watched as one student’s eyes flickered with lines of data. Another grinned as his avatar blasted enemies on the screen.
Eric puffed out his chest. “I’m the best Fortnite player in the school, you know.”
Leo blinked. “What’s Fortnite?”
Eric stopped walking.
The silence stretched.
“You don’t know Fortnite?” Eric’s voice was pure disbelief.
Leo shook his head.
Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Then… what have you been doing all this time?”
Leo hesitated. “I—”
Eric leaned in. “Okay, listen, don’t tell anyone that. Seriously.” His voice dropped. “You don’t want people knowing you’re a weirdo. They’ll destroy you.”
Leo swallowed hard.
“Just… play along,” Eric said. “And maybe you’ll survive.”
As Leo and Eric walked through the long corridor, a sudden mechanical whirr echoed behind them. A hovering drone, sleek and silver with a glowing blue eye, floated into their path.
Its voice, soft yet firm, spoke with perfect enunciation.
“Eric. What are you doing here?”
Eric immediately straightened up. “Uh, Director Halverson asked me to show the new student around.”
The drone tilted slightly, scanning Leo with its glowing eye.
“New student. What year are you in?”
Leo froze. What year? He had no idea how the school system worked. He hesitated. “Uh…”
A long pause. The drone hovered closer, the soft hum of its rotors the only sound in the hallway.
“How old are you?”
“Uh, twelve,” Leo said quickly.
The drone beeped once. “Very well. I will place you in the correct level.”
It turned back to Eric. “You may go.”
Eric shot Leo a look—one that clearly said, I warned you—before giving a quick wave and disappearing down the hall.
Leo was alone now.
The drone turned sharply and floated toward another door, its voice carrying back to him.
“Follow me.”
The room was massive—rows upon rows of reclining armchairs, each one occupied by a student. They all sat motionless, their eyes locked onto glowing screens. None of them spoke. None of them moved.
Leo’s stomach twisted.
The drone guided him toward an empty seat. “Sit.”
Leo hesitated. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Learn.”
Leo sat down carefully. The moment his head touched the backrest, the screen in front of him flashed to life.
Short clips blasted into his eyes and ears—random bursts of color, sound, laughter. One second, a man was falling off a hoverboard. The next, an AI chef was demonstrating how to cook a meal in under five seconds. Then a cat playing a piano. Then a high-speed drone chase. Then a clip of someone prank-calling a government help center.
None of it lasted more than a few seconds. None of it stayed.
Leo hated it.
He shifted uncomfortably, glancing to the side. Did no one else find this strange?
That’s when he noticed the girl sitting next to him.
She wasn’t watching her screen.
She was watching him.
She tilted her head, then reached up and powered her screen down. The glow faded from her face, and for the first time, Leo saw real curiosity in someone’s eyes.
She leaned toward him and whispered, “You look so uncomfortable right now.”
Leo blinked. “You mean… this isn’t weird to you?”
She laughed under her breath. “Nope. I guess I’m just used to it.”
Leo hesitated. “You… like this?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. It’s just what we do.” She gave him a small smile. “I’m Jenny, by the way.”
Leo felt himself relax a little. “I’m Leo.”
Jenny glanced at his bag. Her eyes widened slightly. “Wait… is that a book?”
Leo tensed. “Uh…”
Jenny grinned. “That’s so cool.”
Leo blinked. “It is?”
She nodded. “I’ve never seen a real book before.” Her voice lowered. “I always wanted to learn chess, you know.”
Leo’s heartbeat slowed. For the first time since stepping into this school, he didn’t feel completely alone.
The “feed session” finally ended. The screens powered down one by one, and the students stood up in unison, moving toward the door like a single, synchronized unit.
Leo hesitated, still feeling disoriented. The endless flood of short clips had left his head buzzing, like his thoughts were trying to reset after being scrambled.
Not knowing what else to do, he followed the others. As they stepped into the corridor, the usual hum of voices filled the air. Students were chatting, laughing, stretching after their time in the chairs. Leo stayed close to Jenny, still feeling like an outsider in this place. Then, a loud voice cut through the noise.
“Who’s this, Jenny? Made a new friend?”
The voice belonged to a boy standing near the doorway. Tall, confident, with a smug grin on his face. Two boys flanked him—sycophants, clearly, the type that laughed at everything their leader said, no matter how stupid it was.
The boy smirked. “Another weirdo like you?”
The two boys on his sides chuckled, nudging each other.
Leo felt Jenny stiffen beside him. He could tell this wasn’t the first time she had been called out like this.
He didn’t even think before speaking.
“You need your friends next to you to pick on a girl?” Leo said, tilting his head. “How brave…”
The smile vanished from the boy’s face. His sycophants stopped laughing.
The boy stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”
Leo didn’t move. He stood his ground.
The other students slowed their pace, some of them stopping to watch. The air in the hallway felt thicker now, like a fight was just seconds away from breaking out. The boy stepped in closer, standing just inches from Leo, his jaw tight.
Leo clenched his fists.
Then—
“HEADMASTER!”
The tension shattered.
Students scattered instantly, moving away like a ripple through water.
A drone hovered down the hallway. It was different from the teacher drone from earlier—this one was sleek black instead of silver, its red eye scanning the scene.
It stopped near Leo.
“Everything okay here?” the drone asked in a deep, almost human-like voice.
Leo felt the other boy’s eyes burning into him from a few feet away. He didn’t look away.
He forced himself to breathe, then answered, “Everything’s fine.”
The drone’s red eye lingered on him for a moment longer before floating away.
As soon as it was gone, the boy shot Leo a look—one that clearly said: This isn’t over.
Leo didn’t flinch. He had stood his ground. And he wasn’t going to back down now.
As soon as the headmaster’s drone was out of sight, Jenny let out a small sigh and turned to Leo.
“You shouldn’t have done that, you know.”
Leo frowned. “Why not?”
Jenny gave a small, tired shrug. “I mean… it was nice of you to stand up for me. But I’m used to people picking on me. I just ignore them.”
Leo shook his head. “I won’t allow it.”
Jenny blinked, surprised by his conviction. Then, to his relief, she smiled.
They started walking, their pace slower than the other students as they made their way outside to the playground. The fresh air was a welcome break from the artificial lighting inside.
Leo glanced back toward the school entrance, where the boy who had tried to pick on Jenny had disappeared. His two sycophants had followed, laughing at whatever joke he had made at their expense.
“Who was that guy?” Leo asked.
Jenny sighed. “His name’s Marcus. He thinks he runs this place.”
Leo frowned. “And those two with him?”
She rolled her eyes. “David and Sam. They’re just his backup. Laugh at his jokes, follow him around, make him feel important.”
Leo nodded, filing those names away.
After a moment, he hesitated before asking, “Why did they call you a weirdo?”
Jenny smirked. “Because I am one.”
Leo gave her a questioning look.
Jenny stretched her arms behind her head as they walked. “I don’t like the same things other kids do. I don’t care about video games or the latest feed trends. And… I like to read.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “That makes you a weirdo?”
Jenny grinned. “Around here? Yeah.”
Leo thought about that for a second. Reading—something so simple, so normal—was enough to make someone different? Enough to make them an outsider?
Jenny must have noticed his expression because she laughed. “You better be careful, Leo. You carry around a book. People are gonna start thinking you’re even weirder than me.”
Leo smirked. “Let them.”
Jenny chuckled, then glanced at him curiously. “So… what about you? How come you’re here?”
Leo hesitated, then exhaled. “My mom went missing.”
Jenny’s smile faded.
“My dad died a long time ago, when I was a baby. So, I guess that’s why I’m here.”
Jenny didn’t say anything.
But Leo wasn’t done.
“She’s alive. I know she is.” He looked Jenny in the eyes. “She’ll be okay.”
Jenny studied him for a moment. He could tell she wanted to say something, but in the end, she just nodded.
Leo didn’t know if that meant she believed him.
But at least, for now, she wasn’t arguing.
Jenny glanced over Leo’s shoulder, her expression shifting. She leaned in slightly. “Oh oh… here comes trouble.”
Leo frowned. “What?”
She subtly pointed past him. The director was walking straight toward them.
Leo turned just in time to see Director Halverson approaching, his expression unreadable. But there was something slightly off—he wasn’t as perfectly composed as before.
When he reached them, he clasped his hands behind his back and sighed. “Well, looks like you won’t be staying with us at nights after all.”
Leo blinked. “What?”
Halverson exhaled, clearly irritated. “Your uncle called. He’s picking you up tonight at 6 PM. Of course, it would have been more convenient to let us know about this sooner, since we arranged accommodations for you.”
Leo couldn’t speak. His mind stalled on one word.
Uncle?
The director didn’t seem interested in his reaction. He adjusted his cufflinks, gave them both a nod, and turned to leave.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Leo turned to Jenny. “My uncle?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s the problem?”
Leo hesitated. He couldn’t tell her the truth.
I don’t have an uncle.
Instead, he forced a small, awkward smile. “It’s just… I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Jenny gave him a skeptical look but didn’t press further.