Student 58

Anthony Macord closed his leather-bound notepad, stood, and stepped away from the great conference table. He followed Dr. Stephen Gannon into the hallway where Dr. Emily Ackhurst awaited them, a metal clipboard clasped in her left arm. At a hurried pace, she led the Neuroscience Now reporter and Dr. Gannon along the humming, brightly lit halls inside Alacrity’s headquarters to a door labeled, “Study Hall | Observation Suite.”

“Thank you, Emily.” Dr. Gannon said, laying his hand atop the door handle. “We’ll see you after the session—and please do flag any sign of that feedback data, as I’m sure you already know. I’ll be on comms if needed.”

Dr. Ackhurst nodded to the pair and hurried further along the hall beyond a bend.

Dr. Gannon opened the suite and beckoned Anthony within. Dim, egg-shaped sconces barely illuminated the long, slender room. As his eyes adjusted, Anthony saw several tall chairs facing a control panel. Above this, a darkened window ran the length of a gently curved wall.

“Dr. Ackhurst and the folks in the Ops Lab will get the lights on momentarily, but please, have a seat anywhere you’d like and, in the meantime, I’ll populate the files on today’s subject.”

Dr. Gannon woke a touchscreen monitor on the control panel. His fingers bounced through a well-practiced sequence of maneuvers as Anthony sat watching the dark window.

“That’s the smart glass you mentioned?” He checked his notes. “The MonoMirror?”

“It is,” Dr. Gannon replied. “Helps filter our interactions with participants through Study Hall’s avatar. Among other things. Oh—and they call the avatar Professor Mittens, so—”

Through the MonoMirror, lights activated within the expansive domed space of Study Hall. Anthony cursed and apologized to the doctor, Alacrity’s Chief of Development.

“Not at all. That’s a typical reaction from first-timers. Last we spoke—years back—this was all just a budding vision. And now—” Dr. Gannon paused, observing the startup progression data. “Now, it’s an academic final chance for kids like our Student 58, aka Dwayne.”

Anthony gawked looking slightly down into Study Hall—Alacrity’s testing hub. His gaze flitted between various learning stations; curated, ornate study tables; beanbag chairs, daybeds, and leather sofas arranged atop welcoming rugs; cutting-edge mini-labs; appealing sculptures throughout; and the entire space lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. On the dome overlooking this academic paradise, a mural portrayed beatific heroes of art, history, and science all mingling in a diverse landscape between evocative ruins and buildings typifying architectural styles from across the ages. There was Marie Curie and Voltaire racing the Wright Brothers on bicycles beneath cherry blossoms; Poe enjoying a bonfire with Picasso and Agatha Christie at the base of a great ziggurat; and Tesla with Sally Ride in a glider’s cockpit above a medieval town commons where a picnic featured Genghis Khan, Alexander of Macedon, and Elizabeth I.

Dr. Gannon activated a holo display. The MonoMirror projected data tables and info boxes in muted tones into the suite between the two observers. “We’ll get to see Study Hall in action soon enough. First, have a look in Dwayne’s files.”

Anthony shifted his attention, eventually raising his hand toward the projected info boxes once he’d read through the visible information. “How do I—?”

“You can scroll with a finger, just like normal. It’s intuitive, if strange at first—” Dr. Gannon watched Anthony digest the myriad details within Dwayne’s intake files. “He’ll arrive in a moment, but… when Dwayne came to us—and, there’s no nice way to put this—the poor boy was just like a Vegas buffet. He had it all. Anxiety, depression, ADHD, a full slate of adverse childhood experiences… learning differences, sensory processing disorders… failing grades… 11 years old—with episodes of self-harm to top it all.”

Anthony shook his head as he jotted notes. Eventually, he let out a sigh that turned into a whistle to mimic the sound of a bomb falling. “Yeesh… Blows his teacher’s eye out with a rubber band and says, ‘He shouldn’t have been there in the first place!’ Now that’s moxie… Still, reminds me a bit of me. I mean, not this extreme, but… The suspensions, discipline record, his grades…”

“Sure,” Dr. Gannon admitted. “I knew some kids back in the day like Dwayne.”

“People would tell me I was a lost cause—and for a few years there, I sure looked it.”

“What finally did it for you? Clearly, something clicked.”

“Yeah—I finally had one really great teacher. My sophomore year: Mrs. Odom. Actually, she was a math teacher, but she helped me get my head right. Helped get me into college, even.”

“So you got lucky.”

Anthony nodded, writing attentively.

“Yeah. Well… Alacrity eliminates the need for luck. We’re distraction’s greatest enemy.”

Anthony chuckled, copying down the line. A light flashed green on the terminal, and then Dr. Ackhurst’s voice through a speaker informed them the study session would begin.

Dr. Gannon closed the intake files, and the holo display went dark. He cleared his throat. “Mind you, this will only be Dwayne’s sixth visit to Study Hall. From what you read in that file to what you are about to see in a little over a week with just five Alacrity study sessions.”

↯

Anthony looked within Study Hall. At the far end, a door slid open. In a moment, a very small boy with thin arms and tousled chestnut hair entered. He wore black glacier-style AR glasses whose arms ended in a set of earbuds. The child paused, inhaled deeply, then continued. After a moment, he spun three times, his arms wide and head tilted to the ceiling. Then, he skipped circuitously to the center of Study Hall. He held a Moleskine notebook and a pen. Dwayne looked over his shoulder several times, glancing around the space. Finally, he sat in a beanbag chair facing the MonoMirror with his legs crossed in front of him. He opened his notebook and occupied himself by writing in the journal.

Dr. Gannon smirked. “Our AI has been instructed to let participants linger at first to see how they handle the potential boredom—and to collect baselines. But watch this…” Dr. Gannon projected a new file, this time launching a video. In it, Dwayne rampaged through Study Hall going haywire with all the tables and equipment. “This was Dwayne’s intake without Alacrity. Took us hours to put Study Hall back together again.”

Anthony watched the video and recoiled at times. After, he looked at Dwayne journaling inside the placid, scholarly space. From all the evidence, Anthony had expected a typical punk kid and not this shrimpy, tempered child. He tried to reconcile the 11-year-old terror in the file with the one before him. Anthony studied Dwayne’s body language for any sign of anxiousness.

The learner seemed to scribble happily while a faint smile spread across and settled on his face. His shoulders rose and surely relaxed again. Dwayne looked at the MonoMirror now and then, suddenly behind him, and then back at his notes. Three minutes had passed, and then five according to the running timer in the corner of the touchscreen.

Dr. Gannon switched the session readings to the holo display, and all of the data hovered within the suite, adjusting and steadying again. Dwayne ran a little hot, apparently.

“Seems relaxed enough, but no way that’s the same kid… Can we see what he’s writing?”

Dr. Gannon sent the live feed from Dwayne’s Alacrity headset through the holo display. Anthony read the child’s crisp, enthusiastic cursive with some rustiness.

“Dwayne insisted on learning cursive during his second session so he could read older primary sources more easily. Had it down within an hour.”

“Ugh! That was months of torture for me.” Anthony read aloud from Dwayne’s journal, “...From my last session, what was most difficult to process was the concept of large objects in relation to one another depending upon density and speed, not because I didn’t understand it but because there are just so many implications. For instance…” He laughed and scribbled a note. “I’ll be damned—independent metacognitive journaling… out of a rowdy 11-year-old boy…”

Dr. Gannon sent a new data table through the holo display. “Since beginning with Alacrity, Dwayne spends roughly 75% of his free time pursuing creative projects and independent research. You can see that journaling is one of his preferred tasks.”

“And so, he continues to wear the gear between Study Hall sessions?”

“That’s right. Actually, most participants have chosen to remain Alacrity-engaged throughout the day, some even sleeping with it on and enabled.”

“Holy smokes: what are those dreams like?”

Dr. Gannon chuckled. “I’ve got the data sets… Still mostly chasing and being chased.”

Eight minutes elapsed. Then twelve. Dwayne turned to a fresh page when the Study Hall avatar gently materialized at a comfortable distance before the child. Professor Mittens stood roughly seven feet tall—a cartoonishly triangular-shaped, cat-like animal spotted black, cinnamon, tan, and grey on white—wearing reading glasses and a maroon sweater while its pawed feet showed beneath a colorful patterned kilt.

“Good gravy…” Anthony chuckled and glanced at Dr. Gannon. “That’s Professor Mittens?”

“According to Dwayne, yes. The avatar retains a unique profile for each user, all aggregated by the AI, based on intake survey data regarding ‘What makes an ideal instructor?' He’s made some minor costume changes, but this is Professor Mittens for Dwayne’s needs. The only facet we control is the size. We’ve instructed the AI to make the avatar intimidatingly large—just a little trigger test for defiance or meekness.”

“Unreal…” mumbled Anthony as he filled a page and flipped to a new one.

In Study Hall, Dwayne completed his current written thought and assertively left a period on the sentence before closing the journal and waving to Professor Mittens. “Hello.”

“Greetings, Dwayne. I am so glad to see you here, again. I truly enjoyed our last session together. I’d like to start by inviting you to share any thoughts, feelings, or emotions you might be experiencing about having another opportunity to investigate the universe with me in our Study Hall today.” Professor Mittens held out its hands. A representation of the Earth appeared in its palm, then the model expanded to include the entire solar system. The celestial components twirled and danced. Professor Mittens shrank as the solar system became the Milky Way Galaxy, and finally, the entire universe filled the domed space of Study Hall.

Dwayne smiled. He giggled and craned his neck. As Professor Mittens returned to size, the universe shrank away to a pinhole in its palms. Dwayne became thoughtful. The boy cupped his chin in his hand with a dramatic flare, and then he giggled again and looked up. “When they told me I was invited again, I felt energized—exuberant, even—about coming back. Just being here again, though, in this room… It fills me with happiness. It’s almost like I’d somehow forgotten just exactly how this space excites my entire being.” Dwayne leaned back, gesturing around Study Hall with his vision inverted, and then he sat upright. “In other words, being here is the most fun! And, to respond to your prompt more directly, my thoughts are that I think Study Hall is awesome; my feelings are that I’m glad to learn in Study Hall again; and the emotions I’m experiencing are zesty and joyful about studying here today. I’m also thrilled to spend more time learning with you and discussing our findings together. Thank you for asking. How are you feeling this morning, Professor?”

Anthony was stunned and even a little dizzy. He inadvertently began to tally the number of adults he knew who couldn’t respond in casual conversation with such articulation and grace. Soon though, he felt a tap on his arm. Dr. Gannon grinned.

“This is one of those audience interaction portions, Tony.” Dr. Gannon thumbed toward the avatar who replied to Dwayne by bowing, giving “rounds of applause,” and displaying positive emojis in bursting bubbles around its head to stall as the AI awaited a response from within the observation suite. “Go ahead,” Dr. Gannon said to Tony. “How are you feeling today?”

Anthony sat forward, lightly groaned, and then spoke to the terminal, his voice cracking at first. “I am grateful to be here today… to spend more time building your independent learning.” Although Anthony had formed the statement more as a question, Professor Mittens delivered the message with a spot-on tone and enthusiasm befitting any practiced educator.

“Excellent,” said Dwayne, who looked attentively to the left somewhere, then continued. “Since our last session, I’ve done an immense amount of writing in my commonplace book about new understandings I’ve reached, along with a few next-step targets for my studies.”

Professor Mittens clapped its hands. “What an empowering choice you made about how best to use your time! Great work, Dwayne.” Professor Mittens began sprouting extra thumbs to display for the learner, who laughed and gave it thanks. “Positivity and an inner drive will be great assets to you on any challenging quest. To be sure, ‘This is the real secret of life: to be completely engaged in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realize it is play.’ Would you not agree?”

Dr. Gannon pulled this segment of text from the auto-generated session transcript and displayed it through the holo along with a picture showing a man with a wide smile and a goatee. “The AI will periodically drop relevant quotes from influential thinkers into any dialogue. This one was Alan Watts—and Dwayne has access to all this, as well.”

Dr. Gannon displayed Dwayne’s Alacrity headset feed within the suite. Anthony noted the various tabs Dwayne could use to access session learning tools, including the transcript. Dwayne split the screen of his right eye and ran a quick background scan of Alan Watts.

Anthony startled. “Unbelievable system… Alacrity lets him split off like that?”

“Sure,” Dr. Gannon conceded. “Multiple times as needed, and that’s just the floor in terms of what this baby can do.”

Dwayne told Professor Mittens that he agreed with the Western thinker on Eastern philosophies. “I’d not considered this perspective before, and I think it’s a helpful one for me to recall often. So, shall we play?” Dwayne stood, clapped, and rubbed his palms together.

“Let’s! And speaking of—” The avatar donned a Flash costume and zipped across Study Hall to lean against an impressive chair at the gaming station. “You haven’t touched Headhunters 5 since you first got here.” Professor Mittens' face became cartoonishly sad while large pixelated tears jumped from its eyes. “A little team multiplayer couldn’t hurt for your first study block…”

Dwayne chuckled. Anthony thought he heard hesitation and a tone of nervousness there. The student looked to his right and seemed to startle himself. “Oh, no thank you,” he said. “I would… I mean, I do want to… And I might—but for a later block. And not today. Thank you!”

Anthony grunted. “That was an odd interaction. What was that about?”

Before Dr. Gannon could answer, though, the avatar went on. “Certainly. And how about lunch?” Professor Mittens swapped into a Julia Child persona and crossed Study Hall to the snack bar where, mimicking her distinct voice, it showcased the various junk foods available. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast. We have chicken tender cutlets you can fry up; the always amazing donut maker for your wildest concoctions; a pizza oven with crusts ready to go, plus all the fixings you could desire; or we could just pig out on some popcorn shrimps.” At this, Professor Mittens became a contented-looking pig wearing a chef’s cap and apron, reclined on a settee, and throwing popcorn shrimp from a bucket arcing through the air and down its gullet. “‘Eat all the junk food you want as long as you cook it yourself.’ Is Michael Pollan right, or is he right?”

Dr. Gannon leaned toward Anthony. “The AI will always first entice participants with less intellectual, more pleasure-based options when querying their preferred study block activity. Again, we want Alacrity to stand up to real-world challenges where there’s peer pressure, plenty of empty calories, time sinks, and constant negative influences. Hence—”

Anthony wrote in his pad, engrossed by the process unfolding before his eyes.

Dwayne continued. “Sure. I get what he means. Only…” Dwayne’s gaze tracked behind him momentarily, then forward again. “Just now, I crave food for thought…” Dwayne shifted on his feet and glanced around Study Hall as if searching. For a long moment, the boy stared at the MonoMirror, seemingly through it or else deeply into the reflection. “Thank you, though—” he said abruptly. “I’ll have lunch later on, perhaps enjoying it even more knowing I’ve worked up an appetite studying. Might I grab a piece of fruit, though?”

Anthony raised his eyebrows and his jaw fell open. “Who is this kid?”

“Please, feel free,” obliged the avatar. “‘By eating many fruits and vegetables in place of fast food and junk food, people could avoid obesity.’”

In the observation suite, a text box attributed this quotation to Dole CEO David Murdock. Anthony chuckled. “With a little corpo-propaganda sprinkled in, as well, huh?”

Dr. Gannon shrugged. “The AI’s not always 100% with context, I’ll admit.”

In Study Hall, Dwayne selected his fruit of choice, a bright green apple, and then began a lap around the ovular exploratorium. He perused his study options and lobbed the apple between his hands. Then, he bounced the orb off of his bicep to catch it in midair as it fell from its arc. “Okay! You know what? I’ve been enjoying the structures of the solar system, but I haven’t understood certain concepts well enough to feel super confident. Yet!” He pointed at Professor Mittens. “I’m getting better at catching myself with that…” The boy laughed, glancing around the Hall. “Today, I’ll select the foundational geometry station for my first study block, please.”

“A well-reasoned selection, indeed, Dwayne,” Professor Mittens said. “Let’s begin.”

Dwayne occupied a seat at the appropriate station. There, wooden and plastic shapes, models, diagrams, and other tools of mathematics covered a desk. Dwayne adjusted his seat.

“Would you like a guided resource list for your exploration?”

“Oh!” Dwayne opened his commonplace book to a particular page. “I’ve identified my reading list. Thank you. I’ll clip and share it with you. Hang on—” In the headset feed, Anthony watched as Dwayne cropped a bulleted list he’d created, posting it to a background tab labeled ‘Learning Targets.’ Names in the list included Euclid, Archimedes, Thales, Pythagoras, and Ibn Sinān. There were also simply the locations Babylon, Indus Valley, China, Egypt, and the term ‘Hellenistic’ within the bulleted list. “Just a general background exploration of the topic for today, but I am super excited to get into the hard stuff, eventually,” Dwayne beamed.

Anthony’s eyes widened as he attempted to keep up with his notes.

Professor Mittens clapped and bowed. “Impressive objectives. Since you’ve already conducted your own reflective writing, would you like to skip your warm-up and jump right in?” Suddenly, Professor Mittens stood on a high dive platform in a swim cap and a vintage bathing suit. The avatar executed a dive into a pool far below.

Dwayne nodded. “Yes, let’s dive in.”

The avatar occupied a phantom chair beside Dwayne. In the headset feed, a reading pathway populated based on his bulleted list. The learner quickly began to select and browse texts, study charts, and interpret diagrams. He created his own models in his commonplace book as he read. Every ten minutes or so, he rose and walked a lap around Study Hall as he read, which Dr. Gannon explained improved learning. Dwayne opened research tabs by the dozens, clarified concepts with a sense of urgency, tracked vocabulary in an expanding tree of terms, and compiled mini-profiles of significant thinkers. All this while cogently discussing his findings with Professor Mittens. Over time, the boy penned arrestingly elegant notes in an ever-growing illustrated mind map that spanned several pages. Dwayne’s research built on itself at a consistent and staggering rate as bright ephemera projected within the suite.

Anthony cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, but stopped, checking back several pages in his notes. “You explained all this, of course, but I need to say it back and hear myself saying it, so… Alacrity is an AR learning device… duh duh duh… it taps into cognitive processes to better filter information… So, what I’m seeing here is: your machine has got a grasp of young Dwayne’s mind, essentially holding his hand at every step, AND… and it also pushes distractions out of his way as he learns…” Anthony paused to look at Dr. Gannon, who nodded. “And there’s no little… Adderall needle stuck behind his ear…” Dr. Gannon chuckled and shook his head. “You all doping these kids between sessions? What am I really seeing? Because…”

“Well,” Dr. Gannon began, shifting in his seat and adjusting his coat. “It’s like you’ve said, more or less—save the stimulants.” Gesturing at the headset feed, Dr. Gannon pointed at the text as Dwayne read. “You can even see Alacrity working right here. For one, the device limits or expands text as Dwayne needs a slim or wide focus. See how it highlights one line at a time, then pulls out so he can link new information with the old… But look closer—” Anthony leaned in. “It constantly adjusts the Lexile level just at the edge of his comfort zone. But more importantly for Dwayne, Alacrity reorients and rearranges numbers, letters, and words in each sentence and diagram to help account for and manage dyslexia and dyscalculia. And… for another visible sign of what it’s doing—” Dr. Gannon made a circle with his finger around the edge of the feed. “It has dimmed and obscured the background within Study Hall almost like a vignette effect in photography. And none of that even touches on its noise filters.”

Dr. Gannon leaned back. “Our next testing grant swaps individual learning for a classroom, and we’ll have ten… twenty… thirty-five Alacrity-engaged learners in here all studying the same material and mimicking a traditional learning experience. Debates, on-the-spot essays, presentations, the whole deal. That’s when we’ll get to see what Alacrity can really do.”

Anthony’s mouth hung open as he wrote shorthand and glanced from the feed, down at his notes, and back at the feed, his gaze occasionally drifting to Dwayne within Study Hall. “So, Alacrity taps into his… cerebral cortex… the brain stem and spinal column, as you said… all those different parts… and then it orchestrates the stream of thinking?”

“Not only thinking but also conscious awareness,” said Dr. Gannon clasping his hands in his lap. “For Dwayne, it’s as if a pair of rowdy squirrels had been driving his consciousness all along when Alacrity has—all of a sudden—installed an alert, calm, well-meaning chauffeur at the wheel. It smoothes out the ride, dampens the commuter noise, and eliminates the constant fly-by distractions. Sort of like cutting through years of radio static to finally find Tchaikovsky through the other end of the receiver. You’ll have to forgive my poetics, of course.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows and snapped his tongue. “That’s got to seem like a completely different experience. I mean, for Dwayne. What does—I guess—how does he feel about all this? From then to now… Ten days to a whole new way of thinking and being—”

Dr. Gannon cocked his head. “So far… participants are thankful to finally have something like control over themselves and their life. We’ve got the survey data, of course, but… Alacrity is a tool. A temporary one. We haven’t built this as a substitute for reality or thinking. It’s more of a training system, a gateway, or a portal, even—maybe the greatest ever built—to finally solve a whole slew of real problems faced by millions of students every day in this country. Alacrity lets them finally ‘get it.’ Once they’ve got it, they’re good to go. Alacrity gets them there.”

“And the results transfer or sustain even after stopping with Alacrity?”

Dr. Gannon found and projected a new file labeled, 'Student 01.' “This time last year, we finished up testing with our inaugural participant, Peg Thompson. A similar profile to Dwayne, here, and she underwent a little more than 20 sessions. With us for about a month. Since leaving our program: she’s consistently self-reporting low SUDS scores throughout her daily routine, her academics have turned completely around—I hear she was just voted in as her Freshman class president, even—and she’s also launched a thriving pet grooming business.”

Anthony finished copying tidbits from the post-study feedback data in Student 01’s file, then he closed his notebook and looked within Study Hall. Inside, Dwayne studied al-Khwārizmī’s ‘Complete the Square’ proof. The study block timer elapsed beyond 30 minutes. The learner annotated his thoughts on Ibn Sinān’s method for drawing a parabola. Then, he reviewed selections from al-Farabi’s A Book of Spiritual Crafts and Natural Secrets in the Details of Geometrical Figures. Shifting arabesque designs filled a page within Dwayne’s commonplace book as the block concluded.

Anthony opened his notebook. “I am at a loss for words,” he said.

↯

During the block break, Dwayne completed a learning survey, self-reported a happiness indicator of 8.4 out of 10, and then opted to enjoy a towering, Goldberg-esque marble run setup.

“Participants are encouraged to completely disengage from intellectual pursuits for 10 to 20 minutes during these breaks,” Dr. Gannon explained. “Studies show it helps encode new learning: 20 minutes free for every 45 of learning.”

“So Alacrity’s also structuring a kind of ‘best-practices’ routine around learning.”

“That’s right. Building on a foundation of study skills and sustainable well-being.”

“I’d say,” Anthony shook his head as he jotted notes. He looked up. “This is like social-emotional learning on amphetamines… only they’re evidently not on amphetamines.”

Dr. Gannon chuckled. “No. More like a proper regimen of the body’s own natural serotonin, cortisol, dopamine, and norepinephrine all finally regulated elegantly together.”

In Study Hall, Dwayne bent and peered between the struts of the marble run. He looked sharply over his left shoulder and then returned his attention to the tower.

“That—right there!” Anthony pointed into Study Hall, and then he scrutinized the headset feed. “He keeps doing that. Kind of like a twitch…” Anthony looked at Dr. Gannon. “You mentioned cortisol—that’s the fight, flight, freeze, or fawn transmitter, right? And you’re sure this thing’s completely balanced like you say it is? Seems like Dwayne keeps having some kind of anxiety response kick in every now and again.”

Dr. Gannon projected Dwayne’s physiological readings and displayed them as both charts and diagrams with timeline graphs showing key metrics of Dwayne’s overall mental and physical health. “Participants have reported occasional bodily perspiration; feelings of nervous excitement; some light fatigue; and occasional nausea or a mild sense of vertigo. But nothing in Dwayne’s chart suggests any kind of spiking events. Sure, his cortisol and adrenaline levels might run above average, but… So are his cognitive input and output, so… Go figure…”

Anthony stared into Study Hall. Inside, Dwayne lifted a purple marble from the return tray and released it tumbling from the highest, initial ramp. “There must be,” Anthony began, “a kind of wild exhilaration about it. That intensity of focus and inner release from old patterns…”

Dr. Gannon hummed. “Users have consistently reported feelings of absolute calm; deep and radiant self-love; increased confidence; generally feeling more wise and aware; even an overall joyfulness about the universe and their part in it. As corny as all that may sound…”

“I am starting to believe you,” Anthony said.

Dr. Gannon waited a moment before adding, “These findings are all detailed in the One Sheet you’ll receive before leaving, of course.”

↯

Soon, Professor Mittens invited Dwayne to prepare for the second study block, and the student again readied himself with his commonplace book and pen. The avatar vanished and reappeared at the arcade station dressed in athletic gear. “‘Games lubricate the body and the mind,’ or so says one of our most influential Founding Fathers,” Professor Mittens cajoled from in front of a Hookshot ball return game, enticing Dwayne to play for his second block.

Benjamin Franklin’s likeness was projected within the observation suite.

“Ahh,” Dwayne laughed, wagging a finger in the air. “Counterpoint: ‘The noblest pleasure is the joy of understanding.’ That’s Da Vinci, and I copied it down just yesterday.”

“Un-be-lievable—” Tony stammered, dropping and retrieving his pen from the floor.

The avatar praised Dwayne’s perspective, asking again about the student’s preferred activity. Dwayne looked behind him, and then he swung his hands to fall lightly against his hips. His gaze drifted. Then, Dwayne excitedly explained how he would like to conduct an exploration of foundational literature—epic stories in particular—beginning with Dante’s Inferno.

“I keep coming across allusions to The Divine Comedy,” he explained. “I’d like to begin there to explore what it means to undertake a great journey of transformation; to face one's limitations against the entire world; to transcend the supernatural; or defeat terrifying forces of evil and defy even Hell itself. My targets include reading Gilgamesh next, likely Beowulf after, and then Ovid’s Metamorphosis. Only for starters, anyway.”

“Wonderful,” the avatar replied. “That sounds like a promising journey if, certainly, a challenging one. If you would like a physical copy, we have on our shelves a translation of Inferno that is generally regarded as being masterfully written and truest to the original Italian text.”

Dwayne accepted. The avatar led him to retrieve the book, and afterward followed the student as he chose a spot to conduct his reading. Dwayne eventually selected a beanbag chair at the base of a large sculpture of a bobcat atop a craggy outcrop. He set and opened his commonplace book upon another beanbag he’d pulled beside him, then he opened Inferno and, with a pen relaxed between his fingers, began to read. Professor Mittens, seated nearby, appeared to deeply appreciate the bobcat statue when not discussing the material as prompted by Dwayne.

The second study block progressed much as the first had. Dwayne again balanced an incredible amount of independently directed research as he crafted sophisticated notes. He rolled steadily through Dante’s 720-year-old allegorical text. Lexile filters hovered consistently above 1200. The student looked up occasionally—at some spot or another within Study Hall—thinking perhaps. The boy also walked laps as he read. Mostly, he remained focused and deeply studious. New lists of relevant people, places, events, and vocabulary soon wriggled in the dark of the suite and grew longer by the minute.

Anthony kept scant notes for some time, observing. Soon, he wrote a sentence quickly and then placed a large question mark beside it.

“So…” Anthony shut and fanned the pages of his notebook, gazed beyond the MonoMirror, then proceeded. “Talk more about some of what’s not on that One Sheet.” He looked at Dr. Gannon. “I’m clear on the good; now give me the bad and the ugly—on the record or off… You’ve run through 58 test subjects… What drawbacks or user issues have come up?”

In the headset feed, Dwayne opened a tab to research ‘Black Guelphs vs. White Guelphs.’

Dr. Gannon raised his hands. “On the record is fine. Honestly, Tony, it’s mostly troubleshooting. Some negative feedback about the hardware. Comfort issues, inner ear discomfort, or pinching around the nose. As for the UI: we’ve been told there’s a flicker, on occasion, across the entire display. They say it can be quite disorienting. Students have reported that it ‘seems like the whole world shimmers.’ That’s a phrase we hear consistently, or that it’s ‘like being inside a glass cube.’ And while this is a concern, it’s also likely routine neural feedback we’ll phase out through future patches. Hell, if you’ve spent any time in VR, you know how wild that can be for an adult mind. Alacrity’s AR filters run parallel to that experience, so…”

“For a growing mind,” Dr. Gannon went on at last, more calmly, “Alacrity takes all the inputs from reality, filters them, buffers and bundles all the data, and streamlines their reception at the proper channels. Augmented reality hand-tailored to fit every learner. There’s naturally going to be some discomfort. You know,” Dr. Gannon chuckled, gesturing at Study Hall. “It’s no fun getting in and out of a Ferrari,” he quipped. “And it can be a damn sight terrifying to operate one… But a Ferrari sure goes real fast on tarmac, as they say.”

Inside Study Hall, Dwayne built an intricate diagram in his commonplace book illustrating Dante’s conception of the seven distinct depths of Hell. Above the diagram, he drew a detailed metal gate, and above this, he copied the inscription, “Through me the way into the suffering city, Through me the way to the eternal pain, Through me the way that runs among the lost.”

“Alacrity harnesses a user’s complete intellect, regulates the whole nervous system, and simultaneously silences their so-called ‘second mind’—that unbounded nest of thought loops, aberrant notions, irrelevant tangential distractions, and all manner of involuntary attention loss. So, I’d guess it’s going to feel a bit like floating above yourself, as it were. Just like doing 100-plus strapped into the cockpit of a Ferrari. Do you follow me? Even after a dozen laps, or a hundred… It’s still going to feel like flying, sometimes. And that can be an unsettling experience to process. Especially at a young age; especially when it’s so different from everything that’s come before. Like it just might crack at any minute, it’s so new and fragile and precious.”

Dr. Gannon sighed, leaning back. “Could also be that the neurons link in the brain before the heart has taken the time it needs to heal. I can’t say for certain, just yet. In the end, though, students generally report this discomfort in a range between 1 to 3 out of 10—so, it’s mild—and most say it passes quickly.”

Anthony wrote several notes before responding. “Other drawbacks? Addiction? Long-term effects? Even after discontinued use…” The reporter glanced up.

“Beyond the shimmer and mild claustrophobic sensation… Participants without exception report experiences ranging from positive to extremely positive. Our earliest candidates—having had time away—say they even feel like they’re still connected, sometimes. 100% report being able to continue learning enthusiastically and with a similar intensity of focus experienced with Alacrity.” Dr. Gannon motioned with his head toward Dwayne.

In Study Hall, the student copied a line from the text into his double-entry reader response chart, underlined it twice, and then enclosed it carefully within a box. He drew banners and flowers along the box edge. Anthony checked the live feed and then read aloud the quotation that Dwayne had copied. “O human race, born to fly upward, wherefore at a little wind dost thou so fall?” Anthony watched several droplets appear against the open leaf in Dwayne’s commonplace book. The ink of a flower became like an oil slick in a pool.

“Is he sobbing?” Anthony looked to Dr. Gannon, who shrugged and nodded.

“He appears to be, yes. And yet—check the metrics—he persists. He’s processing it all in a functional, healthy, and productive way. I mean, I know I’m not supposed to mention gender nowadays but… think of how many American boys could be saved from themselves, here…”

Anthony agreed. “No more redshirting.” He noted the time. 15 minutes remained in the study block as Dwayne accessed a detailed family tree diagram showing connections and schisms between the great houses of Venice, Italy from the 13th to 15th centuries.

The student doggedly pursued his studies to the final moment when Professor Mittens informed him it was time again for a block break.

↯

“I hope you enjoyed the challenges and rewards of this study block. I know I did,” said Professor Mittens. “Thank you so much for including me in your studies and for being such an enthusiastic independent learner. Great work, today.”

Dwayne asked to jot down a quick thought before he stood and selected to spend his break tending to the new growth in the herb and vegetable garden station.

“I’d love to check in on my sprouts,” Dwayne said. The avatar clapped. The student then busied himself with a trowel and water spray bottle beneath the grow lamps. On occasion, Dwayne would set his hands against the rim of the planter and glance over one of his shoulders. He would stare momentarily and then return to occupy himself again with the plants and soil.

In the dim of the observation suite, Anthony cocked his head. “I don’t know,” he drawled. Then he turned to Dr. Gannon. “Would it be alright if I asked a question of Dwayne?”

Dr. Gannon pursed his lips and raised his hands. “Please. I trust you, Tony. Go right ahead.” The Chief of Development sat forward in his chair.

Anthony leaned toward the terminal. “Dwayne, I’m so sorry to interrupt your block break, only I wanted to ask you a quick question.” Anthony’s speech was mirrored from within Study Hall by Professor Mittens, his words echoing in a different voice. “Would that be alright?”

Dwayne looked up and nodded his head. “Of course.”

“Thank you. It might sound a bit silly at first, but please be as honest as you like. Alright?”

Dwayne again nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Dwayne. Now: have we been alone in the Study Hall today? Just you and me, Dwayne. Or has there been something else in here with us? Some other person or thing, perhaps. Other than all of those incredible characters in the mural above us, of course.” Anthony watched the child, dialing in on the boy’s reactions.

Dwayne’s eyes shot up from the garden bed as his palms stiffened against the planter. He looked briefly to his right, then he glanced at the MonoMirror, and back at Professor Mittens. He seemed to stall.

Anthony groaned. He leaned forward again. “I only ask because I notice that you often check behind you. Is there anyone else here with us, Dwayne?”

↯

Dwayne breathed as calmly as ever. Oscillating ribbons in kaleidoscopic colors vibrated just at the periphery of his vision. They had for the past hour and a half. And the past nine days since first enabling Alacrity. This visual disturbance caused a faint grinding dissonance. Like the visual ribbons left an echo. Although he could see the distortion, he could never look at it. It always danced away from his gaze. He also could not bring himself to articulate the words to describe this annoyance. His thoughts would not form there. His mouth could not vocalize these sensations. It was like the words, the very ideas, were locked out from his throat. Kept from his lips. He had only the isolated sensations of the feeling. It was best to keep occupied.

Sometimes, a deep yellow pulsating band of color fell across the left or right side of his vision, remaining there for half a day. Some days, the color band was orange or white. Always, there was that vacillating network of ribbons across everything. Like momentary peaks atop an ocean’s surface. Or the shifting ripples of sunlight spilling through fathoms across the dune-like face of the sea’s floor. And always, the brittle, quaking, accompanying discordant crackling just out of sight. That jarring shimmer at the edge of all sensation.

Now and then, when he dared to look directly—quickly, and behind him, or through a reflective surface—Dwayne only found him. The antipode to Professor Mittens. The Red Man.

Buzzing. Disjointed. Out of space and time. Neither static nor dynamic. Slouching and disheveled in his tattered sports coat. Peering out from between grotesquely verdant overgrowth. The Red Man in the impossibly tropical brush.

His smile vibrates. His very being vibrates. Just slightly. Then he’s gone. Only Dwayne knows he isn’t. He’s near. Still watching. Saying nothing. Grinning with his vacant eyes. Occasionally, he fades out and in like a reflection on water disturbed by a tossed pebble. Broken ringlets of him in multitudes uncounted only solidify anew. The Red Man who watches from between the palms. Bounded by his terrible foliage. Bottomless eyes resting atop his quaking, nauseating smile. His teeth flawless and radiant.

Forever unmoving. Always unsettled. The Red Man, who does not prompt. Only Dwayne feels fingers pulling at his mind like strings against the limbs of a figurine. The boy speaks as he is allowed. Sometimes the Red Man stands. Or crouches low. Or else he lurks on all fours. His greased hair is as impossibly red as his complexion. Long, oily hair, somehow appearing black at times through the rippling crimson of him. The wordless Red Man. With vigilance unwavering. Always at the back of Dwayne’s throat. The Red Man, ever wary in the weeds; always observing from beyond the shimmer and distortion. The one who is absent and yet unrelinquishing with his grasp.

For a moment, Dwayne stood, uncertain how to respond. He wanted to speak, yet he could not make the choice one way or the other.

↯

Student 58 plunged his trowel into the soil and removed several sprouts to thin the new crop. He kept occupied. The boy chuckled without looking up. “Yes. It’s only us.” He continued—for the remainder of the block break—to enjoy the act of cultivation.

Anthony shared several concerns with Dr. Gannon.

“Now, alright—” the doctor replied. “Some of our learners who mentioned the ‘glass cube’ thing, well… they also reported feelings of being watched.”

Anthony threw his hand up, then underlined the last thing he’d written. “Here we go…”

“But,” Dr. Gannon went on. “As I’ve said, we’re continually isolating and working through this feedback in progressive patches. Now—” The doctor paused to redirect a scoff from Anthony. “Only a handful of students have even mentioned it, and if they feel like they’re in a glass cube, well, they sort of are! I just figure it’s parallel to being in a terrarium, Tony. And what happens to things in terrariums? They get watched. Could just be association.”

Anthony scribbled as Dr. Gannon continued. “If you want to know what I think is happening: that’s a feedback loop occurring since we’ve isolated portions from the original stream of consciousness—”

“The ‘second mind’ you went on about?”

“Bingo, Tony. Alacrity—while it may actually and finally tame that wild, restless, aimless inner roar within our minds—is battling half a million years of human evolution. That may sound like an uphill slog, but Alacrity moves the way of water, Tony. It finds the path of least resistance through the mind—across the whole nervous system—and it takes hold of the reins. We truly have muzzled and restrained the ceaseless demon tormenting so many developing minds. Dwayne is proof positive, just like the 57 who went before him. With a few kinks yet—”

Anthony scoffed. “The kid’s stone-cold paranoid, man.”

Dr. Gannon waved off this comment. “You saw his notes. His heart rate and breathing. You’ve heard him discuss ancient geometry and medieval literature. Keep looking, Tony. Does this kid honestly seem paranoid? Or does he seem liberated, empowered, enthralled by a growing awareness of the world—with a touch of nervous habit still baked in somewhere?”

Anthony couldn’t say assertively one way or another.

“Keep watching. Tell me afterward which it is.”

Anthony nodded. He wrote a note—“Paranoid vs. Empowered”—then raised his head.

In Study Hall, the block break concluded. Professor Mittens guided Dwayne through a post-learning survey and a guided reflective writing sequence of prompts. When Dwayne set his pen down, Professor Mittens spoke.

“Would you be willing to share some of your reflections after today’s learning, Dwayne?”

Dwayne crossed his arms. He looked down at his commonplace book, uncrossed his arms, and held his palms together in his lap. He cocked his head, leaned back, and then stretched his arms above his head. He placed a hand atop his commonplace book and looked up.

“I learned about the universe today… And yet, I feel I learned more about myself and how I connect with it all. To be honest, I keep returning to Mr. Marks, my former teacher. The man I hurt so terribly. I often think of his eye. Mr. Marks spent years toiling to help students at my school, students just like me, and I’ve taken something from him through my choices. Not only his vision but also something much bigger, something irreplaceable and more valuable. What an immense tragedy to have befallen Mr. Marks after so many years.”

The boy sniffled. Professor Mittens helped Dwayne find tissues at a nearby table. Dwayne eventually continued, “I bear the burden of remorse for my choices stretching long into the days ahead of me. All the days of my life to come. Words like amendment or atonement can’t reach the depths of this, nor match the depravity of my action. To quote Dante, 'At grief so deep the tongue must wag in vain; the language of our sense and memory lacks the vocabulary of such pain.' I am left breath taken by the immensity of my failing. And… it’s something that… I feel the shape of this thing that I will carry forever onward, along any road I travel. Right here, behind my shoulder. Nearly at the back of my heart. It’s circular, like a pond, or more like a well. ‘Its very memory gives a shape to fear.’” Dwayne stopped speaking, looked behind him, and then glanced into the MonoMirror. Again he looked to his right before continuing. “I have been the deceiver of my dreams, and the robber of my stores. My age, certainly, bears some of this. And yet, I have used my own hands and limbs to inflict such pain upon others. Deceived as I have been…” Dwayne gazed at the mural, wiping effortless tears from his cheeks.

Anthony felt his throat tighten. His eyes grew glossy.

The avatar spoke calmly with Dwayne. “Keep your positivity resources near at hand, for ‘It is double pleasure to deceive the deceiver.’ That from another influential Italian thinker.”

An image of Niccolo Machiavelli projected inside the observation suite.

“Or, as Dante wrote, ‘Soon you will be where your own eyes will see the source and cause and give you their own answer to the mystery.’ This, Dwayne, may finally be your best opportunity to break the deception. To finally see the mystery and thyself, so to speak.” The avatar sprouted roots and grew into a tree with a wide canopy.

Dwayne sniffled. His shoulders shook. “It sure feels like it could be, Professor Mittens.” He reached for and opened his commonplace book, turning pages. The boy wiped his eyes, cleared his throat, and began to recite. “‘There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar…’ That’s Byron.” Dwayne sat upright, craning to look over his shoulder, then he relaxed again. “I feel… hopeful.”

↯

Anthony Macord rubbed his eyes as he left the observation suite and stepped again into the bright hallway.

Dr. Gannon followed just behind, asking, “Can you find the conference room, again?”

Anthony nodded.

“Fantastic,” Dr. Gannon said gently, shaking Anthony’s hand as Dr. Ackhurst appeared just up the hall. “I’ll meet you there shortly, Tony. Thanks, again—”

Dr. Gannon waited as Anthony walked away, out of earshot. The Chief’s affected smile flattened. When Dr. Ackhurst stood beside him, he looked at her and asked, “How many this session?”

She sighed. “36 distinct incidents. It’s down, but…”

Dr. Gannon cursed slowly. “What is this thing still doing in there?” He held his chin and stared down the hallway. “You saw that he even asked Dwayne about him?” Dr. Ackhurst nodded. Dr. Gannon cursed again. “Barely managed to steer him off. Tony will mention something, but… He’ll likely still manage to make us all look like superheroes. He always has.”

“Meh,” Dr. Ackhurst shrugged. “Any conjecture he could ever come up with, no matter how spurious, it couldn’t match reality. Truth being stranger than fiction.”

Dr. Gannon sounded far away as he said, almost to himself, “Could be some kind of… I don’t know, a fixed point in the stream… Like an amalgam from memory… or ancestral DNA of the collective inner voice, trauma… Maybe just some fractalized radical encoded into the AR; like a smart car trying to interpret a horse-drawn buggy on the interstate…”

Dr. Ackhurst cleared her throat, juggling clipboards and tablets in her hands. “Creepy how they always say ‘It’s only us,’ whenever you ask any of them about him. Like a chatbot’s stock response. Super unnerving, you ask me.”

Dr. Gannon mumbled.

“Us Lab-folk… We call him Eddie—” Dr. Ackhurst brightened, goading Dr. Gannon.

“Who?”

“The Red Man! Eddie… Red Man”

Dr. Gannon scoffed. “Like the old actor?”

Dr. Ackhurst shrugged. “Still. I find it interesting that Peg Thompson remains the only one to ever mention him directly.” The two turned and walked to the entry of Study Hall.

“That is a stupid joke, by the way. You must know that. A pun? Or is it a play on words?

“I’m not sure,” Dr. Ackhurst stated. “Humor isn’t my thing.”

When the doctors entered Study Hall, they found Student 58 seated on a blue beanbag chair and engaged in his commonplace book. Dwayne used a fine charcoal pencil he’d taken from the art station. The child wept without frenzy or alarm and delicately constructed a complex texture study of tropical vegetation.