Inside the school’s boys’ bathroom, things are getting heated. James Grouse, a last-year high school student, confronts one of his juniors named Willy. James is tense, his body ready to snap at a moment's notice. Willy, though, is a bit more relaxed, standing sideways, hands in his pockets.

  Willy pulls up his sagging, oversized pants while staring at James’s face. His eyebrows knit together, not quite sure what he's looking at.

  Willy: “Chill, bro. What’s wrong with your face? Are you on drugs or something? Your eyes are all red... Want me to tell the teachers?”

  The intense pinching of the eyeballs to remove the contact lenses has burst a bunch of additional blood vessels. James’s bloodshot eyes are now even redder than before. But the forceful approach has worked. He throws both lenses in the trash, glaring at Willy with a crazy look.

  James: “Go ahead! Run to the teachers and complain like a slimy little snitch.”

  Willy: “Yo, what’s this guy’s deal?! You’re looking for trouble?”

  Now Willy squares up to him. Both guys are face-to-face less than two feet away from each other.

  James: “My deal is that I don’t enjoy injustice. The two of you are ganging up on this poor guy, making fun of him on his birthday! Real men would never act like that.”

  Willy: “Whatever. This guy is high or something.”

  He turns away. As he does, he notices the wristband on James’s forearm and signals his friend with a hand motion.

  Willy: “Benny, he has the VR bracelets. Scan them.”

  Benny, who’s been hanging back, steps forward. He pulls out his phone and directs it at one of James’s VR wristbands.

  These compact bracelets are used as hand and finger movement tracking devices. They monitor tiny muscle and nerve signals in the wrist, turning them into control inputs. No need for full-on tracking gloves or bulky controllers, the wristband works just as well and can be worn all day like a watch.

  Another function of these wristbands is storing a small amount of data, usually the owner's profile, letting them pair with any available VR device. They also store the owner's public VR profile, which other people can access through Bluetooth.

  Benny connects to James’s bracelet. The moment James's public profile loads, Benny lets out a shrill laugh.

  Benny: “Check it out! He’s in the Bronze League.”

  Willy leans in to see the results.

  Willy: “That’s what I thought! This guy’s a chump.”

  James lets out a snort.

  James: “A chump... You think you can take me?”

  Willy: “Easy! We’re both in the Gold League. Our skills are way above yours. Inside and outside the Meta. Augh, augh, aughhhhhh...”

  Benny follows, both guys erupt into howls. James uses the moment to throw some more water on his eyes.

  James: “Careful. Don’t judge a person by his rankings. Maybe I intentionally keep them low. Maybe I don’t even play Army Simulator.”

  Willy laughs.

  Willy: “That’s funny... Everyone plays Army Simulator.”

  James: “What if I don’t? What if all I do in Meta is run around flower fields and catch butterflies?”

  Willy side-eyes him.

  Willy: “You don’t seem like a peaceful guy who sits in a field. You look more like a creep who likes to bother people. Like you’re bothering us now. And you’re obsessed with drugs. Look at those eyes...”

  Benny squints, examining James's face more closely.

  Benny: “He looks terrible... Maybe he doesn’t play Army Simulator. Dude just gets high and rots like a vegetable. That’s even worse.”

  Willy: “Yeah, he’s a waste of space. Dumb junkie. I’m done with this fool.”

  In a flash, Willy goes from relaxed to aggressive, sucker-pushing James. James loses his balance, landing on a sink and snapping the faucet under his weight. Water shoots out uncontrollably, spraying his clothes.

  Benny laughs.

  Benny: “Bro’s taking a swim.”

  Willy: “That’s what you get. Stay out of our way next time.”

  James slides off the sink, glaring at his opponent. Little shit! That’s the last straw!

  James places his hand on top of the shooting water and directs the pressure towards Willy. Water splashes all over the bathroom, most of it hitting Willy, completely soaking him from head to toe.

  Willy: “Ahhh!”

  The cold splashes make him jerk and retract. He backs away enough to where the majority of the sudden attack can’t reach him.

  Willy: “Are you crazy?!”

  He glances at his friend, who’s hiding his amusement.

  Willy: “It’s not funny! Get him!”

  Benny: “You get him. I’m good right here.”

  Willy: “You owe me 50 bucks! Earn it...”

  Willy nods his head toward James.

  Benny: “Fine...”

  Benny leaves the safe, far-away corner of the bathroom. He circles the danger zone, approaching his target from the side. It only takes a tiny hand movement from James to redirect the water current toward him. The closer he goes, the worse he gets sprayed. Not being able to take it, Benny retreats to the stalls.

  Seizing the moment, Willy tries to come forward himself. James instantly aims the high-pressure water stream back at him. Willy blocks it with his hands, yet the majority of the water still hits him. He backs off.

  Willy: “Come on, Benny! We go at the same time! He can’t get us both!”

  James notices a soap dispenser near him. Using his free hand, he shoves his fingers between the plastic box and the wall. With everything he’s got, he rips it off and smashes the box against the tiled floor. Soap splashes everywhere, mixing with the water, making the entire place like a skating rink.

  James: “You want to get me? Come on!”

  Willy: “Go!”

  Willy and Benny both come at James from different sides. James keeps spraying Willy – he slips and falls on his behind. Meanwhile Benny, all wet, manages to slide his way over and grab onto James. James instinctively does the same by clutching at Benny’s tight yellow shirt. They start to wrestle back and forth on the slippery floor, shoes squeaking. Their movements resemble a badly choreographed dance.

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  Benny loses his footing, dragging James down with him. Both guys land on the wet floor. Benny’s on his back, desperately trying to push away James, who’s on top and still holding onto his opponent’s shirt as if his life depends on it.

  Benny: “Get off!”

  He pushes his hands into James’s face, but his opponent refuses to let go. Having found some footing, James starts dragging and sliding Benny by the shirt all over the floor like a mop.

  Benny: “You’re stretching my shirt!”

  James: “...”

  James stares at him wide-eyed. The bloodshot eyes make him look crazy, like a mad dog.

  James: “I know guys like you. You only learn the hard way... Consider this is a free lesson on what happens when you mistreat people.”

  He slides Benny all the way over to the bathroom stalls, slamming him into one of them. Meanwhile, Willy has gotten up on his feet. He makes his way over to James and bear hugs him from behind. With great difficulty, he manages to pull James off his friend, and now the two engage in an awkward struggle on the bathroom floor. In a different setting, one person holding another from behind like that could be seen as romantic.

  The faucet keeps spraying. More and more water fills the entire bathroom by the minute. It builds up to so much that it begins to leak out into the corridor, attracting unwanted outside attention.

  Suddenly the bathroom door bursts open. Mr. Biggins, a school teacher, stands in the doorway with a perplexed look on his face.

  Mr. Biggins: “What’s going on here?!”

  He sees James and Willy wrestling, Benny on the floor, the broken tap.

  Mr. Biggins: “Everyone stop!”

  The teacher steps in to cut off the water supply underneath the sink. He doesn’t notice the leaking soapbox next to it. As his dress shoe hits the tiled floor, he slips, loses balance, and joins everyone else on the floor.

  Dontavious, the only dry one left, watches from the bathroom corner. He removes his extended reality glasses and takes a bite out of the birthday muffin.

  Dontavious: “At least something interesting happened for my birthday this year...”

  After cutting off the water flow and stopping the fight, the teacher straightens out his now partially wet formal clothes. Mr. Biggins is one of the few human teachers in the entire school and a part of the administration. The large stature, the beard, the regular-sized round glasses that look small on his big head, and the loud voice all make him an imposing figure. Often when he talks, it feels like the entire room is shaking.

  Mr. Biggins: “What is wrong with you, Grouse?! How much trouble can a single student cause in a day? This must be a record even for you.”

  James glances at the completely soaked Willy and Benny. Willy twists the bottom of his oversized shirt, wringing out a cupful of water.

  James: “It wasn’t my fault! They started it.”

  Willy shakes his head, then nods at James.

  Willy: “He started it.”

  Mr. Biggins: “Quiet! Grouse, you’re coming with me.”

  James: “What about them?”

  Mr. Biggins: “I’ll deal with them later. Let’s go.”

  Willy shows James a middle finger without the teacher noticing.

  James: “But...”

  Mr. Biggins: “To the classroom where you assaulted my colleague. Now!”

  James: “Okay, no need to yell.”

  Mr. Biggins takes James back to the classroom where he triggered the automatic defense system of the AI teacher. The rectangular shaped robot has parked itself into a charging port by one of the walls. It has an emergency attention notice on the screen where its face is supposed to be and the pepper spray ejector still hangs out of its head.

  Mr. Biggins scans his teacher’s card by the robot, taps a couple of buttons disabling its alarm mode, and removes the empty pepper spray cartridge. The AI machine returns to its normal standby resting state.

  Having examined the expensive school property, Mr. Biggins sits down at the teacher’s desk, switches on the computer, and notes down a couple of things on it. He then opens James’s student profile.

  While he waits, James rests on one of the classroom tables. Through the window, he watches other kids leave the school grounds when the phone in his pocket rings. James checks it. A picture of a golden retriever appears on the screen.

  Mr. Biggins: “You need to take that?”

  James: “No. It’s my dog.”

  He presses the decline call button and lifts his gaze towards the teacher.

  James: “I thought I was going to the principal’s office.”

  I’d rather see the principal than Mr. Biggins...

  Mr. Biggins: "The principal is not on school premises. I have full authority to make decisions while she’s gone.”

  The teacher turns away from the computer and toward James.

  Mr. Biggins: “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  James: “Sorry, I guess...”

  Mr. Biggins: “Is that all you have to say after everything that you’ve done today?”

  James: “I understand why you have detained me, it looks bad if you don’t know the whole story. But once I tell you what actually happened, you will let me go and might even feel bad for me. The way I have been mistreated by that AI robot and by those two guys in the bathroom...”

  Mr. Biggins: “So you’re the victim in all of this?”

  James: “Yes! Those two were picking on that kid... what’s his name? Dontavious! That’s right. They were picking on Dontavious. I was just an unlucky bystander that stood up to them. Then one of them with the baggy clothing pushed me.”

  Mr. Biggins: “...”

  James: “So what about them? Why are they not in trouble?”

  Mr. Biggins brushes his mustache, glancing at the damaged AI teacher, then back at James. He pushes his glasses higher onto his nose.

  Mr. Biggins: “I will get to them later. Number one priority is to deal with the common denominator to all of today’s incidents – you, Grouse. You really want me to believe that you’re the victim in all of this? Let’s see... how do you go from failing your test to assaulting a teacher to flooding the school bathroom and getting in fights with other students all in 5 minutes?”

  James throws up his arms.

  James: “Oh, come on! I did not assault a teacher! I was being mistreated by that AI piece of junk that wouldn’t accept my test answers that were true!”

  Mr. Biggins: “The Education Department has deeply studied and recorded 50 of the best, top-rated teachers in this country. They were the basis for creating this ultimate AI teacher robot. HE is a real teacher with his own personality, and you are supposed to treat him with respect like any other teacher.”

  James: “All these AIs... can we get a real person? I mean, what’s the point in coming to school if I have to interact with a brainless robot?”

  The teacher turns to the computer and notes down a couple of lines of text. As he writes, he talks quietly under his breath.

  Mr. Biggins: “Doesn’t listen. Doesn’t value school property. Doesn’t take accountability...”

  James’s phone rings.

  Mr. Biggins: “Anything serious this time?”

  James: “No, it’s still my dog.”

  James presses the “decline call” button again. I’m sorry, I don’t have the time to talk right now, doggy.

  Mr. Biggins: “Why does your dog keep calling?”

  James: “He probably needs to piss or wants a snack, or just wants to hear my voice. He gets lonely sometimes when everyone’s at work or school.”

  Mr. Biggins: “I don’t really care. You need to pay attention to what we are talking about here. It’s serious.”

  James: “Yes, sir! I will shut down my phone.”

  James attempts to turn off his phone, but the device lags. It starts to ring again, playing the same annoying tune. The dog won’t let up.

  Mr. Biggins: “For Pete’s sake!”

  James: “I’m sorry, the phone froze! I can’t turn it off.”

  The boy smashes the phone against his palm a couple of times. It shuts down at last.

  James: “We’re all good. No more distractions.”

  The teacher glares at James with his glasses sitting low on his nose. He turns off the computer, focusing on the student in front.

  Mr. Biggins: “Alright... you know what I think? You have anger issues. You failed your test today, that made you angry. So you took your anger out on the teacher. When that wasn’t enough, you then assaulted two younger students in the bathroom who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were simply in the proximity of your outbursts. And in the process you damaged the school’s property.”

  James: “I don’t have anger issues. And that’s exactly the opposite of what happened!”

  James’s voice pitches higher than before.

  Mr. Biggins: “You clearly have some sort of issues. If I look at your attendance, your failing grades, and your attitude, I can see that you don’t take the school seriously. You like to cause trouble.”

  James: “...”

  Mr. Biggins: “For your behavior you will get suspended from the school for 2 weeks. We will give a call to your parents and let them know about it. If there are any water damages done to the school property, you will have to cover them.”

  James places a hand on his forehead. This is not happening to me...

  Mr. Biggins: “Take these 2 weeks and think about what you’ve done and where you are going in life. If I were in your place, I’d start studying day and night to save your failing classes. But by the looks of it, I don’t know if that’s even possible at this point. You will most likely fail this entire school year and will need to stay behind.”

  James shakes his head.

  James: “No way I’m staying in this same grade for another year...”

  Mr. Biggins: “Seems like you will. If you continue down the path you’re currently on, you might not even finish high school ever. I’ve seen it many times with similar kids like you - they always end up dropping out and living off the Universal Basic Income. It’s not a pretty life, you know. They blow what little they have and often live on the streets or in homeless shelters.”

  Since most of the jobs today are done by AI-powered machines, there’s not enough work for everyone. To solve this problem, the government of the United States has implemented a Universal Basic Income system. Every citizen that is over the age of 18 each month receives a set amount of funds. They can then choose to live off of that income or to get a job and earn extra money. That income is quite low and not enough for most people to survive, especially if they have kids or any unexpected expenses.

  Mr. Biggins: “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  James shakes his head again.

  James: “No.”

  The teenager jumps off the table he’s been sitting on. The emotion brewing up inside won’t let him stay still any longer.

  James: “I refuse that prediction. You might have seen others like that, but that’s not gonna be me!”