The weekly rankings appeared at precisely 8:00 AM every Monday. Not on screens—that would be too commonplace for Aldridge. Instead, they materialized as a holographic projection in the central atrium, a three-story open space with a glass ceiling that flooded the area with natural light. The Rankings Wall, as students called it, was an architectural marvel of transparent panels that seemed to float in mid-air, displaying names in a crisp, authoritative font that somehow conveyed permanence despite changing weekly.
Students gathered beneath it like worshippers at an altar. Some hung back, afraid to see their position. Others pushed forward aggressively, desperate to confirm their status. Liam always approached with measured steps, neither eager nor reluctant. Just another variable to process.
THE UNTOUCHABLES (RANKS 1-5)
Victoria Graves (Rank 1) – The Uncrowned Queen
Arjun Rao (Rank 2) – The Golden Boy
Eleanor "Ellie" Feng (Rank 3) – The Strategist
Felix Moreau (Rank 4) – The Mad Scientist
Sienna Valenti (Rank 5) – The Ghost
THE INNER CIRCLE (RANKS 6-10)
Rafael "Rafe" Sinclair (Rank 6) – The Prince
Connor Walsh (Rank 7) – The Architect
Nikolai Petrov (Rank 8) – The Enforcer
Jasper Voss (Rank 9) – The Heir
Lucía Torres (Rank 10) – The Hacker Queen
THE EDGE OF POWER (RANKS 11-15)
Adam Sterling (Rank 11) – The Perfect Son
Alina Novak (Rank 12) – The Chemist
Kaito Nakamura (Rank 13) – The Mathematician
Liam Carter (Rank 14) – The Algorithm
Juliette Fontaine (Rank 15) – The Artist
THE BORDERLANDS (RANKS 16-20)
Darius King (Rank 16) – The Physicist
Renee Collins (Rank 17) – The Geneticist
Amara Patel (Rank 18) – The Innovator
Isaiah Brooks (Rank 19) – The Underdog
Imani Okafor (Rank 20) – The Neuroscientist
Liam scanned the list methodically, his eyes lingering on Jasper's name. Still at Rank 9. Two weeks ago, Jasper had inexplicably dropped from Rank 7 to Rank 9—a seismic shift by Aldridge standards. The Inner Circle rarely experienced such volatility. The top ten were constants, their positions shifting marginally if at all.
"Still thinking about Voss's drop?" Ethan appeared beside him, his uniform slightly rumpled as always, a stark contrast to Liam's precisely pressed attire.
"It's statistically improbable," Liam replied. "His performance metrics haven't changed, and Inner Circle politics are typically more subtle."
Ethan snorted. "Politics are never subtle when relationships are involved. You heard the rumors about him and Lucía."
Lucía Torres, Rank 10. The Hacker Queen. Known for breaking into government systems for fun and evading detection. Also known, apparently, for breaking Jasper Voss's heart.
"Rumors are unreliable data points," Liam said dismissively.
"Says the guy who's suddenly interested in conspiracy theories," Ethan teased. "Come on, we're going to be late for PE."
Liam grimaced slightly. Physical Education at Aldridge wasn't the typical high school experience of dodgeball and half-hearted laps. It was a ruthlessly optimized training regimen designed to maximize cognitive function through physical exertion. And like everything else at the academy, it was competitive.
The athletic complex resembled a high-end sports research facility more than a high school gym. Polished wood floors, state-of-the-art equipment, and everywhere the subtle glow of monitoring systems tracking heart rates, muscle activation, and even cortisol levels.
"Today we're running performance assessments," announced Coach Reeves, a former Olympic decathlete with a PhD in kinesiology. "Circuit training, followed by cognitive tests to measure the impact of exertion on mental processing."
Ethan groaned beside Liam. "I hate Mondays."
"You hate exercise on any day," Liam pointed out.
"Because it's pointless," Ethan whispered as they lined up. "I'm going to run hedge funds someday, not marathons."
The circuit began with a series of explosive movements—box jumps, burpees, and sprint intervals. Around the gym, students attacked the exercises with varying levels of intensity and skill.
Victoria Graves, Rank 1, moved with the precision of an elite athlete, her tall, lithe body seemingly immune to fatigue. Every movement was calculated and efficient, her breathing controlled. Even her ponytail seemed disciplined, barely moving as she completed perfect burpees.
Nearby, Rafael Sinclair—"Rafe" to his admirers—performed one-armed push-ups with casual ease, his chiseled features barely showing strain. The Prince, they called him, for both his aristocratic British background and his regal bearing.
Liam worked methodically through the stations, his body responding to the commands of his mind with machine-like efficiency. He had long ago calculated the optimal level of physical fitness required to maintain cognitive performance. Not too little, not too much—just enough to keep his prefrontal cortex firing at maximum capacity.
Ethan, however, was another story entirely. By the third station, he was already red-faced and wheezing, his T-shirt dark with sweat.
"I think I'm dying," he gasped, doubling over between burpees.
"You're experiencing normal cardiovascular stress," Liam replied, completing his set with steady rhythm.
"Easy for you to say, Terminator," Ethan shot back. He glanced around furtively, then slipped toward the water fountain.
Coach Reeves's whistle cut through the air. "Reyes! Back to your station!"
"Just getting water, Coach," Ethan called, but reluctantly shuffled back to the workout area.
On the far side of the gym, Juliette Fontaine moved through the exercises with unexpected grace. Where other students attacked the workout, she flowed through it, transforming the clinical movements into something almost dance-like. Even her sweat seemed artistic, glistening like dew rather than exertion.
The next station was sprint intervals. Twenty seconds at maximum effort, ten seconds rest, repeated eight times. Liam calibrated his output carefully, maintaining his optimal heart rate zone.
Halfway through the set, a commotion erupted across the gym. Ethan had collapsed mid-sprint, his body crumpling to the floor with dramatic finality.
"Man down!" someone called unnecessarily.
Coach Reeves was there in an instant, checking Ethan's vitals. "Just a syncope episode," he announced, signaling for the student medics who were always on standby. "Low blood pressure, probably dehydration."
As they carried Ethan to the nurse's office on a stretcher—his arm flung over his forehead in what Liam recognized as exaggerated distress—Coach Reeves addressed the rest of the class. "This is why we monitor your biometrics, people. Reyes's system has been flagging dehydration warnings all morning, which he ignored. Back to work!"
The class resumed their circuit, but the rhythm had been disrupted. Students whispered to each other, some concerned, others dismissive of what they considered another of Ethan's elaborate attempts to avoid physical exertion.
Liam continued his workout, only marginally concerned. Ethan's vitals hadn't indicated serious distress, just the expected consequences of neglecting basic physiological maintenance. He'd check on him after class.
As he moved to the pull-up station, a voice spoke close to his ear. "Your friend has interesting timing."
Liam turned to find a girl he didn't recognize standing beside him. She was small but athletic, with dark skin, closely cropped hair, and eyes that seemed to see through rather than at him. She wore the standard Aldridge athletic uniform, but somehow made it look like specialized tech gear.
"Who are you?" Liam asked, his tone neutral.
"Nia Park," she replied. "Have you noticed any strange activity on your devices lately?"
Liam's expression didn't change, but his muscles tensed slightly. "Who the hell are you?" he repeated, more quietly this time.
Nia's eyes darted around the gym. No one was paying attention to them. The commotion around Ethan had created the perfect distraction. Only Juliette Fontaine seemed to be watching them from across the room, her gaze curious.
"Someone who can help you, if you help me," Nia replied. "I know people are snooping in your systems. I can identify them."
"What makes you think anyone's in my systems?"
"The same reason your essay went viral," she countered. "You have something people want."
Liam completed a pull-up, his mind processing this new variable. "What exactly do you have to offer?"
Nia's smile was quick and sharp. "Information. For starters, did you know Jasper Voss doesn't actually deserve Rank 9? Or even Rank 7, where he was before?"
"Proof?" Liam asked, completing another pull-up.
"His ranking is manipulated," Nia said, pretending to adjust her shoe laces. "Last time his rank dropped was because of a fight with Lucía Torres. She's the one who kept him at Rank 7 for months, hacking the system to inflate his scores. When they broke up, she dropped him as punishment."
Liam paused mid-pull-up. This was unexpected data. "How would you know this?"
"I notice things others don't," Nia replied. "But I won't tell you any more unless you agree to help me."
"With what?"
"Getting into the top twenty." Her eyes flashed with determination. "I'm Rank 22. I should be higher, but someone's been suppressing my scores."
Liam lowered himself from the bar, studying her carefully. "Why would I care about your ranking ambitions?"
"Because I can identify who's watching you," Nia said. "And believe me, after that essay went public, a lot of people are watching."
"Carter! Park! Less talking, more working!" Coach Reeves called from across the gym.
Nia quickly grabbed the bar and executed three perfect pull-ups. "Decision time, Algorithm," she said between controlled breaths. "Do we have a deal?"
Liam calculated the variables, weighing potential risks against information value. "Provisional agreement," he finally said. "Prove you can deliver on one piece of intelligence, and we'll discuss terms."
Nia's smile was triumphant. "Check your secure email tonight. I'll send you proof of Jasper's manipulation. After that, we talk about getting me into the top twenty."
She dropped from the bar and moved to the next station without looking back, blending seamlessly into the crowd of students.
Across the gym, Juliette had stopped pretending not to watch. She raised an eyebrow at Liam, a silent question he wasn't ready to answer.
Coach Reeves blew his whistle, signaling the end of the circuit. "Cognitive assessment in five minutes! Hydrate and prepare!"
As students moved toward the water stations, Liam's mind was already working through the implications of Nia's information. If Jasper's ranking was manipulated, what else at Aldridge was artificial? And more importantly, who else might be watching him after his essay's exposure?
For the first time in years, Liam felt something that his algorithm brain couldn't immediately classify. It took him a moment to recognize it as uncertainty—and beneath that, a flicker of something else.
Fear.