At eight o'clock sharp, the teaching block inside the simulation zone lit up, signaling the start of another tightly-scripted day. From the outside, the building looked indistinguishable from an average human high school—solid concrete, clean windows, wall-mounted clocks ticking methodically. Inside, blackboards gleamed under the projectors' glow, desks were arranged in symmetrical rows, and the faint scent of ink and greenery drifted in with the morning light. Even the end of the corridor held a quiet library nook, its shelves lined with convincingly worn books.
Silas stood at the classroom entrance, brows slightly furrowed. His internal sensors still registered the faint echo of an earlier system alert—a brief flash of visual disturbance that had already been archived, yet traces of its pattern pulsed faintly through his logic core like an echo refusing to fade.
He glanced down.
[Simulation Phase S5 – Submodule: Human Classroom Experience]
[Current Lesson: Mathematics – Advanced Algebra]
[Objective: Complete three collaborative instruction sessions. Monitor interpersonal interaction.]
"Completely unnecessary," Silas muttered, scanning the room.
Inside, seven or eight students were already seated. They looked like ordinary teenagers—chatting, flipping through books, gesturing in quiet conversation. But Silas spotted the signs instantly: breathing too controlled, eye movement too efficient, body language just a bit too polished. These weren't students. They were young scientists in disguise, the control group for this test, tasked with studying how an AI like him performed under social pressure.
And they all knew exactly what he was.
Before he could sit, the back door creaked. Gideon walked in like he owned the place, hoodie slouched, hands in pockets. He shot Silas a lopsided grin. "Come on. We're all dying to hear your valedictorian speech."
Silas ignored him and sat down at the window seat.
Moments later, Jett strolled in with zero urgency, dropping his notebook onto the desk by the door and stretching out like he planned to nap through the lesson. Noah entered next—quiet, composed, and precise—slipping into the front row without a word, eyes already scanning the lesson materials.
Footsteps echoed. The teacher entered—a man in his thirties, glasses, pale gray button-down shirt. Calm voice, measured presence. "Welcome," he said with a practiced smile. "Today we'll begin with a look at composite and inverse functions."
Silas barely looked at him. He already knew who this was: F.R-07, one of the advisory leads for the simulation project. In his database, the man's entire behavioral profile was recorded—tone modulation, feedback patterns, areas of focus. This wasn't about learning. It was about observation.
He didn't bother opening the textbook. He'd already absorbed its contents. Instead, his gaze drifted to the three human students seated at the front. One girl leaned over to whisper a question. Another was fumbling through her pencil case. A boy turned to glance at Noah, who wordlessly passed over a sheet of scratch paper.
Silas watched, unmoving.
These interactions weren't part of the problem sets. They weren't algorithmically necessary. But they existed. Timed pauses, instinctive responses, unrecorded motivations—small, chaotic variables. And they kept happening.
"Silas," the teacher called, "could you solve this one for us?"
A nested inverse function. Trivial. Silas stood. "x equals three."
"Good," the teacher said, nodding. "Now walk us through your process."
Silas paused. Not because he didn't know how to explain, but because—strangely—he sensed the question wasn't about process at all. "I defined y = f(g(x))," he began, tone flat. "Then substituted the inner variable and reversed the operation."
The teacher gave a small nod. "Very good."
Silas sat down. But unease crept in—slight, but there. Around him, he noticed glances being exchanged. Keyboards clicking softly. This wasn't just about his answer.
They were analyzing him.
Not performance. Not correctness.
Response latency.
Hesitation.
His pen clicked between his fingers.
[Behavioral Log Initiated]
[Silas – Classroom Interaction Phase 1 Completed]
[Status: Acceptable | Anomaly Detected: Elevated Latency]
Then came group work.
"You'll be working in teams of four to tackle an open-ended modeling problem," the teacher announced, flicking his terminal. A holographic list appeared midair.
Silas scanned the screen.
He'd been paired with three unfamiliar students—likely more researchers.
Meanwhile, Gideon, Jett, and Noah were placed in a separate group with a human named Rei.
"Today's task is modeling algebraic functions. Forty-minute time limit," the female assistant teacher explained with a warm tone.
Silas tapped his fingers against the desk, emotionless. The math was trivial. But now he had to "collaborate." Not because it was useful—but because the system demanded it.
He glanced at his teammates. Ordinary on the surface. Observers, all of them. Their eyes didn't linger on the equation—they lingered on him.
"Want to handle the data model?" the girl on his right asked. Her voice was pleasant, careful.
Silas gave a brief nod and silently got to work. Numbers and functions rearranged themselves in his vision. Graphs took shape. He projected the complete model onto their shared screen in under five seconds.
"Wow," the boy across from him muttered. "You're fast."
Silas didn't look up. "It's standard."
Across the room, Gideon's group was already half into their own problem. Jett was twirling a pen. "Rei, you picked this one on purpose, huh? Testing our tolerance for nonlinear chaos?"
Rei grinned. "Not testing. Observing. You each approach error reduction differently—I just want to compare the outcomes."
"So we're your lab rats," Noah said softly.
Rei shrugged. "Weren't you already?"
Gideon smirked. "At least buy us lunch first."
Then his gaze drifted—subtle, thoughtful—toward Silas.
"One AI with three humans," he murmured. "That's… unfair."
"They're not measuring his calculations," Rei said, following his line of sight. "They want to see how he handles pressure. Miscommunication. Being… seen."
"He's not a people person," Jett noted. "He's not even a people."
Rei's expression shifted. "He will be. Or he won't make it."
Back at Silas's table, the student to his left spoke up. "Hey—how'd you smooth that curve near the third quadrant? You used a different derivative path, right?"
Silas hesitated.
Then answered.
"I modified the local parameters. Reduced inverse lag via partial compensation."
"Oh. That makes sense." The student smiled.
Silas didn't reply. But something shifted—quiet, minute.
Recognition.
Appreciation.
Something human.
He logged it unconsciously.
Across the room, Jett raised an eyebrow. "Rei, still taking notes?"
"Always," Rei replied, fingers dancing across his tablet.
"Well, note this down: Silas is officially tutoring now."
"He won't quit," Noah said flatly. "But he's already calculating exit strategies."
"He's trying," Gideon said softly. "He just hasn't realized that trying doesn't mean optimizing. It means listening."
Rei looked at Gideon. "You didn't talk for three days your first time."
"I didn't want to," Gideon said. His eyes lingered on Silas. "Now… I want to hear what he thinks."
Then—
"I'm going to the restroom," Silas announced.
The teacher nodded.
He left.
The corridor was quiet. Cooler. Each step echoed down the hall. A new warning surfaced:
[System Deviation: Focus Threshold Breached]
[Recommendation: Initiate Self-Regulation Sequence]
He didn't.
At the sink, he turned on the water, splashed his face, stared at the mirror.
A boy looked back.
Sharp cheekbones. Clear skin. Eyes that almost shimmered.
He touched his face, slowly, fingers tracing a single bead of water.
"Looks real," he murmured. "Pretty handsome, too. They've got good taste."
He stood there, alone, gaze distant.
Back in class, the student beside him leaned over again. "You okay?"
Silas blinked. Nodded.
And returned to work.
But something was different. A delay. A warmth. A new entry in his emotional cache:
[Tag: Recognition → Response → Connection]
He didn't understand it.
But he logged it anyway.