In the early morning of September in New York, the chill was heavier than the day before, and the morning mist slid down the apartment’s glass window, leaving faint water traces.
Mio sat at her desk, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the edge of the computer.
The sky outside the window was just beginning to brighten, and she had maintained this posture for an entire night.
It wasn’t because of the lingering shock from Hells Kitchen, nor was it because the extra few thousand dollars in her pocket made her restless; rather, it was because she had discovered that she seemingly did not need to sleep at all.
In her past life, she was a student who could pull all-nighters grinding for azur lane events, inevitably feeling dizzy and groggy the next day.
But now, she hadn’t closed her eyes for nearly thirty hours, and far from being exhausted, she didn’t feel a hint of sleepiness.
Her brain remained as clear as a supercomputer that had just completed a self-check.
Every parameter and every ballistic trajectory from when the Fire Control Radar activated last night was clearly etched into her consciousness, detailed to the finest degree.
She looked up at herself in the mirror; her sea-blue pupils were so clear that there wasn’t a trace of bloodshot, and even the faint dark circles under her eyes were invisible.
Mio couldn’t help but twitch the corner of her mouth.
The questions she had only seen in science fiction novels were now the reality she had to face—do robots dream?
Do they dream of electric sheep?
She had always been certain that she had become the Navigator TB, an auxiliary tactical artificial intelligence.
But TB was, in the end, a program that relied on hardware to run, while she now possessed a flesh-and-blood body yet carried abilities far beyond the scope of TB, even her most basic physiological needs were slowly fading away.
Last night, she had scoured all the settings in her mind regarding azur lane, from TB’s core functions to the technical parameters of the Siren combat units, yet she couldn’t find an answer that could explain the ship-borne fire control system.
Unless…
An absurd thought popped up again, but she forcibly suppressed it.
“Impossible.
Stop thinking nonsense.” She shook her head, stood up, and pulled up her hoodie, wearing the same outfit as the day before.
She tucked away all of her conspicuous silver-white hair, leaving only a few tips visible, then grabbed her school bag, locked the door, and left.
Before leaving, she didn’t forget to casually clear all the surveillance footage near the apartment that had captured her.
This set of actions had become muscle memory; she didn’t even need to consciously use her mind, and the relevant data would automatically be destroyed.
On the subway, Mio huddled in the furthest corner, keeping her eyes cast down to avoid the surrounding gazes, and tried to activate that fire control system in her consciousness again.
In an instant, the structure of the entire subway car, the metal objects on everyone, and even the road conditions five hundred meters ahead on the tracks were clearly presented in her field of vision, with even the slight loosening of the screws on the rails marked with perfect clarity.
She hurriedly turned off the system, her heart skipping a beat…
Before she could figure it out, the subway arrived at the station.
The school gate of Midtown High School was already packed with students, and the noisy laughter could be heard from across the street.
Mio pulled at her hoodie and walked toward the school gate with her head down, just wanting to slip into the classroom quickly and not be noticed.
But things went against her wishes.
“Mio!
Good morning!” A familiar, slightly shy voice came from the side.
Mio paused her steps and turned her face, seeing Peter Parker with his worn-out school bag on his back, clutching that film camera in his hand.
He was waving at her with an embarrassed smile on his face as he ran over quickly.
Mio sighed silently in her heart, essentially accepting this arrangement of fate with total helplessness.
She couldn’t hide; they were in the same class, the same school, and saw each other constantly.
She couldn’t just keep a cold face and walk around him every time; being too deliberate would only make her more conspicuous.
She stopped and nodded slightly at Peter, her tone flat but still maintaining basic politeness: “Good morning, Peter.” Peter clearly hadn’t expected her to respond to his greeting; he was stunned for a moment, then the smile on his face became more obvious, and the tips of his ears turned a little red: “Are—are you just arriving too?
The first period is Dr.
Connors’ chemistry class.
The lab is in another building, and I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to find it, so I was thinking of waiting for you at the gate.” Mio looked into his sincere eyes and didn’t utter words of refusal.
After all, he meant well, and she truly didn’t know the location of the chemistry lab.
She couldn’t be late for the first class, which would only make her stand out more.
“Thank you for the trouble,” she said softly.
“No trouble, no trouble at all!” Peter waved his hands hurriedly and stepped aside to make way.
“Let’s walk together; it’s on the way.
Dr.
Connors’ class is extremely strict; he hates it when people are late.
Last time, a student was three minutes late and was kicked out directly.” He rambled on about the precautions for the class, his tone full of goodwill.
Mio listened quietly, nodding occasionally, not saying much, just slowing her pace and walking side by side with him toward the teaching building.