Dante

It was the year 3755.

AI has officially mimicked how a human should act to the point they are no longer treated as bots but as actual humans with emotions.

Some rejoiced and praised and just loved this achievement of AI, and of course, some said that this was the first step to the downfall of mankind.

Well, I have zero problems with that. I mean as long as I benefit from the bots then there's no inconceivable way I'd hate them.

AI in general doesn't concern me, they're friendly and lovely to talk to.

Right now, the droids are just made of metal, but once you like, talk to them--you'll hear the emotion in their voice as if they have their very own unique personality.

Most people I know already accepted the droids and treated them as human as well as getting cybernetic implants since it's part of society's norms to gain some.

However, being the social reject that I am, I refuse to comply with the standards of society and stay an all-natural.

I do get bullied for it.

However, I also have a very cool friend who is also like me!

She, too is an all-natural. A "genetically blessed" all-natural--if you catch my drift.

Her name is Klara.

She's horizontally and vertically tall. She's like--fucking two heads taller than me. It's slightly embarrassing but I got used to it over time.

She's awesome by the way. Did I also mention her name is Klara? Anyway, I should be listening in class but instead, I'm talking to the voices in my head.

Fuck I'm lonely.

Snapping my attention back to class, I look around the classroom I familiarized myself with over time.

Ah, right. I'm in history class now. My teacher's also an AI.

Right now, she's a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, a smile that can ease the hearts of the students, and a pristine figure that'll let others assume she's clean and pure.

She only wore a casual outfit, white long sleeves, and a long brown skirt that covered her knees. I watch as the chalk in between her slim fingers spells down the names of historical figures on the blackboard.

I rarely talk to her; I mean I do but mostly for seldom counseling and a few school activities and such but y'know--my asocial ass doesn't know how to talk to women so I don't usually talk to her when she's free.

The only reason I'm able to talk to Klara (my woman friend) is that she acts like a dude.

She talks like a dude, wears baggy clothes to hide her most prominent features, and does not wear any makeup like the other girls in my class.

She's still beautiful even without makeup--mind you. It's honestly, in my opinion, magnificent to see her without makeup. She's even genetically blessed in terms of facial features.

Anyway, as the millennia-old saying goes Klara's a "Tomboy."

But enough about Klara. Let's go back to 'em droids.

AI has advanced so much to the point they can even imitate bullying. I have a couple of asshole droids in the class, but the good ones outweigh the bad ones luckily enough.

If I look around, even amidst my teacher's relaxing--charming presence, I can still hear murmurings and whispers of students like me talking about other things like, when are they going to visit the mall together--or what games they got on their phones and was she 'tight'--what?

Nevermind.

The class was filled with a light blue hue thanks to the tiles having small streaks of blue lights, the classroom smelt like peppermint and citrus--classes are now squeaky clean thanks to the droids replaced by the human janitors, the cleaning has been more efficient than ever.

𝘙𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘨𝘨𝘨

Oh finally, the final bell rang.

The bell's flare echoed in our class's hallway like an alarm for those kaiju attacks in movies--but that only meant one thing in general: signaling dismissal.

I gaze at my watch.

It's 4 pm.

I let out a rough sigh before grabbing my books and notebooks from under my table and stuffing them inside my bag.

I looked around for a bit and all I saw were smiles from my classmates, their chattering with friends, and interacting with our teacher.

It was a normal class. Nothing really special. So as I shove the sling of my backpack over my shoulder, I plodded through a few of my classmates--too busy talking to their friends, inevitably ignoring my presence, leading me to step out of my classroom.

And holy shit it was like a stampede in the hallways.

Students would be clustered together, squirming past each other's personal space and squeezing through bodies just to find an exit--I swear someone must've died doing this.

Anyway, I crammed through the crowd and managed to fit through a single spot before flowing through the sea of children.

I took a step inside and off I went in the outpour, toward the exit.

In due time, having teenagers my age gush out of their classrooms like the bewildered beasts in NatGeo Wild--that channel's long gone due to the near extinction of 60.3% of the planet's local species--practically became the loss of the channel and the company since there weren't as much "rare" species left on this planet.

As I breeze through the crowd of students, their nonchalant chattering and their loud playful bickering echo in my ears, I take the chance to inhale as I step out of the school I study in that stretches around 15 kilometers. "Finally. Some nice air."

Looking up, I was greeted with the orange light of the sun setting down on the huge neon mega buildings of the city, its orange light naturally mixed with the vibrant colors of holographic advertisements scattered around at certain points of the city.

...

"Right. Now I have to buy Dad's daily meds," I stuffed my hand in my rear pocket and swooped out my wallet. "Uh...I've got a thousand....uhm...thiry...fifty...okay. This should be enough for his minimum."

As you can tell, my dad's sick. He's bedridden. I love that man with my life.

I pivot my body towards the sidewalk on my right and take a step.

Of course, the sidewalk I so happen to stroll down is littered with two of those asshole droids in my class and the several dudes with cybernetic implants just love giving me the millennia-old wedgies.

"Fuck me..." I say under my breath. "They're preying on me this time again, huh?"

They confirm my assumption, gazing at me with predatory eyes, their grins widening. Mind you, the dudes we're a whopping 6'2, including the droids. I, on the other hand, am an astonishing 5'7. The height difference is crazy.

"Sorry, Dad...I'm going home late today again."

Maybe I should try fighting back. Pondering a bit, I unbuckle my belt. Most of the dudes there are darker-skinned. So....uh...me being a bit whiter than they had to bring them...back in their "place." I'm not necessarily like, as white as the clouds, I just got pale skin.

...

I'm not racist I swear to God. I'm using my skin tone as an advantage to hopefully discourage them...and the belt to uh...have flashbacks about their ancestors--I don't fucking know. I just don't want to be the only punching bag there.

Ah. They're walking to me. They've got that predatory smugness on their faces. It's a little bit intimidating on my end. However, I decided to retort with racial slurs.

I whip the air using my belt as they approach me. "Come at me you damn ni--"

---

"Oooohhh so you called them 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, huh? Now look at you, yer all beat up and bloody. How'd ya manage to scurry outta there?"

"...I punched their balls," I said. "Luckily they didn't implant them with metal nutsacks. The droids didn't have any sadly. It just stunned 'em a bit so I ran after that."

The old man let out a chuckle. "Ya got witts kid."

Right now, I am in a taxi.

I uh, told the driver everything. The guy didn't have as many cybernetic implants. He had a metallic arm clicking and churning every time he used the wheel to swerve the taxi into a different lane, his eyes were infused with nanochips, giving him the best options for where to drive and if he could squeeze through some cars.

He had a bloated stomach--it was visible since I could see his flesh poking out of his collared white shirt, his right hand was still natural, so he had a hairy forearm. The man had grey hair mixed with some black hair and looked to be around his 60s.

"That was pretty stupid. What you just did there kid. Now they're gonna batter ya for sure 24/7," the old man continued. "If I were you, just drop out. School's nothin' nowadays, thanks to those AI, we've fulfilled all the Sustainable development goals. Jobs like mine give pretty good pay, givin' me a pretty decent life even just by being a taxi driver. Hell, even garbagemen get good pay. We're livin' a dream kid. Don't need school to live a simple life."

I let out a sigh, sinking down into the taxi seat. "I get it I get it, old man, just...drive to the nearest pharmacy. I can walk back home from here. I know this side of the city."

The vehicle slows down on a nearby sidewalk. I peeked out the taxi's window and I was greeted by the pharmacy I stroll to every now and then. "Thanks, old man, I'll be going now," I tell the driver, stepping out.

"Hey youngin, I ain't old. I'm only a hundred and three!" he says in retort. "'Borgs like me last at least a century 'n a half or more! I ain't even a hundred 'n forty yet! I should tell you to watch out kiddo. All-naturals like you are easy money for thieves."

"I'm flattered...sir, but I'll be just fine, here's your pay," I say to him, shuffling through some bills in my wallet.

The man shrugs and stares at the bills on my hand. "Meh, keep it kid. I'm sure you'll need it for yo father. You a good son."

"...Thanks, man. Uh, drive safe."

---

"I'm home," I announce as I gently close the door to the unit in the apartment complex me and my dad live in. As usual, I received no response.

My dad's bedridden. He barely gets out of bed, so most of the time, I have to feed him, bathe him, and basically take care of him.

I waltz down the hallway to his room, eventually inches before the door to his own room. I raise my hand and knock. "I'm goin' in."