Chapter 2: How An Average Day Goes

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"Damn alarm. Couldn't even finish the second episode." A grumpy English voice moaned.

Despite his mood, Mark was fully awake. He turned off his alarm, seeing it was 8:01 and mentally prepared for another day at university. His room wasn't much, being of average comfort and size. He had a fair amount of furniture and items: a double bed, a recently polished wooden desk and even a luxurious gaming chair. On the desk was a computer, which was rather old, one made many years prior. The floor was smooth and clean, a wooden base with a rippled texture, like polished marble. An affluent abode, considering the state of the world.

As he got out of bed, the familiar coolness of the floor hit his senses. Tutting from the cold and not one to dawdle getting out of bed, often far more awake than the usual young adult, he hopped into the shower. The water sprayed across his toned and tanned body, relaxing sensations hitting as his mind wandered to the football game later and Elise coming around. Thoughts wandering off trail, he spent far longer than was either wanted or necessary in there. That was, until he remembered the upcoming trial of knowledge.

"Shit. I'm gonna be late again." Mark cursed.

With that, Mark exited the shower and into his room. He spent a few minutes getting dry, washing his average face, resembling the somewhat common English facial structure; neither ugly nor particularly beautiful. His hand went through his dark brown hair, cut medium length on top with the side shaved, a popular haircut at the moment.

Dressing into a standard black t-shirt, with a pair of blue jeans and black trainers, he glanced at himself in the mirror, inspecting his looks. It looked good on him, relatively. Done narcissistically checking himself out, he chuckled and went downstairs to greet everyone.

Exiting his room, he was greeted by the usual petite silhouette. It belonged to a young, cute-looking girl of five years with unblemished white skin. Blonde hair tied in pigtails, her face slightly chubby from lasting baby fat, and donning the usual attire for primary school students, Mark rubbed her head.

"Good morning, Alice. You looking forward to school today? Made any new friends yet?" Mark said, pinching her cheeks.

"Yeah." She squeaked, "I've made one, two, three, four... four new friends! Rebecca, Alli, Mari and... erm... I don't remember..."

"Well, it's good you've made friends, Alice. Although, you should probably remember their names. Suppose they're too young to care, so it'll be alright. Coming for breakfast?"

Nodding her head, Mark held her hand as they walked down the stairs. The house wasn't excessively large; most weren't with the high population and growing lack of accommodation. The more they can fit in a district, the better.

On the way to the dining room, they bumped into a gloomy-looking teenager, face down and back hunched. He had blonde hair, like his half-sister, growing down to his shoulders. It was apparent it had not been washed recently, being greasier than oil.

'Always the same.'

"Morning, Jake. You look like you've not slept, and... your hair, man. You really gotta wash it regularly. The offer still stands too, if you want to improve yourself, you can come to the gym with me. Maybe you'll have better luck with the ladies." Mark chuckled.

The teenager scowled at him before ignoring them and heading into the dining room. Mark shrugged and comfortingly rubbed Alice's hand, her half-brother not acknowledging her presence.

"Come on then." Mark spoke, "Seems your brother is in a foul mood, as per usual."

The two walked into the dining-room-come-kitchen a few seconds after Jake, being positively greeted by Mark's father and his two step-siblings' mother. Mark's father wasn't much different to Mark himself beside the broad shoulders, a chubby belly and a gruff-looking beard on his face, alongside the lack of hair on his head, something he didn't like to be reminded of. Mark sighed, wishing for the beard he can't grow. As his friend, Evan would say: "Stubble attracts the ladies.". Only recently had he felt some hair growing, and soon, he hoped, he would have loads of women flocking to him, appreciating his handsomeness.

"You need to hurry, Frank!" The mother hissed, "You're going to be late! Jobs are already scarce; we can't be having you sacked in this day and age."

His father grunted in response, Amelia's hissing in stark contrast to her melodious voice. Her long blonde hair waved around as she flew from one side of the room to another, prepping Alice and ensuring the food wasn't burnt. She was way out of his father's league, something he had always pondered on but never asked, unwilling to butt into private matters.

'Maybe dad is just a chad.' He thought, amusing himself.

With everyone sitting at the table, his father rapidly crunching his way through his cereal, Frank greeted them all before being chastised by his wife.

"What have I told you about talking with your mouth full, dear?"

Frank glanced at his wife with a long-defeated look, giving up his position as master of the household. He uttered an apology as he continued rushing to finish.

Alice's unceasing chattering kept the mood lively, ensuring no silence came to the table as Jake sat in utter contempt at the atmosphere and the two parents stressed over time. Mark smiled, the same thing happening every day, something he wouldn't give up for the world. With the idle chatter slowly dying down, Amelia grabbed Alice as soon as she was done, putting a jacket around her, the winter weather unpredictable, before setting off. They disappeared from the room, waving and saying goodbye as they left for the car. His dad wasn't far behind, finishing his food and practically racing out of the room to bike to work, leaving Mark and Jake to make their own way.

The two continued eating with snippets of conversation, the air slightly tense before they both went their separate ways after leaving the house. Jake went to his final year of secondary school and Mark, to the local university.

He waited at the bus stop, the journey roughly twenty to thirty minutes if he walked, depending on his pace, but only five by bus. Getting onto the red transport, he travelled further into the city, leaving the residential area in the distance.

The architecture was bland and dull, society seemingly favouring big concrete buildings and glass skyscrapers, reaching into the sky like a mountain. He grumbled, the structures plain ugly, full of hideous reflections, perhaps of society itself. It was this boring view that pushed him into sports, the greener environment being less toxic and more 'free'. That was not to say he was an environmentalist, progress is made through the destruction of it, but, he wasn't one to not speak out about the hideous city settings and the lack of unique architecture.

Getting over his brief wandering, he had finally arrived at Leicester University, neither grandiose nor too basic. With a semi-circular arch at the entrance, made of blocks of white-coloured brick and stone, it brought a more grand semblance to the institute, despite having none of the history. Built roughly two decades ago, its prestige was a far cry from Oxford or Cambridge.

Nevertheless, Mark continued walking on a straight gravel path, with the sides boxed in by stones and surrounded by the open area of the university. The air was cold and full of chill, the wind washing over the plain ground as he upped his pace. Arriving moments later at the main institute building, he entered, following his usual route to the lecture hall. He glanced at his phone, checking the time.

"9:01, not bad. Only a minute late." Mark muttered.

Putting it back into his pocket, he opened the door to the hall. Like most of them, it was large and rectangular, with a large silver steel ball being the most noticeable presence, hanging from the ceiling. There were roughly eleven people besides the professor in the room, each of varying ethnicities, gender and cultures. A testament to the multiculturalism of the modern day.

The professor, a kind-looking elderly gentleman, turned towards the opened door with upturned eyebrows and spoke.

"Ah, Mister Evans. Late again, as usual. You're lucky we haven't started. Come sit down and we'll get going."

Mark thanked him, seemingly always let off from being late, albeit only by a minute. Seating himself in his regular spot, he mentally prepared himself for the debate, the professor standing at the front.

"All right, everyone. Shall we begin?"