The afternoon sun filtered through the grimy windows of Lecture Hall C, casting lazy shadows across rows of wooden desks that had seen better decades. I sat in my usual spot, three rows from the back, two seats from the window. Not too close to draw attention, not too far to seem antisocial. The perfect position for someone who had mastered the art of existing without being noticed.
Professor Williams droned on about macroeconomic theory, his voice a monotonous hum that blended with the whir of the ancient ceiling fan. My pen moved across my notebook in neat, precise strokes, capturing every relevant point despite my mind wandering to more interesting territories.
Arthur Hart. That was me. Twenty years old, second year economics major, owner of a face that should have opened doors but somehow never did. I had been told more than once that I was handsome, striking even, with my white hair and sharp features. Yet here I sat, girlfriendless, friendless really, watching life happen around me rather than to me.
Three seats ahead, Jessica laughed at something her boyfriend whispered in her ear.
'Lucky bastard,' I thought, watching them share another private moment. 'What does he have that I don't? Besides confidence. And a personality. And someone who actually wants to be around him.'
To my left, a group of guys planned their weekend brewery crawl.
"Bro, we have to hit up that new place on Fifth Street," one of them said. "Jake went last weekend and said their IPA selection is insane."
"Yeah, but their wings are trash," another countered. "We should start at Hoppy's, get food there, then hit the new place."
They all laughed, that easy camaraderie of people who actually enjoyed each other's company.
'When does it get better?' I thought, my pen moving automatically. 'Everyone says college is supposed to be the best years of your life. If this is the best, what does that say about the rest?'
"Now, as we can see from the Keynesian model," Professor Williams continued, adjusting his glasses, "the aggregate demand curve shifts based on several factors including consumer confidence, government spending, and investment levels."
His voice became background noise. I glanced out the window at the campus quad below. Students lounged on the grass, couples walked hand in hand, groups shared jokes and lunch.
'Life in full color,' I mused. 'While I'm stuck in grayscale. The background character in everyone else's story.'
Twenty years old and I had never had a girlfriend. There had been a girl in my first year, Sarah from English literature. Pretty, smart, seemed interested in the same books. I had worked up the courage to ask her to coffee. She had said yes, we had gone, the conversation had been pleasant enough, and then... nothing.
'What did I do wrong?' I had wondered for weeks. 'Was I too boring? Too awkward?'
I was smart enough to know I was not ugly. I owned a mirror. I could see that my features were symmetrical, that my unusual white hair was actually striking rather than off putting, that my blue eyes were clear and sharp. But somehow, none of that translated into actual romantic success.
The clock on the wall read 2:47 PM. Thirteen more minutes.
'Just one break,' I thought. 'That's all I need. One moment where something interesting happens. Where I'm not just... this.'
My pen continued its march across the page. Supply curves. Demand curves. Market equilibrium.
A strange sensation washed over me.
'What the hell?'
It felt like static electricity building in the air, raising the hairs on my arms and neck. I looked up from my notes, frowning. Around me, other students began to shift uncomfortably.
"Does anyone else feel that?" Jessica asked, rubbing her arms.
"Feel what?" her boyfriend replied, but his eyes widened. "Wait, yeah. What is that?"
To my right, Daniel sat up straighter, his head swiveling. "It's like... static or something."
'Not static,' I thought. 'Something else. Something more.'
Then I saw it.
Light. Not the warm yellow of afternoon sun, but something else entirely. It started as a faint shimmer in the air, like heat waves, but quickly intensified into something more substantial, more real, more impossible.
"What the hell is that?" someone shouted.
The light coalesced into patterns, geometric shapes that should not exist in three dimensional space, weaving into an intricate design that covered the entire floor. Circles within circles, triangles intersecting at impossible angles, script in a language I had never seen but somehow felt was ancient and powerful. It glowed with an otherworldly blue white radiance.
"Everyone stay calm!" Professor Williams shouted, his voice cracking with panic. He backed away from the spreading light, nearly tripping over his briefcase. "This must be some kind of... some kind of prank! A projection or..."
'That's not a hologram,' I thought, watching the light rise from the floor. 'Holograms don't make the air vibrate. They don't feel... real.'
The light had substance, weight, presence. It rose like luminescent fog, tendrils of pure energy reaching upward and outward, encompassing the entire classroom. The air itself seemed to vibrate with power, a deep thrumming I felt in my chest, in my bones.
Students began to scream. Chairs scraped as people stood, some rushing toward the door, others frozen by shock.
"Oh god, oh god, what's happening?" a girl wailed.
"We need to get out!" one of the brewery guys shouted.
Jessica clutched her boyfriend's arm. "Jake, what do we do?"
"I don't know!" Jake replied, pulling her close.
'I should be scared,' I thought, still sitting while everyone panicked. 'This is clearly dangerous. I should be running.'
But instead, I felt a strange calm.
'Maybe this is it. My break. My one extraordinary thing. Or maybe I'm about to die, and honestly, at least that would be interesting.'
The light intensified, becoming almost painfully bright. The geometric patterns spun faster, the circles rotating, the triangles shifting. The thrumming grew stronger, matching or perhaps forcing my heartbeat to match it.
Professor Williams was at the door, yanking the handle. "It won't open! The door won't open!"
Other students joined him, pounding, shouting.
"Help! Someone help us!"
"We're trapped!"
Then the world lurched.
'Oh shit.'
Reality itself seemed to skip. My stomach dropped like on a rollercoaster, that brief weightlessness before gravity reasserted itself. But gravity did not reassert itself. Instead, the classroom, Professor Williams, the door, the windows simply... stopped existing.
White. Everything was white. Not the white of walls or paper, but the white of absolute nothing. No floor, no ceiling, no walls, just endless white in every direction.
'Where... what...'
I was standing, though there was no visible surface beneath my feet. Around me, my classmates materialized one by one, appearing from the whiteness like ghosts becoming solid. Sixty nine other students, all wearing the same expression of shock and confusion.
The screaming started again, louder, echoing despite there being nothing to echo off of.
"Where are we?"
"What happened?"
"I want to go home!"
"This can't be real!"
People clutched each other, crying, shouting. Jessica sobbed into Jake's chest. The brewery guys stood in a tight cluster, faces pale. Daniel looked like he might throw up.
'We're somewhere else. Somewhere that shouldn't exist. This is impossible. And yet...'
"SILENCE!"
The word came from everywhere at once, from the white void itself, a voice carrying such absolute authority that every mouth snapped shut immediately.
A figure appeared before us, materializing from the whiteness with purpose and power.
'Holy...'
She was beautiful. The word felt inadequate. She stood perhaps six feet tall, commanding the space despite the endless void. Her hair cascaded down her back in waves of platinum and silver that seemed to shift with their own light. Her face was perfection itself, high cheekbones, full lips, eyes that glowed with molten amber.
But it was her figure that truly captured attention. She wore a black outfit that looked like it had been painted onto her impossibly curved body. Her bust was generous to the point of defying physics, straining against the fabric. The outfit wrapped around her waist before flowing into a skirt that revealed long, pale legs.
'That's not human,' I thought. 'That's not possible. She's like... like someone drew the perfect woman and brought the drawing to life.'
"Welcome," she said, her voice softer now but no less commanding. "I am Kiemora, Goddess of all Intent, and you have been brought here by my design."