The city was suffocating in the embrace of merciless heat. The air shimmered with mirages, turning distant buildings into ghostly visions. Thermometers showed forty-two degrees in the shade, but the real test was the humidity – dense, suffocating, like an invisible hand squeezing the lungs. Even the air conditioners in homes were working at their limit, and the city's power system was groaning under the load.
Alex woke up to find his sheets stuck to his body in a sticky film of sweat. Despite the air conditioner running all night, the room was stuffy. Outside the window, the air was literally melting, distorting the outlines of the opposite buildings. Smart people in such weather didn't venture out of their homes without extreme necessity, used transport, or waited for evening.
But Alex wasn't smart in that regard. Or, more precisely, his mind was occupied with entirely different things. He had worked late into the night on the schematics found in the dungeons and had completely forgotten to charge his hover-scooter. And going to school by public transport meant losing precious morning time – time he could spend thinking about his project.
So he decided to walk through the skybridges between skyscrapers. Just twenty minutes at a brisk pace.
Within five minutes, Alex realized the scale of his mistake. The sun had become a merciless enemy, its rays like red-hot needles piercing his clothes and skin. The air was so saturated with moisture that every breath was a struggle – it felt like he was trying to breathe hot soup. His shirt stuck to his back, his hair became wet with sweat, and his vision began to blur from dehydration.
The humidity was the worst part of this ordeal. In dry heat, sweat at least evaporated, cooling the body. Here, it simply streamed down, bringing no relief. The air felt dense, like jelly, and Alex felt his lungs working twice as hard, trying to extract oxygen from this suffocating mixture.
By the time he reached the school, the world around him swayed slightly, and his temples throbbed. His mouth was so dry that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
And then – salvation. The school's automatic doors hissed open, and Alex was enveloped in a wave of cool, air-conditioned air. It was like diving into a cold pool after hours under the scorching sun. He stopped right at the entrance, greedily inhaling the life-giving coolness, feeling the tension slowly leave his body.
The school's climate control system was modern and powerful – the temperature was maintained at a comfortable twenty-two degrees, and the humidity was optimal. The air circulated softly and silently, creating a sense of lightness and freshness. Alex leaned against the wall, allowing the coolness to penetrate through his wet clothes to his overheated skin.
"Alex!" a familiar voice called out. "You look like a drowned man!"
He turned and saw Jack Marrow, a classmate with perpetually messy red hair and a scattering of freckles on his nose. Next to him stood Lina Sykes – a girl with serious dark eyes and neatly braided pigtails. Both looked fresh and dry – they had clearly gotten to school by transport.
"Decided to take a walk," Alex replied hoarsely, still catching his breath. "Bad idea."
"You don't say!" Jack laughed. "Even stray animals hide in the shade in this heat. And you decided to have a forced march."
Lina shook her head with the air of an old wise woman, though she was only ten years old: "My father says that in this weather, every half hour outside without protection is equivalent to an hour of hard work. You could have gotten heatstroke."
"Now I know," Alex admitted, feeling his breathing gradually normalize. "Next time I'll check the scooter's charge in the evening."
"And my uncle works in the meteorological service," Jack chimed in. "He says this is just the beginning. The anticyclone will stay for another week, maybe two. The temperature could rise to forty-five."
They walked slowly down the corridor towards the classroom. Alex finally felt human again – the coolness had done its job, his sweat had dried, his breathing had normalized. The school corridors seemed like an oasis of civilization amidst the hostile world of molten asphalt and suffocating heat.
"By the way," Jack said, "are you ready for the power systems project? I still can't figure out how to make my schematic work stably."
"More or less," Alex replied evasively. "And you, Lina?"
"I decided to make a model of a solar power plant," the girl said. "In this weather, it seems particularly relevant. If the sun has decided to roast us, let it at least be useful."
Jack snorted: "I'm getting some nonsense. Half the indicators aren't lighting up, and the other half are blinking like a Christmas garland. Ms. Tella will definitely give me a C."
"Don't be discouraged," Alex encouraged him. "The main thing is to show that you understand the principles. And the technical execution is something you can learn."
In reality, Alex was lying. His project was much more serious. Plus, he had decided to use the materials he found in it.
They entered the classroom just as the bell rang. The room was spacious and bright, with large windows facing east. Now the blinds were tightly closed, protecting from the deadly sun, but thin strips of light still broke through the gaps, creating a pattern of golden lines on the floor.
Alex took his seat by the window and, unable to resist, slightly parted the blinds. Outside, the world looked like the surface of an alien, hostile planet. The air shimmered with heat so intensely that it seemed everything was melting and flowing. The few passers-by moved from shadow to shadow, like partisans in enemy territory.
A beam of light, breaking through into the classroom, was filled with dancing dust particles. Alex watched their chaotic movement with fascination. The dust particles swirled in the air currents from the air conditioner, creating complex patterns. Some rose, others fell, still others spun in place. It was like a miniature galaxy, where each dust particle was a star, following its unpredictable trajectory.
He blew lightly on the beam of light, and the dust particles swirled in a frenzied dance, their movement becoming even more chaotic and beautiful. In this simple phenomenon, there was its own physics, its own mathematics, its own laws. Alex could watch such things for hours.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Ms. Tella entered the classroom, and Alex hastily closed the blinds.
Marielle Tella was a woman who immediately attracted attention with her unusual appearance. Tall, almost six feet, with a posture as straight as an arrow.
Her face was angular, with high cheekbones and a straight nose. Behind steel-rimmed glasses hid a mind accustomed to precision and intolerant of approximation.
Ms. Tella was dressed in a style that could be called "functional minimalism." A dark blue jacket made of technical fabric, resistant to stains and deformation. Straight trousers of the same color, without a single superfluous detail. A white blouse with a stand-up collar, buttoned all the way up.
But for all her external strictness, Ms. Tella was never cold with her students. When she spoke, her voice had a special intonation – precise, measured, with a slight technical accent. She pronounced words as if each one had been carefully calibrated for maximum clarity of information transfer.
"Good morning, class," she said, and even this simple greeting sounded like the beginning of a technical briefing. "I hope everyone got to school without overheating." She smiled, and this smile transformed her face, making it warm and almost maternal.
"Before we move on to a new topic," she continued, activating the wall display, "let's check the parameters of your understanding of the previous material. Jack, explain the principle of a transformer."
Jack fidgeted in his seat: "Well... it transforms electricity?"
"That's not an answer," Ms. Tella said softly but firmly. "Lina?"
"A transformer changes the voltage of alternating current using electromagnetic induction," the girl replied clearly. "The primary winding creates a magnetic field that induces a current in the secondary winding."
"Well done. The transformation ratio is determined by the ratio of the number of turns in the windings." Ms. Tella nodded approvingly.
Alex watched the teacher with interest. Her way of communicating was unique – she used technical jargon even in simple conversations, but she did it with such naturalness and kindness that no one felt stupid or misunderstood. On the contrary, she seemed to invite students into her world of precise formulations and clear definitions.
"Alex," she addressed him, "what factors affect the efficiency of energy transmission?"
"Conductor resistance, heating losses, inductive losses," he began, then stopped. He could have continued for another ten minutes, talking about quantum effects and resonant frequencies, but he decided not to show off. "And... well, the quality of insulation too."
"The basic parameters are correctly identified," Ms. Tella approved. "But the list can be expanded. Who can add additional factors?"
Several hands went up, and a discussion began. Alex listened with half an ear, looking again at the dust particles in the beam of light.
Meanwhile, Ms. Tella walked to the center of the classroom, where a holographic projector stood. It was a latest-generation device – a compact cylinder about half a meter high, made of matte metal. It had no visible buttons or indicators on its surface, only thin lines that glowed with a soft blue light when the device was working.
The projector responded to gestures and voice commands, but Ms. Tella preferred to use a small remote control – another manifestation of her love for precision and control. When she activated the device, the air above the projector began to shimmer, as if heating up, and then a three-dimensional image materialized in it.
The hologram was so clear and detailed that it seemed like a real object. You could see the smallest details, zoom in on any element, rotate the image at any angle. The colors were bright and natural, and when Ms. Tella showed moving parts of the system, they moved smoothly and realistically.
"So, class," Ms. Tella announced, activating the holographic projector, "your assignment for the next two weeks: to create a working model of a city's power system. There should be a generation source, a transformer, electricity consumers..."
A simplified diagram of Corellia's energy distribution appeared on the hologram – main generators, transmission stations, distribution nodes. The image slowly rotated, showing the system from different angles. Individual elements were highlighted in different colors: generators in red, transmission lines in blue, distribution nodes in green.
Alex knew that what the teacher was showing was a child's toy compared to reality. The real energy grid of Corellia included thousands of components, backup systems, automatic switches, overload protection systems. And here, only a basic diagram was shown, understandable to ten-year-old children.
"You can use standard educational components from the laboratory," Ms. Tella continued, pointing to various elements of the hologram. "The goal of the project is to demonstrate an understanding of the basic principles of energy transmission and distribution. Evaluation criteria: system functionality, load distribution efficiency, and quality of results presentation."
Alex could already see his classmates mentally planning their projects. A few LEDs, the simplest circuits, maybe a couple of motors to simulate the load. Standard, predictable, boring.
But he had components in his stash that could create a model that surpassed anything his classmates could show.
The rest of the lesson was spent discussing the technical details of the project. Ms. Tella patiently explained the basics of electrical engineering, using holograms to demonstrate complex concepts. Her teaching style was unique – she spoke to the children as if they were fellow engineers, but never forgot their age and level of preparation.
"Remember," she said at the end of the lesson, "the art of engineering lies not in the complexity of the solution, but in its elegance. The best system is one that works reliably with minimal resource expenditure."
When the bell rang, Alex slowly gathered his belongings. The teacher's words echoed in his head. Elegance of solution...
Leaving the classroom, he glanced at the window again. Beyond the blinds, the heat still raged, turning the world into a red-hot furnace. But here, in the cool school corridor, surrounded by classmates and Ms. Tella's wise words, he felt safe. At least, until it was time to go home.
In the evening, in his room, Alex spread out his finds from the dungeons on the table. Three energy crystals the size of a thumb, each capable of powering an entire house. Crystalline matrices capable of controlling energy flows with incredible precision. And most importantly – a regulator he had found last week in one of the laboratories.
The device was the size of a fist and weighed almost nothing. When Alex connected a simple power source to it, the regulator began to optimize energy flows on its own, adapting to the load in real-time. Commercially available systems required constant monitoring and adjustment, but this device worked like a living thing.
"I can imagine the faces everyone will have," he muttered, starting to sketch a diagram.
The next few days flew by in a feverish work. Alex was creating not just a model, but a work of art. Energy crystals powered a network of forty microscopic consumers, simulating different city districts. Regulators automatically balanced the load, redirecting energy where it was most needed.
"Ready to demonstrate the model?" Ms. Tella asked when Alex brought his project to class.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, placing the model on the demonstration table.
The teacher turned on the recording device – all projects were documented for evaluation. Alex activated the system, and the model came to life. Forty small indicators lit up with a steady light, showing the even distribution of energy throughout the network.
Ms. Tella frowned, checking the readings of the measuring instruments.
"Alex, this is... unusual. Show me the power source."
He pointed to a unit where the energy crystals were hidden. Externally, it looked like a standard educational-type battery.
"According to the readings, energy losses are eight times lower than they should be," the teacher said slowly. "How is this possible?"
Alex felt a tightening in his chest. He hadn't considered that the efficiency of the found components would be so noticeable.
"I... optimized the circuit," he mumbled. "Used a more efficient wiring."
"Show me the schematic."
Alex handed her a prepared diagram – a carefully simplified version that hid the presence of ancient components. Ms. Tella studied it for several minutes, occasionally comparing it with the actual model.
"This schematic doesn't explain such efficiency," she said finally. "Alex, where did you get the components for this project?"
"From... from the standard set in the laboratory," he lied.
"I want to talk to your parents."
Alex's heart sank. He saw suspicion and growing concern in the teacher's eyes. Ms. Tella was smart enough to understand that what she was seeing shouldn't be possible with school equipment.
That evening, a tense conversation took place at the Korrens' home. His father listened to Alex's story about the project without interrupting, but his face grew darker and darker.
"Show me this model," he said finally.
Alex led his father to his room and demonstrated the project. Kairen Korren studied the device for a long time, checking connections and measuring parameters with a portable scanner from time to time.
"These components..." he began, then stopped. "Alex, where did you get them?"
"Found them in old warehouses," the son replied, deciding to stick to half-truths. "I thought they were just higher quality versions of regular parts."
His father looked at him for a long time, and Alex understood that Kairen didn't believe a word. But instead of anger, there was anxiety in his father's eyes.
"I'll go to school tomorrow," he said. "And you will create a new version of the project. A normal one."
The next day, Alex sat in the school corridor while his father talked to Ms. Tella in the teachers' lounge. The conversation lasted about ten minutes, and when the door finally opened, the teacher's face showed slight anxiety.
"Alex," she said reservedly, "I think your project is too complex for the school curriculum. Why don't you create something more... suitable?"
"Of course, Ms. Tella," he replied, not understanding what his father had said, but understanding the result.
The next three days Alex worked on a new version of the project. Standard components, a predictable design, textbook-level efficiency. When he presented the new model, Mrs. Tella assessed it as "excellent work" and asked no further questions.
But the real conversation took place at home, when his father called Alex into his study.
"Sit down," Kairen said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. "We need to talk."
Alex sat down, feeling like he was on trial.
"I don't know where you got those components, and perhaps it's better if I don't find out," his father began. "But I know they can cause trouble."
Alex opened his mouth to object, but his father raised a hand.
"Don't say anything. Just listen. Even if you think you've assembled a pile of junk that no one needs, it doesn't mean someone doesn't consider it their property. The components you used cost a lot of money..."
"Alex, listen carefully. You haven't done anything wrong. You found old parts in an abandoned area. But there's an important nuance."
His father looked at him intently:
"The parts you used are not just old. They are very high quality. Expensive. They are used in military shipyards or in high-precision manufacturing. And when you brought them to school and assembled a device from them that works better than all others... you sent a signal. A signal that you have access to something that the son of a second-class technician shouldn't have."
Alex wanted to object, but his father raised his hand.
"Think about it. Someone adult – a teacher, an inspector, just an envious parent of another student – sees your project and thinks: 'Where did the boy get such components?' The first thought isn't 'how brilliant he is,' but 'he probably stole them.' Or 'his father probably steals them from work.' Do you understand? Your success turns into suspicion. And this suspicion falls not only on you, but also on me and Mom."
Kairen leaned on the desk, and his voice became quieter, but no less weighty.
"In the best-case scenario, security services would come to us, confiscate your model, search the house, and ask a lot of unpleasant questions at work. In the worst case, they could accuse us of theft of property. And the property, by the way, is state or corporate, assuming it's from those same abandoned factories."
He let the words hang in the air.
"I don't mind what you search for and find. Well done. You have open eyes and golden hands. But you must learn one rule: don't show others what they think you shouldn't have. If you find a treasure, don't shout about it. Hide it. Study it in silence. Use it wisely. And only show the world what they are ready to accept and understand. Otherwise, they won't rejoice in your intelligence – they'll take away your findings and accuse you of something else."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Alex understood. The danger was real.
"Your teacher is a good woman, but she could have told someone else. She could have filed a report with the education department. And from there, the information could have reached people you'd better not meet."
"What did you tell her?" Alex asked quietly.
"That you took components from my workshop without asking permission. That they were experimental parts that I received for testing. And that it won't happen again."
His father leaned forward, looking Alex straight in the eye.
"Son, I don't know what you found and where. But you must understand: such things attract attention. If you've found something, don't show it to everyone around. If you want to continue your... research, you must learn to be invisible."
"Okay. And now show me where you're hiding your findings. We need to make sure they're safe."
That night, Alex lay in bed, reflecting on what had happened. He had learned an important lesson: knowledge is power, but power without caution is danger. If he wanted to uncover the secrets of the galaxy, he had to learn to hide his abilities.