As Everett stepped out of the Federation Administration Building, the sunlight hit his face like a reminder—he had made it. A gentle ping echoed in his vision. A message appeared:
> "Candidate Everett Miracle, you have been admitted to Nalanda Imperial Academy. Orientation begins July 1st. Transport details to follow."
He blinked, stunned. Nalanda. He'd heard whispers about the Imperial Academies, but this one—this one had roots.
As he descended the building's steps, a pedestrian waved him over. The man wore a uniform with a gold-stitched badge that read "Civic Welfare, Day Survivors Bureau."
"You made it through Day Three?" the man asked.
Everett nodded.
"Take this," the man said, handing him a bag with a digital voucher, a card embedded with 1,000 Federation Credits, a device for daily health diagnostics, and three softbound books titled Adapting to the New Civilization, Cultural Etiquette in a Unified Federation, and Mystery and You: A Beginner's Guide.
"Welcome to the future," the man smiled.
---
The next twenty days passed in a surreal blur. Everett stayed in the central district of Boston, which now looked like a city dreamt by artists and built by time-travelers. Skyscrapers breathed with biotech skins, and the oceanfront gleamed with iridescent ports. Everyone he met had adapted to this era with grace—or at least, appeared to.
Subsidized meals arrived via drone. Daily strength evaluations were logged automatically via his Cube's integration with street nodes. Even the public gym recognized his presence and adjusted to his limits. Everett read the books, watched public broadcasts, and visited community centers filled with other "Third-Day Survivors."
Then, on June 20th, a shadow passed over Boston.
A ship—no, a carrier—floated above the city, surrounded by escort drones and glowing with spatial stabilizers. The notification came:
"Candidates, prepare for boarding. Departure to Nalanda Imperial Academy in T-minus 1 hour."
"Identity confirmed. Behavioral harmonics: within parameters
Everett climbed aboard the hovering terminal, which whisked him to the skyport. Inside the carrier, he was ushered into a long cylindrical hall filled with rows of soft seats. There were about seven other passengers in his chamber, ranging in age from toddlers to silver-haired veterans.
Some played games, others ate vibrant meals from trays that reassembled nutrients midair. Everett followed their lead and selected a game. To his surprise, it was a Federation-issued simulation—an educational strategy puzzle embedded with historical and cultural data.
Across from him sat an old man reading a printed newspaper—a rare sight.
"Excuse me," Everett asked, "do you know where exactly Nalanda Academy is?"
The old man slowly lowered his paper, staring as if Everett had asked what the sun was made of.
"You don't know?" he asked, bewildered. "Wait—are you a Day Three survivor?"
Everett nodded sheepishly.
"Ah," the man chuckled. "No wonder. Confidential protocols kept most things from your kind for security reasons."
He folded the paper.
"Nalanda is one of the Nine Imperial Academies, each representing one of the nine habitable planets under Federation influence. Earth, Venus, Mars, Europa, Ganymede, Titan, Callisto, Kepler-442b, and Xi-Thera."
Everett blinked. "I thought only Earth had life."
"It did. Then came the Realms. One by one, they revealed themselves. And we followed."
"So... Nalanda?"
"Nalanda is situated on an asteroid suspended between Earth and Venus—permanently stabilized in orbit through ancient technology discovered in the First Realm."
"First Realm?"
"The first of the cosmic realms discovered after the cosmic lottery. It wasn't the smallest, nor the most dangerous, nor even the largest—but it was the richest. And it was from that wealth that the Federation's strength was born."
Everett leaned back, breath slow.
The man added, "And Nalanda? It's named after the ancient Indian seat of learning. The name was chosen to reflect a return to wisdom, to honor a time when Earth still dreamed in books."
The stars bent like strands of thread. Everett felt a tug—not on his body, but on something deeper, like a thought unspoken or a memory he hadn't made yet.
Then: silence.
Then: Nalanda.