Stuyvesant, Sometime in the Distant Future

Reporting to the nationally renowned Stuyvesant High School for an interview should have been an intimidating, abnormal experience. I had heard about the excellent students, the daunting hallways, and the severe lack of social activity. However, I would have a difficult time proving that my visit was anything more than ordinary.

The chattering of stressed adolescents drowned out the whirring hovercrafts in the atmosphere. I stepped into the standard transportation catapult, and as I flew through the air at top speed through the main entrance, I began to wonder if this place really was so unusual. Before looking for my scheduled interviewer's room, I decided to explore the school. I especially loved the cute little old-fashioned laser security beams scattered around, not to mention how fun it was to dodge them (by the way, the kid whose pinky finger got sliced off by those things earlier, you really need to work on your reflexes). Nothing else was out of the ordinary, however. It was your usual laser beam fight mischief in the hallways with people quoting the latest meme about the iPhone 47 Max and, of course, the juicy teenage gossip.

“Ughhh, I can't go to cyborg war training today, mom says I need to install my new software update,” a disgruntled AI student ranted. “It's so stupid, I can just remind myself tomorrow.”

“Craig broke up with you over HOLOGRAM CALL? I can’t believe him!”

Ah, to be a young person again! I couldn't help but tear up at the nostalgia of the endless locker hallways and hologram statues of various prominent historical figures (the Kool-Aid Man one is my personal favorite). Watching a student fingerprint scan his way into a classroom made my heart ache for the good old days. Just as I began to miss my childhood, from the days of TikTok and extreme global turmoil during the Great Existential Crisis of 2020, I felt my feet lift off the ground.

An announcement echoed throughout the premises amidst tired groans. “Random gravity change drill! You never know when those physics-altering warheads will hit, kids!”

And with that, we were now walking on a new floor, which had just previously been the wall. The custodial bots chirped in frustration at having to clean footprints off of them once the gravity reset. They could have made the floor a lava obstacle course like literally any other school, but no. Whatever works for cyborg war prep, I guess.

In the maze of hallways and A.I. charging stations, it took a considerable amount of time to realize that I had taken a wrong turn at the catapult entrance. One short-range teleportation device later, I was finally in front of the correct door for an interview with the professor of digital communications. I reached for the fingerprint scanner, when suddenly...

“ALERT! LARRY THE LOGARITHMS LORD HAS ENTERED NEW YORK WITH HIS ARMY OF CYBORGS!”

Students collectively dropped their backpacks and pulled out maple syrup bottles from their lockers. I myself had one handy in the event of an emergency because golly do these things clog up cyborg mechanisms. Larry had been threatening the city for months now. It was about time that he showed up.

As a cyborg army began throwing rock-hard powdered donuts at the school windows and the gravity was disabled, math team students protested. “YOU’RE NOT A TRUE MATHEMATICIAN! LOGS ARE TO BE USED PURELY FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES!” By then, everyone was attacking cyborgs left and right, plunging the school into a sticky, syrupy mess.

As such, I rest my case. Stuyvesant High School is completely ordinary, with students well-prepped for practical situations and fond memories that will last a lifetime.