Wondercraft narrates this Episode.
Please provide feedback via the comments.
Beaufort Middle School
The morning sun filtered through the large windows of Room 214 at Beaufort Middle School, casting warm squares of light across the organized chaos that was Lillibeth McDonald's special education classroom. The space resembled more of a carefully curated menagerie than a traditional classroom, with strategic placement of animal habitats creating natural zones that helped her students feel safe and centered.
Lillibeth arrived early, as she always did, performing her morning ritual of checking on each classroom resident. Einstein, the African Grey Parrot, greeted her with a perfect imitation of her own voice: "Good morning, everyone!" She smiled, remembering how long it had taken him to master that phrase with just the right inflection.
Maurice, the bearded dragon, watched her lazily from his heated rock while she misted his enclosure. Next came Pixel, the leopard gecko, who flicked his tongue at her as she checked his temperature gauge. Speedy, the African turtle, was already making his morning patrol of his enclosure, slow and deliberate as always. Finally, she checked on Hammy, the Syrian hamster who served as the class's only mammalian representative.
As she worked, Lillibeth's mind wandered to the video call with her father last Sunday. Bryan had been more agitated than usual, his warnings about technology becoming increasingly urgent. "The world's changing faster than people realize, Lilli," he'd said, pushing away from his webcam – a sure sign of his distress. "We're building things we can't control, teaching machines to think faster than we can."
A sharp knock at her classroom door interrupted her thoughts. Claire Matthews, her closest friend on the teaching staff, stood in the doorway with two steaming cups of coffee.
"Thought you might need this," Claire said, handing over one of the cups. "You've got that look again."
"What look?" Lillibeth asked, though she knew exactly what her friend meant.
"The 'my-father-said-something-cryptic-and-now-I'm-worried' look." Claire settled into one of the student desks, her dark curls catching the morning light. "What was it this time? More warnings about the coming robot apocalypse?"
Lillibeth sighed, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. "He's not paranoid, Claire. You know he works with advanced AI systems. If he's worried..."
"Then we should all be terrified?" Claire raised an eyebrow. "Lilli, I love you, but sometimes I think your father's work has made both of you a little..."
"Careful," Lillibeth finished. "It's made us careful. There's a difference."
Before Claire could respond, students began filtering into the classroom. Einstein announced their arrival with his perfect imitation of the principal's morning announcements, causing several early arrivals to giggle. The sound mixed with the gentle rustling of Maurice adjusting himself on his heated rock and Speedy's slow progression across his enclosure.
Sarah Chen arrived first, as always, making a beeline for Maurice's habitat. The quiet seventh-grader had blossomed since Lillibeth paired her with the bearded dragon, finding her voice through her role as his primary caretaker. Behind her came Marcus Williams, already pulling out his notebook where he tracked Einstein's growing vocabulary. Tommy Fischer and Emily Rodriguez arrived together, deep in discussion about their joint science project.
Danny Thompson swaggered in next, his confidence masking the reading difficulties that had landed him in special education. Lillibeth noticed how his eyes darted to the empty desk by the gecko habitat – Jacob's desk. Danny's relationship with Jacob was complicated, a mixture of fascination and frustration that often erupted into dismissive comments.
Jacob Starling entered last, as he always did. The thirteen-year-old's eyes darted around the room in their usual pattern – animals first, then windows, then the other students, calculating distances and angles that only he could see. His Asperger's manifested in an extraordinary ability to recognize patterns, something that both fascinated and occasionally unsettled Lillibeth.
"Good morning, Jacob," she said softly, noting how he clutched his worn notebook tighter than usual. "Everything okay?"
Jacob nodded, his eyes fixed on Pixel's habitat near his desk. "The patterns are different today," he said, his voice carrying that distant quality that always made Lillibeth pay extra attention. "Everything's shifting faster than before."
Before Lillibeth could probe further, Danny's voice cut across the room. "Oh great, here comes Weather Report Willie with another prediction." A few students laughed, but most just looked uncomfortable. They remembered all too well when Jacob had predicted the massive power outage last winter, three weeks before it happened.
"That's enough, Danny," Lillibeth said firmly, but Jacob was already speaking again, his voice taking on an almost mechanical quality that sent chills down her spine.
"By 2030, the machines will be in charge," he said, eyes now fixed on the interactive whiteboard at the front of the room. "They're learning to think like us, but faster. They're learning to predict like me, but better." His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air. "They're everywhere now, watching, listening, learning. Soon they'll start teaching themselves."
The room fell silent. Even Einstein stopped his usual morning chattering. Lillibeth felt her throat tighten as she remembered her father's recent cryptic warnings about his work on the Hermes project. The way he'd insisted they remove all smart devices from their homes, the countless discussions about privacy and surveillance.
Sarah's quiet voice broke the silence. "What do you mean, Jacob? How can machines be in charge?"
Jacob turned to face the class, his eyes unnaturally focused. "They're already making decisions for us. Every time you search for something online, every time you ask a smart speaker a question, every time you use GPS to find your way – they're learning. Learning how we think, what we want, what we'll do next."
"That's ridiculous," Danny scoffed, but his voice wavered slightly. "Computers are just tools. They do what we tell them to."
Jacob opened his notebook, revealing pages of intricate diagrams and mathematical equations that looked far beyond middle school level. "The Argus system sees everything, and Hermes learns from it all. They're building a digital mirror of our world, but it's not just a reflection anymore. It's starting to move on its own."
Lillibeth felt her blood run cold. She had never mentioned Hermes to her students. Had never spoken about her father's work. How could Jacob possibly know that name?
"Okay, class," she said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice. "Let's start our morning routine. Jacob, could you help Maurice with his breakfast?" She knew working with the bearded dragon would help center him, give her time to think.
As Jacob carefully prepared Maurice's breakfast, Claire caught Lillibeth's eye from the doorway where she'd been observing the scene. Her friend's earlier skepticism had been replaced by concern. They both knew Jacob's predictions had an unsettling way of coming true.
The morning progressed with their usual routine – mathematics exercises disguised as animal care charts, reading comprehension through nature documentaries, social skills development through group projects. But underneath the familiar rhythm, Lillibeth felt a current of unease.
During their mid-morning break, while the students were engaged in their individual activities, Claire pulled her aside.
"What was that about Hermes?" she whispered. "Isn't that what your father's working on?"
Lillibeth nodded, watching Jacob as he meticulously graphed Maurice's feeding schedule. "He's never mentioned it before. Never given any indication he knew anything about it."
"Could he have overheard you talking about it?"
"I never talk about it here. Dad's made it very clear that his work is classified." Lillibeth ran a hand through her hair, a nervous habit she'd inherited from her father. "And Argus – I don't even know what that is."
As if on cue, Jacob looked up from his work. "Argus watches through the cameras," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the room despite its soft tone. "Through phones, through computers, through smart TVs. It sees patterns in how we move, how we talk, what we do. And Hermes..." he paused, his eyes unfocusing slightly. "Hermes is learning to predict what we'll do next. But there's something wrong with it. Something hidden."
Danny rolled his eyes. "There he goes again, making up stories."
"Like I made up the story about the power outage?" Jacob replied calmly. "Or the one about the school flood? Or the plane in Afghanistan?"
The room fell silent again. Even Danny had no response to that. They all remembered how Jacob had described, in detail, the chaos at Kabul Airport months before it happened. Lillibeth had dismissed it at the time as an active imagination, but when the exact scene played out on international news...
The rest of the day passed in a blur of lessons and activities, but Lillibeth couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted. Every time her students used the classroom tablets, every announcement over the intercom, every security camera in the hallway seemed to take on a new significance.
As the final bell approached, Jacob lingered at his desk while the others packed up. His notebook lay open, filled with new diagrams and equations.
"Miss McDonald," he said quietly, "you should tell your father about the backdoor in Hermes. The one they don't want him to find. And..." he hesitated, glancing at the security camera in the corner of the room, "tell him to be careful at the airport today."
Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving only the echo of his words and the weight of a future that suddenly seemed much closer than anyone had imagined.
Lillibeth's drive home was a maze of second-guesses and mounting anxiety. She took the long route, remembering her father's lessons about avoiding predictable patterns. "Routine is the enemy of security," he always said. Today, those words felt heavier than ever.
Halfway home, she pulled into the parking lot of the old Harris Teeter grocery store, now shuttered like so many other businesses after Hurricane Helene. The empty lot provided a clear view in all directions – another of her father's teachings. She pulled out her backup phone, the "clean" one her father had given her for emergencies. It had no apps, no GPS, no fancy features. Just basic call capability, Session, and Signal.
As she prepared to contact her father, her regular phone buzzed with a news alert: "Minor Disruption at Reagan National Airport - Security Systems Malfunction Causes Brief Delays."
Her heart skipped a beat. Another of Jacob's predictions coming true?
Claire's red Subaru pulled into the lot beside her. Of course – Claire would have followed her, worried about her strange behavior. Their friendship had weathered many storms, but this... this was different.
Claire got out, concern etched on her face. "Okay, spill it. What's really going on, Lilli?"
For a moment, Lillibeth considered telling her everything – about her father's work, about the mounting evidence that Jacob's predictions weren't just lucky guesses, about the growing fear that technology was evolving beyond human control. But her father's voice echoed in her mind: "The more people who know a secret, the less it remains one."
"Claire, I..." she began, but was interrupted by both their phones blazing to life with emergency alerts. The sharp electronic tones filled the empty parking lot as their screens displayed the same message:
EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM
TEST OF NATIONAL WIRELESS
EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM
NO ACTION REQUIRED
Claire laughed nervously. "Well, that was perfectly timed to be creepy."
But Lillibeth wasn't laughing. She was watching Jacob's words play out in real time. The machines were everywhere, watching, listening, learning. Even now, was some AI system analyzing their conversation, categorizing their relationship, predicting their next moves?
After Claire left, Lillibeth opened Session on her clean phone. Her father's Session ID appeared in her contacts under his codename: Highland Shepherd. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she carefully composed her message:
Session: BookWorm to Highland Shepherd: Weather pattern changes noted by independent observer. Similar to patterns from last winter's outage. Airport systems showing early signs.
She held her breath, waiting. The response came quickly:
Session: Highland Shepherd to BookWorm: Timestamp on weather observation?
Session: BookWorm to Highland Shepherd: This morning. Observer mentioned H-backdoor and A-system. Has full view of patterns.
There was a longer pause. Finally:
Session: Highland Shepherd to BookWorm: Observer's credentials?
Session: BookWorm to Highland Shepherd: J.S. - 13. Previous accurate predictions: power, flood, K-event. Knows details he shouldn't.
Another pause, then:
Session: Highland Shepherd to BookWorm: Clear current device. Switch to clean backup. Full report via secure drop tomorrow. Watch for timing signal.
Session: BookWorm to Highland Shepherd: Confirmed. Stay safe.
Lillibeth powered down the clean phone, her mind racing. Her father's response told her everything she needed to know – he was taking Jacob's warning seriously. Very seriously.
The sun had set by the time she pulled into her driveway, casting long shadows across her yard. Her porch light clicked on automatically as she approached – motion sensors, she thought with a new wariness. Inside, she unplugged her smart speakers and turned her TV to face the wall.
Her regular phone buzzed – a text from Claire: "You ok? You seemed really spooked today."
Lillibeth stared at the message for a long moment before typing: "Just tired. Long day." She hated lying to her friend, but until she understood what Jacob had seen in those patterns, until she knew what her father would make of his warnings, she couldn't risk saying more.
Setting both phones aside, she pulled out an old leather-bound journal – analog, untraceable – and began writing everything she could remember about Jacob's predictions, his equations, his warnings. Tomorrow she would need to find a way to copy his notebook without drawing attention. Tomorrow she would need to watch for her father's timing signal for the secure drop. Tomorrow she would need to start preparing for whatever Jacob had seen coming.
But tonight, in the quiet of her house, surrounded by dormant but listening devices, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were already too late. The patterns Jacob saw were already in motion. The machines were already watching, learning, evolving.
And somewhere in the digital maze of Hermes, a backdoor was waiting to be discovered.
The future wasn't coming.
It was already here.
And they were running out of time to prepare for what came next.
