Orientation Day

The Academy's idea of "Freshman Orientation" began at what would have been dawn if the Academy had bothered to exist in a dimension that experienced linear time.

Aezur woke in a dormitory room that was bigger on the inside than the outside, smaller on the outside than it appeared from the corridor, and somehow managed to be exactly the right size from every perspective simultaneously. His roommate was a entity that looked like a geometric theorem that had achieved consciousness and decided to attend university.

"Good morning," the theorem said in a voice like chalk on blackboards. "I am Axiom 7.3.2, but my friends call me Ax. I major in Fundamental Impossibility with a minor in Recreational Paradox. What's your field of study?"

"I have no idea," Aezur replied honestly, struggling with clothing that had been designed for someone with his approximate dimensions but not necessarily his species.

"Excellent! The best students never know what they're studying until they're halfway through their thesis defense."

The dining hall was an exercise in controlled chaos. Students from across the spectrum of impossible existence gathered around tables that existed in various states of probability. Conversations drifted through the air in languages that had never been spoken, while meals were served that tasted like concepts rather than food.

Aezur found Seraphina and Katya at a table near what appeared to be a window overlooking several different versions of the same garden.

"Sleep well?" Seraphina asked.

"My bed existed in a state of quantum uncertainty," Katya replied, poking at what looked like scrambled equations on her plate. "Every time I tried to lie down, I had to collapse the wave function just to determine whether the mattress was actually there."

"Advanced dormitory assignment," said a new voice. They turned to see a young man who looked perfectly human except for the fact that his shadow occasionally made independent decisions. "I'm Marcus Chen, third-year student. Mind if I join you?"

"Please," Aezur said. "We could use some guidance."

Marcus sat down, his shadow taking a moment to catch up and assume the correct position. "Let me guess—you're all Cascade entities who got swept up by the Academy's emergency recruitment protocols?"

"Is it that obvious?" Katya asked.

"The deer-in-headlights expression is pretty characteristic. Don't worry, everyone adjusts eventually. The key is not to overthink anything. The Academy operates on dream logic—it makes perfect sense until you try to analyze it too closely."

A bell that sounded like crystallized time chimed somewhere in the distance.

"First class," Marcus announced. "Fundamental Theory with Professor Nihil. Fair warning—she doesn't technically exist, so pay attention to her lectures. If you stop believing in her, she disappears and you fail the course."

The lecture hall they entered was an amphitheater that wrapped around itself like a möbius strip, allowing every seat to have the best view while simultaneously being in the back row. Professor Nihil stood at the podium—or rather, the concept of her standing was expressed through the absence of her not being there.

"Good morning," she said in a voice that managed to be clearly audible despite not making any sound. "Today we begin with the most fundamental question in anomalous studies: What does it mean to exist?"

Her non-presence began writing equations on a blackboard that existed in a state of pure potentiality. "Traditional philosophy suggests that existence is binary—something either is or isn't. But as anomalous entities, you represent proof that this model is inadequate."

She gestured toward Aezur. "Mr. Valin. You are classified as a Living Paradox. Please explain to the class what this means in practical terms."

Aezur felt dozens of pairs of eyes—and several sensing organs that weren't eyes but served similar functions—focusing on him. "I... exist in contradiction to logical consistency. Reality can't quite figure out how to process me, so it tends to accommodate me rather than reject me."

"Adequate, but incomplete. Miss Volkov, how would you describe your own existence state?"

Katya shifted uncomfortably. "I make reality more flexible through music? I'm not really sure how it works."

"Honesty is refreshing, if unhelpful academically. Miss Seraphina?"

"I am the absence of something that was never supposed to exist in the first place," Seraphina said with confidence that suggested she'd thought about this question extensively. "I persist through sheer spite and superior understanding of loopholes in the fundamental laws."

Professor Nihil's non-existent form conveyed approval. "Better. The three of you represent different approaches to impossible existence. Mr. Valin operates through paradox—he is simultaneously true and false, allowing reality to accommodate him rather than make a choice. Miss Volkov uses consensus manipulation—she convinces reality to agree with her rather than forcing the issue. Miss Seraphina employs existential technicalities—she exists in the spaces between rules where prohibition doesn't apply."

She turned to address the full class. "Your assignment for tomorrow: identify your own mechanism of impossible existence. Write a three-page essay explaining not just what you are, but how you manage to be what you are despite universal prohibition."

Three pages? Aezur thought. I still don't understand what I am in three sentences.

After the lecture, Marcus led them to their next class: "Practical Applications of Anomalous Abilities" with Dr. Flux.

Dr. Flux turned out to be a middle-aged man whose primary anomaly seemed to be that he existed in a constant state of career change. During the hour-long class, he was alternately a professor, a used car salesman, a professional wrestler, a Supreme Court justice, and a marine biologist, often transitioning mid-sentence.

"The key to mastering anomalous abilities," he said in his professor voice, "is understanding that power without control is just expensive property damage—" his voice shifted to used car salesman "—but folks, let me tell you, I've got a deal for you today on some gently used reality manipulation techniques—" back to professor "—which is why we practice in controlled environments first."

The practical portion of the class involved simple exercises. Aezur was asked to contradict the color of a flower (he successfully convinced a red rose that it had always been blue). Katya was given a broken clock to repair through harmonic manipulation (she played a lullaby that convinced the clock it was tired and needed to rest, which somehow fixed its timing mechanism). Seraphina was asked to demonstrate existential loopholes (she briefly ceased to exist, then pointed out that non-existent entities couldn't be assigned homework, therefore she was excused from all assignments, before reluctantly resuming existence when Dr. Flux threatened to mark her as absent).

By the end of the day, Aezur's head was swimming with new concepts, unfamiliar terminology, and the growing realization that his understanding of his own abilities was barely scratching the surface.

"Overwhelming, isn't it?" Marcus said as they walked back toward the dormitories. "But you'll get used to it. The Academy has a way of growing on you."

"How long have you been here?" Katya asked.

"Three years. I came here after I accidentally convinced my hometown that it existed in the wrong decade. Spent six months trying to explain to people why their smartphones didn't work in 1892."

"What's your anomaly?" Aezur asked.

Marcus gestured vaguely. "Temporal displacement through social awkwardness. The more uncomfortable I make people, the more likely they are to shift to a timeline where the conversation never happened. It's... not as useful as it sounds."

They reached the dormitory building as the Academy's version of sunset began—which involved the sky gradually transitioning through colors that existed only in theoretical physics textbooks.

"One more thing," Marcus said as they prepared to part ways. "Tomorrow you'll have your first session with a Guidance Counselor. Fair warning—they're not like normal counselors. Academy counselors help you figure out your optimal path through impossible existence. Some students find the process... intense."

"Intense how?" Seraphina asked.

Marcus's shadow gestured meaningfully. "Let's just say you'll learn things about yourself that you didn't know you didn't know. And some of those things will be about versions of yourself that exist in timelines you've never visited."

With that cheerful warning, he disappeared into the dormitory, leaving them to contemplate what fresh impossibilities tomorrow would bring.

Day one complete, the book noted with satisfaction. You're beginning to understand the scope of what you don't understand. This is progress.

Aezur looked up at the Academy's impossible architecture, at the stars that weren't quite stars in the sky that wasn't quite sky, and felt something he hadn't experienced since awakening in that ritual chamber.

Hope. Complicated, dangerous, probably misguided hope.

But hope nonetheless.

And in a universe that seemed determined to edit him out of existence, that felt like the most impossible thing of all.