THE TRUST

6:59 AM – The Sky Above Newport

The sky was that perfect pre-storm blue — not dark, not bright, just waiting.

A crow cawed once from a lamp post. Down below, the iron gate of Maria's Day School screeched open.

Inside, the floors gleamed with last night's mopping. The scent of chalk, rain, and synthetic pine filled the air.

And then came the boy.

Not hurried.

Not late.

Just... present.

He walked with the stillness of someone who had already seen what the day would bring. No bag. No umbrella. Just his wristband — sleek, black, and barely blinking — strapped on the left arm like a piece of him.

"The bell will ring in six seconds," he noted internally.

Ding-ding...

It echoed through the halls — sharp, melodic, almost holy.

But to Marshy Verne, it was just noise. Predictable. Repetitive. Human.

He kept walking. The students instinctively moved aside, parting like water before a boat. Some whispered his name, others stared longer than they realized.

He didn't flinch.

They don't fear me, Marshy thought. They revere something they don't understand. A biological curiosity. Fascination rooted in difference.

7:02 AM – Classroom 9-A

He entered without knocking.

Ayush Kumar Thakur was already slouched at the third desk, legs stretched under his bench, arms behind his head like he owned the room. His backpack lay dumped beside his chair, half-open.

He nodded once. A simple "yo" with the chin.

Marshy returned it with equal silence.

They weren't friends.

Not yet.

But they weren't hostile either.

There was something about Ayush — a lack of judgment, a calm indifference — that Marshy couldn't quite categorize. It intrigued him. Because it didn't fit his data.

Meanwhile, Maya Singh didn't look up from her notebook.

But Marshy felt it. Her glance.

Exactly 3.4 seconds.

Then back down.

That too, was predictable.

9:10 AM – Homeroom

Mr. Krishnan always arrived sweating. Not from exertion, but stress. His shirt was never ironed, tie too wide, and voice — drier than a chalkboard. Today was no different.

He cleared his throat. "Students, attention. Mid-term dates have been finalized. And your science assignments are—"

Marshy tuned out.

Instead, his gaze drifted.

Tap-tap — pencils against benches.

Scribble-scribble — formulas no one would remember.

One kid was biting his nails. Another was drawing abs on a superhero doodle.

His wristband blinked.

Only once. Faint blue.

OBSERVATION: 67% HUMAN EMOTIONAL PATTERNS MAPPED

DOMINANT TAGS: Restlessness. Narcissism. Hormonal disarray. Mild anxiety.

His vision narrowed — Ravi Malhotra.

Back hunched. Fingers twitching. Jaw clenched.

Heart rate: elevated.

Still angry. Still afraid.

"He hasn't let go of yesterday," Marshy noted. "He still thinks anger gives him power."

He looked away.

10:28 AM – Rooftop, Recess

The wind always felt purer up here.

Marshy stood near the edge, eyes scanning the playground below — kids screaming over football, teachers pretending not to see.

Beside him, Ayush sipped from a bright orange tetra pack. The straw made a slurp noise.

They stood like statues.

"You don't talk much," Ayush said, not looking.

Marshy didn't answer immediately. Then, "Noticed that, did you?"

Ayush grinned. "Pretty sure the whole school did."

The wind brushed Marshy's hair, but he didn't react.

"You ever played gully cricket?" Ayush asked suddenly.

"I don't play," Marshy replied. "I observe."

Ayush chuckled. "That so? I fight. So if Ravi swings at you again... I got your back."

That made Marshy turn. Fully. His eyes met Ayush's.

Calm. Honest. No mockery. Just... loyalty.

The wristband logged silently:

TRUST: 12% ESTABLISHED

SUBJECT: AYUSH KUMAR THAKUR

POTENTIAL ALLY

10:35 AM – Girls' Side of the Schoolyard

Under the neem tree, Maya sat cross-legged with Zoya, Aarushi, and Meher. The wind carried strands of Maya's hair into her notebook, which she pushed aside.

"He's not like the others," Aarushi whispered.

"You mean, hotter?" Meher grinned.

"No," she replied. "I mean... still. Like something that watches even when it blinks."

Zoya scoffed. "I don't trust still things. Still things break fast."

Maya stayed quiet.

Yesterday's rooftop fight replayed in her mind — the punches Ravi threw, the way Marshy didn't flinch. Like pain meant nothing to him. Or maybe... like pain was just a concept he hadn't downloaded yet.

And yet... his eyes.

Those unnaturally blue eyes.

They didn't react. They read.

But once — just once — she'd seen them hesitate.

Not fear. Not confusion. Just... something trying to be human.

She opened her journal and scribbled silently:

"His silence is not emptiness. It is calculation."

"His eyes do not blink in emotion. They measure."

11:15 AM – Science Lab

The science lab at Maria's Day School had the smell of burnt wires and old curiosity. Tables with faded etchings like "Love U Riya <3", rusting sinks with taps that creaked, and shelves stacked with models that hadn't worked in years.

Today's task was routine: build a simple electric circuit in groups of four.

But the seating chart wasn't.

"Group C," announced Mrs. Noronha, "Ayush... Marshy... Maya... and Ravi."

Ravi, seated at the back, let out a visible groan. "Seriously?"

Ayush cracked his knuckles slowly. "Oh, it's serious."

Maya blinked at the names, then looked sideways at Marshy — unreadable as always. She noticed his wristband pulse blue once as he sat beside her. He didn't touch anything yet. Just looked. Calculating.

They gathered around one of the tables.

Ravi leaned against the edge, arms crossed. "Look, I'm not doing the nerd stuff."

Ayush raised a brow. "Don't expect us to care."

"I'm just saying," Ravi muttered. "Don't boss me around with your big brain."

"I'm not a boss," Marshy said, finally speaking. "I'm an observer. I only interfere when failure is certain."

Ravi squinted. "What does that even mean?"

"It means," Maya said, calmly, "you can either help or stay quiet."

That silenced him.

For now.

Marshy picked up the wires, his movements oddly fluid — not stiff like a robot, not fidgety like a teen. Precise. He ran a quick glance over the battery, bulb, and switches.

Then, without a calculator or paper, he adjusted the resistance with a resistor from the toolkit. Connected each wire. Closed the circuit.

The bulb lit up instantly.

Ayush whistled. "You're like JARVIS, but with better hair."

Maya leaned in. "Wait... you didn't measure anything. How did you know the exact resistance?"

"I calculated it mentally," Marshy said.

"No calculator?"

"No error."

Ravi scoffed. "Show-off."

Marshy turned to him, tone still even.

"You think intelligence is a threat because you can't match it."

"But I don't use it to prove. I use it to survive."

That line hit like a slap.

Ravi clenched his jaw. Fist curling — but not rising.

Ayush was watching closely, one hand resting casually on the table, just in case.

This time... Ravi didn't swing.

Maya kept her eyes on Marshy. And for the first time — a flicker. Not emotion, but effort. Like holding in something. His jaw twitched for half a second.

Was that... discomfort?

Was he trying not to say more?

She didn't look away.

12:00 PM – The Hallway After Science

Students spilled out like water from a burst pipe — chatting, laughing, shoving. Marshy walked in silence, Maya beside him, Ayush a few steps behind.

"You handled him well," Maya said, casually.

"I didn't handle him," Marshy replied. "I let him make a choice."

"What choice?"

"To swing... or to stay human."

She stared at him again. "You talk weird, you know that?"

"I was taught to."

Pause.

Ayush caught up. "Lunch?"

Marshy shook his head. "Not hungry."

"You never are."

"Correct."

Meanwhile – Ravi's POV

Back of the hallway. Alone.

Ravi leaned against the wall, breathing hard. His hand still buzzed from that almost-punch. The shame burned deeper than the anger.

He replayed Marshy's words.

"I don't use it to prove. I use it to survive."

Who says that?

And why did it sound like something true?

His knuckles itched. Not from rage. From confusion.

Why the hell does he get under my skin like that?

He looked down at his hand.

He hadn't hit him.

He always hit.

1:30 PM – Last Period Ends

Students flooded the gates. Marshy stepped into sunlight. Ayush beside him, still sipping the same tetra pack like it was his signature move.

Ravi sat alone on the bleachers by the basketball court, chewing gum like it owed him money.

Ayush muttered, "Ignore him."

Marshy didn't.

He turned. Walked back.

Ravi looked up, eyes tired, ego bruised.

"I don't hate you," Marshy said.

Ravi scoffed. "Oh, thanks."

"I don't like you either."

"Wow, compliments keep coming."

"But I understand you."

Ravi stood slowly. "Understand this."

He raised his middle finger.

Marshy didn't flinch.

"Anger isn't power," he said quietly. "It's leakage."

He walked off.

And Ravi — for once — didn't follow.

9:48 PM – Forest Behind Sector 11

It was quiet out here. The kind of quiet that made you wonder if the world had stopped spinning.

The moon was pale, wrapped in faint clouds. A stray dog howled somewhere in the distance, but it didn't matter. Nothing reached this part of the woods — not sound, not curiosity.

And in the middle of that silence…

Marshy knelt in a clearing.

No flashlight. No phone. Just that odd, quiet glow from his wristband — blinking gently like a second heartbeat.

The ground beneath him was slightly dented, the soil too soft, like it had been turned recently. A thin outline, rectangular and shallow, hid what looked like a steel panel covered in leaves and dry grass.

He pressed a point near the wristband. It pulsed.

A faint hum rose from the soil, and a holographic display flickered into the air, unreadable to anyone else. Symbols floated mid-air like language stripped of sound.

Marshy didn't blink. He just stared.

EMOTIONAL ABSORPTION: 18%

HUMANITY BEHAVIORAL MAPPING: 41% COMPLETE

STATUS: FUNCTIONING

ADAPTATION REPORT: UNSTABLE. FASCINATING. COMPASSIONATE. CHAOTIC.

He sat back, resting his elbows on his knees.

Then whispered to no one.

"Why do they care so much… about things that hurt them?"

There was no reply, just silence.

And then... a small flicker of light, the screen forming one final line:

"Because that is what it means... to live among them."

Marshy's eyes remained fixed on the trees.

His breath — always controlled — stuttered for just a moment.

Not a sob. Not fear. Just... confusion. The kind machines aren't supposed to have.

Meanwhile – Maya's Bedroom, Sector 7

The lights were off. Her room was lit only by the glow of her study lamp, faint yellow and soft like memory.

Maya couldn't sleep.

She sat at her desk, her hair messy, eyes half-tired but still restless. A notebook lay open in front of her — not her school notes.

Her real notebook. The one no one knew about.

She scribbled. Thought. Then wrote again.

"He doesn't talk like us."

"He doesn't react like us."

"He's trying to understand us. Not belong."

She remembered the science lab — how he handled wires like he had muscle memory for electricity.

The way he looked at Ravi, not with fear, not with pity — but like he was scanning something already broken.

And then... the rooftop, earlier that day.

How his eyes didn't shift when Ayush joked.

How he paused, like laughter was a language he was still learning.

"His silence isn't shy. It's deliberate."

"He listens with more intent than most people speak."

"I don't know what he is... but he's not empty."

She clutched her pen harder.

"What are you, Marshy Verne?"

Somewhere – Between Trees and Dreams

Marshy lay on the ground. Eyes open.

Not blinking. Just listening to the forest breathe.

Birds sleeping. Crickets drumming softly. A tree creaking under wind.

And beneath it all — the growing, gnawing truth inside him:

> He wasn't cold.

He wasn't emotionless.

He was afraid of what he might become if he started feeling too much.

Because emotions...

Emotions make you real.

And real things break.

7:48 AM – School Gate, Next Day

The city was still waking up. Horns honked lazily, chai stalls steamed, and buses groaned past like old men trying to run.

Outside Maria's Day School, the air already felt heavier.

Not from weather.

From something... waiting.

A few kids loitered near the school gate, backpacks dragging, shoes half-tied, murmuring low.

And standing right in the middle of the path — like he belonged there — was Ravi Malhotra.

Eyes bloodshot.

Hair messier than usual.

Fist clenched. But not raised.

Just… ready.

Marshy arrived with his usual quiet footsteps, his shirt collar perfect, wristband silent, face unreadable.

As he stepped through the open gate, Ravi blocked him.

No words at first.

Just... that silent look between two people who knew something was about to shift.

And then—

"Don't think this is over."

His voice was low. Not angry. Not yelling. Just tight. Controlled. Like a match just before the strike.

Marshy stopped.

Tilted his head. Studied Ravi the way one studies a wall that's cracking but still standing.

Then said, simply:

"It never began."

The words hit harder than fists.

The air between them stretched, pulled, threatened to snap.

Behind them, a group of students had stopped walking.

They weren't close, but they were watching.

Zoya, biting her nail.

Aarushi, whispering something to Meher.

Even Ayush, walking up slowly, expression unreadable.

And then — Maya.

She stepped forward. Not fast. Not dramatic.

Just calm.

She stood next to Marshy, but didn't look at him.

She looked at Ravi.

And said:

"You think he's the weird one.

But maybe he's just the only one here who's... honest."

That made Ravi blink. He wasn't expecting her.

She turned to Marshy now, eyes searching his.

"I don't know what your story is, Marshy Verne," she said, voice steady.

"But I think... you're learning how to feel. And that scares people more than anything."

Marshy didn't respond.

Not with words.

Just a small, strange expression on his face — not quite a smile. Not quite a flinch.

Somewhere in the wristband — hidden beneath the long sleeve — a line of light blinked once.

TRUST: 26% — MAYA SINGH — GROWING

Ravi looked away first.

And in that tiny moment — between a stare and a step — the war ended.

Not in defeat.

But in silence.

8:01 AM – Inside the Classroom

The morning announcements played from the old speaker box. Something about flag hoisting next week.

No one heard it.

Because everyone was still thinking about what just happened outside.

Marshy sat in his seat.

Ayush beside him.

Maya two rows ahead.

And for once — for the first time since his arrival — Marshy didn't look out the window.

He looked at people.

One by one.

And thought:

"They are unpredictable. Fragile. Loud. Unfiltered.

And yet... I'm starting to wonder if I can ever be one of them."

He closed his eyes.

The bell rang.

But for Marshy Verne, something else had started.