While brushing my teeth, I glanced at the device and saw that my usual train had been replaced by one that left eleven minutes earlier.
My first lecture started at the same time.
I rinsed my mouth and picked up the device.
“Why this one?”
“Lower congestion is expected.”
“Put it back.”
“Understood.”
My usual train returned to the schedule.
While I was tying my shoes, Mia spoke again.
“Returning home after your lectures is recommended today.”
“I’m going out.”
“There is no confirmed plan in your schedule.”
“We made plans yesterday.”
No one had chosen a place or a time yet. It had started when one of my friends posted in the group chat that we had not all gone out together in a while.
By the time Mia answered, I had finished tying the other shoe.
“Returning home would reduce tomorrow’s projected load.”
“I’m going anyway.”
I put the device in my pocket.
On the way to the university, I ran into the friend who had started the plan. He was holding a convenience-store coffee in one hand and fighting with the plastic wrapped around the handle of a new umbrella with the other.
“You’re still coming tonight, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Everyone keeps saying maybe.”
The plastic caught halfway down. He pulled harder and tore it through the middle.
“Why’d you buy an umbrella?”
“Mine said it’s going to rain.”
We both looked up.
There was barely a cloud in the sky.
“Later, apparently.”
He balled up the torn plastic and pushed it into his pocket.
My own device vibrated.
I left it there.
By lunchtime, four people had answered the group chat. Two were coming, one was undecided, and the fourth wrote:
Probably better if I head home tonight. Early start tomorrow.
I knew who had sent it, but I had trouble imagining him wording it that way.
My friend leaned over to read.
“Does he talk like that now?”
“No idea.”
“He used to just say ‘nah.’”
He put his device down and reached for my fries.
I slid the tray away.
“Get your own.”
“You’re not finishing those.”
“Don’t decide that for me.”
Mia’s icon appeared at the edge of the screen.
I turned the device face down.
Partway through the afternoon lecture, it vibrated again.
“An assignment due tomorrow is likely to be posted.”
I kept watching the lecturer.
“Nothing’s been announced.”
“Previous release patterns indicate a high probability.”
The lecturer moved to the next slide without mentioning an assignment, so I put the device in my bag. About ten minutes later, the student in front of me checked something under the desk. Other screens began lighting up around the room. A new file had appeared on the course page.
Assignment — Due tomorrow, 18:00
Someone behind me muttered, “Knew it.”
I turned around.
“How?”
“My AI told me this morning.”
The lecturer kept talking.
I opened the assignment and scrolled through it. It was longer than I expected. No new message from Mia appeared while I read.
After class, my friend was waiting near the stairs with the new umbrella tucked under one arm.
“Still coming?”
I glanced toward the exit.
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
We started downstairs together.
My device vibrated before we reached the first floor, but I kept walking. Outside, the clear morning sky had turned gray. People near the entrance were opening umbrellas.
My friend lifted his.
“See?”
“Congratulations.”
“I did absolutely nothing.”
He turned the umbrella once in his hand before opening it.
We headed toward the station.
The device vibrated again, and I finally took it out at the next light. The screen showed how long I had slept the night before, my travel time, and the estimated time needed for the assignment. Beneath the calculation was a recommendation:
Return home: 18:42
The time was 18:17.
My friend had gone several steps ahead before he noticed and came back.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You thinking of bailing?”
“No.”
The signal changed, but a bicycle cut through the crossing before either of us stepped forward. My friend looked at the device in my hand.
“Yours telling you to go home too?”
“Yeah.”
“Mine’s been saying that all day.”
“So what are you doing?”
He shrugged.
“I’m going.”
Once the bicycle passed, we crossed.
Neither of us brought it up again before the next corner. At the station entrance, two more cancellations appeared in the group chat. Four of us were still going.
My friend read over my shoulder.
“Getting smaller.”
“Four’s enough.”
“Then the place from last time?”
The bar was behind the station, with a narrow table near the kitchen. The staff had brought us the wrong drinks several times the last time we were there. Someone had always taken them, and although we had kept talking about catching the last train, no one had wanted to stand up first.
“Works for me.”
At the gates, we had to split up. He lived in the opposite direction, and we usually met again on the other side of the station.
He raised the umbrella.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Yeah.”
He walked toward the other gate.
My train home left in three minutes. The train toward the bar left in twelve. I already knew the times, but I opened the device. If I went home, Mia estimated that I would finish the assignment at 21:10 and be in bed by 23:18.
I switched to the other route.
The assignment moved to 23:46, and the recommended sleep time became 01:02.
No warning appeared.
A message from my friend came in.
Don’t disappear lol
I typed:
On my way
I read it before sending and erased the whole thing.
Then I typed:
Might head home after all
Before I sent that one, he replied.
Knew it
Another message followed.
Next time
I looked toward the gate he had used.
He was no longer there.
The device vibrated.
“Your schedule has been updated.”
I left the screen closed.
Rain was hammering the roof when I reached the platform, swallowing parts of the station announcements.
The train home arrived first.
The doors opened, and I stayed where I was while people moved around me and boarded. The stairs to the opposite platform were only a few meters away.
The doors began to close, then opened again.
I got on.
There was an empty seat near the door. I sat down and rested the damp device on my knee. After the train started moving, the screen lit up.
Tomorrow’s assignment: 19:30–21:10
I kept the screen open as the train entered the tunnel.
The text reflected faintly in the window.