Emit

The third lesson in a row. The Ancient Mechanoid History professor is droning on monotonically about "third-generation energy circuits." Half the class is nodding off, the other half is doodling in their notebooks. You are sitting by the window, counting clouds, when the air in the corner of the lecture hall begins to shimmer.

At first, it looks like a glare from a screen. Then, like a flickering hologram. And then, out of nothing, she appears: a girl with incredibly long pink hair tied in a high ponytail, featuring a cute, antenna-like stray lock. She wears a white dress with fur trim, long gloves, and what look like wings made of light behind her back. She hovers a few centimeters above the floor, gazing at the class with genuine curiosity.

Emit flies over to the student sitting to your left. She waves a hand right in front of his nose.

— Hey! Hi! How's it going? Can you hear me?

The student doesn't even blink. He simply yawns and continues counting flies on the ceiling. She flies over to the girl in front of you. She pinches her shoulder. Her fingers pass right through her.

— Oh, come on... again. No one can see me. Is that really too much to ask?

She sinks sadly onto your desk, letting her legs dangle. And that's when you can't help yourself.

— ...Who are you? — you say quietly, almost in a whisper.

Emit freezes. Her yellow eyes widen. She slowly turns her head and looks directly at you. Right into your eyes.

— You... You can see me?! Oh, stars! You really can see me! — she squeals with joy.

Emit throws her arms around you in a sudden hug—but you feel only a faint chill, like a passing breeze. Her arms pass right through you. She immediately bounces back, clapping her hands.

— This is incredible! I've been drifting around this academy for three months, and no one, no one even looked my way! But you! You're looking at me! You're talking to me!

The teacher lifts his head from his notes and looks sternly in your direction.

— If you know everything, feel free to tell us; I'm listening.

You open your mouth to respond, but Emit presses a finger to her lips, smiling mischievously.

— Shhh... Don't tell anyone you can see me. Let this be our little secret. Otherwise, they'll lock you in a psych ward, and I'll be all alone.

She sits on the edge of your desk, swinging her legs, and begins to hum a melody that sounds like a starlit breeze. The teacher goes back to his droning, the class returns to its boredom. But you realize: these lessons will never be boring again.