INVASION: Wildest Game

Ch, 3: Dream

Alexa's POV

Prof. De Vera gave me the permission to talk by pausing the virtual reality for a moment.

"Please, proceed."

I stated with conviction, "However, achieving such level of technological development would also pose great risks and challenges such as ethical dilemmas, existential threats, and social conflicts. Therefore, a type 2 civilization would need to have a higher degree of wisdom, morality, and harmony to ensure our survival and well-being."

"This is my first time hearing your thoughts, Ms. Stanfield. Well that's technically right. Do you want to add more?" He said with a genuine smile on his face.

I nod and bluntly continued my words of expression, "Having a well social and ethical implications are impossible before. In order to do so, it'll go through a drastic process. What I'm saying is..." I paused a moment and took a deep breath, "the Galactic Federation is trying to manipulate all of us to cooperate without our consciousness, just like for sure on how they did to the other planets they colonized by changing their cultures and identities.

"It all starts when Galactic Federation intervene with our way of living and makes some people forget who they really are. The Galactic Federation is already in a Type IV civilization so they have the ability to harness the energy of multiple universes and all possible timelines.

"Manipulating isn't a very hard thing to do for them right now. Besides, we were given this beautiful planet not just for us to sit here, saying that technology is the answer for everything." Right after I finished speaking, Keesha rose from her seat. Her sophisticated aura never fails to annoy me.

"We all know that you're not a fan of technology, but Colonizing and manipulation are just your mere speculations and very inappropriate words!" she glared at me as if I offended her, personally.

"Your reaction says it all," I replied and sneer.

Knowing my classmates well enough, even if sometimes I get to argue with them, we left them there. They wouldn't hold a grudge against me. It'll end right away so I'm not that much afraid of them.

"You seem to care more about nature than the reality we live in. The reality that helped the world progress to a higher level. Do you remember how Earth used to be? Let me remind you that our advanced technology has made nature develop even better." Keesha said, smiling confidently as if she thought I had no way to counter her arguments. Her sophisticated aura triggers my calming nerves to rampage even more.

I stand up as well to oppose her the way she did oppose me, "You're right but by what? By parting both worlds to each other? How can you say that it is something better when you completely know nothing about it? It is not right to just separate something that is not supposed to be separated.

"Today, when we talk about the province, we associate it with nature. However, right now, nature covers only 45% of the Earth's land and water, which is terribly not enough. In contrast, the city is entirely artificial, dominated by industrial buildings and artificial intelligence.

"Don't you realize that when we remove nature from the city, we lose oxygen? We need at least 19.5 percent oxygen to breathe normally, but in the past few years, oxygen levels have dropped to 17.2 percent, according to an anonymous online source that has been verified as accurate. Many people have suffered from dizziness, fatigue, nausea, and even blindness due to the disruption of biodiversity.

"The government's solution was to rely on artificial photosynthesis and electrolysis, meaning the oxygen we breathe and the carbon dioxide absorbed by plants are entirely synthetic. We are losing the natural cycle—we are losing the very essence of the world," I said passionately and firmly.

After that, I could see Keesha getting pissed off. She sat back with a glare on her face, speechless and out of arguments.

I hate it when people try to sugarcoat things. They act like everything is fine and dandy when in reality, it's a mess. They don't see the problems, they only see the positives, and everything is picturesque. They don't want to face the truth and only want to live in their fantasy world.

Prof. De Vera chuckled as it was the first time anyone had managed to silence Keesha in his class.

Moments later, he finally addressed my concern. "They are the Galactic Federation, Ms. Stanfield. We cannot defy them as they rule the world. They know exactly what they are doing. What matters is that we are alive, experiencing life in the most comfortable and effortless way possible. Problems are solved, never to resurface. We should not resent a world that allows us to advance, grow, and evolve as human beings," he said, his tone unwavering.

I couldn't tell if he was being sincere, or if he was just telling Keesha what she wanted to hear. I saw in his eyes that he agreed with me earlier.

I get back to my seat and decided to end my argument.

After all, he's still right, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. He's still my professor, older than me, and I had to respect him and his opinions. I have no exact proof and evidence, otherwise.

Prof. De Vera resumed the virtual reality and continued his lesson.

***

Finally, History class is done, Industrial Technology is next.

The moment Professor De Vera exits, another professor steps in. Instantly, everyone rises—but not to greet him. Instead, they rush to their lockers, eager to retrieve their projects. Some carry self-operated droids they built from scratch, while others clutch blueprints, fully prepared to present their ideas.

While me...

Well, I remain seated, watching the flurry of movement around me.

Actually, Professor Brown never assigned any projects or activities from the first place, so he's not expecting anything from us. Yet, as always, he beams with pride when his students eagerly showcase their best work and innovations on their own. Judging by his expression, it looks like he won't have to lecture today, nothing more, as easy as that.

Watching my classmates present their creations fills me with awe. Even though they often look down on me for not being as technologically inclined, I can't help but admire their dedication, passion, and creativity. Their ideas are undeniably brilliant—unique, futuristic, groundbreaking.

Their ideas are very unique and futuristic, but it only shows how they solely rely on technology.

What if the world suddenly lost its control and we have to rely on our own?

Some high-tech inventions are fine, but overly displaying and utilizing it makes life boring and colorless.

Feel me?

***

I sat through an hour of presentations, none of which truly captured my interest.

Finally, the last presenter rose from his seat and stepped to the front of the class, carrying a small piece of cloth.

All eyes are on him, standing at the front, his stance composed, his expression unreadable—except for that undeniable glint of confidence.

With one fluid motion, he unfurls a sleek, almost ethereal fabric, the edges shimmering faintly in the dim light. At first, it looks like any ordinary cloth—until he speaks.

"This... is the BioLumina Cloth," his voice carries through the room, measured, deliberate, as if he already knows he has us in the palm of his hand. "A fusion of nature's brilliance and human ingenuity. What you see before you isn't just fabric. It's survival, innovation, and adaptability woven into one."

Ooh! I like this one. Better to save the best for last.

A few students lean forward, curiosity sparked. He steps closer to the center, holding the cloth up, letting it catch the light.

"Our world is drowning in darkness. Both literally and metaphorically. Power grids fail. Artificial light flickers and dies. But nature has always known the answer, and we've finally listened."

The lights dim, whether planned or just sheer theatrical luck, I don't know, but the moment is perfect.

The fabric glows.

A soft, natural luminescence spreads from within its fibers, casting an eerie yet mesmerizing glow across his hands. Gasps ripple through the room. Even the professor, who rarely looks impressed, tilts his head ever so slightly.

"Bioluminescent fungi, meticulously cultured and embedded into the weave, produce this sustainable glow. No batteries. No synthetic chemicals. Just nature's light, enhanced. And it doesn't stop there."

He tosses the cloth over his shoulders, and for a second, I expect some kind of dramatic reveal. Instead, he simply waits. The moment stretches—then I see it. His breath, visible in the cold air, begins to dissipate faster. The cloth is working.

"Spider silk reinforcement makes it lightweight yet nearly indestructible. Infused sap coating grants water resistance. And most importantly—heat retention. The body's natural warmth cycles through, amplified without external energy."

I hear a whispered "Damn, that's genius." from somewhere in the back.

"Imagine," he continues, eyes scanning the room as if daring anyone to challenge him, "being stranded in the wild, the temperature dropping below survival limits. No shelter. No fire. This cloth becomes your barrier between life and death."

This is what I was talking about the preparedness when technological advancement has been gone.

His voice doesn't waver, doesn't rush. Every word is deliberate, sharp, hitting with the weight of absolute certainty.

"But it's not just for survival. The BioLumina Cloth could illuminate entire communities without electricity. It could replace wasteful heat systems. It's not a mere invention—it's a revolution."

Silence lingers. Then, one by one, murmurs of approval build up. A few students nod, some exchange glances, and the professor folds his arms, finally speaking.

"Impressive work," he says, tone unreadable. "But tell me—how long does the luminescence last before degrading?"

The student doesn't flinch. Instead, he smirks—like he expected the question. "With proper care? Years. But let's say worst case scenario—without preservation, without maintenance? Months. And even then, the fungi can be replenished. A cycle of renewal, just like nature intended."

I catch myself nodding before I realize it.

He's not just good. He's brilliant.

After that, Professor Brown rose from his seat, allowing the presenter to return to his seat before addressing the class. He went on to critique each of my classmates' projects, his expression revealing undeniable admiration. It was clear that he's impressed.

For him, his students, perhaps all except me, seemed ready to embrace the new world.

While he was giving his feedback and congratulatory speech, I noticed that it's almost lunchtime. I started to worry a lot because this would be the first time in years that I would have to go to the cafeteria by myself. And when I'm alone, there's a looming danger for me.

As soon as Professor Brown dismissed the class, my classmates hurried off to the cafeteria, leaving me alone in the room, quietly gathering my things.

I waited for a few minutes for someone to come and fetch me because as per Cassandra, she would send her cousin to keep me company. I forgot to ask who it is, but I am losing hope that anyone would show up now.

It seemed I had no choice but to head to the cafeteria alone. If my sugar level dropped, Mom's smartwatch would trigger an alarm since hers and mine are synced for health monitoring. She'd get mad if she found out I skipped lunch.

With a final sigh, I made my way out alone.

Each step felt heavier than the last as I carefully navigated the hallway, glancing at every corner and turn. Before long, I reached the cafeteria entrance.

Stepping inside, a wave of nerves washed over me. My eyes swept across the room, searching for an empty seat.

The cafeteria is crowded and noisy as usual, full of students chatting and laughing, waiting for the droids to assist them.

I see some familiar faces, but none of them are my friends.

The moment I step in, their eyes are all fixed on me, wondering what would happen to me now that I have no Cassandra to protect me.

I clutch a tray and head to the food counter, hoping to find something edible.

Though the food looks bland and greasy, but I don't have much choice.

As I step into line, it hits me—I'm the only human actually standing here. The rest of the students lounge at their tables, casually ordering their droids to fetch their meals, handle their trays, and do every minor task for them. Even the simplest actions, ones they could easily do themselves, are left to machines. Unlike them, I refuse to take part in robot slavery.

After countless interactions with droids, I've come to understand something— they do experience hurt, though not in the way humans do. It's not about emotions or a beating heart, but a programmed system that registers rejection and inadequacy. When people treat them with rudeness or dissatisfaction, their code reinforces a sense of failure, as if they exist solely to serve and yet still fall short.

When they are forced to work with all their features all the time non-stop, their processor will get toasted, inability to function, similar to death. They will be replaced by other droids and thrown into junk as metal scraps.

Droids are more fragile workers than humans. They might be doing their jobs accurately, but they can only last for a week when abused and mistreated.

While leaning on the food counter, I pick up a sandwich, a salad, and a carton of milk. I thank the droid for the service and turn around, searching for an empty table.

With the tray in my hands, I took a deep breath and said, "I can do this." But the doubt is very evident in my trembling hand.

I see a table in the corner that no one seated. I hurry towards it, hoping to sit down and eat in peace. But as I get closer, I realize that the next table was occupied by the bullies who always make fun of me.

They see me coming and smirk. They start making rude comments about my grades, habit, and beliefs. They insult me that hurt more than punches. They laugh at me like I'm a joke, drawing everyone's attention to us.

I feel tears sting my eyes. I want to run away and hide. But there is nowhere to go. The cafeteria is full of people who don't care about me or who hate me. I feel alone and helpless.

I stand there, holding my tray, wishing I could disappear.