Transcending Abnormality

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Virgil dropped the plastic cup that his drink was held in into one of the on-campus bins. His drink was cold, so he finished it before Roman - not having to wait for it to cool.

They walked into their lecture hall with two minutes before the start of their class. The room was on the smaller side, and had about ten rows of seats, each with sixteen seats - an even column for people to walk down in the centre.

The seats descended towards their professor's desk. It was a long, stretching piece of white metal which curved in a horse-shoe shape. There was a chair, which the professor used to slide along the desk to the different monitors and papers.

The room was about seventy-five percent full when the two young men entered, and the sound of Virgil's boots clicking on the linoleum floor made eight or nine of them look up. The professor was a young woman (or, young to be a university lecturer), about twenty-five.

Her hair was a flame colour, ascending to her shoulders. She looked up curiously as the boys entered, then glancing down uninterestedly upon realising it was just them.

Then, she stood, looking at the time on her watch.

"Right, we'll begin a minute early since it looks like most of us are here now." She speaks confidently. Virgil and Roman have been in this class for a few months now. It's their business class. Virgil would really rather not have to do this elective, but he wouldn't be friends with Roman if he didn't, so, silver lining, he guesses.

"If you could all open up your laptops and start making notes, that'll be helpful for you when it comes to revision."

-------

Ninety minutes later, everyone in the lecture hall was packing up, and, as Roman slid his laptop into his golden-coloured backpack, he cringed. "Ah. Do you think we could stop by the pharmacy? My parents asked me to pick up their prescriptions."

"What prescriptions?" Virgil halted, tapping his black-painted nails on the edge of his bag.

"The ones that the government are giving out for free. The ones that capitalist guy makes, ugh, Dyle?" He questioned, raising his eyebrows as if unsure.

"What? Why do they need those? Your family doesn't- they don't teleport places."

"They aren't just for that anymore, Virge. Don't you watch the commercials?"

Virgil guessed that he didn't watch them. Why would he? He shrugged, looking at his friend naively.

"They're just for general headaches, they've been adapted. The government are even recommending that everyone takes one in the morning to prevent headaches forever." He smiled, doing mock jazz-hands as he finished the sentence.

Virgil stopped, his feet halting.

Teleportation cost a lot of money. When Janus had sent Virgil back to his room yesterday, that single affair cost the man about four thousand dollars. Obviously, Lord Dyle was a multi-trillionaire, so, it wasn't like it affected him in the slightest.

"I wouldn't.. take them, if I were you."

"You wouldn't? Does your family not? Oh God, you aren't anti-vaxxers, are you?"

Virgil laughed, partially because it was funny, and partially because he was trying to hide his fear.

"No! God, no. I just- I don't trust it. I heard a rumour that the guy who owns the company doesn't even take the pills himself."

"I think you go on the internet too much. C'mon, I don't have any other lectures today." Roman dismissed, walking down the corridor to leave the building, Virgil by his side.