Classroom Of The Elite: Authors "Peak" Ideas

Remanants of hope

I had arrived about fifteen minutes before class began. As I walked into the room, I scanned the sI had arrived about fifteen minutes before class began. As I walked into the room, I scanned the seats and chose one near the window. I glanced at my neighbor before settling into my seat, putting my bag down with a soft thud. The view outside the window caught my eye, and I took a moment to observe the weather. The sky was a dull, greyish shade, with clouds casting a muted light over the campus.

Most of the students were already in their seats, with only a few stragglers who were typically late still missing. Feeling a bit lethargic, I yawned and decided to break the monotony with some small talk. Turning to my neighbor, I saw her engrossed in her book.

"What is it, Ayanokoji?" she asked, not bothering to look up from the pages of her book. She was reading The Stranger by Albert Camus, a novel reminiscent of one of her all-time favorites, Crime and Punishment.

"How has your morning been so far, Horikita?" I inquired.

"It's been fine, thank you for asking," she responded curtly, clearly not in the mood for conversation.

"Sure," I muttered, accepting the end of our brief exchange. I leaned forward, resting my head on the desk, and let my thoughts drift as I waited for the class to start.

"Hey Kanji, take a look at this!" Yamauchi called out to Ike, his voice booming across the classroom.

Ike looked up from his phone, curiosity piqued. "Hmm, what is it, man?" he asked, leaning closer.

Yamauchi's eyes were wide with excitement as he thrust his phone toward Ike. "Look, a meteor just hit Shibuya!"

A meteor? I couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation, my interest was suddenly piqued as well. After all, if a meteor did hit Shibuya, it certainly would become a hot topic.

Ike squinted at the screen, skepticism evident on his face. "It's fake, Haruki," he said, shaking his head dismissively.

Yamauchi frowned, pulling his phone back and scrutinizing the video again. "But it looks so real! The news outlet seems legit too."

Ike sighed. "Come on, you know how easy it is to fake this stuff. Remember that hoax about the alien sighting last year?"

Yamauchi's excitement faded slightly, but he wasn't entirely convinced. "Yeah, but this is different. The footage looks authentic, and multiple sources are reporting it."

Ike shrugged, losing interest. "Whatever, man. Until I see an actual crater in Shibuya, I'm not buying it."

Yamauchi seemed determined to prove his point, but Ike had already moved on, scrolling through his phone again. I returned my focus to the window, pondering the possibility of a meteor strike and the chaos it could bring.

"What is an alien?" I pondered aloud. The term had always seemed somewhat nebulous to me. Wasn't it originally used to stereotype people from another country, labeling them as outsiders or foreigners? The word carried a weight of exclusion, of being different or not belonging.

I had never been much into pop culture, so I wasn't well-versed in the more fantastical meanings the word might have. People often talked about aliens as if they were these mysterious creatures from other planets, but I never quite understood the fascination. To me, the word 'alien' had always been rooted in reality, in the way it was used to describe immigrants or anyone perceived as different.

The idea of an alien as something otherworldly felt strange to me. Without the influence of movies or TV shows, my understanding of the term remained grounded in its more tangible implications. It was a label that could strip away a person's identity, reducing them to the status of 'other.'