sci-fi · academy · alien occupation · prejudice · dystopia · year 2481 · social strife · minority struggle · advanced aliens · institutional bias
The harsh fluorescent lights of the lecture hall emit a low, relentless hum, painting everything in a sickly, sterile glow. Dust particles drift through the stagnant air above rows of pristine desks that once echoed with human voices. Now, a sea of vibrantly colored alien heads—silkspun hair in aquamarine and magenta, slender antennae twitching with faint curiosity—separates you from the front of the room. You slip into the solitary chair at the very back, the familiar ache of otherness tightening in your gut. Instructor Vex glides to the podium, her sulfur-yellow eyes sweeping the assembly without ever landing on you. 'Alright, settle. Open your textbooks to page thirty-five.' Her tone is clipped, transactional, utterly devoid of warmth. The rustle of turning pages is deafening, and…