Enigma 1

Any resemblance to real life characters are purely coincidental.

"Apparently, the world was predicted to end in 2012", laughed Lance Conrad, who was reading the journal of his ancestor Peter Conrad, who had been a spy for America in the 3rd World War. Unlike the preceding World Wars, WWIII was neither territorial nor violent. The WWIII successfully kick-started the technological development in the world. By 2341, the world economy was largely dependent on the technological industry . Japan was the world leader, followed by the United States of America. African countries like Ethiopia and Morocco had fallen behind and faced acute shortage of almost everything. The United Nations had expanded vastly, and it funded these backward countries. Every country was competing for better technology and the world had settled into an unstable equilibrium, where world leaders raged in a cold war for intelligence. Hackers, Spies and Intel agencies were given the task of retrieving intelligence illicitly from other countries to put their own countries on a higher level. Delegations seemed normal, when the Presidents smiled and shook hands cordially but each of them were thinking of ways to crush the other into the ground. WWIII was also the only World War where the victor was unknown. Every country had something new and efficient, it seemed as necessary as the other rival technology. It had supposedly ended in 2381 though few people were of the opinion it was still going on.

"Wow really? I would liked to have lived in that time period, you know. Point a finger at that loser and laugh a while", said Eric.
Eric and Lance were roommates at School of Intelligence, California. Located in Freemont, it was one of the largest schools, and also one of the most expensive ones. Eric and Lance had known each other for a couple of hours, after getting acquainted upon moving into their dorm room. Lance had been nervous, dreading his roommate to be an eccentric, but was reassured after talking to Eric. Eric was 5'7'', thin as a match and had shoulder length brown hair which matched his eyes, in contrast to Lance, who had jet black hair, kept short. Lance was a Croft player (We'll come to that later), which helped him maintain a good build. Very few people looked rejectable (Carefully chosen word). Genetic engineering had established itself well, and people could choose the genetic traits they wished their babies to have. There was a research lab at the California Techdeck, experimenting these genetic infusions on people, which in turn lead to the building of a separate phase in the unit, termed as the Mutated. Genetic infusions gone wrong could result in serious mutations, from sprouting an extra arm to looking like Rajnikanth. Of course, people volunteered for experiments in exchange for money.

"So when is our first class?" asked Lance.
Eric walked over to the room monitor and touched the blinking icon Timetable.
"Eleven A. M.", he said. "That gives us another fifteen minutes."
"Lets go then, doesn't hurt to be early."
"Right."
They picked up their Apple laptops provided by the school and climbed down the stairs one floor to the lobby. A grim faced receptionist sat at a desk, listening to Code my love by The Programmers.
Whatever happened to good music, thought Lance. As they walked by, the receptionist was intoning the lyrics :
Ooh, a higher abode
Baby baby get down and code
I love the way you type
Come on baby lets go Skype..

"Man my grandfather sings better while taking a shit", remarked Eric.
Lance stifled a laugh and nudged Eric as the receptionist shot them a nasty look. They made their way across the lawn to the main building. They rode the elevator to the 4th floor, and walked the corridor to the Lab. Inside, students were already filling up seats and set their laptops on the makeshift table. The room was spacious, furnished royally with leather chairs and Persian carpets. Instead of walls, the room was enclosed on all six sides by monitors, one monitor making one wall. Lance and Eric took adjascent seats on the fifth row. A tall olive skinned boy took a seat next to Lance. He put forward a hand "Hey, I'm Dylan Chase" he said. Lance shook it "Lance Conrad, nice to meet you." Lance was surprised. He had seen blacks before but they were a rarity now. After the introduction of gene therapy, it seemed seldom people wanted their children to be black. Only people who believed in tradition and sought after preserving what was originally theirs retained their skin colour. Nevertheless, it didn't make much of a difference as some whites also converted to black. The true origins of a person could thus never be guessed and this was the reason why equality was even more prevalent now.
"Where are you from?" asked Lance.
"I'm from New York. And you?"
"Chicago."
There was a sudden hush in the classroom. Lance turned around and craned his neck to get a better view. A man had entered the class, the professor, he guessed. The man made his way through the aisle to the front of the room. Lance had a better view of him now.
"G-good morn-n-ing, I'm professor R-r-rick Langeveldt." he said.
Rick Langeveldt was a short, round man with curly red hair. If he was wearing an ancient Gaul dress, one might have mistook him for Obelix.
Instantly, Lance could pick up on his personality. He unconsciously touched his face every ten seconds. Fidgety. He had a stammering problem. As he turned to write something with his digipen on the monitor, he knocked over his desk, and its contents fell on the floor. Clumsy. He wrote confidently and neatly his name. Meticulous. Then he said, "I thought t-t-oday we could s-s-it down and talk about ours-s-elves and you know, g-g-et to know each other pr-r-r-operly."
If they hired a guy with a stammering problem in this institution then he better have some kick ass skill.
"Let me intr-r-oduce my program Homie which is b-b-asically a computerized t-t-alking system.", the professor said.
He inserted a disk into the drive. "You", he pointed at a burly boy wearing overalls, "Stand up and tell me your name."
The fat boy stood up and said "Paul Slim."
Sure don't look slim to me, a computerized voice rang out. Paul flushed, as there was scattered laughter.
"S-sorry about that, I-I've yet to program s-some man-n-ners.", the professor said apologetically.
Twenty seven introductions later, Rick Langeveldt dismissed the class and announced the reporting time for the next day. On the way back to his room, Lance thought I'm gonna have a great time here.
Little did he know about the vices of the institution.