No matter the configuration of the physical space, it was truly the mental experience that was meant to be impactful. Of course, they’ve been watching you for quite some time now so, of course, they were aware of what was most likely to rectify your bad mood and bring you to the equilibrium necessary to pass the mood check at every single building entrance. They had the 3D models scaled-down to build these rooms office based on what they had observed in your immediate surroundings during a year of online learning. You didn’t really think cameras on was a real rule just because your instructors were lonely, or wanted to know their students, did you?

The mood check, however, was important to the university. They had to show to benefactors and the general public that students were excited to be on campus, they were more than willing to come back to being in person, and that no matter what happened individually, every single one of them was ready willing, and able to take on the challenges of a new school year in a socially acceptable and excitable manner. It’s not a matter of having a hive mentality; it’s more so of showing that a community is only as united as their shared mental fortitude.

With all of this emphasis on positive mindsets, you would think that at least they’ve realized I’m more likely to be anxious and keep failing this mood check because I’m not in class, Hugh thought to himself. I’m not stupid. I know for a fact that someone else has been in the space before me. I’m pretty sure it was another student who failed the mood check in my class. That one girl who used to smile a lot and now doesn’t show up anymore. I know for a fact that she didn’t just quit. They must have driven her to the brink turning everything she ever loved against her just like they’re trying to with me. 

“Why is the subject not responding?” “Did we put the wrong type of art supplies and images in his simulation?” “That’s impossible; all his accrued data and the LMS ensured this was accurate!”

Behind a glass window, not too different from that of a police interrogation room, a cacophony of voices continued to speculate over why Hugh had yet to reach equilibrium, even though he was in a simulation feeding him bits of art, his one true passion. These were the voices of the shadowed, faceless figures known to the student body only as the administrators. 

I know exactly what they want from me, but I will not allow my passion for art, or control over my emotions, to be sapped away all for the sake of this sick, weaponized erosion of care. They can’t hold me in the simulation room forever. They’ll have to let me out at some point. 

Oh, how wrong he was. After all, the LMS and administrators are never satisfied with only half-met expectations.