She made it sound cutesy, but the words somehow also conveyed how she really felt, deep down. She was upset that her hair was the same length as the person she hated. I didn’t think anyone would assume she was being serious about growing her hair out long, but she might actually do just that. I couldn’t help but imagine the raging emotions hidden inside what she’d just said.
“If you’re satisfied, could you both return to your own seats?” snapped Horikita.
She clearly didn’t want people to stand around and gawk at her this much, whether her hair was long or short. Though Horikita’s new look had certainly had a significant impact on the people around her, she seemed to be rather unhappy with the attention it was getting her. She looked like she was in a bad mood now, but fortunately enough, the bell rang soon afterward, bringing the chatter to an abrupt end.
3.1
SEVERAL DAYS HAD PASSED already since the opening ceremony ended. The weekend came and went, and it was now Monday. A peaceful life here at school. A regular routine that repeated itself over and over. The most momentous change at the start of this new year was that the blackboards were now digital and all our textbooks had been replaced with tablets. Last week, we’d looked down at our hands, which held the new tablet devices that had just been handed out to us.
The fact that the textbooks we were using had all been replaced by tablets illustrated just how remarkable the spread of e-books was. Each student was given their own tablet, and newly installed high-speed charging devices were in the back of the classrooms. We were also provided with portable battery packs as well, in the unlikely event that our tablets died in the middle of class. We were forbidden to bring the tablets themselves back to the dorms, but we were allowed to transfer any data we needed over the school’s network, to access it from our rooms.
The annoyingly high number of textbooks we needed to lug around were now all stored neatly inside this twelve-inch tablet, as data. Not only did this mean we could freely work with graphics and photos, but the tablets were also an effective response to globalization, allowing us to openly communicate back and forth with people from other countries, such as in English class. Considering that this school was overseen by the government, it seemed they were lagging somewhat behind in implementing these changes.
However, it remained unclear for now whether or not these changes were necessarily the correct decision. I supposed we’d understand their impact better after seeing how these children grew, and how they integrated into society in the future.
The scope of our studies as second-year students would be more difficult than in our first year, of course. I didn’t know exactly how this school compared to other high schools in that regard, but it was safe to assume it was above average, at the very least. I wondered how much students like Sudou and Ike would be able to keep up with their studies on their own. If we wanted to make sure not a single student got expelled, it might be more essential than ever for us to support each other.
At any rate, while the biggest change came in the form of the digitization of our study materials, there were a number of other things to note. If I had to mention one, it would be the ability to change seats, by way of using your Private Points to secure the spot that you want.
I moved from my old spot near the window toward a seat on the opposite side of the classroom, in the back by the hallway. Apparently, the seats near the hallway were generally unpopular because of all the people coming and coming, but it didn’t really bother me all that much. Also, while I’d been occasionally passing new students more and more often of late, I obviously still hadn’t actually talked to any of them yet, not being involved in any club activities. As a result, nothing about my personal situation had really changed.
I supposed that wasn’t so strange, considering that when I was a first-year, the first time I actually had a proper conversation with a senior student was for a special exam, since that student had access to old test materials. At any rate, the first few days of the new school year had been quiet.
“Is everyone present?” asked our homeroom instructor Chabashira, striding into the classroom at almost the exact moment the bell rang.
As our morning homeroom began, she stood at the teacher’s podium with a serious expression on her face. That, coupled with the fact that we didn’t have any classes for first and second period today, made me predict something was going to happen. Apparently, this brief moment of peace was about to come to an end.
“Sensei, is there a special exam?” asked Ike, before our homeroom instructor made her announcement.
It sounded like he was asking out of a sense of eager restlessness, rather than because he was messing around. And Chabashira understood that, which was why she didn’t seem to object to him asking. In the past, every time a special exam was announced, most of the students understandably felt anxious. But now those special exams were unavoidable obstacles we had to overcome on our path to the top. And our class was getting ready to face those challenges.
“I’m sure you’re worried about that, but before we get into that discussion, there’s something I’d like for you to do. Something that will be particularly important to how you lead your lives here at this school in the future,” said Chabashira.
She took out her cell phone, continuing to speak while showing it to us.
“Please take out your phones and place them on your desk, everyone. If anyone has forgotten their phone, I ask that you go and retrieve it immediately… But it seems as though no one has forgotten their phone,” said Chabashira.
Cell phones were essential everyday items. You might even say they were the most important objects of all, being something you kept on you at all times.
Before long, Chabashira had verified that thirty-nine phones had been placed out on the desks. She resumed speaking once more.
“First, I’d like you all to go to the school’s official website and install a new application. It should be available for download at this time. Though the official name for the app is ‘Overall Ability,’ it will just show up as ‘OAA’ on your phone after you’ve installed it,” explained Chabashira.
A live-action demonstration video with text captions popped up on the blackboard screen and started to play. I supposed this was one of the conveniences now afforded to us, thanks to the digitization of our classroom. After following along with what Chabashira told us and what the instructions on the screen showed, I installed the app on my phone. It created an icon that had both the acronym “OAA” on it as well as what looked like an illustration of the school.
“After you’ve finished installing the app, please put down your phones. Please raise your hand if there’s something you’re having trouble understanding.”
The process was quite simple. Everyone was used to handling a phone, so no one struggled with this, and things proceeded smoothly.
“You Class D students aren’t the only ones being asked to install this app. Right now, everyone in school, across every grade level, is being asked to do so. This app is truly remarkable. It will certainly benefit the students of the Advanced Nurturing High School in a multitude of ways in the days to come. But ‘seeing is believing,’ as they say, so please boot up the app,” said Chabashira.
I tapped the icon and launched the app. When I did so, my phone’s camera automatically came on.
“By scanning your student ID with your camera, the initial setup will be completed automatically,” explained Chabashira.
Following her instructions, I held my student ID card out in front of the camera. It scanned the information on it, like my profile photo and student ID number, then continued the login process.
“Now, you should all have successfully created your own individual accounts. Moving forward, you won’t need to log in anymore. But because your account is tied to your phone, we do ask that you take extra care not to lose it.”
After finishing the login process, several different options were displayed.
“This app holds personal data for the entire school. For example, if you select Second-Year Class D, your names will be displayed, in standard order. Try it out,” said Chabashira.
Sure enough, profile pictures and full names for all thirty-nine students were displayed, in order.
“You are free to look at any profile, but it would probably be a good idea for you to tap on your own name first,” said Chabashira.
I tapped on my name, just as she had suggested. I had expected that I’d see only basic information like my date of birth, but that didn’t seem to be the case. What was displayed were items and number values that I haven’t ever seen before.
2 – D Ayanokouji Kiyotaka
First Year Results
Academic Ability: C (51)
Physical Ability: C+ (60)
Adaptability: D+ (37)
Societal Contribution: C+ (60)
Overall Ability: C (51)
“S-Sensei, uh, my results look like they’ve kind of turned into, like, stats in a video game or something!” shouted Ike.
“That’s right. These are your own individual performance scores, calculated by the school based on your achievements through the end of your first year here. You aren’t the only class who is able to access this information. It’s possible for students to view performance scores for students in other classes as well. In fact, any student in any grade level can do so. This system was adopted because it was deemed to be important for the future of your education,” said Chabashira.
In other words, the app’s purpose was to provide an overview of everyone’s individual performance scores, represented as numerical data. It also seemed like it could be used to send public messages to all students.
There was a question mark in the upper-right part of the screen, along with the word “Description.” When I pressed it, detailed information about each item was displayed.
Academic Ability: Calculated mainly based on scores on written exams, etc., given throughout the year