down the corridors of Decider Academy, the folds of her flowing robe undulating behind her. She was late. Every tenth step the cloth came between her foot and the pavement and she shuffled and fumbled to regain her balance before gravity overcame her momentum. She cursed the labyrinthine design of the school—what was the point of trying to make a new building look like an ancient university? Orbis Publica, the young world government, held tight to the past despite the new future they were building. Fifty years of global peace had given them a lot of leeway with the public, but it didn’t hurt to dress the new society up as the
