Everyone Is Acting Normally

The first sign was the sky.
It wasn’t blue. It wasn’t gray. It wasn’t anything at all.
When I looked up from my bedroom window, I didn’t see clouds or sunlight. I saw a smooth, blank surface stretching endlessly above the town—like someone had erased the world’s ceiling and replaced it with paper.
It should have terrified me.
Instead, my phone buzzed.
“Good morning! ☀️ Don’t forget your math test today.”
—Ammi.
There was no sun.
But she had sent a sun emoji.
I opened the window. No wind. No birds. No sound of traffic.
Still, my neighbor Mr. Collins was outside watering his lawn, humming the theme song from Friends.
“Morning!” he called cheerfully. “Beautiful day!”
I stared at the blank sky.
“Yes,” I replied slowly. “Beautiful.”
And he smiled like nothing was wrong.
2. The Bus That Never Stops
The school bus arrived exactly at 7:42 a.m.
It always arrived at 7:42 a.m.
The driver, Mrs. Patel, waved as usual.
“Hop in, Sam!”
The bus engine wasn’t running.
There was no sound. No vibration. The wheels didn’t move.
But when I stepped inside, we were already driving.
Outside the windows, the streets passed by in perfect silence. No pedestrians. No dogs. No cars.
Just empty roads and houses with lights on.
A boy behind me whispered, “Do you see it too?”
I turned.
It was Ayaan—the quiet kid who always drew planets in his notebook.
“See what?” I asked.
He looked confused.
“The sky,” I said carefully.
He blinked.
“Oh. Yeah. Weird color today.”
Then he put on his headphones and started nodding along to music.
I glanced at his screen. The song title read:
“Here Comes the Sun” – The Beatles
There was no sun.
3. Morning Assembly
The school building looked slightly… bent.
Not physically bent, but wrong. The angles weren’t straight. The front doors seemed taller than usual. The windows stretched too high.
Inside, the hallways curved gently upward like we were walking inside a bowl.
No one mentioned it.
Lockers were slightly melted at the edges.
Students chatted about homework.
“Did you study for physics?” Maria asked.
I nodded, staring at the ceiling.
The ceiling was too low.
No—too high.
No—it was both at the same time.
During morning assembly, the principal stood at the podium smiling.
“Students, we’re proud to announce our annual Science Fair next week!”
Behind him, the school logo was upside down.
Nobody reacted.
Ayaan leaned toward me again.
“Do you feel… lighter?” he asked quietly.
I hadn’t noticed until then.
My feet weren’t fully touching the floor.
I was hovering. Just a few centimeters.
I looked around.
Everyone else was too.
But they stood perfectly balanced, hands by their sides, as if floating was part of the uniform.
The principal cleared his throat.
“And remember, gravity is very important!”
The students clapped politely.
4. The Classroom with No Walls
When I entered my math classroom, there were no walls.
I could see into every other classroom.
History class. Chemistry lab. The cafeteria.
All at once.
But the desks were still arranged in neat rows.
“Take your seats,” said Mr. Harrison.
His chair wasn’t touching the ground.
He sat mid-air, perfectly comfortable.
On the board, instead of equations, there was a single sentence written in large letters:
DO NOT PANIC
Nobody asked why.
Mr. Harrison turned to us.
“Today’s lesson is about limits,” he said. “Understanding what happens as something approaches… nothing.”
The room flickered.
For a split second, I saw something beyond the school.
A massive grid.
Like we were inside a giant screen.
Then it disappeared.
“Sam?” Mr. Harrison called. “What is the limit of 1 over x as x approaches zero?”
My mouth felt dry.
“It becomes… undefined.”
He smiled widely.
“Correct. Undefined. But still completely normal.”
The class wrote it down.
5. Lunch Without Food
At lunch, the cafeteria trays were empty.
But everyone was chewing.
Forks moved from plate to mouth.
Students talked with full cheeks.
“This pasta is amazing,” Maria said.
I looked at her tray.
There was nothing there.
No plate.
No food.
Just the shape of a meal.
I swallowed.
“What are we eating?” I asked.
She looked confused.
“Chicken curry. Like every Thursday.”
I glanced at the menu board.
It was blank.
But beneath the blank surface, I could faintly see code. Lines of symbols flickering like a computer program.
Ayaan dropped his fork.
“You see it too, don’t you?” he whispered.
I nodded.
The lights above us flickered in a pattern:
On. Off. On. Off.
Like blinking.
Watching.
6. The Announcement
Suddenly, the speakers crackled.
The principal’s voice echoed.
“Attention students. There is absolutely no reason for concern. Everything is functioning within normal parameters.”
The cafeteria froze.
Everyone paused mid-chew.
Then resumed.
Ayaan stood up.
“That’s not true!” he shouted.
No one reacted.
“It’s not normal!” he repeated.
Maria continued sipping invisible juice.
Mr. Harrison walked in calmly.
“Ayaan, please sit down.”
“Don’t you see? The sky is gone! The food isn’t real! We’re floating!”
Mr. Harrison adjusted his tie.
“That is simply your perspective.”
Ayaan turned to me.
“Tell them!”
All eyes shifted toward me.
For a moment, I saw it clearly.
The walls shimmered. The sky flickered like a broken screen. The people around me lagged—like characters in a low-quality video game.
We weren’t in a town.
We were in something else.
A simulation?
A test?
I opened my mouth.
And said:
“Everything is fine.”
Ayaan stared at me.
The lights stopped flickering.
The ceiling solidified.
Gravity returned gently.
He sat down slowly.
And began eating nothing again.
7. After School
When I stepped outside, the sky had color again.
Blue.
Soft clouds.
Birds chirping.
Cars driving.
Mr. Collins waved from his lawn.
“Beautiful day!” he said.
I hesitated.
Then I smiled.
“Yes. Beautiful.”
As I walked home, my phone buzzed.
A notification from an unknown sender.
SYSTEM UPDATE COMPLETE
ANOMALY CORRECTED
I stopped walking.
Ayaan stood across the street.
He looked at his phone.
Then at me.
His expression was blank.
He waved politely.
Like a stranger.
He didn’t remember.
None of them did.