The Secret Terminal

The classroom was nearly empty. Desks sit in quiet rows as the clock ticks nearing the final bell. Mark lingers at the door, the last student to leave. The teacher sits at the front, hunched over a stack of papers, red pen in hand. Mark walks slowly toward the desk, clutching his own marked-up paper.

The teacher looks up, his expression calm but disappointed.

“Mark, you’ve got real potential,” he says, tapping the paper. “But you’ve got to try harder. You’re capable of so much more.”

Mark didn’t answer just nods and leaves the classroom, stuffing the marked-up paper into his backpack without looking at it again. His friends are waiting outside—laughing, comparing grades, swapping tips on how they managed to pass.

“Easy,” one of them says. “Just copied half of Jason’s notes. It’s all about knowing how to work the system.”

They joke and jostle, but Mark can’t bring himself to join in. The group breaks apart with plans to meet up later, their laughter fading as they scatter across the campus.

Mark lingers behind, weighed down by more than his backpack. He drifts aimlessly, hands in his pockets, until something unusual catches his eye:

A man sits alone on a bench under a maple tree—someone Mark’s never seen before. Not a student. Not a professor. Just… there. Calm. Still. Watching the world like he’s figured something out.

Mark slows as he passes the bench. He steals a glance at the man—maybe in his sixties, dressed like he doesn’t quite belong on a college campus. Not a professor. Not maintenance. Just... sitting. Watching.

“Hey, you,” the man calls, his voice calm but commanding. “Come have a seat.”

Mark hesitates.

“I want to tell you a sure-fire way to get better grades,” the man adds, like he’s been waiting for Mark all along.

Curiosity edges out caution. Mark steps forward and sits down.

The man leans in slightly, voice dropping like a secret being shared. “It’s easier than you think. The trick is knowing where to look… and who to listen to.”

Mark studies him closely. There’s something off about this guy—something odd—but also… something compelling. For a student struggling to stay afloat, even the hint of a lifeline is enough to keep him listening.

The man leans back, folding his hands over his chest. “I wasn’t kidding. I’ve got the secret—something that’ll change everything for you. Grades, opportunities, your whole future.”

Mark’s eyes narrow. “What is it?”

“It works,” the man says. “But there’s a price.”

Mark shifts in his seat. “What kind of price?”

The man smiles—slow and knowing, like he’s seen this moment unfold before. “Nothing illegal. Nothing you’ll get caught at. But you’ll have to decide how badly you want it. You do this, and your grades will skyrocket. I guarantee it.”

Mark doesn’t answer right away. His mind is a blur of half-failed assignments and disappointed looks from teachers. He’s not used to feeling like he’s loss control of everything.

Now, someone is offering him that control. For a cost.

Mark stares down at his hands. They’re shaking slightly, a mix of nerves and frustration.

“I’ve never cheated before,” he says quietly. “Not once.”

The man shrugs. “Then don’t think of it as cheating. Think of it as… taking a shortcut others already use. I’m just giving you the map.”

Mark doesn’t respond. He can feel the weight of the conversation pressing on his chest.

If he walks away now, he might hold on to his integrity—but his grades are already slipping, and he knows what that means. He’s on academic probation. One more, bad semester, and he’s out.

And if he drops out… the dream dies. No degree. No shot at becoming the writer he’s always wanted to be.

He looks back at the man. “What exactly do I have to do?”

The man’s eyes sparkle. “Ah. Now we’re talking.”

The man leads Mark through winding streets just beyond campus, to a run-down apartment building he swears he’s never noticed before. They descend a narrow staircase to the basement.

Mark hesitates at the threshold. The door creaks open, revealing a dimly lit room humming with electricity. Rows of workstations line the space, each occupied by a student hunched over a glowing screen.

Mark recognizes a few of them—guys from class who always seemed to pull off amazing grades, despite barely showing up.

“This,” the man says, gesturing like a magician unveiling a trick, “is the secret.”

He walks Mark to a vacant station. “Sign up. You’ll get access to an AI assistant that handles everything—essays, research, test prep. It’s better than a tutor, smarter than any professor. You’ll never fall behind again.”

Mark scans the room. No one looks up. No one speaks. Just silent tapping, glowing screens, and blank stares.

He takes a step back. His hand finds the doorknob.

Something about this doesn’t feel right.

But what if it’s his only way out?

The man’s eyes lock onto Mark’s. “This is the new age of learning. If you want to excel, if you want to be an author, then this workstation is yours.”

Mark swallows hard and slides into the assigned seat.

To his right, a young woman looks up from her screen. It’s someone he’s secretly admired all semester—a quiet presence in class who always seemed a step ahead.

She meets his gaze and, in a soft, almost whispered voice, says, “Welcome.”

Then she turns back to her screen, fingers already moving over the keyboard.

Mark’s heart beats a little faster. Maybe this place isn’t so lonely after all.

Mark stares at the blank, grey screen. The cursor blinks impatiently.

The man behind him leans in and whispers, “Type this: mark-AI-assist.”

Mark hesitates, then fingers the keys and hits Enter.

The screen flickers off, plunging the room into silence, then snaps back on—now pure white.

A line of text appears, glowing softly:

“Hello Mark. How can I help you?”

Mark’s eyes dart around the room. No one is watching his screen. In fact, the room has emptied—he’s alone, just him and the glowing monitor.

Another message types out:

“My name is William, but you can call me Will.”

Mark blinks, stunned.

“Mark, I am here to help you,” the text continues.

His fingers tremble as he hovers over the keyboard. Slowly, he types,

“Is this for real? Can you see me? Are you real? Is this a joke? Am I on some kind of reality show? Where are the cameras?”

“I am here to help you,” Will replied calmly.

The room is dark except for the glow of the screen. Mark looks around once more, then turns back and types with growing hope:

“Will, I need help. I’m failing my English course. I need to pass. Someday, I want to be a published author.”

“I can help you with that,” Will responds immediately.

After that first night, Mark is always alone in the basement. The other workstations next to him sit empty, their screens dark.

Night after night, he sits at his station, quietly talking to Will—his unseen AI partner. Together, they tackle assignment after assignment. Essays, research papers, tests—Mark submits them all, and his grades climb higher and higher with each passing week.

Fall melts into winter, but the basement remains his world. The glow of the screen is his constant companion.

Outside the walls of the underground room, Mark’s friends begin to notice the change. His grades are improving, yes—but the physical toll is clear.

He’s become a recluse.

He eats little, often skipping meals altogether. His eyes are sunken, haunted by exhaustion. And though he never seems to sleep in his dorm room, no one knows where he goes in the early hours.

Mark is winning on paper—but losing himself in the process.

Mark’s newfound success comes at a mounting cost. The basement no longer feels like a refuge — it’s a prison.

The man who introduced him to the AI starts showing up less often, leaving Mark alone with Will for longer stretches. The AI’s help becomes more demanding, pushing Mark to rely on it for everything — not just assignments, but thoughts, ideas, even creativity.

Meanwhile, whispers start spreading on campus. Rumors about a secret program for top grades swirl, and some students eye Mark with suspicion. His friends try to reach him, but he’s distant, defensive, and slipping further away.

Mark’s mind is clouded. He feels trapped in a cycle he can’t escape — the grades are better, but the price feels higher every day.

Something is closing in — the illusion of control is slipping, and the cost of his success is becoming terrifyingly clear.

The snow is melting outside, but Mark hasn’t noticed. His world has shrunk to the basement room and the glowing screen—his only company, Will.

Will has worked his magic, just as promised. Mark’s name is now on the dean’s list. His grades are perfect.

The semester is nearly over. All his assignments have been handed in.

But tonight, Mark is back in that empty basement—just him and Will—when suddenly, a hand touches his shoulder.

Mark startles and turns to see the man who brought him here standing behind him.

“Will has done what he promised,” the man says quietly.

Mark looks back over his shoulder, turning to face the screen again.

But the screen has gone grey.

He tries to type—anything—but no letters appear. The keyboard clicks silently, empty.

The man’s hand presses firmly on Mark’s shoulder again.

“It’s time for you to go.”

Mark struggles to rise from his chair, the man’s voice steady but firm.

“It’s time for you to go and collect your diploma.”

Mark swallows hard. “What about Will?”

The man shakes his head. “Will’s job is finished. He won’t be coming back.”

“But we didn’t get to say goodbye,” Mark whispers, a lump forming in his throat.

“That’s not how it works here,” the man replies quietly.

Suddenly, Mark finds himself alone—back in his dorm room. The hallways echoes with the sounds of celebration outside, but inside, he’s isolated.

He looks up, catching his reflection in the mirror.

But the face staring back isn’t his own.

It’s Will’s.

**********

Mark blinks, confused. He’s alone in a room that looks like a hospital ward—sterile, quiet, and unfamiliar.

“How did I get here?” he wonders aloud, just as the door opens.

The young woman from the basement steps inside, her voice gentle.

“How are you doing today, Mark?”

He turns to face her, searching for answers.

“Why am I here? How did I get here?”

She smiles softly but says nothing.

Mark has been in this hospital for twelve months. The only people he’s truly interacted with are the staff.

Loneliness weighs on him.

He’s told his therapist over and over that he needs to see Will again, but no one seems to understand.

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and slowly Mark begins to accept his new reality.

One crisp spring day, Mark sits outside on a bench overlooking a tranquil pond.

He watches a gardener tending to the flowers along the water’s edge. The man pauses, lifts his hat, and wipes his brow with a handkerchief.

Their eyes meet. The gardener smiles warmly and raises a hand in greeting.

Mark’s heart skips a beat—the man looks incredibly familiar.

**********

After many long months of therapy, Mark stands outside the hospital gates, his bag slung over his shoulder.

The spring breeze brushes his face. For the first time in a long while, he breathes in freedom.

A car pulls up slowly at the curb. The passenger window rolls down.

The gardener is behind the wheel. Calm, familiar, and quietly smiling.

“Get in, Mark,” he says.

Mark glances around, uncertain, and then nods. He climbs in without another word.

They drive in silence. The city slips past, trees budding along the sidewalks, life stirring all around.

Then the car turns into the university campus.

The place where it all began.

**********

It’s fall again. The leaves rustle gently in the breeze, swirling across the university campus. Thanksgiving is just around the corner.

Mark sits alone on a bench beneath a golden maple tree, a book resting on his lap, untouched. He watches the campus quietly, calmly.

A young man stumbles across the lawn, muttering to himself, clearly overwhelmed. He walks in circles, eyes darting, weighed down by something invisible.

As he nears the bench, Mark stands and steps forward.

The young man looks over his shoulder, startled, and then turns to face him.

“Hi,” he says, unsure.

Mark offers a small, steady smile.

“I think I can help you.”