At the front of the dimly lit classroom, Mrs. Zhang stands with her arms folded, her short frame barely visible behind the taller students sitting ahead of me. The faintest slivers of daylight filter through the barred windows, casting thin, broken lines across the cracked walls. The overhead bulbs remain lifeless, their silence a testament to the school’s failing power supply. Shadows stretch unevenly across the room, leaving much of it in murky dimness. Her jet-black hair, streaked with strands of silver, is pulled back into a neat bun, and her sharp, dark eyes scan the room with quiet disapproval.

  She clears her throat, her voice cutting through the dull hum of conversation. “Bǎo chí ān jìng,” she says firmly, her Mandarin crisp and commanding.

  The students barely acknowledge her. A few heads turn, but the chatter continues, rising and falling in waves as scattered laughter ripples across the room.

  Her lips press into a thin line before she switches to English. “Be quiet now!”

  A handful of students laugh sarcastically, and someone near the back mutters a mocking, racially-tinged imitation of her command. But nothing changes. The room remains as loud and restless as before.

  “Just read from your tablets then. Study for the exam. I will be here if you have questions,” she says, her voice cold and resigned.

  I exchange a glance with Claudia, who barely reacts beyond a slow blink before flipping open her tablet. Mrs. Zhang sighs, shaking her head, and lowers herself into the creaky chair at her desk, surrendering to the reality of the unruly classroom.

  I tap my tablet awake and navigate to the Chinese app, my reflection briefly visible in the darkened screen before the interface loads. A practice review pops up, listing key phrases and vocabulary from our syllabus. It all feels basic, just a repetition of things I’ve already memorized. The real challenge of learning Chinese isn’t reading and writing. It’s speaking and holding real conversations where my brain has to react fast enough to keep up with relevant responses.

  Jono is the best at that, naturally. He grew up speaking Mandarin at home, fluent in both languages without having to think about it. He could have taken a different subject to learn, but instead, he sits in this class, securing high grades while enjoying the bonus of sitting next to his girlfriend. She leans over to nudge him now, whispering something that is probably sarcastic knowing her, and earns a smirk.

  Midway through the lesson, the quiet studying gets dull. My mind starts drifting, and my fingers swipe away from the Chinese app to open my science portal. The assignment page loads up, displaying the same set of instructions I’ve already read too many times. I flick through the resources, my eyes skimming over the school’s digital textbook, until the name of its author catches my attention.

  Mariana Montoya.

  I frown. Where have I seen that name before?

  A quick search in the tablet’s AI research tool brings up the answer. Mariana Montoya is the Sydney-based scientist who wrote the article on renewable energy distribution. It was her scientific article that I skimmed through last night while helping Ernie.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  My eyebrows lift as I read further. She’s not just some random researcher. She now holds a major position based in the CBD: Renewable Power Director of United World’s Australian energy maintenance division.

  Whatever that actually means. However, it does seem like she is in charge of the division.

  I sit up straighter, suddenly more interested. If I can get an interview with her, that would be the direct source that sets my assignment apart from the others. Instead of just quoting references from the textbook and online articles, I could get direct insight from the woman at the top.

  I spend the next 30 minutes looking for other supporting academic papers, but the deeper I dig, the more I realize how difficult it is to find truly independent research. Everything circles back to United World in one way or another. The articles historical analysis, the renewable power testing, even the subject matter experts are all tied to the same corporation. Sure, not all of them are run by United World. It is such a large organisation, however, that there are links to them across all of the information. Some analyses are funded by them, testing demonstrations are sponsored by them, and others, such as Bill Collingwood, are former employees who now run associated corporations. Bill in the Air Power Corporation is profiting from its solar, wind and hydroelectric divisions. It’s frustrating that it is this difficult to add credibility to my final project.

  Still, Mariana Montoya seems to be in the highest position of any of the authors and is my best lead. If I can secure an interview with her, that should be the unique and direct source that sets my assignment above all of the others in the class! Although, if I can’t get her, maybe I can reach out to Walter Reynolds, the Vice-President of Renewable Power. He hasn’t written any articles, so that might make his perspective more diverse in an interview than the others. But I need to arrange at least one interview, regardless of who it is with, to stand out.

  I open up the email app in my phone and start drafting a formal request to hold an interview with Mariana, carefully and deliberately choosing my words. I don’t want to sound like a young schoolgirl desperate for attention, but I need to make a strong case for why they should bother talking to me about renewable energy distribution. The ‘you’re my hero’ angle might play well if she has a big ego.

  Dear Dr. Mariana,

  Thank you for taking the time to read my email.

  My name is Victoria, and I am a student at the Central Institute of Knowledge. I am currently working on an assignment about renewable energy resources in Australia and their impact on our daily lives and the economy.

  I have greatly appreciated your article The Future of Resource Management and have been studying your textbook as well. Your insights have been incredibly valuable, and I would be truly honored if I could interview you for my research.

  It would truly be an honour to meet you, and I am happy to make myself available at any time, even just for a few minutes, to be able to interview the best female role model a woman could have!

  Please let me know…

  The classroom noise fades as I focus on the final touches to my email, fingers hovering over the screen, but before I can finish, the piercing chime of the bell fills the room.

  I exhale, frustrated at having my train of thought interrupted. I’ll have to finish this later when I can set my focus back to it.

  Claudia is already standing, stretching her arms dramatically as she lets out a slow yawn. “Finally,” she complains, shoving her tablet into her bag. Then, with a playful smirk, she gestures to Jono. “I have all the Chinese I need right here.”

  Jono chuckles as they begin walking toward the door, already lost in conversation. I slide my tablet into my bag and zip it closed before hurrying after them.

  As we pass Mrs. Zhang’s desk, she looks up from her papers, her sharp gaze landing on us. “Zàijiàn,” she says, her tone neutral but expectant.

  We pause in the doorway, and out of respect, we all reply, “Zàijiàn zhèng tàitài,” before stepping into the crowded hallway.

  I tuck my tablet under my arm and let out a breath. Another class done. Another step closer to finishing school.

  Now, I just need to get that interview and finish that last assignment.