4th September 20XX, RL

The next day, I decided not to eat in the canteen, and spent the lunch break on the roof instead. Although there was a lawn up there, dotted with flowerbeds and benches, it was not as popular as the courtyard and the canteen. The garden on the roof was the choice of courting couples.

I had my own secret spot. On the right hand side there was a structure in the form of a tower with a four-sided sloping roof made of glass. The barrier seemed to go right up against the wall, but there was actually enough space for a person to pass through. There was a small area to the north of the tower. The older students used to smoke there until the teachers found out and closed off the access to the roof. The ban was lifted after two months, by which time the smokers had already found a new place. No-one lay any claim to this little corner now, so I came here when I wanted to be alone.

As I walked around the tower I froze. Someone was standing there in the dark, midday shadows. I took a couple of steps backwards and was about to beat a hasty retreat, when someone called out to me.

“I hadn’t realised this was such a popular place,” said an unfamiliar voice.

Ripped jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. This guy was not a student, since students had to wear uniform. But he also seemed too young to be a teacher.

“I suspect I may be trespassing in your space. Come over, don’t be shy.”

“Erm… Another time, perhaps.”

I’ve had enough of strange encounters.

“Do you always run away like this?”

A cigarette lighter clicked.

“Smoking is banned on school premises.”

“That’s why I’m doing it here,” he said, inhaling. “Which class are you in?”

“I shouldn’t give that information to suspicious characters.”

“I’m not a suspicious character. I’m a teacher.”

He moved closer and pulled a badge on a long cord out from the neck of his t-shirt.

“And to answer your next question, this is only my second day working here, so you don’t know me.”

“If anyone tells the office what you’re doing up here, it could be your last day, too.”

“Anyone? Aren’t you planning to do it?”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” I replied, making another attempt to leave.

“You didn’t tell me which class you’re in.”

“10 F.”

“Hmm, that means physics and maths…”

“You could have used your ID to find that out on the teacher’s app. You have a badge, so that means you’ve already been given access to the database.”

“Do you believe that if a machine can do everything for you, then it makes no sense to use the traditional verbal method for finding out information?”

“It’s irrational. It’s a disproportionate waste of time. Besides, there’s always a possibility that the person will lie.”

“A machine can lie, too, or rather a machine can be lied to.”

“Security systems now are more perfect than ever before.”

“Nothing is more perfect than the human brain,” the man said, tapping his head and grinning. “As far as security systems are concerned, digital information can be very easily filtered and changed. That’s why I trust people more, even with all their imperfections. If I were you, I would talk to your classmates more often. The lunch break is the best time for that.”

“I don’t have anything to talk about with them.”

“What about groups, clubs or teams?”

“I’m not in anything. I don’t see the point.”

“I see.”

He reached for a pocket ashtray and stubbed out his cigarette. “Well, I have to go. If you’re in class F then we’ll see each other again soon.”

I watched him as he went away. A teacher like that could quickly become popular with the students. That was probably the first time in my life when a conversation with an adult hadn’t felt patronising and condescending.