Early December.
The school finally began formal classes, though nothing like it had been before the collapse. All unnecessary subjects were cut completely — only mathematics, physics, biology, and chemistry remained, deemed essential for survival in this new world.
Add to that the physical training from three to five in the afternoon, and every student's day was packed full.
It was clear the leaders of the quarantine zone understood how desperately they needed skilled professionals now. But despite everything, they still refused to give up on rebuilding science and technology.
All classrooms were reorganized. Students were grouped by age, with about one hundred and fifty kids assigned per class. The academic credit system was officially implemented — every month, students would be tested both academically and physically, earning credits based on performance. Higher scores meant more points.
At the same time, the school's libraries reopened after weeks of sorting and organizing. All students could read freely inside, but borrowing required registration and a credit deposit. Library hours ran from five to eight in the evening.
But the most exciting news? Starting in March, students would get two days off each month. During that time, they could either visit their families or stay within the campus, where all facilities would remain open around the clock.
"Brian! Over here!"
On the very first day of formal lessons, Brian had just walked into his newly assigned classroom when he heard a familiar voice calling him from somewhere nearby. Surprised, he looked up.
There sat Sarah, right in the middle of the room near the window, waving at him energetically.
"Hmm?"
Seeing her there, Brian paused slightly, surprised.
"You're in this class too? How come I didn't see you yesterday?"
Without hesitation, he placed his textbooks on the desk and sat down beside her.
Sarah rested her chin in one hand and gave a light scoff.
"You were too busy reading to notice anyone. I called your name, but you didn't even hear me. So today I decided to surprise you."
"You really..."
Brian chuckled softly, reaching out to gently pinch her cheek — not realizing the warmth in his eyes.
Not long after, a young man with short red hair entered the room. After a brief introduction, he got straight to work, wasting no time with small talk. He picked up a piece of chalk and started lecturing immediately.
The instructor moved at an incredibly fast pace. He barely explained one problem before moving on to the next, giving no time for students to think or ask questions.
Brian watched carefully. If not for his prior experience studying, he would have been completely lost like many others.
Thankfully, these lessons were mostly basic middle school-level material. Though years away from traditional schooling and much of what he once knew long forgotten, the habits of learning remained deeply rooted in his mind. He quickly adjusted to the rhythm.
During class, Brian took a moment to observe the other students. As expected, most wore confused expressions, unable to follow along. Only a few managed to keep up with the teacher.
When he turned to look at Sarah, he found her fully focused, eyes locked onto the board. This surprised him a little — she usually wasn't this serious about studying. Still, he said nothing, simply giving her a gentle squeeze on the cheek without realizing his own softness.
A bit later, the following lessons followed the exact same pattern — quick explanations, no pauses, no mercy.
Half the class gave up entirely. Some pulled out comic books to read under the table. Others just dropped their heads onto their desks and fell asleep.
And yet, there were those who stubbornly tried to listen — though from their blank stares, it was obvious they hadn't understood a thing.
After morning lessons ended, Brian stayed seated, closing his eyes in thought.
He felt something strange about the way teachers taught — as if they weren't trying to reach everyone, but only a select few...
Selection.
After a while, the word suddenly surfaced in his mind, and everything clicked.
That was it — the whole point of these lessons was screening .
The school's real purpose was to filter talent for the quarantine zone. These theoretical classes were just a tool for evaluation.
Resources were limited. There was no reason to invest heavily in average students. What the zone needed were people who could learn quickly and remain calm under pressure — individuals who could produce maximum value with minimal input.
Once these "gifted" students reached a certain level of knowledge, they'd likely be allowed to choose specialized fields — scientific research, medicine, engineering… the elite disciplines needed for the enclave's survival.
Likewise, daily physical training wasn't just for fitness — it was also a hidden test for military recruitment.
Though the army currently had enough soldiers and wouldn't be expanding anytime soon, once a crisis hit and numbers dwindled, top-performing older students would become ideal replacements.
And even those who failed both academic and physical tests wouldn't be discarded entirely — they were still young laborers.
Brian suspected, just as he had guessed before, that once they turned sixteen or seventeen, they'd be sent to vocational centers for basic technical training — mechanical repair, manual labor, simple manufacturing… jobs that didn't require advanced skills.
If they couldn't even handle the simplest professional knowledge, then yes, they'd be permanently assigned to production lines, given housing within the quarantine zone, and put to work indefinitely.
This was the brutal reality of the apocalypse — survival of the fittest. Even within a military-run zone, the useful and the useless remained two separate classes.
"Hey, what are you thinking about? Let's go."
Just as Brian was deep in thought, someone lightly bumped his shoulder — Sarah, calling him impatiently.
Snapping back to reality, Brian realized nearly everyone else had already left the room. He picked up his books and slowly stood up.
Walking side by side out of the classroom, Brian turned to Sarah and asked:
"How did you find today's class?"
"Hmm..." She tilted her head slightly, pursed her lips, and replied:
"I understood most of it, but some parts still confused me. I plan to review my notes again this afternoon."
"Great," Brian nodded. "The library is open now. Want to check it out after training?"
"Of course! I want to find some study materials too!"
As they talked, they soon met Dick and Alan coming down the hallway from the first floor.
Looking at their blank, defeated faces, Brian raised an eyebrow and teased:
"What happened? Couldn't keep up?"
"Ahhh! It was so unfair!" Alan groaned dramatically, grabbing his head and scratching furiously.
"These teachers go way too fast — I can't understand anything at all!"
Then he sighed heavily and muttered bitterly:
"Studying is impossible... I'd rather fight infected than do this..."
Watching Alan's breakdown, Brian smirked slightly but didn't push further. Instead, he turned to Dick.
"What about you? Did you understand anything?"
Dick scratched his head nervously and replied shyly:
"I guess... I'm okay. My mom used to teach me some stuff, so I recognized most of it."
"Perfect." Brian nodded in approval. Stepping forward, he slapped both boys firmly on the shoulders.
"This afternoon we're going to the library. I'll help you catch up."
No matter what, with the credit system in place, Brian wanted to earn as many as possible. More credits meant more benefits in daily life.
Right now, the material was primary and early middle school level. With a little effort, he could easily grasp it and teach them. But once high school-level content kicked in… even he might struggle to keep up.
"Oh, by the way… has Anna written back yet?" Brian suddenly asked as they stepped outside.
"Yeah, she responded yesterday afternoon," Sarah nodded. "She said the quarantine zone has gotten a lot more people recently. The military stopped forcing daily labor on them — they can choose whether to work or not. But obviously, the more you work, the more supply cards you get. It's kind of a mixed blessing. But now, at least, she has time to search for information."