It was a day of celebration.

5:1. Never before had Miriam witnessed such a clear victory by her football club, FC Marzahn 94 e.V., over the long-dominant FC Hertha 03 Zehlendorf.

As captain, it was Miriam’s duty to extend the customary gesture of respect to the opposing team. She knocked on the half-open door of the Zehlendorfers’ changing room – “the Zehlis”, as the club was discreetly, sometimes even audibly, called in Marzahn.

“Come in,” said Susann, the captain, without looking up.

Miriam’s first thought was that it smelled different here. Not better – just different. A clean, cool room, sweat in the air, but without the metallic undertone she knew from Marzahn. There, everything was permeated by that high, irritating whistling sound – a by-product of countless ventilation systems running day and night to keep the ugly grey AI data centres in operation.

Here, instead: trophies, pennants, awards. The full wallpaper of a successful team. And yet it was quiet.

Susann was in the middle of changing. Her teammates had apparently already left – presumably into a world where a 5:1 result would normally not occur.

“Do you want a Coke?” Susann asked.

“Sure.”

She handed Miriam a glass. The Coke tasted like nothing Miriam had ever known. Rounded, fresh, almost a little… soothing.

“Wholesome Coke,” Susann said, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “Reduced calories. But without that awful sweetener.”

“Wow,” said Miriam. “Really nice.”

Silence. Miriam searched for something to say, something to bridge the gap.

“You played well,” she said at last, immediately regretting it. It sounded patronising.

Susann smiled slightly. “Not as well as you, unfortunately.”

She handed Miriam the club pennant, then her shirt. Miriam took hers off, Susann pulled it on – having to squeeze herself slightly into Miriam’s kit.

Both laughed. For a moment, the score was just a number.

“Yes,” said Miriam, “I am a bit taller than you.”

“You didn’t notice in the headers,” Susann replied. Then, as if a way out of the changing room had suddenly occurred to her: “Shall we go to the Krumme Lanke?”

Since Miriam was already in Zehlendorf, why not?

Outside, everything was so green that Miriam felt as if she were walking through a commercial. And the first thing she noticed: it was not built over. No data centre.

“You really don’t have one here?” she asked.

“Not that I know of,” said Susann. Then she hesitated, as though she had misjudged her own sentence, tapped briefly on her watch and spoke a quiet question.

“Delphi,” murmured Susann, noticing Miriam’s puzzled look. A moment later she nodded. “Yes. Five years ago there was a citizens’ initiative against a planned data centre. It seems to have succeeded.”

Miriam blinked. “Wow. You’ve got your AI with you? We’re only allowed to use ours for school.”

“Really?” Susann said, genuine surprise in her voice. “But you need it all the time. Which version do you have?”

Miriam cleared her throat. It took a little effort, but then she said: “BärKI.”

“Ah.” Susann smiled – not mockingly, but knowingly. “The standard model. We use Delphi. Platinum version. Pretty much everyone here does.”

“Isn’t that expensive?”

Susann shrugged. “No idea. I… don’t ask.” She changed the subject so quickly that even Miriam noticed. “I don’t think you’d even get into my school without Platinum.”

“Hm. Mine’s free.”

“That has its advantages too,” said Susann. “We don’t really have teachers.”

Miriam stopped. “What? You don’t have teachers?”

“Well…” Susann nudged a stone along the path with her shoe. “We have AI managers. Support staff. But they only really…”

“Hey,” Miriam interrupted. “What’s that? Look! That man is walking on water!”

She pointed at a man strolling calmly across the surface of the lake, a beer in his hand.

Susann sighed. “Jesus Boots. Someone in my year has them too. Cost a fortune – around twenty thousand tokens. I find them annoying. Now you even have to watch them when you swim. He’ll probably throw his bottle into the water later, just you wait.”

The man paused mid-water, clearly enjoying the attention as though it were part of the price.

Miriam looked at Susann. “So what do your AI managers do?”

“They basically plan with us how we learn with our agent. Delphi is our teacher.”

“I can’t even imagine that,” said Miriam. “For us, BärKI is more like a helper. For exams or projects. Our teachers only half know how to use it anyway.”

“We don’t even have exams anymore,” said Susann.

Miriam laughed briefly – because it sounded like a joke. “What? And what about A-levels?”

Susann grinned. “We don’t have those.”

“But… you need something for later. For university. For getting a job.”

“Delphi handles everything,” said Susann. “Completely individual. We’re in constant contact with the agent, even at home. It knows each of us inside out and can assess exactly where we stand. Cheating isn’t possible. Once you’ve got enough points, you’re unlocked: lower secondary, middle school certificate, university, MBA – or in very rare cases, straight to Harvard or Cambridge.”

“That sounds kind of creepy,” said Miriam.

“For shy people it’s much easier: no one has to perform in front of the class anymore. Delphi assesses you – supposedly more fairly than any teacher.”

“And what’s school like then? Do you even have classes?”

“Not really. We meet around topics, discuss a lot, age doesn’t matter much. We call it ‘fluid schooling’. I like it. I meet more people.”

Miriam was impressed and, at the same time, angry – without quite knowing at whom. In Marzahn they still had classes, teachers, frontal teaching, exams, A-levels. Everything was AI-supported, of course – but only with the cheap model everyone had. It was so unfair.

“And what do you do in lessons?” Susann asked. She seemed genuinely interested.

“We solve problems,” said Miriam. “As a class. And BärKI helps us.”

“What kind of problems?”

“All sorts.” Miriam counted on her fingers. “How to solve water scarcity in summer, because the data centres consume so much cooling water. How to create more affordable housing. How to make robo-buses more flexible. My class has just programmed a booking and navigation system for them. BärKI is really good for that – we learn to code with it.”

“Cool,” said Susann.

A soft hum sounded. Susann glanced at her watch.

“Damn,” she said. “Delphi is reminding me I still have to prepare something for tomorrow.” She looked at Miriam. “How are you getting home?”

Miriam shrugged. “Public transport?”

“Shall my robo-car take you? No problem.”

Miriam nodded, smiling. “But how will you get home?”

“I live just here. I’ll walk.” Susann tapped her watch. “Okay – Micky will be here in a moment.”

“Micky?”

“That’s what I call my car,” said Susann. “It was nice meeting you. And next time you’ll show me Marzahn? Even if you might lose then?”

Miriam grinned. “Ha! In your dreams. But fine – you’ll definitely get the Platinum tour from me!”