918 | Trust Teachers

918 | Discover and Trust Mystic Teachers and Qualified Soul School Graduates

Chapter 1: Lord Yellow Teaches Soul Wisdom and Cosmic Laws to Diesel, Abby, Rev, and Evan

As the school day continues, Lord Yellow teaches soul wisdom and cosmic laws to Diesel, Abby, Rev, and Evan, setting the stage for a clash of beliefs. Fourth period, “Wisdom and Civic Alignment,” looks like a joke on the schedule.

The room at the end of the East Wing proves it isn’t.

The walls glow with soft amber light. At the front stretches a mural of seven robed figures, each Lord painted with a different color aura. In the center of them, a tall figure in a shimmering yellow robe stands in front of a whiteboard.

Students call him Lord Yellow.

He waits with his hands folded, eyes warm but sharp, as a semicircle of juniors sinks into soft chairs.

Diesel slouches over two seats. Abby sits stiff and straight, notebook already open. Rev taps a pen against their knee. Evan leans forward, more interested than he wants to admit.

The air hums, faint but real, like static right before a storm hits.

Lord Yellow starts.

“One purpose of high school,” he says, voice calm and steady, “is to learn wisdom. This prepares the soul to make wise choices when exercising creative free will.”

The words drop into the room like stones into a lake. Ripples of thought spread through the students.

Diesel rolls his eyes.

Here we go, he thinks. Another adult worshipping wisdom like it’s some golden idol.

Out loud, he grins.

“Isn’t that discrimination,” Diesel says, dragging out the word, “to say only people with wisdom get to make wise choices?” He shrugs, casual. “If I keep making random decisions, one of them turns out wise eventually, right? Law of averages.”

A few students snicker.

Abby stares at her hands. The word choices tighten her chest. Choices mean responsibility. Responsibility means blame.

“My savior makes my choices for me,” Abby murmurs, mostly to herself.

Energy flickers around her like faint blue threads, wrapping tighter, as if she pulls invisible blankets around her mind.

Evan notices the way Abby curls inward, then looks back at Lord Yellow.

“I trust my master mystic teachers to inspire and guide me,” Evan says. His voice comes out quiet but steady. “They’ve already passed through soul school. They’ve failed, learned, and… actually survived it. We can benefit from respecting their experience and wisdom.”

He hesitates, then adds, “That’s why we’re here, right? So we don’t have to start from scratch?”

Lord Yellow nods once.

“Soul wisdom,” he says, turning to the board, “depends on understanding and acting according to timeless, unchanging natural and cosmic laws.” He writes the phrase and underlines "unchanging". “Ignorance of the law is no excuse.”

The word law tightens the air.

Above their heads, invisible currents swirl. Faint golden lines form patterns, trying to settle into shapes, then dissolving when no one focuses long enough to see.

Diesel raises his hand halfway…and starts talking.

“Honestly,” Diesel says, “wisdom is overrated. I trust Google more than so-called wise teachers.” He pulls out his phone and waves it like a wand. “The internet holds a lot of humanity’s experience in one place. Beliefs keep changing all the time. It’s more important to keep up with the latest improvements in progressive human principles than to get locked into some old-school wisdom from, like, a thousand years ago.”

He smirks. “No one human contains all the knowledge on the internet.”

Rev stops tapping the pen.

“I kind of agree,” Rev says. “Each generation adds to humanity’s understanding. We’re not just recipients—we’re contributors.” Their eyes brighten. “Can you believe doctors used to recommend smoking cigarettes to help people relax? And now the new generation of doctors recommends smoking marijuana instead. They say it’s more natural, more fun, and doesn’t have side effects like cancer and lung disease.” Rev laughs. “Honestly, I’m kind of glad scientific laws keep changing.”

Lord Yellow listens. Then he exhales—a small sound, soft but firm.

“Scientific and cosmic laws,” Lord Yellow says, “do not evolve and progress as mankind’s understanding and beliefs change.” He meets their eyes one by one. “Wisdom does not conveniently morph to include students’ fantasies.”

The lights overhead flicker.

Evan feels something twist in his chest.

“I notice,” Evan says slowly, “that the best changes happen when people throw away their delusional beliefs. Like…life hits them hard enough that they admit, ‘Oh, that was wrong.’” He frowns, chasing the thought. “Their understanding changes when they finally accept the timeless, cosmic laws. The understanding shifts to line up with real Truth. But the Truth itself doesn’t change.”

As he speaks, a thin thread of silver energy rises from his chest. It hums softly, curls upward like smoke, then vanishes.

The conversation leaves something hanging in the air—questions, doubts, a quiet ache for something real.

The bell rings.

No one moves.

Wisdom Class, it seems, refuses to end on time.

Chapter 2: Diesel, Abby, Lord Yellow, and Lord Wisdom Debate Progressive Drug Policies and Free Will

Tension fills the room as Diesel, Abby, Lord Yellow, and Lord Wisdom debate progressive drug policies and free will amid the shifting rules of society. The next session begins with tension already sitting in the chairs.

Outside, protest chants echo from the quad: voices shouting about equality, equity, justice. Inside, the room glows a harsher yellow, like the light itself is on edge.

Lord Yellow stands at the front, arms folded.

Diesel lounges with his feet hooked on the chair in front, eyes bright like he’s about to poke a lion with a stick.

“Doctors used to lock up ‘crazy’ people in padded rooms,” Diesel says suddenly, as if he’s continuing a fight from yesterday. “They said it was for everyone else’s safety. Gather the insane together and separate them from society.”

His tone sharpens.

“Today, doctors have evolved,” he goes on. “New, progressive understanding of people with schizophrenic visions and psychotic depression. The policy now? Let ‘the mindless’ mix equally with everyone else.” He shrugs. “Inclusion. Diversity.”

Abby shifts in her chair.

She thinks of her cousin who hears voices. Of late-night whispers in the kitchen. Of the word crazy thrown around when adults think he can’t hear.

Lord Yellow leans on the desk.

“Why,” he asks quietly, “would anyone choose to socialize with those who cannot separate fantasy from reality?”

The question lands like a slap. Too blunt for this era.

Red energy crackles around Diesel, hot and jagged.

“You claim to be wise,” Diesel fires back, “yet you don’t pretend all humans are equal and should be equally included in government and business positions.” His smirk turns harder. “Scientists have created a whole new generation of progressive drugs that gradually dissolve the human brain and breed more unbalanced, mindless humans.”

Uneasy snickers ripple through the class.

Diesel rides the wave.

“These illegal drugs get so popular that states decriminalize them,” he says. “Social workers are literally hired to keep hardcore users from overdosing—like lifeguards at a stupidity pool. Empty insane asylums? They’re homeless shelters now—full of people experiencing drug addiction and getting high together.”

Lord Yellow’s eyes darken.

“Ancient wisdom,” he says, voice going low, “teaches that these policies do not end well.”

Diesel sits up, wired by the pushback.

“I think every option should be re-explored,” Diesel says. “Even the ones that totally crashed and burned. If you repeat a failed experiment enough times, eventually you get a good result.”

He draws a looping spiral in the air with his finger.

“The progressive agenda is gradually replacing ancient wisdom through a downward spiral,” he says. “Mix the insane and the sane, and you generate a new generation of semi-sane humans. Diverse humans finally free to identify as fluidly semi-sane.” He laughs. “They can equally include both reality and unreality in their lifestyle.”

Rev snorts. “Just watch the news for proof,” they say.

The class laughs louder this time, but underneath the humor, something else trembles: fear, confusion, that trapped feeling of mocking a system while still stuck inside it.

Phones buzz under desks.

Social feeds scroll: headlines about decriminalization, viral clips of kids high in parks, threads arguing about what “sanity” even means.

Abby feels the familiar swirl inside.

“I think social media is another universal source for increasing our cosmic understanding,” Abby says, listening to herself in real time. “Instead of reading, like, two-thousand-year-old wisdom.” She twists her bracelet. “I use social to explore what other people are thinking and feeling.” Her cheeks heat. “It helps me…validate my own illogical emotional flights into unreality.”

A tiny, embarrassed laugh slips out.

Lord Yellow winces almost too quickly to see.

Without warning, another presence steps in.

The mural at the front seems to shimmer. One painted figure—the Lord of Wisdom—leans forward. The air sharpens as if another intelligence steps directly into the room.

“Seeking guidance and affirmation from other imbalanced humans is foolishness,” Lord Wisdom says.

No one questions how he’s suddenly here. On some level, they all accept it: he has always been here.

“Why would you not wish to be inspired and guided by those who have learned to make wise choices?” he asks.

His words send clear blue rings of energy through the space. Some students flinch. Some lean in, hungry.

Diesel crosses his arms.

“You keep assuming all humans want wisdom,” Diesel says. “That’s not true.” He drops his arm over the back of his chair. “Dissolvers drink and take drugs to get stupid on purpose and escape this painful world. They like foolish pleasure better than restrictive, repressive wisdom. They think life is meant to be fully experienced. No brakes.”

An image flashes in Evan’s mind: his uncle at a family barbecue, eyes glassy, laughing too loud. Rehab. Relapse. Silence.

“If drug and alcohol addicts had wisdom,” Evan says quietly, “they’d stop making nonsense choices. They’re smart enough to see their downward spiral.” His throat tightens. “But they have no desire or willpower to change.”

Diesel nods as if to prove his argument.

“Being rebellious and foolish is a chosen lifestyle,” Diesel says. “Dissolvers ignore clear long-term consequences and grab short-term pleasure. Drugs, alcohol, mindless entertainment—everything helps them temporarily mute the pain of their own foolishness.” He spins his fingers in loops. “Endless revolving cycle.”

The room grows heavy, like gravity doubles.

Lord Yellow steps between the two presences, his yellow aura brightening.

“The Seven Lords see this,” he says softly, “and want to help.” His gaze moves over their faces. “High school tries to teach teens the long-term value of obeying cosmic laws. Wise choices help the soul increase its health, wealth, and power. This generates long-term success.”

His words land gently. Abby flinches anyway.

She hears help and remembers adults who “help” by lecturing, then walking away.

“You falsely believe your desire to help makes a difference,” Abby says suddenly.

Her own voice shocks her.

“Wake up and admit you’re powerless in the face of other people’s free will.”

Her eyes burn.

“There’s nothing you or anyone else can do to change them,” she continues, the dam now broken. “They have no interest in hearing anything outside their personal version of the truth. They go on social media to find people who share the same false beliefs.” Her hands shake. “They want to band together and destroy whatever outside thing is making them feel pain. They have zero interest in changing their own version of the truth—even if it’s totally false.”

She swallows hard.

“They self-define some convenient soul-mission,” Abby whispers. “Their beliefs trigger anger and hatred and revenge—enough fire to go after those goals.”

The room goes silent.

No one laughs now.

Outside, protest chants rise louder, bouncing off concrete and sky. Inside, the invisible field above their heads whirls faster, catching words like seeds.

Chapter 3: Evan and the Principal Discuss Unseen Beings Mandating Illogical School Policies

High above the courtyard, Evan and the Principal discuss unseen beings mandating illogical school policies that force compliance without logic. The principal’s office sits at the top of the administrative wing, glass walls looking down over the courtyard like a control tower for a reality show.

Inside, Evan sits across from the principal—a stack of policy proposals between them.

Students call him "Princithe Principal"- his back: half nickname, half warning.

Right now, Principal looks tired.

Not “too many emails” tired. Soul-tired. Like someone who spends every night rewriting the rulebook and wakes up to find it changed again.

“Someone is mandating that I make progressive policy improvements to bring about more equity,” the principal says.

He rubs his temples.

“They want me to change everything for the sake of a new variety,” he continues. “No student should be judged or graded based on their studying and understanding of a subject.” His mouth twists. “Instead, I’m told test grades must be based on a student’s height, hair color, and the street they live on.”

Evan blinks.

“Seriously?” he asks.

Principal nods, grim.

“They want me to give students equal voting rights to adjust the school policies,” he says. “Kindergarteners to seniors—all the same voice.” He stacks the papers. They shift when he looks away, like they’re moving on their own.

Evan leans forward.

“Who is pushing you to make these changes?” he asks. “Like, who are they?”

Principal glances up at the ceiling, as if an answer might be written in the vents.

“I haven’t been able to figure that out,” he admits. “The unseen source delivers new orders out of nowhere.” He taps his computer. “Each month, new recommendations appear on my screen. After a big enough group implements the new idea, the rest receive mandates to comply.” He sighs. “Eventually, the policies fail and are partially undone.” He spreads his hands. “Moral normalcy shifts one inch at a time.”

Evan’s skin prickles.

Unseen beings, he thinks, just like the ones behind the mural.

“Who gave these unseen beings the authority,” Evan asks, “to replace time-tested traditions with guaranteed-to-fail experiments?”

Principle lets out one dry, humorless laugh.

“I’ve tried to find the principal above me,” he says. “But every time I ask who’s in charge, there’s always ‘someone higher up.’” His eyes look hollow. “No matter who I talk to, there’s always another level. Everyone has the same question, but we’re all forced to play along anyway.”

“Why don’t administrators rebel?” Evan asks.

“Some do,” the Principal says. “They lose their jobs.” He glances at the family photo on his desk, turned slightly away from the window. “No one else hires people who don’t play along.” He pushes a memo across the desk. “The unseen initiators suggest an experimental change. It spreads. It multiplies. The ones who voluntarily implement it start demanding everyone else join them.” He exhales. “Since they did it, everyone else should have to. A momentum forms from weak-willed people who feel forced to keep going.”

He lifts his hands as if weighing something invisible.

“This creates a powerful thrust,” Principle says, “that promotes and expects everyone to align with the new policy.”

Evan stares at him.

“Why are so many illogical, nonsensical ideas getting implemented?” Evan asks. “Logically, don’t people see—”

“The weak-willed who first play along do see,” Principle interrupts. “They eventually realize the foolishness.” He grimaces. “But they keep promoting it anyway. They convince themselves that it’s a bad idea now, but eventually it becomes good if everyone plays along.”

He leans back, eyes unfocused.

“Going the wrong direction on the highway only works if everyone turns slowly,” the principal says. “The change looks harmless at first. But gradual wrong-way driving leads to extreme chaos and destruction.”

Outside, a siren wails far away.

Evan watches energy pulse around Principle’s head—a tangled halo of threads, some bright, some shadowy. Every time Principle sighs, a few dark threads loosen and float away. More slide down from above like hooks and latch on.

Evan swallows.

He doesn’t know what to do with this yet.

But now he knows the problem isn’t just the students.

The system itself is under orders from nowhere.

Chapter 4: Evan Explains to His Dad How Students and Teachers Vote Using Pets and Library Books

At the kitchen table, Evan explains to his dad how students and teachers vote using pets and library books to manipulate the school's democratic system. Later that week, Evan sits at the kitchen table, telling his dad about school over reheated leftovers.

The kitchen smells like garlic and printer ink. The TV in the next room mumbles the news.

“Today the school has a democratic vote and includes the students,” Evan says, stabbing his pasta. “Like, all the students.”

His dad looks up from his tablet.

“That sounds…chaotic,” Dad says.

“It gets better,” Evan says. “Lots of students bring their brothers and sisters into class to vote.”

Dad raises an eyebrow.

“Why are illegal students allowed to vote?” Dad asks.

“Identification isn’t required anymore,” Evan says. “You can’t discriminate.” He shrugs. “Students also bring in their cats, dogs, and goldfish. No one can be discriminated against because of age, gender, or species.”

Dad chokes on his drink.

“How do their pets vote?” he asks when he recovers.

“Their owners fill out the voting forms for them,” Evan says. “Some students vote, like, twenty-five times. They get creative. They register plants, rocks, even pencils as migrating students with voting rights.”

He waits for Dad to laugh.

Dad doesn’t.

“Then the students must win,” Dad says slowly.

Evan shakes his head.

“The teachers decide every book in the library counts as an independent consciousness with a voice,” Evan says. “Each teacher gets thousands of votes because they use each book’s title as a voter name.” He pushes his plate away. “So the teachers still win.”

Dad rubs his face.

Above the table, energy shimmers like heat waves—the clash between common sense and collective madness.

“This is satire, right?” Dad mutters. “Please tell me this is satire.”

Evan doesn’t answer.

Because he honestly doesn’t know where the joke ends and the system begins.

Chapter 5: Evan and His Dad Discuss Optional Attendance, Welded Doors, and Banned Relationship Words

Exhausted from the absurd rules, Evan and his dad discuss optional attendance, welded doors, and banned relationship words over a massive stack of assignments. That night, Evan sits at his desk, buried in papers.

“I have fifteen reports to do tonight,” he says without looking up.

Dad stands in the doorway.

“That’s an outrageous amount of homework,” Dad says.

Evan lets out a humorless laugh.

“Daily class attendance is optional now,” he says. “Anyone who actually shows up has to do homework for the students who skip.”

Dad’s eyes widen.

“Why are your clothes dirty?” Dad asks. “You look like you climbed through a construction site.”

“For greater security,” Evan says, “the school welds all the doors shut. Students have to use the windows as doorways.”

Just stares at him.

“That’s not safe,” he says. “That’s—”

“Safety is subjective now,” Evan cuts in, tired. “Security theater. Risk is oppressive. It’s on the posters.”

Dad shakes his head, searching for something normal to grab onto.

“When can I meet your girlfriend?” he asks finally, hopeful.

Evan rubs his forehead.

“We’re not allowed to say ‘my girlfriend,’” Evan says. “Admin calls it a racist, biased expression.” He quotes the memo perfectly. “An associate cannot be labeled as a friend, because that automatically designates everyone else as an enemy. All students must be treated as equals.”

Dad blinks, then laughs—a cracked, disbelieving sound.

“So you can’t have a girlfriend,” Dad says, “because the word friend creates enemies. Got it.”

Evan slumps back in his chair.

The air in the room turns gray with exhaustion and absurdity.

He stares at his stack of reports: Wisdom. Virtue. Power. Health. Wealth. Super-powers.

Somewhere at school, kids chant for reformed policies and new freedoms. Right now, Evan wants to remember what normal feels like.

Chapter 6: Abby Loses a Wrestling Match to Diesel and the Principal Defends Fluid Identities

Frustration boils over after Abby loses a wrestling match to Diesel and the Principal defends fluid identities instead of acknowledging biological reality. The gym smells like sweat, rubber, and overused laundry detergent.

Bleachers rumble as students stomp and yell. The girls’ wrestling finals are about to start.

Diesel stands on the mat in a girls’ division singlet, hair tied back, nails inspected. He registers as female at the last minute and wrecks every match leading up to the finals.

Abby jogs onto the mat opposite him, heart hammering. She has trained for months. Her bruises prove it. She also has eyes.

The match ends the way everyone secretly expects.

Diesel wins—easily.

Later, in the locker room, Abby throws her gear into her bag with hands that won’t stop shaking.

“I only come in second,” Abby bursts out, “because Diesel is not a girl.”

The other girls trade nervous looks.

Nobody wants this conversation.

“He has an unfair advantage in the girls’ division,” Abby says. Her voice cracks and sharpens. “I see his pole when he changes in our locker room.”

The word slams into the air as if it were setting an alarm.

The next day, Abby sits in the principal’s office, knees squeezed together so tight they hurt.

The principal folds his hands.

“There is a whole range of reasons why we won’t be addressing this,” he says, tone careful, practiced. “Partly confidentiality, partly anatomical and identity issues.”

He looks down at the file on his desk without really seeing it.

“There is no basis, ”the principal continues, “for you to invade Diesel’s privacy in the first place. Unsanctioned sharing of actual data violates progressive international rules.” He clears his throat. “Your accusation is flawed and invalid. From the conception of your ‘test,’ to how your observations are shared, to how they become public—the entire chain is so flawed that it’s impossible to engage with it.”

Abby stares at him.

“Are you just using flowery words,” she asks slowly, “to say everyone has to go along with Diesel’s…perverted practice of claiming he’s a girl so he can win?”

Her face burns, but she keeps going.

“Isn’t it proof enough,” Abby asks, “that he changes his gender preference the second the competition is over?”

Principal’s smile stretches, but his eyes stay flat.

“Progressive ideologies do not allow the overriding of fictional, fluid identities with facts,” he says calmly. “The whole world falls apart if everyone stops believing in each other’s make-believe fantasies.” He taps the desk lightly. “Criminals would be arrested, perverts would be laughed at, and crazy people would be separated from normal society.”

For a moment, Abby accidentally imagines that world.

Energy flickers in the office—a brief, bright flare of sanity—then dims as the words settle back into place.

Abby realizes the truth: she is not supposed to say any of this. Not here. Not anywhere.

She leaves the office feeling as if she walks out of a funhouse mirror…and straight into another one.

Chapter 7: Diesel and Evan Observe Posters About Cautionary Dating and Self-Directed Electives

In the bustling hallways, Diesel and Evan observe posters about cautionary dating and self-directed electives that reflect the school's chaotic new standards. Posters cover the hallway walls:

RELATIONSHIPS: BOYS DATE GIRLS. HUMANS DATE OTHER HUMANS. WARNING: USE CAUTION WHEN DATING SOMEONE OF A DIFFERENT RACE OR NATIONALITY DUE TO POSSIBLE DIFFERENCES IN BELIEFS, EXPECTATIONS, ASSUMPTIONS, FOUNDATIONAL PRINCIPLES, AND GOALS.

Students stream past without reading, eyes glued to their screens.

Another flyer screams in bold caps:

COURSE OF STUDY: A VARIETY OF ELECTIVES CHOSEN BY STUDENTS.

In the lunch line, Diesel waves a slice of pizza like a microphone.

“All students,” Diesel announces, “should be equally free to self-direct their course of study.”

He nods, pleased with himself.

“No required classes,” Diesel continues. “No standards. Just vibes.”

Evan snorts into his milk.

A group of freshmen nods like someone just invented summer vacation.

Back in the Wisdom classroom, the mural of the Seven Lords watches.

They see teens trying to date in a world where one wrong word can become a crime. They see kids building entire schedules around comfort and entertainment. They see souls drifting, unanchored, in a current they don’t control.

And they wait.

For a crack. For a question. For a chance to step in.

Chapter 8: Diesel, Abby, and Rev Reveal How They Control Their Thoughts to the Seven Lords

As the day ends, Diesel, Abby, and Rev reveal how they control their thoughts to the Seven Lords, showing three different paths of coping with reality. Late afternoon paints stripes of colored light across the Wisdom classroom.

Half the students have already left. A few linger.

Diesel stares up at the mural, arms folded.

“I try not to think about anything,” Diesel says suddenly.

The confession drops into the warm, emptying room.

“Thinking too much hurts,” he adds. “If you don’t think, you don’t stress. You don’t see how messed up everything is.”

Abby sits a few seats away, hugging her knees.

“I let other people control my thoughts,” she says. Her voice stays small but clear. “Parents. Teachers. Influencers.” She glances at her phone. “If enough people agree with something, I just…go with it.”

She shrugs weakly.

“It helps me not feel crazy,” she adds. “Like my emotional flights into unreality are…validated.”

Rev leans back, hands behind their head, watching sunlight shift across the painted Lords.

“I allow all thoughts and feelings,” Rev says slowly. “Good, bad, weird. Everything. As part of life.”

They roll their shoulders.

“That keeps a balance,” they add. “At least, it feels like it does.”

Silence settles.

Then something becomes visible.

Around Diesel, thoughts appear like dark birds. Each one hits an invisible glass wall and slides away. His aura stays dim but strangely calm.

Around Abby, a web of other people’s opinions glows—blue, purple, green strings tugging at her head, her heart, her spine.

Around Rev, thoughts swirl in every color. Some bump, collide, and dissolve. Others sink deeper, anchoring like stones.

Outside, students march and shout about wisdom, virtue, power, health, wealth, and superpowers—demanding reforms and new freedoms.

Inside, three teens quietly reveal how they handle their own minds.

The Seven Lords listen.

They know the mystery of wisdom, will, and truth doesn’t crack open in a big assembly or a viral post.

It unfolds here—in half-empty classrooms at the edge of an unraveling system, in tiny, dangerous sentences where souls admit how they really think.

Diesel chooses numbness. Abby chooses borrowed thoughts. Rev chooses everything at once.

Somewhere above the school, unseen initiators push their next wave of policies like invisible buttons.

Somewhere deeper, ancient laws stand unmoved, watching.

And the next generation, one thought at a time, leans toward one of three paths:

Stay asleep. Get stupid. Or wake up.

Chapter Synopsis:

In a fourth-period class titled "Wisdom and Civic Alignment," Lord Yellow teaches Diesel, Abby, Rev, and Evan about timeless cosmic laws and the importance of soul wisdom over internet data and progressive fads. While Diesel and Rev defend progressive drug policies and shifting scientific beliefs, Abby confesses her reliance on social media and shared unreality, leading Lord Wisdom to manifest and warn against seeking guidance from imbalanced peers. Later, Evan visits the Principal, who confesses that illogical school policies (such as forced equity, attendance anomalies, and voting rights for pets) are mandated by invisible, higher-up unseen initiators. Back in the hallways and classrooms, Abby faces institutional corruption when her complaints about losing a wrestling match to Diesel are dismissed by the Principal in favor of "fluid identities". Finally, as the day ends, Diesel, Abby, and Rev confess their methods of thought control to the Seven Lords: Diesel numbs his mind, Abby borrows thoughts from influencers, and Rev accepts all thoughts indiscriminately.

Core Themes & Laws:

• Timeless Cosmic Laws vs. Progressive Fluidity: Cosmic and natural laws do not change to accommodate human fantasies, social trends, or shifting political mandates.

• The Danger of Unseen Indoctrination: Bureaucratic systems and educational administrators often implement illogical policies under pressure from invisible, anonymous sources that demand conformity.

• The Three Coping Mechanisms of the Ego: When faced with a chaotic and unraveling reality, ungrounded individuals default to three dangerous strategies: numbing/avoidance (Diesel), borrowing consensus thought (Abby), or accepting indiscriminate mental clutter (Rev).

• The Illusion of Fluid Identities: Institutions that prioritize progressive equity and fluid identities over biological and physical reality eventually destroy truth, fairness, and common sense.

Key Entities Featured in this Document:

• Lord Yellow: A robed entity who teaches students about unchanging cosmic laws, soul wisdom, and the necessity of mastering self-discipline.

• Lord Wisdom: A higher presence who materializes from the classroom mural to warn students against seeking validation from imbalanced peers.

• Evan: A perceptive student who questions both classroom teachings and institutional madness, visiting the Principal to uncover the source of mandatory school policies.

• Diesel: A rebellious student who mocks traditional wisdom, uses progressive drug policies and fluid identity arguments to win a girls' wrestling match, and chooses mental numbness.

• Abby: A student who struggles with social media validation, unreality, and institutional gaslighting after losing her wrestling match to Diesel.

• Rev: A student who defends changing scientific standards and handles reality by indiscriminately accepting all thoughts.

• The Principal: A soul-tired administrator who admits he is forced to implement illogical policies dictated by invisible superiors.