Diplomatic

And that was the final day.

Graduation.

The sky was clear up top, stars and galaxies shimmering in the heavens.

There was a cool breeze coming off the ocean, and the waves lapped almost silently when reaching the sandy beach.

Niven noticed the pleasant mood, and the gathering thunderheads on the horizon, just below the starline.

He also noticed the breeze didn't smell like anything.

Maybe a touch of salt.

Ever since the events of two decades ago, the world was much cleaner, and so less intense.

The people left behind often complained this new version of their existence wasn't intense enough, but Niven put that down to nostalgia.

They were much better off in a less intense world, if anyone cared to ask him.

But today was the final day, graduation.

On this little island, unlike in what used to be their cities, classes were small.

Ten people stood on a low structure on the beach, with perhaps another hundred or so sitting as an audience.

Not perhaps, Niven's eyes scanned the scene and quickly counted a hundred and eight in attendance.

Niven went up to the podium and fiddled with the mic.

It gave a screech and let everyone know it was on.

They were all looking at him, listening.

He began by welcoming them to the graduation ceremony, telling the assembled how the ten standing there achieved the ultimate in wholesome being.

"They worked hard over the last ten months, and now we have before us complete people, ready to face the world. Completely restored."

The audience applauded.

Niven smiled wanly at them.

He gestured for the first of the ten graduates to step up to the podium.

The guy was tall, much taller than Niven, and had a mane of reddish hair.

Niven didn't like him since they first met, and was glad to be rid of him.

The red haired individual ripped the mic from its stand, holding it like a musician about to commence crooning.

"Hi everyone. Yes, as Instructor Niven said, we, all of us, learned a lot over the last, what, almost a year now? I feel, well, I know we are better for it. The things that were revealed to us are beyond worth. Thanks."

"Anything else you'd like to say?"

"No, I'm good", said the redhead, beaming like a lighthouse.

How I will not miss the fucker, Niven thought to himself, applauding with the rest of them.

"Next up we have Ying, but don't let her age deceive you, she's got a lot going for her."

After that assertion by Niven, more applause.

Ying came on stage, smiling as if the she just won every last penny in the universe.

"Hi, my name's Ying and I want to thank my parents, neighbors and of course Niven for teaching me so much about myself, the world, and the meaning of all this. Without their instruction, I'd still be a lost person. I truly do feel complete now and am ready to do my part in making this a better life for all of us. Thanks everyone!"

Big applause, and two people, probably parents, weeping in the second row.

Good for them, maybe they'll feel something when she's on her way.

And so, Niven paraded eight more graduates in front of the people sitting there on the beach.

The clouds, the thunderhead, they were getting closer to the beach.

But above them, the cosmos bristled in all its magnificence.

Niven, he loved the universe.

Even though he knew in the long run he too will be forgotten and cast aside just like the class after class of graduates he sent packing.

Never mind, time to wrap up the ceremony.

With the help of his two assistants, who were so quiet it was quite easy for anyone to forget they were even there, Niven guided the ten towards a shed perhaps a hundred paces up the beach from the stage.

Not perhaps, Niven knew it was exactly a hundred and eighteen paces.

He, the assistants, the grads and everyone else made it to the shed.

It wasn't a big shed, but certainly enough for ten people.

"Folks, it's time to graduate", he said to everyone and no one in particular.

They went in the shed and a few seconds later a light came on in there.

As usual, Niven didn't really care if the screams came from inside the shed or the people standing outside.

* * *

He was sitting at his desk after graduating those nuisances.

He plugged himself into the network, his positronic brain enmeshing itself wholly in the stream of consciousness.

Niven was a good product, the automated factories were working well by the time he came along fifteen years ago.

He checked the files he uploaded.

There was the redhead: 38 years of age, supervisor at a logistics facility.

Tormented subordinates and repeatedly harassed capable employees over petty, often non-existent issues.

Another file was Ying's.

She used to live in one of the de-populated villages left from the events of twenty years ago.

With her parents and a few neighbors around.

She also refused to use headphones when blasting her surround and had a habit of walking exactly point eight miles just to bounce a soccer ball off a neighbor's wall.

Niven sighed, an act he was still coming to grip with.

These people.

These humans.

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