Jericho 04-02

            I took the seat he offered and was about to thank him when the door opened in a violent motion and suddenly she was there, pressing herself against the wall and panting heavily.

            I began to open my mouth but she raised a single digit to her lips to shush me and moved to hide herself under a rather large pile of laundry.

            There was a loud commotion in the hall, followed by the sounds of running feet and doors opening.

            “Act natural” advised RJ as he turned back to his book.

            I could feel my heart speed up, it felt like I was going to be sick. How does one “act natural” when the most attractive girl they have ever seen is lying under a pile of unwashed pants a foot away? What does “acting natural” even entail? Was I supposed to pretend to be a tree or something? I couldn’t think straight right now, so I slumped over RJ’s desk and pretended to be dead. If it worked on bears it would work for me.

            The door wooshed open and a female voice boomed: “Have you seen a girl?”

            “You’re a girl,” suggested RJ, “I see you.”

            The girl grunted in frustration as she peered around the room, evidentially seeing nothing.

             “What about you?” she said, giving me a sharp poke on the shoulder.

            I kept still, reminding myself that I was supposed to be dead.

            “He hasn’t seen anything, can you get out of my room?” RJ’s voice was sour.

            I couldn’t see what was happening, as I was fairly engrossed in pretending to be dead, but it felt like the girl stood there glaring lasers at RJ for a minute or two before finally turning leaving the room.

             I waited in silence until we heard the door at the end of the hall close and then I finally sat up. Behind me a pile of clothes burst into laughter.

            “Seriously?” It said, “did you seriously just play dead?”

            I didn’t say anything, just stared as she emerged from her laundry cocoon in a fit of giggles.

            “I- uh…” I didn’t know what to say, this whole scenario was very confusing.

            The confusion on my face must have been even funnier than my playing dead because the girl doubled over with laughter and her eyes began tearing from her uncontrollable joy.

            “Well what about you?” asked RJ, beginning to chuckle himself, “hiding under a pile of dirty pants!?”

            The girl was on the floor now, crying with hysterical laughter and trying her best to talk between fits, “I- had to- think- on- my- feet!“

            We were all laughing now. I could feel it rising from my stomach in bubbles and spilling out of my mouth till it was hard to breathe.

            A pinging sound rang out from the girl’s pocket and she managed to quiet herself long enough to look at the tiny communicator she had hidden there.

            “Ah damn. Game’s over.” She said wiping the last remains of laughter from her eyes, “blue team won.”

            RJ nodded, working out the last bits of laughter.

            “Game?” I asked.

            “Oh! He doesn’t know?!” said girl of my dreams.

            “He’s new” RJ explained picking a new book from his pile.

            “That’s obvious” she retorted, “but I can’t believe you didn’t tell him about the game!”

            RJ just shrugged, shrugging seemed to be his signature move.

            “Game?” I asked again, hoping someone would help ease my confusion.

            “You are missing out new guy, the game is one of the few things that make this prison bearable.” She groaned.

            Prison.

            The word rang through my skull and struck a cord in my heart.

            I had thought of this place as a prison too… but thus far I’d been surprised at the amount of freedom we had.

            From my perspective students ran the center. We had classes, but they were rough and changed according to our whims. We weren’t told what to eat, when to sleep, or when to clean (although RJ could use a lesson). We were given the freedom to choose our own assignments and classes. Any piece of equipment we wanted we could get.

            Overall, I felt I had much more freedom here than at home.

            “Should we call it a prison?” I asked.

            The girl put her head between her hands and gave an exasperated sigh.

            “You colonial kids are all the same.” She grumbled, “Just because our jail cells come with fancy computers and personal labs you forget that it’s a cell…”

            “Yeah but…”

            “But? But nothing! Listen, what’s your name?”

            “Jason”

            “Listen, Jason, I am telling you now, this place isn’t a school. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m going to find out.”

            At this comment RJ snorted.

            “Don’t mind Sidra, she’s the biggest conspiracy nut I’ve ever met.” He said with a laugh, “damned dirty Deltan”

            A wad of dirty pants sailed through the air and hit RJ square in the jaw, causing him to send Sidra a glare that was almost as dirty as the pants.

            “I feel I’ve made my point.” She responded, standing up straight and placing her hands victoriously on her hips.

            They had a good laugh over this, I had the feeling it was a scene that had played out many times before.

            The message tone began to play and a small line of text appeared just beyond RJ’s head. His face soured as he read it and reluctantly he moved to fasten on his legs.

            “Sorry to cut this party short kids, but I have an appointment, and I don’t trust either of you in here without supervision.”

            The outworlder’s face turned into a false pout, “you don’t trust me?” she said, with just enough of a giggle to blow any ounce of credibility she might have had.

            “I especially don’t trust you,” he gave her a stern look, “not after what happened when I left you alone with Zeus.”

            RJ shooed us out of his room  and left us to awkwardly part ways in the hall.

            “Well, it was nice meeting you Newguy, but I best head out,” she said, giving my had a little shake, “ask RJ to give you a run down and maybe you can join the next time we play the game?”

            “Sure.”  I said. Anything to spend time with you. I thought.

Jericho 04-01

Chapter 4:

            Max had a constant need to make noise. He whistled, hummed, chatted, and sang, he even managed to do most of these things in his sleep, which was impressively annoying.

            After two weeks of nonstop chatter I needed solace. So I took to the hallway and began searching for someplace quiet enough to calculate in peace.

            I was feeling lazy today, so the long walk across campus to my lab wasn’t in any way appealing but, there was a spare room at the end of our hall, I had never been in it, but it seemed like logical place to start… plus it had the distinct advantage of being within 20 feet of my dorm, so it was worth a shot.

            The door was locked.

            I tried the button several times, just to be sure, but it was definitely locked. Why a door to an empty dorm would be locked was beyond me, but I sighed and resigned myself to the long walk across campus to the labs.

            Before I could move, however, a voice called from across the hall.

            “Hey Newguy”

            The dark haired boy from Galton was standing in his doorway… well standing wouldn’t be the right word as his legs had disappeared and he was more or less balancing upon the remaining stumps.

            “Your legs…” I sputtered without thought.

            RJ shrugged, “I took ‘em off, you have no idea how annoying having bits of metal clamped to the ends of your nubs gets.”

            I felt like an asshole for even mentioning it, but RJ seemed unfazed.

            “So, what brings you to my end of the Hall?”

            This was the most that RJ had ever said in my presence. For the past two weeks every occasion I saw him he was elbow deep in his tablet, reading intently and occasionally giving hand motions to assure Max he was paying attention. The only time we had ever made eye contact was in the dining hall on that first day after I had seen her.

            I didn’t want to be rude more than once today so instead of saying ‘running away from my obnoxious roommate’ I went with, “looking for a quiet place to study.”

            RJ smiled that predatory smile of his and motioned for me to follow into his room.

            RJ’s dorm was another world.

            Our room was tidy, sparse, and mostly white. Max panicked if he saw a speck of dust or if any trash missed the bin.

            This room was packed with things. There were piles of clothes thrown every which way, bits of food and wrappers, holos covering up much all of the wall space, and large piles of bound paper that took me a while to register as books.

            I picked a book off a pile and examined it for a minute; I had only seen bound paper books in our local history museum. The cover was bound in soft leather and the pages inside contained a scrawling script in a language I couldn’t understand.

            “So, Max is getting on your nerves then?” RJ had pulled himself onto the pile of clothes that was once his bed and was now lounging peacefully with a book in hand.

            I gave him a look that expressed “how did you know?” but said nothing.

            “Zeus was his roommate when he first arrived, they used to fight all the time until we did a roommate swap.”

            Zeus was a titan of a kid from Segun, he had a deep booming voice that seemed very appropriate for a god of thunder. His side of the dorm was littered with snack wrappers to a point where it didn’t look hygienic.

            “Here, sit,” RJ gave his desk chair a half hearted shove and a book toppled off the seat.

            “You can work in here if you’re looking for someplace quiet. It’s a bit messy but Zeus is off with his girlfriend for the evening so there’s more than enough space.”

Daylight

            Daylight.

            Fucking daylight.

            It creeps over my face and pours through my eyelids – as cheerful as a pug wearing a crown of daisies and riding a unicorn across a rainbow. “Morning! Rise and shine! Time to greet the day!” it happily encourages.

            I wince in pain at the sun’s optimism and fumble for the curtains, sending a cascade of dust to dance across the room and fill my nostrils.

            I cough.

            Great, just great. A lungful of dust is really helping my mood.

            I curl into a hacking ball and bring the covers back up over my head.

            As the coughing subsides I attempt to sleep, but can’t. My brain keeps pulling back to the reason for my sour disposition this morning.

            Yesterday I confessed my love to Michael James Haggerty.

            I hadn’t meant to, but he was just so goddamned beautiful atop his guard’s perch that when the sun hit him just right and he began to glow like Apollo himself I felt a sudden compulsion.

            “Oh.” He says.

            “Oh?”

            There is a loaded pause as he tries to assemble his thoughts.

            “You’re great” he says, “really…”

            And here comes the but. The dreaded terrible but.

            My stomach sinks and my heart breaks into a million pieces.

            I don’t even bother to listen to his reasoning. I am certain that it is because I am hideous, just a terrible ogre of a girl completely unworthy of any man’s affection, especially a man so gorgeous as Michael James Haggerty.

            There’s another five minutes of my break left, but I sulk my way back through the locker room and into the admissions booth.

            I spend the rest of the day looking hopeless, despondent, and otherwise dejected, as I halfheartedly collect payment from anxious Moms in sunhats and exuberant children doused in sunscreen.

            When I get home I look in the mirror.

            There’s nothing wrong with me. As much as I feel like I should live under bridges and harass passing goats, I don’t look much like a troll.

            I’m not a supermodel, but I look alright.

            Is it my personality?

            I had always thought that Michael James Haggerty and I had gotten along well, but maybe he had just been indulging me? Maybe he was just such a genuinely nice guy that he had just pretended to listen?

            No, I think, He didn’t pretend.

            He let me borrow his copy of “Catcher in the Rye” that day when I had forgotten to bring a book. You don’t just let people borrow your copy of “Catcher in the Rye” on a rainy day when no one is going to the pool if you don’t like them at least a little.

            There were other things too, smiles, glances, shared lunch breaks and nachos, a million little signs that Michael James Haggerty and I were the most perfect set of companions since Peanut Butter met Jelly.

            My feelings of rejection morphed into anger, and now here I was hiding under my covers allowing my anger to boil.

            This is pathetic.

            I’m realizing now that closing the blinds and silently raging will not really do anything to improve my mood. Neither will crying, stewing, yelling, or wallowing. I need to go out, I need to live, I need to show Michael James Haggerty what he’s missing out on.

            Today I will wear a different uniform. Today I will ditch the stupid oversized polo shirt they make me put on and wear the low cut sundress that I bought last year and haven't had the courage to wear. Today I will style my hair like a movie star, and put on so much makeup society will scorn me. Then I will pick up the phone, call in sick, and spend the day in the city with friends in this glorious fucking daylight.

----

The inspiration for this story doesn't come from any actual heartbreak I have suffered, but rather from the fact that my bedroom window faces east and the sun is such a goddamned bastard that he wakes me up almost every morning by shining his light directly in my eyes... -KayPee

Jericho 03-01

Chapter 3:

            Maxwell Bridges reminded me of my brother.

            It wasn’t his appearance, though they did look similar, and it wasn’t age, as Max was only 15, a short 7 months older than myself.

            No, it was in the cadence of his voice and the way he held himself that reminded me of David.

            Max sweat confidence, it oozed out of every pore.

            It was shortly after arriving at the Center that Ms. Arch had introduced us. Informing me that Max was not only my roommate, but also the leader of Team Theta, which I was now a member of.

            Max was now taking me on a tour of the facilities, but it was infinitely more interesting to hear it from him.

            “That’s the fitness center across the way” he pointed to a stout white building down the lawn, “we have open gym every day from 3 to 7, except on the weekends when we have football.”

            “Do you play?” he asked casually.

            I shook my head, and he gave an exaggerated sigh.

            “Damn, I was hoping we’d have another baller in Theta, but oh well…”

            He punctuated this statement with a chuckle and lighthearted a slap on my shoulder as we continued on our tour down the great lawn.

            My old school had been one great big block. With classrooms, gyms, labs, offices, and the dining hall all stacked into one large square of a building.

            The Center sprawled.

            There were geometrically shaped buildings of varying heights in each direction, and vast system of trails tracing across the lawn between them.

            Currently we were headed toward the dormitories, a cluster of four buildings about four stories in height, each painted with a stripe of a bright color.

            “We’re in building 2 up on the fourth floor.” He said pointing to a building with a bold stripe of blue down it’s front.

            My stomach churned with nerves as we headed for the door and, the sudden realness of my situation clouded my thoughts.

            This is where I’ll be sleeping. This is the place I’ll call home.

            David. Max had already stepped through the door ahead of me, but my hands felt so heavy that I couldn’t grab the handle, but even if I could it wouldn’t help. My feet had turned to cement and felt firmly attached to the ground.

            I felt a hand on my shoulder now, but couldn’t turn to look.

            “Are you alright?” said a soft feminine voice.

            I attempted to nod as the girl circled round and came into view.

            She was younger than myself, possibly 12 but maybe 13, with a crown of wavy blonde hair that reminded me of an ocean, though I’d never seen one.

            She was small and doll like, like my mother, but she didn’t seem as fragile. If my mother was a porcelain doll that spent its life on the shelf, then this girl was the doll that went on stroller rides around the neighborhood.

            “It’s ok if you’re freaking out” she said, her voice a gentle coo, “we all went through home sickness the first week or so of being here, even Max.”

            Picturing someone as confident as Max feeling homesick made me feel slightly better.

            The girl placed her hand in mine and gave me a firm shake that shocked my arms back to their normal weight.

            “I’m Hazel, and you must be our new team member?”

            She smiled expectantly up at me.

            “Jason.” I said, feeling my feet warm up to the idea of movement.

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jason”

            Max appeared in the doorway, looking mildly frantic.

            “There you are Jason! I got to the top floor and realized you weren’t behind me. You’ve been so quiet I didn’t realize I had been talking to myself.”

            “Sorry Max, I just couldn’t wait to meet our new recruit.” Hazel replied for me, placing the blame entirely on herself.

            Max exhaled a sigh of relief, “I don’t know what would happen if I lost our new team member on day one. They’d probably strip me of leadership, I only just got this job.”

             “Adam, Max’s previous roommate, was our old team leader, he turned 18 two weeks ago,” Hazel whispered aside to me

            I nodded in understanding. At 18 you started your mandatory military service. Most kids went straight into the infantry, but the rules were a little different for us. Adam was probably working in some secret underground lab right now.

            “You sure you’re good Max?” Hazel asked, her voice loud again.

            “I’m alright Haze, I just panicked is all.” He chuckled, “Alright, this time for real.”

            Hazel and I followed as Max lead us up through the ground floor common area and onto the main stairwell.

            From what max was saying and I was seeing I gathered that each floor had 2 teams living on it one on the east side and one on the west, with a smaller common area in between each floor with a couple of couches. Each team decorated their side of the common space differently. Most showed off their accomplishments with large holos of their achievements, awards, and trophies, but one team near the ground floor chose to have a painted mural of an alien landscape, which Max had pointed out saying “Team Lambda has a lot of outworlders, they get really creative.”

            The Theta’s wall was covered in schematics for various things: robots, hoverboards, boats, the perfect sandwich.

            “Our team projects,” said Max with a smile as he opened the door with the touch of a button, “We’ve had a lot of commendations, especially on the sandwich.”

***  

            Inside our room was sparse and impeccably clean. There were two desks, two beds, two nightstands with two lamps, and a closet. The long blackened strip of the school’s computer ran along the wall at waist height. The only decoration on the walls was a single large holo of some famous footballer in the midst of kicking a ball, which was positioned perfectly over Max’s bed.

            On my bed sat my suitcase, and as I touched the lock the computer warmed up and played a message welcoming me to the “E2 Learning Center for Applied Intelligence”, that ended with a small note signed by the Regents themselves.

            “Woah” I said to myself. It was hard to comprehend the Regents taking time out of their busy schedules to all sign a note. I wondered for a moment if it was manufactured in some way.

            “It’s real” said Max, sitting in his desk chair with a tablet in hand, “My Dad’s on the director’s council, he meets with the Regents each month to update them on how things are going with the school. They take a personal interest in us.”

            “Your dad’s a director?” If I sounded surprised it was because I had previously imagined that the school’s directors were all ancient and decrepit men tied to life support machines and talking via computer.

            If Max’s dad was a director, who personally talked to the regents, that meant that his family was probably even more of a political power than my Aunts, Grandfather, Grand Uncles, Great Grandfather, and Great-Great Grandfather combined.

            Max just shrugged and nodded his head. It wasn’t a big deal to him.

            I continued to unlock and unpack my bag, placing my small amount of clothes in the closet, next to the neatly piled supply of Center uniforms, setting an extra blanket my mother had packed on the bed, placing my toiletries in various drawers and bins, and carefully checking each of my holos before sticking them to the walls around my bed.

            Most guys had holos of footballers, women, or their favorite bands, but what I placed on the wall were my favorite stars and galaxies,

            Surrounding myself with constellations made me feel immediately more at home. I even found myself wondering where the school’s holochamber was.

            Behind me at Max’s desk came a small pinging sound, followed by a line of text appearing across the computer screen.

            “We’d better get going to the dining hall,” said Max, giving the text a look, “the rest of the team is getting a bit impatient.”

---

This entire part is highlighted for heavy revision based on the feedback I received from my writer's group.  -KayPee

Jericho 02-02

            In my mind was a clear picture of my father…

            Or was it David?

            I squinted my eyes at him, trying to make the jumble of blurred flesh understandable again.

            Yes, it was definitely my father, he was sitting at his desk reading through a brochure on the Center, rhythmically tapping his fingers.

            “Dad?” my voice choked.

            He looked up at me and smiled as his desk became a boat.

            “What’s going on?” I asked, as Pete marched by playing a tuba. Below me I could feel the water rising to my waist.

            My brother appeared next to me wearing his football uniform and holding a box in his right hand.

            “Dad wanted to take you” he said seriously.

            The water was rising higher, my mother and Pete were now dancing the samba, and my dad was floating away.

            “WAIT” I screamed, reaching for the rapidly disappearing vessel.

            I felt the impression of a hand on my shoulder, as light as shadow.

            “here” came David’s voice, “this is yours.”

            The ghost of David was handing me the box he had been holding.

            It was a solid wooden thing, with no discernable opening.  On the outside were intricate carvings of people with no faces going on a journey to the stars.

            “I don’t understand.”

***

           

            I’m not entirely sure at what point I had fallen asleep, but I was thankful that Ms. Arch hadn’t taken notice.

            When I awoke she was discussing the in house computer system and it’s various applications. Access points could be found just about anywhere on campus and would automatically configure to my user settings no matter the location. So, if I was in the garden and I wanted to send my mother a picture of a flower (her example, not mine), I could just tell the computer to send the picture to “Mom” and it would automatically comply.

            I wondered if Ms. Arch got along with computer at the center, or if they had little squabbles. Do robots feel jealous? If so, how was that program created?

            It was a profound question so I pondered it until I became thirsty and ordered a strange tasting glass of cranberry juice.

            We carried on like this for a while, Ms. Arch reading aloud from her tablet with mechanical precision, and me staring out at the passing scenery as we flew over the miles and miles of grasslands, farms, and forests that lay between Churchill and Galton.

            Once and a while we would pass through a town or village, and I’d see the telltale signs of civilization. People out working, shopping, or eating; glistening town halls and the neon orange of military instillations dotted the landscape like flowers in a field.

            Otherwise, I saw mostly trees, rivers, crops, and the odd cow.

            When we grew close to Galton there was a sudden shift in the scenery.

            Gone were the farms and forests, replaced instead by sprawling white subdivisions, much like my own, with picture perfect families in each picture perfect house.

            As we reached the city limits the car began to slow and Ms. Arch switched her lecture from the finer points of the dining hall to the architecture of Galton.

            “On you left is the Great Bank of Earth 2, and on our right is the Museum of Regency History.”

            I looked but, besides being on opposite sides of the road and having different signs, I couldn’t really tell the two buildings apart.

            There was a horrible sameness to everything I saw in Galton.

            I had built up this idea that it was old, chaotic, and somehow regal looking, something closer to pictures I had once seen of Old Earth, but all Galton was was white and grey.

            The buildings, the people, even the advertisements, which usually swim with color, seemed to be in shades of gray. The people here moved in unified masses, expertly coordinated blobs of blonde hair and grey suits traveled down every street in the dullest dance routine ever invented.

            In the sky fliers flew in perfect lines; their locust like fury did not blacken it, instead it was orderly and sane.

            Boring. Galton looked utterly boring.

            Soon I could see a spot of green in the distance, breaking up the monotony of Galton.

            Ms. Arch picked up on this and her cheerful mechanic voice began to chime.

            “Out there is the Regency District,” she said, giving a little point, “and just beyond that is where the Center is located.”

            My eyes grew wide with anticipation.

            The Regency District was the center of power across two star systems.

            There you would find ambassadors, senators, admirals, generals, and, of course, the Council of Regents themselves, all overseeing the governing of, and day to day operations for, a vast network of planets.

            Unlike the blocky white architecture of the city itself the various buildings of the R.D. were all geodesic domes with splashes of colored glass to signify their various purposes: orange for the military, blue for the senate, black for the courts, and the golden orb of the regents. The land surrounding the district was miles of manicured gardens with man made pools and sculptures that showcased all the beauty that was available from Earth 2 to the outworlds.

            There was another noticeable change about being in the Regency District: Tourists.

            Earth 2 had very strict immigration laws, you could not even be a legal resident on E2 unless you could either: a) prove you were a descendant of the original colonists or, b) someone in your family held a government job that required you and your family to live on E2. The logic behind this was that it would “preserve our cultural history” or something like that.

            Tourism was a relatively new phenomena on Earth 2.

            It had only been a century ago that the tourism ban had been lifted, and tourists from beyond our planet began to tickle in.

            The tourists I spotted wandering in the gardens of the Regency District were quite a change from the boring people of Galton. They were patches of dark hair and dense patterns of shape and color. The women wore clothing I rarely saw outside of television. Long, gauzy summer dresses floated with the wind.

            You could feel their wealth just by looking at them.

            The prices to travel to Earth 2 were obscene. Ours was a planet where even a lowly farmer was wealthy compared to his nearest compatriot. The cost of living on E2 was twice that of surrounding planets and Six times as much as it was in the outworlds. Anyone who wanted to visit here must be either extremely wealthy or extremely lucky.

            Our car flew past a crowd of tourists taking photos of the Golden Orb of the Regency and continued towards a vast open green expanse ahead.

            Ms. Arch put aside her tablet and folded her hands over her lap again, “as we approach the school the will be undergoing a scan, not to worry though, it is entirely harmless.”

            Moments later the car, still in motion, was engulfed by a blue light.

            “Scanning in progress, please remain seated” cooed a soft mechanical voice.

            The light pulsated for a few seconds before a series of chimes rang out and the mechanical voice gave us the all clear.

            I blinked my eyes, attempting to adjust to the abrupt change in light.

            As I raised my lids my eyes came into sharp focus.

            “Welcome to your new home.” 


----


Mostly world building... -KayPee

Jericho 02-01

Chapter 2:

            I wasn’t sure if Ms. Arch was human.

            As she sat across the table, going over the final details of my transfer to the Center with my mother, she seemed wholly robotic.

            Her grey suit was perfectly pressed, with no variations in hue or texture to be found. Her slick hair looked as if it had been molded from a single piece of plastic, and she had a kind of cheerful disposition that could only have been created in a lab.

            “Will he be able to call home?” my mother was saying

            “Certainly,” Ms. Arch chirped, “We already have your direct line on file so all Jason must do is ask the computer to call you and you will be immediately connected. We encourage all students to call home at least once a week.”

            This was nearly word for word what the brochure said, although she did leave out the part about potential censorship.

            “And if you have no further questions I think it is time for Jason and I to leave.”

            My mother nodded and stood, eyes welling up with tears.

            “I guess this is it,” her voice cracked, “my little boy is leaving.”

            She threw her arms around me and sobbed for a bit, using my shirt as a tissue. “I’m so proud of you” she whispered through the tears, “you are going to do great things.”

            This broke me.

            The last ice cube of hatred and animosity I had held for my mother over the past few weeks melted entirely as I was consumed by her arms.

            The memories of it all came flooding back to me, during a childhood spent playing in parks, swimming in pools, and riding my bike, she had been there to heal every scraped knee or bruised elbow. She had cheered me on at every science fair and comforted me when my feelings were hurt. She read me bedtime stories about the stars and held my hand when I was afraid.

            “I love you Mom” was all I managed to say before I let myself cry like a toddler. I didn’t care that Ms. Arch’s little robotic eyes were carefully recording my breakdown, I would never have another chance to hug my mother and I wasn’t going to waste it.

           

***

            After that emotional goodbye Ms. Arch herded me off to our ride, a gleaming silver bullet of a car with government flags flanking either end hovered just above the paved road.

            Cars were a rarity on Earth 2, fliers were a far more popular mode of transport for those who had the means, but the average citizen usually took public transit or rode a bicycle to get from place to place.

            I hated flying. Ever since I was young the feeling of being up in the air made my stomach churn, and every attempt to fly with me turned into a festival of unsightly fountains of half digested food. My family eventually stopped trying to take me places by air and resigned themselves to travelling only by bike or train, and gave up all hope of ever vacationing off world. It was only with the addition of Pete that the flier space in our garage was filled up once again.

            “Your file said you had flight sickness, so I arranged for more suitable transportation.” Ms. Arch said cheerfully as she held the door for me, “after you please.”

            The inside of the car was much roomier than the inside of the average flier, with a long couch like seat and windows that offered a panoramic view of the outside world.

            I chose a seat near the middle and buckled in while Ms. Arch placed herself near the door.

            “Would you like anything? Water? Tea?” She asked politely, folding her hands across her lap. I saw the car lurch forward and begin our journey, hurtling through the suburban streets at speeds much higher than any bike could muster, but inside the vehicle there was no sign of motion at all.

            “It is going to take six hours for us to reach the Center so if you should want anything during the trip just ask the computer and it will be prepared for you” to demonstrate this she then placed an order for some hot tea with a slice of lemon and a blueberry scone. There was a flurry of whirring and clicking noises, followed by a small popping sound as a small door opened and a robotic limb carrying a small tray handed Ms. Arch her order.

            “This car is fully equipped with the latest in food printermixers, so it can make just about anything. You’ll find the same technology in the dining lounge at school,” she explained, setting the tray on the seat next to her, “but we also have a gourmet menu of traditionally prepared food available if you prefer.”

            Hesitantly I placed an order for a glass of orange juice.

            Printermixers were exactly what they sounded like, devices that used knowledge of chemical make up and a supply of flavorless slurry to print food on a nearly atomic scale. They were still a fairly new technology, and the ones sold in stores currently had only a very basic range of food they could prepare.

            I had never tried printed food before; my Mother had a fondness for cooking so it had never been necessary; I was intrigued by the prospect of manufactured food.

            The tiny chorus of mechanical clicks began it’s magic and soon enough a small electronic arm was handing me my glass of orange juice.

            The taste was strange. At first it seemed like any normal glass of orange juice that I would have at home, but sweeter, then came an aftertaste I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t bad, just… manufactured?

            Ms. Arch must have noticed something in my face because she opened her mouth to make a comment, which she punctuated with a perfectly timed giggle. “Yes, it does take some getting used to.”

            She smiled and grabbed a tablet from her purse saying “Now, before we reach the Center there are a few things I am required to go over…”

            I tuned out right about here, it wasn’t that what she said wouldn’t be important, it was just that, at that moment we hit the city limits and I had one good final look at my hometown.

            Churchill was the second largest city on Earth 2, the buildings all had the appearance of mirrored spires and reflected the mountains that lined the northern border in strange and beautiful twisted shapes. The colors here were natures finest, the grass was green, the rivers clear to their rocky bottoms, the mountains a perfect shade of indigo with caps of snow and blue ice. Even the man made structures were made to keep the natural flow. The streets were made of that same indigo rock that formed so much of our mountains and the buildings were mirrored to reflect the sky back to us. In the sky above fliers swooped like birds, perching on various buildings, while people on bicycles swam like fish in the streets below.

            I wondered what Galton would be like.

            I mean, I knew from reading and watching reports and TV shows that it was hotter, larger, and older than Churchill. I knew that the architecture was white and blocky, and that the streets were overflowing with people. I heard that the sky could be so full of fliers that it would look like night in the middle of the day, but I didn’t know Galton.


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This is pretty much unedited -KayPee

Of McNuggets

Oh delicious 10 piece of crispy warm chicken products.
Oh nostalgia wrapped in a warm nuggety guise.
Oh happiest of meals, dipped in honey and placed reverently upon my tongue.

You dance upon my taste buds and relax in my stomach.
You bring me to a level of euphoria that cannot be replicated outside of this solar system.

You are magic.

Chicken McNuggets
I love you.

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I've gotten into the terrible habit of getting a 10 piece of McNuggets when I'm on my way to class and didn't have the time to eat because I am so goddamn busy procrastinating.


I also started calling them "Chicky-Chicky Nug Nugs" a la Tom Haverford



Seriously though... I love me some nuggets.
-KayPee

Jericho 01-02

            Pete was occupied talking to my mother, saying things like “Becca, where did you get this fish?” and “have you heard back from Lydia about Thursday?”, but his words came out muddied with the sounds of half eaten fish flesh slowly mashing its way between teeth and tongue.

            Pete didn’t even try to have manners, it was one of the many reasons I despised him.

            My mother sat at the opposite end of the table and kept up with polite conversation between dainty bites.

            Daintiness was a side effect of her upbringing.

            My mother grew up in a political dynasty, her father, grandfather, great grandfather, and uncles were all leading members of various Earth 2 councils. The side effect of having such a well to do family was that she and her sisters grew up in a state of perpetual elegance where manners were essential and rudeness was condemned.  She grew up walking on eggshells, because if she made one misstep the entire family could suffer.

            So my mother kept herself in the background, just another smiling face in the crowd, and let her sisters (now both provincial Senators), steal the spotlight with their playful antics. She always knew that, when the time was right, she would use her natural beauty to find a man who was high enough in status to please her family, but unglamorous enough to avoid publication, and settle down.

            When my mother met my father she knew he was the one. He had a fantastic job in a field that was both lucrative and safe, but better yet he had the sort of infectious confidence that made you forget about your own shortcomings and believe you could do anything just because he said so.

            It didn’t take much for my dad to fall in love with my mother either; all he had to do was see the freckles on her face to know that she was the one.

            My mother was very pretty, in a sort of dried out way. Everything about her was thin and fragile, from her whisper blonde hair to her nearly translucent skin, she had become more and more like a china doll with age.

            Her freckles were unique. They danced across her face and arms like the stars dot the cosmos.

            As a baby I remember spending time drawing lines from dot to dot, making constellations on her skin.

            Freckles are rare on E2, they are part of a genetic legacy that our ancestors on old earth attempted to stomp out through selective breeding.

            The result was easily seen at this very dinner table, the people on Earth 2 and surrounding planets were blonde haired and light eyed, with skin that ranged from translucent white to the well sunned tan that Pete wore with pride.

            Father off, mostly in the outworlds, were people with skin colors that ranged across the entire spectrum… I had even heard of people with skin so dark it looked purple, but I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to explore the outworlds.

            “So Sport, you nervous about the big move?”

            The sound of Pete’s voice derailed my train of thought.

            “Well sport?” Pete was a fan of diminutive names, he never called me Jason, it was always “Sport” or “Champ” or “Smalls”.  It made me want to puke on the table.

            My mother cut me off before I could make a sassy retort, saying “Are you all packed? Do you need me to go through your bags?”

            This was about the twentieth time she offered to go through my bag, she knew very well that the center would provide me with everything I could ever possibly want, but fussing over me seemed to make her feel better.

            It was hard for me to sustain my anger at being sent away when all my mother wanted to do was make sure every last second I spent at home was comfortable and happy, she even allowed me to sleep in the holochamber, something that had been forbidden after I had fallen off the platform in my sleep when I was seven.

            “He’s packed mom” David said for me, “and you’ve packed and repacked his bag every night this week.”

            My mother nodded. “I suppose you’re right, it’s just…”, she didn’t finish this thought, just looked at me and for a moment.

            “The boy will be fine Rebecca, he’s going to the best school in the system, he’ll be better off there than he ever was here.” Pete punctuated his words by siphoning some seaweed salad into his mouth and releasing a chorus of slippery sounds that resounded off the thick walls of the dinning room, thoroughly killing my appetite.

            He continued as a smile crossed his face in a small, yet menacing, gesture; “You know, we’re almost lucky he was expelled…”

            Pete’s words stabbed me directly in the gut.

***

            The chain of events that had resulted in my expulsion began with the most innocent of activities.

            One morning, months ago, as I sat at the table enjoying my breakfast, I had a sudden burst of inspiration.

            Today, I had thought, I am going to build a gravity field generator.

            This was fairly routine for me.

            A side effect of my genius was that the public school I attended really didn’t have much to offer me in the way of classes in math or science. When I completed the standard curriculum in those departments at age six my parents and the school came together and created a personalized education plan that involved allowing me to do projects of my own choosing.

            Each semester I would write one or more project proposals, submit them to my teachers for approval, and then spend the hours when I wasn’t taking classes in literature, music, or health, working in one of the school’s labs. They didn’t bother to grade me, the work was usually pretty far above most of my teachers.

            At 14 I had gone through the process around 20 times, all successful, and my teachers barely even bothered to read my proposals anymore.

             Still no one needed to question my plans, Gravity Field Generators are hardly rare, and I definitely wasn’t the first kid to build one as a school project. 

            What caused the trouble was how I chose to test my generator.

            You see, most gravity field generators work in such a way that when in use the entire area affected has the exact same amount of gravity. This comes in handy when applied to starships and space stations, ensuring that interstellar travelers don’t lose bone density over time.

            However, I made a Gravity Field Generator that could vary gravity on a millimeter by millimeter basis.

            Last Tuesday, in the school’s lab, there was 500 gallons of crystal clear water floating in a near perfect sphere just below the ceiling. I pressed a button and a sliver of that sphere compressed inwards. The touch of another button caused the same section to expand.

            I played for a while; enjoying the diverse combination of conditions I could render. The sphere grew spikes and divots. It became waveforms, spirals and flattened out until it was nearly one-dimensional.

            But then, it all came crashing down.

            I mean this literally, I pushed it too hard and the generator malfunctioned sending gallons upon gallons of water crashing down onto the lab floor. It swam across the floor, over the tables, and under the door into the hallways, damaging property and my reputation as it went.

            They dragged me into the office soaked to the bone.

            Accidents happen, but the level of property damage I caused was far beyond the threshold of what we were allowed to call an accident.

            My Mother and Pete were called in.

            The school wasn’t sure what to do with me; they had never really dealt with a situation like this.

            A meeting was held and the final verdict was expulsion, we would have the opportunity to appeal our case in twenty days.

            After the meeting I watched as Pete pulled my mother aside and whispered the words that fully sealed my fate. She would send me to the Center.

            She felt she had no other choice.

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This is the end of Chapter 1 of my Jericho story. It is in desperate need of editing, but I think I covered a lot of ground.

More to come -KayPee