City of the Falling Sky

by Joseph Evans

  “It’s very unusual for somebody to name their son Seckraman, isn’t it?” said the headmaster, curiously.

  “Yes it is,” Seckry replied, hoping that the headmaster wasn’t about to crack some terrible joke.

  Seckry had been born with his left eye slightly greener than his hazel coloured right eye, exactly like the ancient descriptions of Seckraman, the son of Gedin the Almighty, which was why his mum had given him the name. He had been teased about it at school when he was younger which was why he asked everyone to call him Seckry nowadays.

  “It’s a shame there aren’t more Seckramans around, I say. Fantastic name, very majestic. Now, down to business.”

  Mr Gobbledee flicked through a heap of papers, pulled his glasses to the tip of his nose, and peered at one of the sheets.

  “Seckraman Sevenstars, here we are. So it seems that you have, until this point, been studying the subjects of mathematics, science, literacy, geography, art, and history, is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I see. Dear me, the limitations of these poor schools . . .” He shook his head, smiling briefly. “Well, at least you’ll have the basics. I’m sure you’ll pick things up fairly quickly. I daresay with a surname like Sevenstars you’ll be a dab hand at astronomy.”

  “Astronomy?” Seckry said uncertainly.

  “Astronomy indeed. Just one of the new subjects you’ll be undertaking here at Estergate Institute. You’re in Skyfall now, my boy. We’re governed under the Skyfall Board of Education, and that means we’re on the XL-Ent curriculum, where excellence excels.”

  Seckry suddenly felt a surge of panic. He didn’t have a clue about astronomy. How would he ever be able to catch up to the other pupils?

  “What other new subjects will I be studying, sir?” he asked nervously.

  “Well, let’s see now, there’s genetics, psychoanalysis, ethnology, osmology, animal care, oh and immunology, hydrology, geoarchaeology amongst others.”

  “Excuse me?” Seckry said meekly. He had never even heard of most of those words.

  “Oh, and I’m sure you’ll love botany,” the headmaster said brightly. “My personal favourite of the bunch.”

  “Botany? Is that the study of flowers? Sir, I know literally nothing about flowers, how will I–”

  “Seckry, there’s no need to worry. I firmly believe that you will be able to pick these subjects up and, in time, become great at at least one of them. I know it may come as a shock to you to have all this new information to learn, but you are not the first to have moved to Skyfall halfway through their education, and you will not be the last. There have been many others before you and almost all of them have succeeded in adapting to our educational system. It really is the best in the world. Yes, Rudaby Simmsworth was the last to have joined us half way through. Very successful nanophysicist now.”

  Seckry wasn’t sure about this. A nanophysicist? Where would you start?

  “Many years ago the schools in Skyfall operated just like your old school back in Marne,” the headmaster continued. “There was no system to speak of, just your basic, plain old subjects. But over time we set up the board of education to make sure our pupils here in Skyfall were the most intelligent, most skilled, most adept young prospects in the world.”

  Mr Gobbledee looked at his watch with a raised eyebrow.

  “Now, I’ve talked for quite long enough. Let’s have a look at your timetable.” He traced his finger over the paper. “Monday . . . nine thirty . . . electronics with Mrs Cutson . . . Oh dear.”

  “Oh dear?”

  “I mean . . .” Gobbledee stammered. The blood seemed to be draining out of his face. “Yes, electronics with Mrs Cutson, how wonderful! I . . . uh . . . have to rush off, I’m afraid, but if you return to reception, the secretary will be sure to point you in the direction of Mrs Cutson’s class.”

  Seckry was ushered out through the doorway and Mr Gobbledee gave him a firm handshake before glancing around wildly, wiping his forehead with a tissue, and disappearing down the corridor.

  “Don’t tell me you got Cut Throat Cutson for your first class,” said the secretary, a young woman with tied back hair and a fluffy pen in her hand.

  “That’s what it says on my timetable,” Seckry said nervously.

  “Unlucky, man. Well she’s down in the electro-quarter, you know where that is?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, you gotta take the first right past the sliding doors, head down towards the training facility, then you take the pneumatic pods and follow the signs for the electronics unit. Got that?”

  “Uh, yeah. Think so. Thanks.” Seckry headed off and heard the secretary shout, “Whatever you do, don’t be late for Cut Throat!”

  Seckry looked at his watch. It was almost half past nine. Why had the headmaster looked so ill at the mention of Mrs Cutson? And even more worryingly, why was she referred to as Cut Throat?

  As he passed the training facility, Seckry made a note to himself. He just had to take the pneumatic pods now, whatever they were.

  In front of him was a circular set of metal doors.

  A gangly boy with long, spiky, black hair rushed past Seckry and slammed his open palms onto the shiny surface.

  “Open up!” he said desperately, and started banging the blue circle next to them repeatedly with his fist.

  It was only then that Seckry realised it was the same boy that he had seen on the monorail that morning.

  “Are these the pneumatic pods?” Seckry asked him.

  “Yep,” said the boy. “Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on!”

  “Are you heading for the electronics quarter?”

  “Yep. Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on!”

  “Mrs Cutson’s class?” Seckry asked.

  “Yep. Come on, come on, come on, come, on, come on!”

  The boy gripped his own head and shouted, “For the love of Gedin, get your pneumatic butt up here!”

  “Don’t worry, I’m gonna be late too,” Seckry said, to console him slightly.

  The boy looked at his watch with a pained expression and squeezed his one eye shut.

  “Tick,” he said dramatically, and let his arms slump to his side. “That’s it,” he sighed. “Doesn’t matter if you’re one hour late or one minute late. If you’re late for Cutson’s then you’re gonna pay.”

  He looked at Seckry as though he’d only just noticed him.

  “Did you say you were looking for Cutson’s class too?”

  “Yeah, it’s my first day at Estergate.”

  “Your first day at Estergate and you got Cutson for your first lesson? Bad luck, man. Well, at least you’ll get meeting her over and done with early on. I had to wait a day and a half before my first electronics lesson and man, did it come as a shock.”

  “Is she really that bad?”

  The boy nodded grimly.

  There was a pleasant electronic bing and the metal doors slid open with ease.

  “After you,” said the boy, and Seckry stepped inside.

  The pneumatic pod was a giant, curved, glass cylinder which was facing diagonally downwards and was filled with twelve rows of seats.

  Seckry looked all around him. Outside of the pod he could see the inner circle of the school.

  “Wow, there’s a garden in the centre,” he said.

  “The Central Plaza? Yeah, nice place to have a packed lunch if the weather’s good. Gotta be quick though, the benches fill up within five minutes of the lunch bell ringing.”

  As the pod began descending, their natural light disappeared and was replaced by the warm orange glow of circular light spheres that were implanted into the walls around them.

  “So what’s your name?” said the boy, slumping into one of the seats and putting his feet up on the chair in front.

  “Seckry,” Seckry said.

  “Nice to meet you. Name’s Tenk Binko.”

  “Why are you late?” Seckry asked.

  “I had
to hand in some overdue genetics homework and then got caught up chatting to some friends in the year above for too long,” Tenk explained.

  “What do you think Cutson will do to us for being late?”

  Tenk sighed. “Well, it all depends on whether the old hag’s pet gimmypug is eating his lifferleaf again or not. If he’s still on that bloody hunger strike she’s gonna be livid. Otherwise she’ll just be her usual miserable self.”

  “Gimmypug? What’s that?”

  “You never heard of a gimmypug? Where you from, man?”

  “Marne. Just south.”

  “Really? Never met anyone from down there. You don’t have gimmypugs there?”

  “No, never heard of them,” Seckry said, feeling more and more clueless by the minute.

  “Well, the city started importing them from either Cavaria or Gotland a few years ago, can’t remember which. You haven’t missed out on anything. The little fat things just sit around all day and make these weird burping noises. If you ask me, the reason they’re so miserable is because they’ve been shipped over and stuck in these cages. They’re supposed to be running wild in the fields. Cutson calls hers Peanut, but I call him Pugface. Hasn’t been eating properly for two weeks now. I reckon he’s hoping she’ll take him to the vets, then he’s gonna make a run for it. If I was him, I’d do the same. Must be like living hell having to sit in that cage looking at Cutson’s ugly mug all day.” Tenk suddenly started laughing. “Oh man, we think we’re in trouble, but my mate Tippian, he ain’t even gonna make it to the lesson at all. He’s been chatting to this girl online for a few weeks and last night he was up until about four in the morning messaging away. He wants me to tell Cutson he’s ill. The guy’s gonna get slaughtered.”

  The pneumatic pod came to a controlled stop and the doors slid open with a hiss. Beyond was a corridor that smelled of chemicals and was flickering from a loosely wired tube light.

  “Follow me,” Tenk said.

  Chapter Three

  A Tiny Tinge of Excitement