Jim Baen’s Universe
Page 52
“So, we’ll be at the home office for a while.”
“Do we have an apartment, yet?” Jala asked.
“No, we’ll stay in a hotel while you look for one.”
Josh conjured up his memory of Bowan. Tier upon tier of skyscrapers and megascrapers reaching for the sky. Green? Some of the signs were green, maybe. Water? Sure, it comes out of a tap. Bowan. Well, at least there were kids his age. Approximately nine billion.
He actually sort of liked Bowan, what he remembered of it. Mostly an apartment and the airbus to school. He’d only been in kindergarten and first grade in Bowan, though. He couldn’t remember much. The megascraper had a pool, several actually, but one he could go to. Not by himself, of course, but maybe he’d be old enough, now. And the subcomplex they lived in had board tracks. He wanted to ask if they were going back to the same complex but then they’d know he’d been listening.
Worst of all, though, he knew the tone. This was a temp. Dad would just be hanging out until they figured out what to do with him next. He might be around for a month but more likely he’d be gone all the time. When they’d lived in Bowan before, there had been brothers and sisters, mostly Anna and Cho. Sure, Cho had been a bastard most of the time, but at least he was somebody to nag. A brother was a brother.
This time it would just be him and Mom in an apartment.
They’d kill each other in a week.
Spaghetti man wraps tendrils of… really strong stuff around his mother’s neck.
Bad.
****
He’d learned the hard way. The bungalow was rented so this time they didn’t even have to wait for movers. The next day the back of the aircar was packed with stuff, so was the trunk and most of the backseat; Dad had already sent the company’s airtruck back to the site on remote. Josh had packed his stuff the night before; his clothes, some data cubes and his real, honest-to-gosh, bound, paper, copy of Tarzan Lord of the Jungle. The family had furniture and other stuff, but the company had that stored for them. Maybe they’d get some of it out for the apartment. Maybe not. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
It was going to be a long flight to Bowan. It was a sub-orbital hop but once you’ve seen one you’ve seen 'em all. So Josh lay in the back seat, his foot propped up on a bag of clothes, his head on a pillow, closed his eyes and started reading.
They left early, stopping for breakfast at a greasy spoon in Samoa and lunch on the outskirts of Bowan. It was a McFries outlet on the 47th floor of one of the outer megascrapers. From the window, Josh could see way off in the distance some hills. They were green. He took one more look at them and bit into his McWhopper.
The earliest memory he had of his dad was him bringing home McWhoppers. It was a big deal, then. He didn’t know why; they ate them all the time these days. That had been in Durban. Durban had been pretty cool, from what he could remember of it. The house had been small and old but it was surrounded by trees and he could still hear the screams of the monkeys sometimes when he thought hard. And most of his brothers and sisters were still home so they’d been crowded. But it was in the country and it was near a river. And they had a pool. His earliest conscious memory was of nearly drowning in the pool. Mom and Dad always had a pool, a lake, a river, somewhere to swim. They might move a lot, but they always got to swim.
There had been a big party when they moved to Bowan; everybody was really happy. He didn’t know why, he’d liked Durban. And he’d gotten to like Bowan even if it was different, too. Bowan was cold, most of the time, it seemed to him. And they’d moved into a really small apartment in the megascraper. But the complex had a pool. He’d nearly drowned in that one, too, when Cho had been wrestling with a big null-grav player from school and he’d jumped in to “save” the brother that was ten years older than he was. The next thing Josh could remember was being stuck under the struggling bodies and not being able to get to the surface.
But this time there wouldn’t even be Cho to play with, or at least nag. Cho was married. He lived in Bowan, though, so maybe they’d get together.
Josh glanced out of his eye as a pretty girl sat down across from them. She was wearing the current fashion which was, as his dad put it one time, “two bangles and a feather.” The girl caught him looking and Josh turned away and took another bite out of the burger, blushing.
He’d never been one of those boys who didn’t like girls. He could remember in Durban when he was, maybe, five, getting married to some girl. Just play-acting but they’d been really serious about the vows. A couple of days later she’d wanted a divorce and he’d had to go get the term “anulment” explained to him. He still didn’t get it.
But getting the girl was what it was all about. He knew that from his graphnovs. The good guy got the girl and the bad guy didn’t, that’s how you could tell the difference. Oh, the bad guy might have some girl hanging around, but he was always after the good guy’s girl. Josh wanted to have a girl. One that wore “two bangles and a feather.” And he’d save her from evil Jootans by sneaking into their secret base…
“Time to leave,” his dad said.
2: Durance Vile
This was just wrong.
Josh looked out the plastic-crystal windows and sighed. It was pouring down rain and it looked cold. Not that it would matter because he’d probably never go outside again in his whole life.
The apartment was fine, but it was small and seemed dark after living for three years in the tropics. And the complex didn’t have a pool. Oh, the megascraper had two, but they weren’t members of those. So he was left to sit in the apartment all day and read or tool or meme. And with the meme restrictions his parents had put on his plant, he could basically talk to Sati the Clown fans or nothing. And what he considered appropriate for Sati the clown, a Jootan wouldn’t do to an Adoo.
And today was the first day of school. He hated school but “first days,” especially when you were already two weeks into the school year and all the kids had broken up into cliques already, were the worst.
Worse and worse and WORSE Mom was walking him to school.
“Time to go, Josh,” his mom said from the door.
“I’m sick,” Josh said, coughing unconvincingly.
His mother sighed. “Come on, Josh.”
“Really, really sick,” Josh said, slouching towards the door. He coughed again and tried to hack up a gob like Cho could do. No dice.
They walked down the corridor and to the bounce tube then took a slideway to the November quadrant. As they got closer there were more kids, none of them being led to school by their mom, heading for the big double doors.
Josh kicked his heels and watched the other kids as his mom checked him in and uploaded his records.
“Welcome to the Mary Smith Primary School, Josh,” the lady behind the counter said.
“Hi,” Josh said after a prod from his mother.
“He just takes a while to settle in,” his mom
said.
“He’s certainly been in a lot of schools,” the woman replied, frowning at the records. “And there’s a six month break…”
“I was homeschooling, then,” his mom said. “He’s met all the standard test requirements,” she added, nervously.
“Yes,” the woman said, still frowning. “I hope, though, that he can keep up. We have a very active academic program, one of the highest rated in Bowan. He may have… problems.”
“He’s very bright,” his mother said in that hard tone she took when somebody was being unusually stupid. “Just log him in. He’ll do fine.”
“Very well,” the woman replied, blinking her eyes. “He’s in Mrs. Datlow’s homeroom. Room 17395.”
Josh closed his eyes for a moment and downloaded a map of the building along with the directions to the class. He was just stepping out to head there when his mother took his hand.
“Mom,” he whined, terrified of the aching embarrassment of having his mother lead him to the class by hand. “I can find it on my own. Look, it’s down this corridor, take a left, take the second bounce tube, turn right out of the bounce tube…”
“Come on, Josh,” his mother said, dragging him along.
Josh slumped into the hopeless slouch of an Adoo being taken to the Jootan salt mines and followed along.
****
It barely took him two classes to find his niche. Complete and total loser.
“Your assignment for today, class,” the teacher said, smiling brilliantly as she passed out pieces of lined plascrip, “is to write a story about what you did on your summer holiday.”
Josh looked at the plascrip in disbelief and then picked up the pencil. He hadn’t actually written anything since kindergarten! What was this, the Outer Limits?
He looked at the teacher and pinged her. When she didn’t reply he hesitantly raised his hand.
“Yes, Josh?” the woman asked, smiling.
“You want me… you want me to write?” he asked, holding up the pencil hesitantly.
“Yes, Josh,” the woman replied, still smiling.
“Bu… but…” he looked into the corner of the room and pointed. “There’s a printer.”
“I know, Josh,” the teacher said, speaking to him as if he were an idiot. “But you have to write it.”
“I can meme it in about ten seconds,” Josh said, composing the first sentence and pinging her again.
“Josh,” the woman said, gently but with a tone of anger. “Everyone doesn’t have implants. You have to write it.”
“They don’t?” he said, horrified. He sent a general ping and the woman shook her head.
“Josh! Do not broadcast! It’s very rude!”
“But…”
“Josh just write the assignment!” the teacher said, angrily.
Josh bowed his head and picked up the pencil like a dagger, pressing it into the plascrip and trying not to tear it.
W… H… A… T-
****
Math wasn’t much better.
“Miss Rodinson?” Josh said, raising his hand after repeated pinging didn’t work.
“Yes, Josh?” the woman said, smiling.
“That’s wrong,” Josh said. “It’s a nested set. Marsupials are a subset of mammals which are in turn a subset of animals.” He got sent a command to the projector and rearranged the teacher’s careful work, which she had been laboriously inputting with a keyboard and stylus, showing the nested set. “It’s like that. Or in Leet…”
“Josh,” the woman said, angrily. “Do not rearrange the board. Understand?”
“Yes, but it’s wrong,” he insisted. “All marsupials are mammals. All mammals are animals. Ergo supper.”
“Josh, the way that I had it was right,” Miss Rodinson said, frantically tapping at the input board. “Drat, I didn’t save.”
“It was like this,” Josh said, rearranging the projection. “But that’s wrong!”
“It’s right, Josh!” the woman argued.
“No it’s not,” Josh said mulishly.
“Josh, access the answers at the end of the assignment. The even numbered ones have answers. It’s in the book.”
Josh accessed the pad in the desk through his plant and then frowned.
“It’s still wrong,” he said. “I don’t care what the book says…”
****
Then there was lunch.
“What did you bring me to eat, dweeb?” the bully said, snatching the bag out of Josh’s hand. “Think you’re smart. What do smart kids eat?”
“Ham sandwich,” Josh sighed. “Apple. Bulb of choco-cola. Frits.”
“Guess I’ll be eating well,” the kid smirked at him, vanishing into the crowd.
“Yeah,” Josh said, getting in line to buy lunch. He’d learned to keep some money the first few days of school. 'Til kids figured out not to steal his lunches. “And I’ll be eating near the teachers. Really near the teachers.”
He was just finishing his jello when he heard the howl at the other end of the cavernous room.
****
But, that of course, leads to… recess.
“What was in that sandwich?” the kid said, panting as he smacked Josh again.
“Ow! I dunno! My mother made it!” Fighting wasn’t going to do any good. The idiot had shared the sandwich with friends.
“You’re lying!” the kid said, kicking him in the side.
“Ow!” he said, covering his head with both hands. “Okay, okay! It was habanero sauce…”
****
“Miz Parker…” the assistant principal said.
“ Mrs.,” Josh’s mom replied. “Not Miz. Not Miss. Mrs.”
“ Mrs. Parker,” the woman continued, “we have been getting a number of complaints about Josh. While he is… quite bright, he has shown some… antisocial tendencies. Specifically, he has been arguing with teachers…”
“Subsets?” Jala said, smiling tightly. “He took that in second grade in Papua. If you have any knowledge of them and access the question and answer you’ll find that they are wrong. I’ve got a PhD in mathematics, I got it when I was sixteen, by the way, Miz Chaberk and I can tell you that in my professional opinion the person who made up your textbook shouldn’t be allowed a job as a window washer.”
“Then there is the problem of his lack of basic skills,” the woman continued, firmly.
“ Writing?” Jala said, amazed. “You consider writing by hand to be a basic skill? What next? Driving? Long division? Quantum mechanics?”
“Writing is a basic skill, Mrs. Parker,” the woman said angrily.
“For whom?” Jala cried. “In every other school district that Josh has attended, meming was considered ‘writing,’” she continued, speaking slowly and carefully as if to a complete moron. “You can’t get a job in a McWhopper franchise without the ability to at least handle a trace set. There is not a job on Terra that requires the skill of writing. If you give me a pencil and s
ome time I might be able to trace out my name. Can you write?”
“And he was found defacing the anti-bullying posters,” the woman continued, somewhat desperately.
“Maybe that’s because he’s come home three days this week with bruises and torn clothes!” Jala snapped.
“We have a very strict anti-bullying policy…”
“MAYBE YOU SHOULD TELL THAT TO YOUR STUDENTS!”
****
“Josh,” his mom said as he walked in from school. “Sit down.”
“Yes, Mother,” Josh said, sighing theatrically. He sat across from her and leaned forward, avoiding the cushion of the float chair and examining his sneakers.
“I was called to your school today, to talk to your principal,” Jala said. “Did you know that?”
“Yes, Mother,” Josh said, apparently fascinated by the sight of his toes.
“I know it takes a little time to settle in,” Jala said, “but you seem to be having more problems here than in Papua.”
“That’s because they’re stupid!” Josh said. “They’re just stupid! All of 'em.”
“They’re not stupid, Josh,” his mother said. “They’re just… it’s a special kind of… well it’s what they call ‘parochialism’ that you get in major cities. And poor quality education, yes. Things are too large so it’s just easier to work for the least common denominator.”
“Okay,” Josh said, having no clue what his mother was talking about.
“I’m… if we stay here long I’ll probably try to get you in a private school,” Jala continued.