A Glitch in the World

by Alex Drozd

  “Is there anything we can do for you?” they asked.

  “Leave me alone.”

  Stuart walked away and shut the bedroom door behind him. He tossed his school things onto the floor and lay down in his bed. With his eyes closed, Stuart did nothing but think.

  Dwayne had taken it all now...even the preferred method. There was nothing left for Stuart to call his own, except for the glitch, that feeling of error that permeated all time and space around him, now made even stronger by Dwayne’s absence from the world.

  Stuart sighed. Bye, Dwayne, he thought. Wherever that came from, I hope it’s what you wanted—it being a permanent decision and all. No taking it back now, I guess. No wonder you wanted to try the HSP with me. You were looking for something else to live for as well. It’s too bad you didn’t find it; neither of us did.

  His only friend in the world was gone...and yet he grinned to himself. His friend had done him at least one favor.

  He had gotten him out of taking Mr. Okada’s math test.

  5

  In the following months, Stuart Fergesson felt more alone than ever. No one talked to him; he sometimes went through the entire school day without ever opening his mouth. This wasn’t because no one had tried talking to him; it was because everyone had tried talking to him at some point and decided never to do so again. Stuart had a way of making people feel uncomfortable, making them feel as if they should feel more pity than they had to give—and after Dwayne’s passing, the problem only grew worse.

  There was still the bus ride every morning and the school day which followed it. Everything went just the same as before, but lonelier. The girl who sat next to him in his English class, Alissa, still talked to him sometimes—something that, when it happened, was always the highlight of his day, it being his only real interaction with someone his own age. After that, he had science class, social studies, and then mathematics. It was his last semester of basic, but even with that thought in mind, every day still had that same feel to it, that same sense of disappointment.

  But this particular day wasn’t like every other day. No. It was completely different.

  Today was advising day.

  And that made it worse than every other day.

  The hover bus pulled up to the designated building, the sound of pressure releasing as it landed. Excitedly, Stuart’s classmates chirped back and forth at one another, like baby birds ready to eat their dirt and worms. The doors to the bus opened and the students flooded to the sidewalk outside the front of the building. The advising center.

  As the students gathered the civic workers shouted out certification categories, assembling into order Stuart’s classmates, the prospective cogs of Janus society.

  “Engineering!” one of them yelled. He was a short fellow, one who compensated for it with muscle. This was Stuart’s assumption after seeing him. It seemed reasonable.

  He kept on walking down the sidewalk. The day sky of Janus hung overhead, its sun halfway to zenith. Everyone was too excited. There’s something wrong with them, Stuart thought.

  “Teaching!” a heavyset woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “Administration!” a black man boomed.

  “Programming,” a young man said. He was dressed in Earth-attire—jeans and a dress shirt. Stuart walked towards him.

  “Programming?” the guide asked him once he saw Stuart approaching.

  “Yeah,” Stuart said.

  “Good. All right, there should be one more of you,” he turned back to the crowd, crying out his field of discipline. He wasn’t as loud as the other guides were; it would take him a while to find everybody.

  Stuart stood with the group of four other students. Most of them were like him: unattractive. Too skinny or not skinny enough. He knew what people thought as they were passing by. He knew he looked worse than ever now that he was standing with others who shared his faults.

  Finally, the last one of them heard the volunteer’s shouts. He was taller than the rest of them, with short brown hair and average build—good looking, too. Stuart felt a wave of excitement. He was about to be seen with him, someone respectable looking, someone who probably had a lot of friends. Stuart knew he would look better just by association. He grinned at the new kid. Programming wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “Programming?” the guide asked, even though he had shouted it a couple times while making eye contact with the approaching student.

  “Yes,” the new kid said. “I’m Jerry.”

  “Don’t tell me now, I’ll forget. Tell me when we’re inside so I’ll know where to send you.”

  “All right,” Jerry said. He didn’t show the slightest hint of offense.

  “Follow me,” the volunteer said as he began walking inside the advising building. The facade was a dark brown, flat surface. The building had three floors, and stood slightly shorter than the rest of the colony’s town square—it being purely administrative and therefore more compact. The buildings were all lined up perfectly, each with a few meters of just enough space in-between them, like the neighborhoods of dwelling units a mile away.

  The group of young men and women followed the guide, climbing the small flight of metal stairs up to the entrance. Holding the door open, the volunteer ushered them in. He took a PortScreen out of his pocket and turned it on.

  “All right. Jerry?” he asked. His fingers dangled over the screen of the device.

  “Yes?”

  “Guess I remembered after all. Your advisor is Mr. Holt, and he’s in room 2-012, right that way,” the volunteer said, pointing.

  “Thanks,” Jerry said, hustling off. Stuart mourned the young man’s departure. For the next few moments, the five of them would stand there by themselves, unprepossessing impressions of human beings who made the whole species look bad.

  The guide continued to call out their names. The penultimate one on the list was Stuart’s.

  “Stuart Fergesson?” the volunteer asked.

  “That’s me,” Stuart said.

  “Your advisor will be Mr. Timsina. His office is in room 2-020. Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Stuart muttered, walking in the direction the volunteer had pointed him in. He tried not to think about his fear. What if I can’t handle certification training? What if I fail? The fear of that hung over him like an inverted umbrella, one that blocked the rain everywhere except over his head.

  It was a short walk to the advisor’s office. Stuart reached the second floor after taking a small elevator. In the wide, open hallways, it took him less than a couple of minutes to find the right door. He saw the name of his advisor displayed ascetically on its frame. Stuart knocked.

  “Come in, come in. I’m so sorry. I meant to leave it open.”

  “That’s okay,” Stuart shouted back through the closed door. He hesitated. Now it was awkward. Dammit. He opened the door. “That’s okay,” he said again, feeling even worse than before.

  A man with a dark complexion stood up from his seat, smiling at Stuart. Mr. Timsina wore a neat business suit, but one with the colors unique to Janus. A dark red. Still smiling, the advisor reached out to shake Stuart’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Stuart Fergesson.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” Stuart said. Was he supposed to address him back? He didn’t know. It worried him.

  “So, you’ve decided on programming for your Rank Zero? I’m glad to hear it. We welcome you to the field.”

  “You’re a programmer, too?”

  “All advisors work in the field they advise for. It makes refill days more fruitful if you really want to know.”

  Stuart nodded, somewhat surprised at how frank Mr. Timsina was. For a brief moment, he began to feel like he might enjoy certification training more than basic. It was a feeling that was a step in the right direction.

  “Have you decided on programming for sure?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good decision. Good decision. Always consult an advisor before signing on.
You can’t change your mind! Now, have you looked at the requirements? Do your grades qualify you?”

  “Yes, sir. The minimum is a 3.5 average. I have a 4.7.”

  “Oh my! Well, that alone should qualify you. Do you have any disabilities that could affect your performance using a computer? We can’t accommodate what they can on Earth.”

  “No, sir.”

  “No problems related to eyesight that are any more serious than myopia?”

  “No.”

  “No arthritis?”

  “No, sir.”

  “All right,” Mr. Timsina nodded. He typed a few things on the computer which sat at his desk. Stuart waited patiently. “You’ve had your doctor send the physical over?”

  “Yes.”

  “You forgot to say ‘sir’ that time! How rude.”

  Stuart turned red. “I’m sorry.”

  Mr. Timsina burst out laughing. “I’m messing with you, Stuart. Anyways, have you taken any aptitude tests? Have you gotten a feel for the kind of work that’s involved?”

  “No, sir.” Stuart muttered the last word, unsure whether or not he should keep using it. “I’m still in basic.”

  “Bah! You have grades like that and basic’s keeping you busy? I don’t believe it. Now, you need to live and breathe your Zero. You need to start preparing beforehand.”

  Turning red again, Stuart nodded. “I get it. I’ll do that.”

  “You said you’ve taken no aptitude tests?”

  “I have not.”

  “Do you know any programming languages?”

  “I know a couple of mark-up languages.”

  Mr. Timsina frowned. “You’ve never looked at functional programming?”

  “Not yet, sir,” Stuart said. A deep-rooted shame built up within him from the recesses of his mind.

  “Let me ask you something, Stuart Fergesson,” Mr. Timsina said. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers still oddly clutching the edge of his desk. “If you wanted to program an android to make pasta, what would you do?”

  “What?” Stuart asked, bemused.

  “If you wanted to write a program for an android to make pasta, what would you do?”

  “What do you mean? Like what code?”

  “No, I’m not asking about a specific language or function. I’m asking you to describe to me what you would tell the program to tell the android to do. How would you start the process, from beginning to end? How would you get this android to make you some pasta?”

  “I, uh,” Stuart fumbled on his words. “I would tell it to put some water on the stove.”

  Mr. Timsina laughed shaking his head. “With what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do you get the water from the sink to the stove? What does the android put the water in?”

  Stuart looked at him for a moment not saying anything. The world around him swam, spinning, throwing him out at the mercy of a centrifugal force. He felt as if he should go off flying into the distance at any moment, yet he remained.

  “Come on, I’m asking you,” Mr. Timsina giggled. His tone wasn’t harsh. It was friendly. Stuart didn’t take it that way.

  “I would tell the android to get a pot and fill it up with water.”

  “Good, next.”

  “I would tell it to put the water on the stove.”

  “Your android has now dumped the pot of water onto the stove. It’s going to take what you say literally, and now it will literally ‘put the water’ on the stove. You have a bug in your program.”

  Stuart felt so red that all the blood in his body must have rushed to his face. It sure felt like it; it was as if his face was on fire.

  “I tell the android to place the pot of water on to the stove.”

  “Good, good,” Mr. Timsina cooed. “You see, you must be incredibly precise when writing a program. This is the kind of attention to detail that the work entails. It can be fun, though, thinking of every little thing, can’t it?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Now, what next?”

  “I tell the android to retrieve some seasonings from the pantry for when it’s done.”

  “Hmm, all right.”

  “Then, I salt the water.”

  “Ah, not too much I hope! Eat healthy when you’re young, Stuart.”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “What next?”

  “I put the pasta in the pot.”

  “What kind of pasta? Does it need to be broken apart? What if it was spaghetti? How ridiculous!”

  “It’s bow-tie noodles. You just pour them right in.”

  “Bow-tie noodles? Do you get those at the off-word market?”

  “Yes.”

  “How interesting. How interesting. Your family can afford to shop at the off-world market. Anyways, continue.”

  “Well, then I tell the android to stir the pot of noodles every two and a half minutes.”

  Mr. Timsina nodded his head. “All right, you’re getting the idea. But there’s one thing you’ve forgotten.”

  “Oh?”

  “You never instructed the android to turn the stove on!” Mr. Timsina roared, laughter filling his office. “Your android will just sit there stirring noodles sitting in cold water! Oh, your family would be so angry with you! And do you not boil your water first? What an eccentric young man you are.” The soft chuckling and giggling voice kept prodding at Stuart. He decided very quickly that certification training would be worse than basic ever was.

  “Well,” Mr. Timsina said, calming down, returning to his work on the computer. “I think you’ll do just fine, Stuart Fergesson. Your grades are exemplary, and I can tell you’re a smart young man. Would you like to officially sign up?”

  Stuart stared back at him. This man had just made a fool of him and was now acting like it was nothing. He didn’t like Mr. Timsina. He probably wouldn’t like programming. But he didn’t like anything, really, and he didn’t want to bother with meeting another advisor.

  He signed up.

  6

  Beneath the dark blue Janus sky, Stuart Fergesson left the advisors’ building. He climbed down the small set of stairs, noticing that something felt off, as if the horizon had been tilted upwards at a slight angle—just barely noticeable, but certainly there. And there was a feeling of dread to accompany this ajar view of the world, the same one he felt every morning before the school day started; it was the sense that something was terribly wrong. The glitch in reality, some looming sense of doom only he could feel. The glitch permeated throughout his world, an error in nature itself.

  “Did you sign on?” A nearby conversation from a pair of his peers crept into his ears.

  “Yes,” the other replied. “Did you?”

  “Of course.”

  Thankfully, the sound of the bus approaching drowned them out. Stuart walked up to the designated stop, where the hover craft would land. He waited for it there.

  “They shouldn’t do that.” As they came closer to him, their chirping voices reemerged.

  “It’d be better. Have you seen the numbers?”

  “Just because it’d work doesn’t mean we should do it.”

  “Well of course it does.”

  “Other ideas work, too!”

  The hover bus pulled up to land. A two-floored contraption, the great vehicle caused the air to scream as it pushed it aside, making way for its throne. It landed with a thud, almost shaking Janus’s surface around them.

  Lining up, Stuart’s class got ready to board. There were several dozen of them, the entire population of that age on Janus. The doors to the bus flew upon, and they began to hop on, swinging themselves into the rows of seats ready to be warmed by their asses. Stuart took one near the back. He sat down, hanging his head. Usually, he was on the bus with a mixed aged group for a normal day of school, but today he was with his class. And they were louder when they were all together—they enjoyed more of themselves being around. Stuart couldn’t understand it. The chirping pounded on his ear dru
ms.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone moving closer. They were now seating themselves next to him. It was the oddest thing.

  “Hey, Stu,” Alissa said, the girl who sat next to him in English. She was an anomaly herself—a girl who talked to him. “You looked bored, so I decided to sit by you.”

  “Oh,” Stuart said nervously. “Thanks.” He cursed himself for sounding appreciative, for letting her get a glimpse of how big of a deal this was to him.

  “I should have sat with you this morning on the way here. You looked bored then, too.”

  “I probably always look bored.”

  “Why’s that? Even today? It’s time to get our Zeroes!”

  “Eh,” Stuart looked away.

  “Did you sign up?” Alissa asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, sorry for not knowing, but what are you going to get certified in?”

  “Programming.” Stuart tore his eyes off the window to look back at her. “It’s okay, I don’t know what you’re doing either.”

  “Oh,” Alissa giggled. “Yeah, I was late yesterday. I missed the bus.” She laughed again. “But I’m doing medicine. We need more doctors on Janus.”

  Stuart nodded his head. “Yeah, I’d think so.”

  “So, you’re good with computers?”

  “I don’t know. I just like them.”

  “The OpenNetwork must be a big deal for you, then.”

  Stuart shrugged. “I didn’t start to like them until after we got it.”

  “Are you not looking forward to certification? You don’t sound excited at all.”

  There was a shudder throughout the bus. The craft lifted into the air, putting a foot and a half of empty space between it and the ground. It propelled itself by perpetually falling forward, its vertical component canceled by an upward thrust and its horizontal motion unperturbed. Stuart resumed talking once the noise had died down and the bus was on its way.

  “I don’t want to get my Ranks,” he said.

  “But everyone has to!” she said, apoplectic. “I mean, it’s what makes Janus turn!”

  “Doesn’t the sun do that?”