“Sir,” Rudy said, raising his hand to capture Mr. Calcon’s attention. “Can I please start writing my essay now? I’ve had enough thinking time.”
“I asked you to sit for thirty minutes. It has only been ten,” Mr. Calcon replied coolly.
“This is psychological torture!” Rudy protested slumping forward onto the desk in misery.
“Perhaps, then, you will think twice before disrupting my class again, Mr. Holmes,” Mr. Calcon answered, swivelling his circular head in Rudy’s direction.
Rudy said nothing, defeated by the robot’s unwavering desire to watch himself and Lois suffer. He closed his eyes, physically able to feel the minutes ticking by as he willed time to move faster, switching positions in his chair in a futile attempt to alleviate the boredom. In one last desperate bid to hold on to the remainder of his sanity, he began counting the cracks between the tiles on the classroom floor, grateful for the welcome distraction. He had reached number fifty-five when Mr. Calcon announced that thinking time was over, commanding them to start their essays.
Rudy’s entire body sighed with relief as he reached into his desk, producing his new tablet device with an eagerness he had never applied to anything academic. He tapped away on the screen furiously, his gratitude for having a task to occupy his mind inspiring him to write in expressive detail about how wrong he was to behave so childishly in class. By the time the detention had drawn to a close, Rudy had written three pages on the matter, which he sent in an e-mail to Mr. Calcon, hoping the robot would be the only one to read his grovelling apology.
“Thank you for your essay, Rudy,” the robot said in his steady voice. “Please, come and join me at the front of the classroom- and bring your tablet with you.”
Hesitantly, Rudy stood up, walking to the teacher’s desk and standing in front of it as he awaited Mr. Calcon’s instructions. The robot turned his head towards him, a manic expression on his metal features. Rudy swallowed, his heart thumping in his chest as he anticipated what the petrifying teacher was going to do next.
“I would like you to read your work to the class, Rudy,” Mr. Calcon said, an edge of forcefulness to his tone.
“You want me to read it in front of everyone?” Rudy repeated, aghast at the thought. He began desperately thinking of illnesses he could fake in order to get out of his next Arithmetic lesson.
“That is correct,” Mr. Calcon replied, watching Rudy with interest.
“Alright, Sir,” Rudy shrugged, feigning indifference. “I’ll do it next lesson.”
“Oh, no,” Mr. Calcon shook his heavy, round head. “You can do it now.”
He gestured behind Rudy, who turned on the spot to see every member of his year group sitting expectantly at their desks, waiting for him to speak. Lois looked around, seemingly just as stunned by their appearance as Rudy was. She waved in the direction of Finley, Emily and Will, who had taken seats on the other side of the room from her, their eyes fixed firmly on Rudy’s face. Amongst the crowd was Tyler and Jack, leaning back in their chairs with smug expressions on their faces, as though they had known all along that Rudy was to be humiliated.
“But, how did they all get here?” Rudy asked, more to himself than anyone else, as he glanced in the direction of the classroom door which had remained shut since his entry.
“There’s another door at the rear of my classroom,” Mr. Calcon answered, gesturing to the back wall where the faint outline of a door was visible. “I summoned them all here, so they could hear your apology. I believe it’s important that they do.”
His cheeks beetroot, Rudy cleared his throat. His hands began to shake as he held his tablet device as close to his face as possible, obscuring himself from view. In a quiet voice, he began to read the embarrassing plea for his teacher’s forgiveness, a lump forming in his throat as he reached the section of his essay where he had, in great detail, described the insecurities that fuelled his desire to make others laugh. When he was finished, he waited, his knees knocking together as he tried with all his might to avoid making eye contact with his friends, knowing they would never see him in the same light following the incident.
There was a moment of silence, followed by the eruption of raucous laughter amongst his classmates, each one of them howling as tears poured down their cheeks, teetering in their chairs as they writhed with the hilarity of what they had witnessed. Rudy stood rooted to the spot, tears of mortification pricking his eyes as he endured the mocking calls and cackles from the more vocal members of his year group. The only person he could bear to look at was Lois, who seemed uncomfortable with the class’ jeers. She was particularly shocked to see Finley getting to his feet, heckling Rudy for his excruciatingly pathetic confessions of remorse.
Just when he was about to run away in disgrace, Mr. Calcon snapped his fingers, causing everyone besides himself and Lois to vanish, their voices disappearing into the silence that had fallen upon the room.
“How did you do that?” Lois asked, jumping from her seat in terror.
“Your class members were not actually present,” the robot answered. “It was merely a holographic representation. I do, however, hope that it has taught you both a valuable lesson. Mr. Holmes- you now understand how it feels to be taunted by a room full of your peers. As for you, Miss Sommers, I hope I have shown you that reacting in anger towards a tormentor serves no good, for they are equally as vulnerable as everyone else and must therefore be treated with pity.”
Lois and Rudy stared at their teacher, their mouths hanging open with a mixture of indignation and shock. Seemingly satisfied with their reaction, he sat down rigidly at his desk, regarding them with contentment as he concluded that his work was done.
“Now, you may go,” he smiled, dismissing them with a wave of his arm.
The sweet moment of Rudy and Lois’ release came just after eight-thirty, and they left the classroom with haste, afraid that Mr. Calcon might call them back in and prolong their agony further. Stepping into the corridor, Rudy felt he had aged at least four years in the time he had spent trapped at the robot’s mercy. Despite the early hour, he was desperate to reach his bed and curl up under the sheets, his eyes itching with tiredness as he blearily made his way towards the lift. Lois trudged along beside Rudy, scowling with the torment of being near him, but too tired to wait for him to leave. They sloped down the hallway without speaking, passing under the shadows of the large, printed quotes that hung from the ceiling as they went.
They were only a few yards away from the lift, when they were stopped in their tracks by a deafening crash, reverberating through the corridor with exceptional force. Rudy and Lois looked around wildly for the source of the commotion, exchanging a look of apprehension before continuing forward. The moment they rounded the corner, the reason behind the ear-splitting crash was immediately visible, causing Lois’ hand to fly to her mouth in horror,
One of the gigantic plaques had come unattached from its wires, falling to the ground with an impact so heavy it had splintered the tiles beneath it into hundreds of pieces. Rudy headed over to investigate, checking to ensure that the hallway was empty as he moved. Kneeling at the foot of the plaque, he read the words depicted on its dark, blue surface.
“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light – Plato.”
“Rudy,” Lois said, her voice shaking, “Look there.”
She pointed to the top of the plaque, where graffiti had been untidily scrawled above the quotation.
“Our day is coming,” it stated, in bold, red letters.
"What does that mean?" Lois frowned. "Whose day is coming?"
"I don't know," Rudy replied darkly, getting to his feet. "But I don't want to stick around to find out."
The sound of approaching footsteps startled them, and they turned together in the direction of the noise. Relief spread through Rudy's body as he caught sight of Miss Fortem, patrolling towards them down the corridor with purpose, two robot gu
ards hot on her tail. It was strange to see her in her evening attire, her blonde hair free from its usual severe bun, allowed to flow freely around her shoulders as she moved. Her formal outfit from the morning's assembly had been removed in favour of a more comfortable looking silk, blue dress, which was adorned with golden stars and planets. Her face was lined with worry as she approached the scene, giving her an appearance of vulnerability that Rudy had never seen before. For the first time since he had joined the Academy, he realised that she was simply a human being, with no more ability to control her fear than he had.
"What happened here?" she asked, her blue eyes roaming over the graffiti on the fallen sign.
"We don't know, Miss," Rudy said quickly, afraid they would be somehow implicated in the incident. "We heard a crash and we found the hallway like this."
"You didn't see who was responsible for the damage?" she pressed them, scrutinising them both carefully to check for any signs of deceit.
"No," Lois shook her head with vigour. "We didn't see anyone."
Miss Fortem nodded and pursed her lips, her pupils darting from side to side as she considered what course of action to take.
"Fetch somebody to clean this up," she ordered the robots over her shoulder, without turning to look at them. "And organise an extensive search of the grounds for any signs of intruders."
The robots bowed their heads and walked away in a synchronised motion. Miss Fortem sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"I would prefer it if you two could refrain from mentioning this to anybody," she ordered them, keeping her voice steady to convey as much authority as possible. "Until we know who’s behind this, I think it would be unwise to cause a panic. We don't want anyone to start speculating before we've got to the bottom of what’s happened.”
"I think I've heard the phrase before, Miss Fortem," Lois said slowly, a memory beginning to form in her mind. "'Our day is coming.' It's what the Society of the Enlightened said in the broadcast they made in the lobby.”
"All the more reason not to tell anyone about this," Miss Fortem said concurred. "Particularly not your father, Lois. This school doesn't need another scandal. I'm sure one of our students has merely decided to copy the phrase as means of a harmless prank. If anyone finds out about this, I’ll be extremely disappointed in the both of you. Do you understand?
"Yes, Miss Fortem," Rudy and Lois chimed in unison.
"Good," she nodded. "Now get to bed, both of you. Curfew is in just over an hour."
They did as they were told, walking as fast as they could in the direction of the lift with hopes that they had managed to successfully avoid getting into Miss Fortem’s bad books so soon into the new school year. Pausing to glance back over his shoulder, Rudy caught sight of the Headmistress looking around the corridor, an unmistakable look of terror plastered across her face. She pulled her Personal Device out and began typing on the screen rapidly, placing it to her ear and speaking just loudly enough for an eavesdropping to Rudy to hear.
“I need to report a crime” Rudy heard her say, her voice trembling. “It’s to do with them – The Society of the Enlightened. One of our students has taken it upon themselves to vandalise school property with their mantra.”
There was a pause as she listened to the response on the end of the line.
“Of course, I’m certain it’s a student. Usually, I’d deal with the matter internally, but I’m going to require some repair droids to fix the damage,” she continued.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she exclaimed after a moment, her exasperation at whomever she was speaking to causing her to lose her composure. “Of course the Society isn’t here at the school. What could they possibly want from us? Besides, we have an excellent security system. There’s no way they could be here without me knowing.”
She began to pace, her eyes moving from side to side as she concentrated on the voice emitting from her Personal Device.
“I’m fully aware what happened last year, thank you,” she said curtly. “I can assure you that no student will be put in danger under my watch. Now, send me what I have asked before I put in a formal complaint with the Head of Security about your incompetence.”
She ended the call with a forceful press of her finger to the screen, running her hands through her hair as the stress of the situation began to take hold. Rudy rounded the corner, moving swiftly away before his Headmistress caught him listening to her conversation. He stepped into the lift, which proved to be empty, Lois having continued on towards the dormitory without him. As the doors closed, Rudy wrung his hands with unease, the unexplained incident he had unwittingly found himself a part of causing him a great deal of discomfort.
The conviction in Miss Fortem’s voice as she had dismissed the possibility of the Society of the Enlightened being at the school was undeniable, however, Rudy was not convinced. There was something extremely eerie about the writing on the sign, and the fact that he had discovered it with Lois only added to his suspicion that there were darker forces at play. If there was one thing Rudy knew for certain, it was that wherever the ‘Famous Four’ went, trouble usually followed. He prepared himself with a sigh, knowing in his gut that something serious was about to unfold at the Academy, whether Miss Fortem dared to acknowledge it or not.
8.
The Message From No One
Will awoke early on Monday morning, his heart hammering as he leapt from his bed and dressed in record time. He patrolled about his room, throwing his tablet and the I-Books he had borrowed from the school library into his rucksack, along with an old laptop he had been using to write his assignments. He retrieved his Student Planner from where he had discarded it onto his desk the night before and brought up his timetable, reading from the hologram that appeared in front of him. His first lesson of the day was Technology, followed by double Alien Studies, Arithmetic and Civilisations. As he left his bedroom, he ran through a mental check-list, ensuring that he had completed all the relevant homework he had been assigned for the day’s classes. He had only been back at the Academy for a few weeks, but there had already been a noticeable difference in the school curriculum. Mr. Mayhem had stopped showcasing his favourite gadgets in Technology, opting instead to bombard his classes with elaborate lectures, discussing the topic of how Artificial Intelligence is both designed and developed. In Alien Studies, Mr. Krecher had begun teaching the second-years about the anatomy of water-dwelling beings from the distant planet Aqueous. Even Rocket Control, Will’s favourite lesson, had become somewhat difficult, with Mr. Zeppler instructing them on how to make complex repairs to their personal-sized rockets.
Walking down the hallway, Will found it hard to concentrate on the prospect of his upcoming lessons, his mind distracted by the knowledge that he would soon be attending try-outs for the school’s Rocket Racing team, which were to be held at seven p.m. that evening. The thought of the trials sent his adrenaline into an uncontrollable frenzy, his stomach twisting with nerves as he imagined how humiliating it would be to have his dreams shattered in front of everyone he knew. Making the team had been his greatest desire since joining the Academy, and he was finally eligible to become a member since receiving his personal rocket licence at the end of his first year. Everything he wanted was within his grasp. All he had to do was not mess things up.
A hard lump sticking in his throat, Will continued on his way down to breakfast, his legs leaden as he dragged himself across the school grounds. He entered the Dining Hall, hoping that the day would provide him with enough distraction to stop him from dwelling on the impending try-outs. He found Emily, Finley and Lois sitting together and eating bowls of porridge, chatting casually as though the day were not the most important one of Will’s entire life so far. Making a quick detour to the serving station, he requested only two pieces of dry toast, the smell of the sausages, bacon and eggs making his stomach churn unpleasantly. After collecting his food from the serving bots, he made his way over to the table, joining his friends and trying to act as
normally as he possibly could. His uncharacteristic quietness was immediately noticed, however, and he soon found himself on the receiving end of an interrogation from the other three.
“What’s the matter with you?” Emily asked him within minutes of him sitting down. “Why aren’t you eating anything?”
“You have been strangely quiet this morning, Will,” Finley added with concern. “Is everything okay?”
“You haven’t been taking trips into the Looking Glass again, have you?” Lois asked him with a wry smile.
“Oh no, Will don’t tell me you have!” Emily exclaimed. “The only time I’ve ever seen you this quiet was because you’d discovered that thing. What happened this time?”
“It’s not the Looking Glass,” Will sighed.
“What is it, then?” Emily pressed him. “Is it something to do with your dad? Did you find something else out?”
“No, it’s none of that,” Will answered, staring intently at his piece of toast.
“What then?” Emily demanded.
“It’s Rocket Racing trials this evening,” Will sighed. “I did tell you about them the other week.”
Finley, Emily and Lois exchanged an amused glance.
“Of course,” Finley said, a hint of sarcasm detectable in his voice. “How could we have forgotten?”
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” Emily shook her head. “You know you’re easily one of the best flyers in our year.”
“The team is made up of mostly older students, though,” Will frowned. “I don’t have anywhere near as much experience as them.”
“All you can do is your best,” Finley shrugged.
Will grinned back at him gratefully. Finley’s words may not have provided Will with much reassurance, but it was a great comfort see him slowly returning to his normal self, having struggled so bitterly with the attention they had received at the start of term. Thankfully, Will’s fellow students seemed to be forgetting all about the “Famous Four” and the events of the previous year, distracted by the day-to-day routine which had resumed at the Academy.
The Secret Society Page 9