The Secret Society

by Hannah Hopkins

  “I’ll look into having their programming altered so it doesn’t happen again,” Miss Fortem responded curtly, irked by the criticism towards her beloved robot army.

  “Perhaps it would be better if the bots were removed from school grounds altogether,” Jeremy suggested. “If they can’t be reasoned with, surely that makes them a threat to our students.”

  “The robots would never harm a student,” Miss Fortem snapped. “They have explicit orders never to do so under any circumstances. Their presence keeps all of us safe. As long as I am Headmistress, the security bots will remain at the Academy. There is nothing else to be said on the matter.”

  An awkward silence followed, after which the topic was dropped entirely. Miss Fortem invited the teachers to converse amongst themselves, allowing a hum of chatter to gradually fill the room. Kurt concentrated on attempting to eat as much of his dinner as he could stomach, letting his mind drift away in the hopes that time would begin to pass quickly. His eyes wondered about the room, taking in the strange Hallowed Eve decorations still hanging from the ceiling at sporadic intervals across the restaurant. Gazing up at the unnerving paper cut-outs, he felt a deep sense of unease as he contemplated the children of the Mayfly being encouraged by their parents to design images which depicted Earth in a blaze of fire. He was much less troubled by the painted imaginings of Novum, wondering as he looked up at the array of different textures and colours if any of them were true to the real planet’s likeness.

  Kurt had always found Hallowed Eve a difficult time, remembering with distinction when the time of year on Earth had meant the celebration of Christmas. His first wife, Deborah, had adored Christmas, and as a result, he had accumulated a wealth of fond memories over the festive period. Even now, nearly thirty years later, he was still able to conjure the smell of freshly baked gingerbread, wafting from the oven as Deborah pottered about their small kitchen, singing carols as she went, a tartan apron hanging from her neck. Each year, she would insist on covering the house in a multitude of decorations, collected from various shops and special markets over the course of their marriage. She had taken to ignoring Kurt’s annual protests, fashioning their home into a magical grotto, her face alight with child-like glee as she worked, lost in her own special and enchanted world. Eventually, Kurt had given up resisting and had watched helplessly as Deborah hung plastic snowflakes from the ceiling, positioning them perfectly so the glitter on their surface caught the light of the Christmas tree. Before he knew what was happening, the staircase had been adorned with green trimming, infused with flecks of red, gold and silver paper. The cushions were stripped bare, their plain cases replaced with covers displaying images of Santa, snowmen and sleighs, each one embroidered with a tiding of goodwill. Not even the lavatory had been spared from Deborah’s festive touch, with her dressing the lid in a bright green, elf-patterned cover.

  Though he had never admitted it, Kurt had come to find the eccentric décor endearing, and secretly began to enjoy being dragged around numerous Christmas markets, Deborah forcing him to sample various draughts of mulled wine and ice skate on pop-up rinks while multi-coloured lights twinkled over his head and seasonal music blared noisily in the background. Once the Wars on Earth broke out, everything had fallen apart, including his marriage to Deborah. Once all had been lost, Kurt had come to look back on Christmas as an idyllic time of peace he was unlikely to experience again.

  As the meal at Fabrizzio’s drew to a close, Kurt checked the time on his Personal Device, deliberating whether he had time to make his traditional visit to the Antique shop before it closed. Miss Fortem stood up, thanking each member of staff for their attendance and then dismissing them, wishing them well for the remainder of the holidays. Kurt sprung to his feet in a spritely manner, dashing towards the exit as he made no attempt to hide the relief he felt at having his freedom returned.

  He made his way outside, pushing past the stragglers who were meandering around the lobby floor, making the most of the quiet lull between the end of the day’s shopping and the start of the evening’s entertainment. By the time Kurt reached The Antique Shop, it was ten minutes from closing. He rushed inside, exchanging warm greetings with the owner, Mr. Carlton, who had come to know Kurt as one of his best customers. Despite the fact that they were millions of miles from the Earth, Mr. Carlton managed to stay in business thanks to the healthy sum of credits he offered in exchange for old artefacts. Over the years, more and more people had come forward to donate their precious possessions, exchanging them for the means to enjoy the commodities the Mayfly has to offer. Usually, Kurt would be opposed to such exploitation, but in truth, he found perusing through the antiques far too pleasant to take a moral stance against the running of the shop.

  Hallowed Eve was an especially good time to find rare items, with even the most determined of hoarders forsaking their old mementoes in order to purchase shiny, new gifts for their families. Kurt rejoiced in the spoils of their clear-outs, nosing through piles of old fountain pens and thumbing through dusty old books, their pages giving off a musty scent as he turned them. He investigated an old magnifying glass, turning it over in his hands as he tried to imagine what its original owner may have used it for. Eventually, he stumbled upon a pile of old greeting cards, picking them up carefully and examining them with interest. He traced his thumb over the smooth designs, disturbing clouds of glitter that rained down onto his shoes in sheaths of silver and gold.

  He opened the card at the top of the pile, reading the message that had been scrawled untidily inside:

  “Dear V,

  Season’s Greetings. Let’s hope 2061 brings the plan together!

  Love,

  M

  P.S – found these cards in my grandfather’s basement. How charmingly old fashioned!”

  Deciding the cards would cheer up his dull apartment, Kurt purchased the set, intending to display them with pride on his mantlepiece. He tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket and headed out of the shop, strolling across the lobby floor in a happy daze as he dreamt of the hot cup of coffee he would make himself the moment he got home. As the lifts came into sight, Kurt let out a small groan as he noticed Albert loitering in front of the shiny, glass doors, glancing over his shoulder every so often to look for his pursuers. Praying that the old man wasn’t waiting for him, Kurt walked over as casually as he could muster, putting his hands in his pockets and whistling as he waited for the lifts to arrive, the minutes dragging out uncomfortably as he tried his best to avoid Albert’s eye. Fortunately, he seemed distracted and was muttering to himself, moving his head from side to side as he endeavoured to scope the area around him. After deliberating for several moments whether to engage him or to try and sneak home without him noticing, Kurt sighed with defeat.

  “Are you alright, Albert?” he asked him for the second time that evening. He regretted speaking the words almost as soon as they had left his mouth, but he was unable to stand by and watch his colleague struggle in a disorientated state.

  “I just need to make sure I get home without them getting to me first,” he replied, the words shooting rapidly from his mouth. “I don’t know why I came out this evening. Stupid, really. Truth be told I was afraid I would lose my job if I didn’t come. I love to teach, you know,” he smiled sadly.

  “I know, Albert. Why don’t I walk you home?” Kurt suggested, overcome with sympathy for him.

  “That won’t be necessary” Albert shook his head. “I’ll be alright.”

  “It’s no bother,” Kurt said, waving his hand dismissively. “You don’t live too far from me.”

  “Well, okay then,” Albert conceded, and the two of them stepped into the lift, riding to Floor Three, as they shared in a comfortable silence, listening to the elevator’s mechanisms clicking and whirring around them.

  When the brief journey was over, they disembarked, walking side by side as Albert directed them to his apartment, located at the end of a long labyrinth of corridors. When they reached the f
ront door, Albert ushered Kurt to stand back, ordering him to wait with his back pressed firmly against the opposite wall. Confused, Kurt did as he was told, watching with apprehension as Albert typed on a keypad beside the door.

  “Alright, it’s safe to come closer now,” Albert informed him. Warily, Kurt stepped forward, glancing hesitantly at a stun gun that appeared to have been attached to the top of the door frame.

  “What would have happened if I had just walked up to your door?” Kurt asked, swallowing hard as he awaited Albert’s response.

  “You would have been shot,” Albert answered in a matter-of-fact tone, pressing his finger to his apartment’s touch sensor and twisting the handle. “Anyway, thank you for escorting me home. I’ll be safe now.”

  “Are you sure?” Kurt pressed him, the sight of the gun revealing the extent of his paranoia.

  “Yes, Yes,” Albert nodded. “Truth be told the most dangerous of my devices is being kept at the school. I’ve been working on it in the Lab, you see, and I decided to leave it there for the holidays. I thought it might throw whoever’s watching me off the scent.”

  “I see,” Kurt smiled crookedly. “Try not to worry too much Albert,” he added. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  Albert nodded in appreciation, hastening inside his apartment and shutting the door with a resonating bang. The moment he was out of sight, Kurt inhaled, letting out a deep sigh of relief as the joy of being able to return to the comfort of his solitude consumed him. Promising himself he would stay in his apartment for the rest of the holidays, he placed his hands in his pocket, whistling a merry tune as he made his way down the hall. His gratitude at having survived the evening he had been dreading for the course of several weeks distracted him, and he failed to notice the man standing in the shadows watching him pass, a devious grin spreading across his face.

  “Leader?” he said, speaking softly into the device attached to his wrist. “It’s at the school. Give me a week, and it’ll be ours.”

  Switching off his device, he turned and walked away, shaking his head as he laughed without humour.

  “Poor old man,” he grinned. “He has no idea what’s coming.”

  13.

  The Rocket Race

  The return to school for the new term brought with it the annual battering of exams, which Will found even more difficult to tolerate than usual, the added strain of Rocket Racing practise consuming every dreg of spare time he had. Much like their lessons, the teachers had designed assessments that were far more rigorous than those of the previous year, and Will had found himself deeply regretting his decision to forsake studying in the holidays, choosing instead to split his time between his friends and Matina, with the intention of making up for it later. Unfortunately, “later” had never arrived, and Will found himself staring with regret at a dismembered robot in the Technology Lab, with no idea how to re-assemble the android and thus pass Mr. Mayhem’s exam. As the hour passed, he did his best to piece the intricate bits of machinery together, his face flushing with frustration as certain parts refused to connect, despite his best efforts to forcibly ram them into place.

  He had had the same troubles with his Alien Studies exam, during which Mr. Krecher had showcased a Sphink- a lanky, four-legged, green alien with a pointed face and large, beady eyes- before asking the students to write an essay about how best to care for the creature. Will had spent a good half an hour staring at his blank examination download, doodling over his name at the top of the screen as he tried with desperation to conjure any form of an answer from the recesses of his mind. Eventually, he settled on making a series of educated guesses, glaring at the Sphink each time he paused to gather his ideas. A similar problem had occurred in Combat and Weaponry, when he had forgotten the five stages of disarming a robot, despite Finley having reminded him the night before. His Civilisations exam was equally as disastrous, and Will was certain he would have failed had Madison not angled her tablet so that he could subtly read her answers. The only subject in which Will had successfully managed to wing his assessment was, of course, Rocket Control. Mr. Zeppler had requested they demonstrate their ability to navigate a short journey he had mapped out for them, which involved circling around a nearby moon. Will hoped with desperation he had done enough to pass the year, fearing his dreams of becoming a Rocket Racer would be left in jeopardy should he not be allowed to return to the Academy for his third year.

  When the stress of the Technology exam was over, Will was left with a bigger concern looming over his head. The Rocket Racing team had been scheduled for their first big competition against Weltraumschule, which was due to be held the following day. As a new member of the team, it would be Will’s debut event, and his anxiety to perform well in front of the school and redeem himself for his tumultuous try-out was overwhelming. In order to demonstrate the school’s generosity, Miss Fortem had invited Weltraumschule’s racing team to stay on Academy grounds for the week leading up to the competition, along with several members of the school’s staff and the select number of other students. The arrival of the new guests had brought with it an insatiable buzz of excitement, with special events being planned in their honour. As the top performing academic student in their year, Finley had been elected to become part of the committee in charge of running such events and had been assigned the task of showing the Weltraumschule students around the Resources Biodome. Feeling intimidated by the prospect, Finley had requested that Will be allowed to join him on the tour, and Miss Fortem had agreed, wishing to stay in Finley’s good graces after his hesitation to join her special detective team. Will had accepted the invitation, seeing it as a great opportunity to scrutinise his competition.

  Leaving the Tech Lab, Will and Finley headed to the Biodome, meeting the small group of German students who were waiting for them outside. Taking in the sheer size of the older students, Will felt incredibly grateful that Rocket Racing involved no physical contact, certain he would not fare well against the muscular build of the opposing team. With slight hesitation, Will and Finley walked into the midst of the burly gang, introducing themselves as they proceeded to lead the way inside the Resources Biodome, as the German team chatted amongst themselves in their mother tongue.

  With Finley at the lead, Will and the others traipsed around the dome’s interior, which Miss Fortem had set to display an impressive terrain full of snow, blanketing the tall trees and rolling hills that filled the simulated landscape. The Weltraumschule students looked around in awe, snapping photographs on their Personal Devices as they attempted to take in the vastness of their surroundings.

  “We don’t have anything like this at our school,” a surly boy told Will in English, his face strained with jealousy. “How does it even work?”

  “I’m not sure,” Will shrugged. “I think it must be alien. That’s usually the case for anything that doesn’t make sense around here.”

  “We should ask Herr Weber to get one of these,” an attractive girl interjected, her brown eyes wide as she beheld the beautiful scenery.

  “Who’s Herr Weber?” Will asked, trying his best not to be intimidated by her towering stature.

  “He’s our Headmaster,” the girl answered. “He’s actually come to the Academy with us. You might get a chance to meet him tomorrow.”

  Will and Finley exchanged a dubious glance.

  “Did I say something wrong?” the girl frowned. “I’m sorry. My English isn’t’ very good.”

  “No, no you’re English is fine,” Will re-assured her. “It’s just that Headmasters don’t exactly have the best track record at our school.”

  “Track?” the girl repeated. “You mean like the track we will be racing on tomorrow?”

  “Er, a different track,” Will replied, swallowing hard as he regarded his opponent. “I take it you’re a part of the Rocket Racing team, then? You’re not just here for moral support.”

  “I’m Heidi Hoffman, Weltraumschule’s Captain,” she smiled, revealing a set of perfectly st
raight pearly, white teeth.

  “Will’s on the Academy’s team,” Finley informed her, speaking for the first time since they had entered the Biodome. “He’s quite good, actually.”

  “Is that so?” Heidi narrowed her eyes. “In that case, I’ll look out for you tomorrow. I hope you’re ready for some serious competition”

  She winked and walked off, heading off to join her classmates who were happily frolicking in the snow, picking up piles of the white powder and blowing dusty clouds from their hands. As soon as Heidi was gone, Will nudged Finley hard in the arm.

  “What did you do that for?” Will demanded.

  “Ouch!” Finley exclaimed, rubbing his arm. “Do what?”

  “Tell her I was on the team! She’s their Captain and she’s going to be after me now!”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” Finley said without sincerity. “I was only telling her that you’re good – which you are by the way. No one’s going to be able to question that after tomorrow’s race.”

  “They will when Heidi comes zooming over to me and knocks me out of my rocket,” Will replied, his legs trembling at the thought.

  “She won’t do that!” Finley assured him. “She was nice.”

  “On the ground she’s nice,” Will countered. “But put someone in a rocket and things change.”

  “You racers are so dramatic,” Finley said, rolling his eyes to the Heavens.

  “It’s a dangerous sport, Finley. There’s good reason to be dramatic,” Will pointed out.

  Finley smirked but said no more on the topic, not wishing to antagonise Will any further. The two of them stood in silence, tucking their cold hands into their jacket pockets and watching as the Weltraumschule students joined forces to build a snowman. A few minutes later, a boy broke off from amongst the group, rushing over to where Will and Finley stood, his cheeks pink with joy as he staggered to an ungraceful halt before them.