Dream: An Unusual School Experience (Weekend Edition)
Sunday morning:
Our geology prof was tall and thin with dark hair and a beard... actually, I think it might've been one of my high school Chemistry teachers. We sat outside at night, watching a sandy area with low plants through a magnifier to see ants and other nocturnal insects. A huge black ant with clamp-shaped mandibles grabbed my finger. I dragged it around the ground and everyone stared. Someone hurried to check a book and confirmed it wasn't dangerous.
The professor's kids (9ish, a boy and a girl) sat on a retaining wall built from large rocks (like the new one around the house on the alley across from Kowalski's on Grand) looking for micrometeorites. We joined them shortly, which was tedious and unprofitable.
No one ate in the busy cafeteria. It felt more like a student union, everyone talking or doing work or watching TV. A trim older woman in dark purple walked around the room, keeping an eye on everything. She was one of those quasi-administrative professorial types that might still be teaching, but mostly seem to run things. She wore a skirt and jacket with matching hat. The hat was odd; it was a wide brim (not quite Carmen San Diego wide) with no cap, like a visor. Three jeweled hairpins poked up in a fan; the largest was pale gray, and was the size and shape of a bottle of Heat gasoline additive.
I was a bit behind; the geology stuff we'd been doing had taken two days, so I'd missed all my other classes. The new term had just started, so I didn't really know who was in my classes yet. I asked a group of black kids if they knew my Lit prof. They suggested someone who taught African Lit. I wasn't taking that class, but I figured they'd be in the same department. I walked down a hallway, turned a corner, and caught her as she was leaving her office.
She was a buxom blond in her 40's with hair to her shoulders. I apologized for missing class two days ago and asked her to give me the assignment for tomorrow. She talked while I walked with her to her next appointment. She explained what I'd missed, but I kept getting distracted. She was obviously annoyed that I'd missed class, but the more she talked, the more I was convinced she was deeply attracted to me. Her expression kept softening, and the assignment I missed kept getting smaller. I got nervous and excused myself; starting an affair with a professor didn't seem like a good move... at least not yet.
Back at the cafeteria, someone named Adam and his friends walked down the wide stairs to the exit. On their way out, a few guys on the side sneered; a fight was brewing. Someone on the other side said, "See you later, Abbott!" Some else scowled, but then we explained that Adam and his friends had started a band called "Abbott and [Something]," and they had a concert later. Adam/Abbott and crew sauntered down the stairs, ready for a fight. The purple administrator watched quietly.
Geology class was inside that day, and the prof was giving a martial arts lesson. He stood on the small sparring stage in front of a vertical metal hoop eight feet tall. Stairs lead up to the balcony and the entrance along the sides of the room. The class sat on the balcony and below it, waiting for their turn to spar. The geology professor had been teaching musicin68 the Ki path of martial arts (a la Phantom Dust). One of her friends (I think it was mr_thrym) was holding the professor against the metal hoop so musicin68 could attack him.
She leapt on-stage and jackhammered her fists against his abdomen, then rolled away. Her feet spun a kick into his armpit. She jumped aside and disappeared in midair with a squiggle of red light. Before the crowd could finish gasping, she reappeared on his other side, still flying through the air. She leaned back and unfolded her legs, slamming home the flying kick against his temple. The students cheered and the professor smiled, pleased with her progress. musicin68 circled up to the balcony to prepare her next attack, glowing with sweat and adrenaline.
She was so excited that the professor could read her aura. As the crowd shouted in slow-motion, he telepathically convinced musicin68 to stall. She was near the end of her routine, and he wanted more time to read her without her noticing. She thought he was going to demonstrate a new move, so she complied, feinting as she bamfed back and forth across the stage.
He saw black, cloudy shapes behind her, representing past scrapes with danger. Intriguing that a student should have had such violent adventures at so young an age. Then he saw mr_thrym with her in the past, when he was covered in a red and blue pattern. Realizing he was Spiderman, the professor wilted away from his stance, then grabbed mr_thrym under the shoulders. The professor's body was suddenly coated with dark brown oatmeal (he was The Thing, or a rocky Colossus). He easily picked up mr_thrym, tossing him a couple feet in the air. While mr_thrym's body was still on its way up, the professor grabbed his head and yanked down suddenly, snapping his neck. The oatmeal disappeared before mr_thrym's broken corpse hit the mat.
"That's the new lesson," he said calmly, hoping we hadn't seen how he'd done it. "Anyone else?"
musicin68 was furious but afraid. I stepped to her side, ready for trouble, and the class dissolved into chaos. Another of our fighting comrades joined us, but before we could move, the old woman in purple walked in from behind the stage.
The professor covered himself in rock and took a menacing step towards the frail administrator. She laid her hand on his arm, as if to comfort him, and bands of light bound him in place. He disappeared, not with a flash or puff of smoke, but subtly, like something everyone's ignoring.
"I apologize for that, class," she said, adjusting her hat. "We thought he'd been fully rehabilitated, but he's obviously slipped back into his old ways. You're safe now--he's been restrained--but it'd be better if you all left. I must go report to the council and await their decision."
With that, her purple hat slid down. The gray coif inside wasn't her hair; it was the hull of the flying robot that piloted her body. The oblate spheroid levitated away from her head. The heat-shaped gizmo folded into flight position, blinking blue lights along its motivators. Its hairpin-antenna array realigned, and the sleek alien intelligence floated away. It followed the hidden corridor behind the stage, disappearing into the mothership that buried itself here so many eons ago. No doubt it would consult with the other alien robots that secretly ran the school.
Most of the class had filtered out, but we were still there to see the rock professor blink back into the room. He'd slipped free of the restraints without the robot's knowledge. His eyes gleamed with malice, and we tensed for battle.
Our geology prof was tall and thin with dark hair and a beard... actually, I think it might've been one of my high school Chemistry teachers. We sat outside at night, watching a sandy area with low plants through a magnifier to see ants and other nocturnal insects. A huge black ant with clamp-shaped mandibles grabbed my finger. I dragged it around the ground and everyone stared. Someone hurried to check a book and confirmed it wasn't dangerous.
The professor's kids (9ish, a boy and a girl) sat on a retaining wall built from large rocks (like the new one around the house on the alley across from Kowalski's on Grand) looking for micrometeorites. We joined them shortly, which was tedious and unprofitable.
No one ate in the busy cafeteria. It felt more like a student union, everyone talking or doing work or watching TV. A trim older woman in dark purple walked around the room, keeping an eye on everything. She was one of those quasi-administrative professorial types that might still be teaching, but mostly seem to run things. She wore a skirt and jacket with matching hat. The hat was odd; it was a wide brim (not quite Carmen San Diego wide) with no cap, like a visor. Three jeweled hairpins poked up in a fan; the largest was pale gray, and was the size and shape of a bottle of Heat gasoline additive.
I was a bit behind; the geology stuff we'd been doing had taken two days, so I'd missed all my other classes. The new term had just started, so I didn't really know who was in my classes yet. I asked a group of black kids if they knew my Lit prof. They suggested someone who taught African Lit. I wasn't taking that class, but I figured they'd be in the same department. I walked down a hallway, turned a corner, and caught her as she was leaving her office.
She was a buxom blond in her 40's with hair to her shoulders. I apologized for missing class two days ago and asked her to give me the assignment for tomorrow. She talked while I walked with her to her next appointment. She explained what I'd missed, but I kept getting distracted. She was obviously annoyed that I'd missed class, but the more she talked, the more I was convinced she was deeply attracted to me. Her expression kept softening, and the assignment I missed kept getting smaller. I got nervous and excused myself; starting an affair with a professor didn't seem like a good move... at least not yet.
Back at the cafeteria, someone named Adam and his friends walked down the wide stairs to the exit. On their way out, a few guys on the side sneered; a fight was brewing. Someone on the other side said, "See you later, Abbott!" Some else scowled, but then we explained that Adam and his friends had started a band called "Abbott and [Something]," and they had a concert later. Adam/Abbott and crew sauntered down the stairs, ready for a fight. The purple administrator watched quietly.
Geology class was inside that day, and the prof was giving a martial arts lesson. He stood on the small sparring stage in front of a vertical metal hoop eight feet tall. Stairs lead up to the balcony and the entrance along the sides of the room. The class sat on the balcony and below it, waiting for their turn to spar. The geology professor had been teaching musicin68 the Ki path of martial arts (a la Phantom Dust). One of her friends (I think it was mr_thrym) was holding the professor against the metal hoop so musicin68 could attack him.
She leapt on-stage and jackhammered her fists against his abdomen, then rolled away. Her feet spun a kick into his armpit. She jumped aside and disappeared in midair with a squiggle of red light. Before the crowd could finish gasping, she reappeared on his other side, still flying through the air. She leaned back and unfolded her legs, slamming home the flying kick against his temple. The students cheered and the professor smiled, pleased with her progress. musicin68 circled up to the balcony to prepare her next attack, glowing with sweat and adrenaline.
She was so excited that the professor could read her aura. As the crowd shouted in slow-motion, he telepathically convinced musicin68 to stall. She was near the end of her routine, and he wanted more time to read her without her noticing. She thought he was going to demonstrate a new move, so she complied, feinting as she bamfed back and forth across the stage.
He saw black, cloudy shapes behind her, representing past scrapes with danger. Intriguing that a student should have had such violent adventures at so young an age. Then he saw mr_thrym with her in the past, when he was covered in a red and blue pattern. Realizing he was Spiderman, the professor wilted away from his stance, then grabbed mr_thrym under the shoulders. The professor's body was suddenly coated with dark brown oatmeal (he was The Thing, or a rocky Colossus). He easily picked up mr_thrym, tossing him a couple feet in the air. While mr_thrym's body was still on its way up, the professor grabbed his head and yanked down suddenly, snapping his neck. The oatmeal disappeared before mr_thrym's broken corpse hit the mat.
"That's the new lesson," he said calmly, hoping we hadn't seen how he'd done it. "Anyone else?"
musicin68 was furious but afraid. I stepped to her side, ready for trouble, and the class dissolved into chaos. Another of our fighting comrades joined us, but before we could move, the old woman in purple walked in from behind the stage.
The professor covered himself in rock and took a menacing step towards the frail administrator. She laid her hand on his arm, as if to comfort him, and bands of light bound him in place. He disappeared, not with a flash or puff of smoke, but subtly, like something everyone's ignoring.
"I apologize for that, class," she said, adjusting her hat. "We thought he'd been fully rehabilitated, but he's obviously slipped back into his old ways. You're safe now--he's been restrained--but it'd be better if you all left. I must go report to the council and await their decision."
With that, her purple hat slid down. The gray coif inside wasn't her hair; it was the hull of the flying robot that piloted her body. The oblate spheroid levitated away from her head. The heat-shaped gizmo folded into flight position, blinking blue lights along its motivators. Its hairpin-antenna array realigned, and the sleek alien intelligence floated away. It followed the hidden corridor behind the stage, disappearing into the mothership that buried itself here so many eons ago. No doubt it would consult with the other alien robots that secretly ran the school.
Most of the class had filtered out, but we were still there to see the rock professor blink back into the room. He'd slipped free of the restraints without the robot's knowledge. His eyes gleamed with malice, and we tensed for battle.