Today was her first day of courses. A small sense of worry trickled in Bec's head as she stood at the deposit spot in Akashi. Bec only really now noticed the nature of this maze-like dimension of higher learning now that she was. She really hoped that her classes were not something she’d come to regret. The advice from O’Malley echoed in her head to pick something not from its immediate title, but for why it was being offered in the first place. He seemed to think that no class would be useless to her, which surprisingly narrowed her choices instead of broadening them. She knew she wanted to be in Improvisational Close Quarters Combat with Ani, and the benefits of that kind, of course, were self-evident.
Her next class was one that Bec knew she specifically needed. It was called Intro to Dust: The Truth Behind the Myths. Bec was not raised on Dust and, frankly, she was tired of feeling like such a fish out of water. She hoped that the perspective that this kind, of course, would bring would be helpful in keeping her out of geopolitical trouble.
Her third class was one tailored to Wordplay, which was the obnoxious term people used for personal application of their Words. Bec was not one to mindlessly memorize things. Bec liked the idea of understanding the underlying philosophy of things, rather than any brute force solution to them. Ludo echoed these sentiments to her on that game night when he said that he loved games as a whole and not as individual entities. He gave Bec a serious look when he said that he “wanted to find the essence of victory,” and every game he learned to excel at was a sliver of that essence.
Bec felt like understanding Words, as a whole, was the first hurtle any inquisitive mind would peruse in her position. She postured about wanting to answer all of life’s mysteries with Scarlet, but, if she couldn’t even understand her Word, she would never figure out shit. Sure, Bec would like to say that understanding Words was the key to some grand answer to life, but it was more likely just a part of a fascinating universe that Bec wanted to understand even a little bit about.
O’Malley’s advice lead Bec to the last one on her list: her final class. She couldn’t help but pick it, as the class made her absolutely giddy. Bec liked games, sure, but games were a small subset of her love for one particular thing that this class seemed to be exclusively about. Bec skipped over A Survey of the City, Floor-by-Floor for this class. That was definitely saying something considering she was the kind of gal to cover her entire room in posters of Urban landscapes. Truly, even her love of cities stemmed from this one, core central love. She looked down at the class on her itinerary. All it said in the handbook was that single word: Puzzles.
~~~
“Hello, my name is Kondaira and I am here to teach you all the history of Dust.” The small and actually old lady who walked into the class practically screamed to Bec that she would bake pies and hold a purse full of hard candies. There really were old people when the nanites coursing through everyone’s veins prevented aging? This is exactly why she needed a class like this.
“I request that you do not address me with formality, so I have not provided my last name. By the end of the year, you will have the skills to address me formally, despite my best wishes. I look forward to seeing you all learn to be fantastic historians.”
She gestured at the motley crew of about twenty or so students. “While this is a Hass-centric class, I assure you that this class will be much more rigorous than my previous classes on this subject. I will not go easy on you. On the contrary, I feel as though I must present my most challenging version of this class yet. Does anyone know how a teacher is selected for the Hass?”
“The willing ones that are qualified are picked from a raffle, ma’am,” said a bearded man in a t-shirt with an iridescent emblem on it. He froze the moment he realized that he referred to her formally. Kondaira notices the man gripped in fear so she overlooked it.
“And why would a person be willing to take on such a task?”
With an odd accent that emphasized A’s like I’s, a woman in the back said, “Don’t yay get pid whiy more?”
“Yes, pay is nice, but most teachers are not in need of more money. I find that nine times out of ten, the teachers that want to be a part of the Hass want fame. And if not fame, they just want to teach a class that has a high number of genuinely determined students.”
Another person behind Bec sounded offended, “Shouldn’t they be in it for the love of teaching or something?”
“Every teacher I know would say that they genuinely love teaching on an abstract level. Teaching real students is a miserable and generally unsatisfying slog. Do you know just how many people take a class like mine? Thousands. Each year. Through digital or personal means, I have taught a truly endless litany of students.”
She sighed and sat down at her desk, laying her case flat upon it down with a thunk. “And I felt next to none of them gave a single shit.” She kicked back, placing her feet, crossed at the ankle on top of her case as though it provided precisely the height she wanted to incline back comfortably.
Bec kept looking straight at the teacher, but her 360º view of the classroom saw her classmate's exchange baffled, shocked, and worried looks at each other.
“Don’t worry, you young hatchlings. I promise that I will not make your life miserable as long as at least a few of you do something worth a fuck in this Hass. Kondy is so sick of teaching brats.”
She waved her hand causing the lights to dim, and the back wall to light up a globe that Bec actually recognized. “Does anyone know what this is?”
“That’s Earth,” Bec said when no one else seemed eager to answer.
“That is correct. Now let me tell you why you all should all care about the dumb green-blue sphere we all abandoned.”
The rest of the class was about the history of the Earth in broad strokes. Bec wouldn’t really have to worry about this material on future tests since Bec had spent eighteen years studying that stuff in minute details. From Mesopotamia to the Green War, it was all covered lightning fast but fairly accurately to Bec’s mind. What came after was a bit more interesting.
She knew there was a high likelihood that Lauds had put her on ice long before they actually set out to colonize space, but, apparently, it hadn’t been as long as she had thought. There was no solution to the Cascade, a cage of metal shrapnel preventing space travel. The world was rapidly decaying into turmoil and, using a litany of technologies that emerged practically simultaneously in what Kondy called “The Final Technological Revolution,” hundreds of entities from city states to companies worked together to create an ark full of information, plants, animals, and humans. They counted their odds and miraculously pierced the Cascade through sheer force of will.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
By Bec’s estimate, it couldn’t have been more than twenty years between her kidnapping and the launch of the colony ship. This boggled her mind. Hearing her own world referred to as history sent her spinning.
The lights turned back on, and Kondy gave everyone a smile. “Well, we’re all out of time. I will see you at the same time next week.”
People started gathering their things and preparing to leave when Kondy said her parting words.
“Everyone, please find me a primary source from the Earth era by classtime next week. It could be anything from audio to a book, I don’t care. Consider that your homework. Good luck!”
]Distraught faces filled the room, but no one complained. They just continued to pack away things and shuffled out, perhaps with heads hanging a little lower now than before.
~~~
“Settle down, settle down.”
A lanky man in a tracksuit walked to a room the size of an airplane hangar and waved at the mass of nearly a hundred students abuzz with excitement. Bec and Ani stood next to each other and chatted warmly until the man approached.
With a low baritone, he introduced himself. “I am your instructor for Improvisational Close Quarters Combat; You may call me Coach T. This is, as you can see, one of the more popular courses in the Hass, and, while I am flattered that you all chose this course, it is NOT the course for everyone. This is not a course for the faint of heart, the stupid, or the unmotivated. I consider the first six months of this course to be a probationary period. If you wish to leave this course, or I deem you unsuitable, you will be allowed to take remedial classes for the last six months of the Hass. If you are removed for bad conduct, you will be not allowed to take those courses. Do you understand?!”
“YES SIR.” The class, through some kind of deeply ingrained habit, chanted their affirmation in unison without any sort of rehearsal.
Coach T paced with his arms behind him and continued, “This is a class that teaches you how to fight in close quarters. This orientation is fairly early in the day, but I requested that AmiGo schedule all future classes for late afternoons. We will be meeting three times a week for two hours. You can find the details in the calendar within your rulebook. Attendance is required with the caveat that you are excused for any Hass-related matters. You will not need to inform me, I will know. Now, to combat.”
Everyone looked really excited, but Coach T wasn’t having any of it.
“Do you knucklehead really think we’d be fighting on the first day? Do you really want to go to your next class drenched in blood and sweat? I’m talking about COMBAT RULES.”
Coach T’s skinny frame shuddered as he barked those last two words. He continued with staccato shouts.
“RULE 1: YOU ARE NOT ALLOW TO USE YOUR WORD UNLESS YOU ARE IN A BLACK BOX SPAR.
“RULE 2: DO NOT DELIBERATELY STRIKE THE HEAD UNLESS YOU ARE IN A BLACK BOX SPAR.
“RULE 3: ALL OTHER SPARS MUST BE DONE UNDER SUPERVISION AND IS OVER WHEN THE FIRST PERSON LANDS A TOUCH TO THE CHEST OR BACK.”
Everyone nodded except for Bec. She had a question. “Um, Coach T? What is a black box?”
He pointed at her. “What is your name?!”
Bec’s voice shook. “Gray, sir.”
“Gray, I do not know what kind of hole you’ve been living in,” Bec shrunk away at that, “but you have given me a wonderful opportunity to demonstrate why we are here in this building!”
Coach T waved Bec to come out of the crowd. The people parted to let her through. She stood in front of Coach T as the floor parted way causing two black chairs to rise up from the ground.
“We sit in these chairs and we fight.”
“We fight?”
“Can I get a student to explain? You, the guy with the red hair, tell her.”
Bec looked over to see Ferris Davies standing there. Her eyes widened in recognition as the ginger boy floundered. “I… I actually don’t know either, sir.”
Coach T palmed his face and grumbled something about rocks and living under them.
“Fine, I’ll just explain. Bec, this device uses the powers of AmiGo, simulates fights between us. For our purposes, it will be a low-level simulation of a small building. With a Black Box, people can not only fight as hard as they want, but they can fight to the death. Most Black Boxes you come across can record footage of fights and allow people to watch them. This one is one of only a few on the whole planet that actually allows recall.”
The crowd went nuts and Coach T quieted them before continuing, “Yes, before you ask, it will absolutely jeopardize your Word do use this. As such, we will not be using the recall portion until after the first quarter. Also, I do not need to remind you the severity of the penalty that comes with trying to sell a Hass participant's Word. Once the five years are up, it’s fair game. I would personally like to recommend that the rest of you should beat to a pulp anyone who shares someone else’s Word while in my class.” He turned to Bec. “Come, let’s see how you do. We are going for one hundred rounds since recall is off and it would a shame to waste all that processing power on a default run.”
He clapped and the floor lit up. A whirring sound filled the air followed by a series of thunks. Bec felt like she was getting an MRI done as she felt her head into the cradle of the electric chair-esque seat. The sounds stopped and Coach T stood up with a big smile.
“Now let’s look at the result! Do not feel bad if you couldn’t beat me, I was a ranker in the Black Box tournament in Valhal for years. He walked over to a console and his smile dimmed for a fraction of a second before coming back wider than ever.
With a glow in his eyes, he waved at Bec and announced, “We have a talent in our midst. Gray over here actually managed to kill me in four of our simulated matches. Absolutely incredible!” A few scattered claps from the audience made Bec queasy.
“If you think you can do better, come right up! In fact, I just had an amazing idea. Everyone form a line. Fight me today. Consider this a benchmark for the rest of the year!”
A line formed and numbers started to fly. “Zero. Zero. One. Two. Three!”
That last three was, to Bec’s surprise, Ani. She was really excited to go up to Bec and talk about her score. “Oh my god, I never thought I’d do so well. My pa always said I had a knack for killing. To be able to go full out must have been thrilling, I can’t wait to start recalling the fights. Oh and you! I could tell you were strong, but that strong? Wowza!”
“Erm, 100.”
Coach T was dabbing his forehead with his shirt as he looked at the console like it had broken. Bec looked at the person seated. It was Davies. Davies looked around with a panicked look and quickly ran to Coach T’s side and whispered something to him. The coach nodded and smile. “Next in line?”
“Woah, who is that big dumb hunk of meat over there. He beat coach in every round, wow.”
Bec nodded. Suddenly struck by a sense of mischief, Bec shouted. “Hey Ferris, come over here, I want you to meet someone.”
Davies looked confused before seeing that it was Bec call out to him. He trotted up to her with a smile. “Heya Bec, surprised to see you here!”
Bec slapped her face. “It’s Gray. Call me Gray.” Ani looked at Bec like she had discovered Bec’s deepest darkest secret.
“Gotcha.”
“Who do you want me to meet?”
“Ferris Davies meet Anillo. Anillo, this is Davies. I work with him. I thought I was the only person that Lauds put in the Hass but, apparently, I was wrong.”
“Oh no, Lauds didn’t do any of that. I paid my way in personally. Lauds helped me with the paperwork though.”
“You two work together? Tell me more.”
“Don’t tell her more, Davies. Tell us more about how you creamed Coach.”
“I don’t know if I should.” Davies looked nervous.
Ani hung on Davies’ shoulder. “Oh, please Davies, please. That was so cool.”
Bec noticed that Ani was laying the sweet talk on pretty thick. Bec would be annoyed if it wasn’t for the fact that it totally worked.
“Well, if you guys promise not to tell…”
“We promise, don’t we, Bec?” Ani elbowed Bec in the ribs.
“Well, I’m not going to tell you guys my Word or anything, but I’ll say this since I doubt you could do anything with it.” Davies looked around to make sure no one was listening.
“I have tier 6 healing. According to the docs, I’m virtually unkillable.”
Ani made an O shape with her mouth. Bec didn’t hide her surprise much better.
“Yeah, I know. Pretty cool, huh.” Davies watched Ani’s expression intently.
“I thought it only went up to tier 5?”
“They reworked the scale for me.” Davies shrugged. Suddenly, Bec felt like she wasn’t the only bizarro person in Project Mix-up. Her mind wandered to Tamara before she scratched that thought from her mind. She then thought of Sarah and Luster, wondering what sorts of secrets they might have.
Slowly, the class wound down. Some other people managed to match Ani and Bec’s score, but Davies remained king with Bec a very, very distant second. When everyone was leaving, Bec notices that Ani and Davies left together.