Lumia

As Tock walked past Alan, she flicked his ear. Alan yelped and clutched his ear defensively.

“Tock, will you stop that?” he screeched. “Seriously, I’m done. You’re a blunt scalpel! A nucleus with too many neutrons! An algorithm that doesn’t compute!”

His face was blood red, his upper lip was curled, and his neck was craned forward. Lumia had grown accustomed to the usual banter between Tock and Alan, but she’d never seen the black-haired boy this angry before. A reflexive smile crept onto her face and she tried to be as still as she could at the front of the classroom so as not to get caught in the crossfire.

To Lumia’s surprise, Tock didn’t bite back. With a big grin on her face, she leaned forward and blew air into Alan’s eyes.

Alan reeled back sputtering. He cried, “Okay. Fine. Whatever. I’m going.” He picked up his terminal and meus and hopped down a row to join Raphael and Leo.

“Sowwy,” Tock said, pouting.

Though Alan made an obvious effort to ignore her, Tock wasn’t dismayed. Picking up her terminal, she skipped down to the front of the room and shuffled in beside Lumia. As she passed, she jabbed Lumia in the kidney with a finger, which caused Lumia to let out a high-pitched yip. Realising what horrible noise had just escaped her mouth, Lumia put a hand over her lips and ducked forward, trying to make herself small. Tock leaned forward in her seat until she forced Lumia to make eye contact, then shared a big smile.

Dropping his laptop next to Raphael, Leo watched the whole thing unfold with his eyebrow raised. “What’s with her?” he asked, referring to Tock.

“I don’t know,” Raphael replied. “She’s been like this all day.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Alan said, glowering. “All morning. All morning! She just hasn’t stopped flicking me, and pinching, and being just, just…” he threw his hands up in exasperation then dropped his head onto the desk.

Tock spun in her chair. “I said sorry,” she called.

“I don’t accept,” Alan announced.

Dropping into his chair, Leo asked, “Seriously, Alan, why is she like this?”

“Because I’m happy!” Tock chimed.

“Because history,” Alan said. All eyes turned to him, including Tock, who poked her tongue at Alan. Sighing, Alan explained, wearing a defeated and distant gaze. “Tock loves history. She gets like this before every history class. Every. Single. History class.”

“As you all ought to do, because my lessons are amazing.”

Sauntering into the class was a man who looked anywhere between twenty and forty. He had brown hair flecked with grey that was somehow messier than Leo’s. He wasn’t properly shaved, so a three-day growth of stubble framed his thin face. He placed his terminal on the desk, then leaned back onto it and used it as a seat. When he addressed the class, he flashed a toothy grin.

“Or at least I think so,” he added in a voice as smooth as honey. “We’ve all met before. I’m Bentham. I gave you the best marks for your first test. No thanks needed.”

Lumia couldn’t help but laugh under her breath. Educator Bentham’s demeaner was rather endearing. However, Tock’s reaction was far more stunning. The hazel-eyed girl’s mouth was agape, and Lumia could practically see stars in her eyes.

“Now, this class is going to be the best class you take,” Educator Bentham continued. “It’s joint History and Morality, or HisMor for short. I made that abbreviation up.” He chuckled to himself.

The sparkle in Tock’s eyes disappeared instantly and was replaced by a brooding frown. After a few more self-serving jokes from Educator Bentham, Tock rudely stood up and raised her hand to the skydome.

Educator Bentham cut short and cocked an eyebrow at Tock. “Er, you’re not supposed to stand until after I ask you to speak. Actually, the standing is optional.”

Tock remained standing but lowered her hand. “Why are we learning history and morality? Wouldn’t it be better to teach one subject in a course instead of two? That way we can get a better understanding of both topics.”

“Good question,” Educator Bentham said. One side of his mouth crept up into a half-smile. “You can sit, by the way.” Tock didn’t sit. Educator Bentham stared at her a moment, then shrugged and gave his answer. “It’s true that you would learn more history if we didn’t include morality on the side. However, that would be a very dry lesson, and not very fitting for Class Euripides. So I decided to teach you a more advanced version of history. Anything else, Roxelana?”

The class went deathly still. Tock, standing up in front of her friends, went ghost white. She didn’t move, not even blink, and she gaped at Educator Bentham as though he had just plunged a knife into her gut. Then at once she collapsed into her chair and buried her head in her arms.

Concerned and confused, Lumia put a hand on Tock’s upper back. “Tock? Are you okay?” There was no response.

Educator Bentham eyed the curly-haired girl, scratching his chin. Then he shrugged again and picked up his tablet to signal that the class was beginning. A few rows back, Alan had perked up and was watching Tock, his face riddled with concern. Lumia understood his feelings precisely, because seeing Tock be so miserable, and the one who caused this tragedy so indifferent, stirred her heart so.

Oh you sweet unfortunate thing. Your heart is fickle and fleeting. For recognition of your name, I’ll put myself within your frame.

Taking a deep breath, Lumia shot up abruptly, knocking her chair back. She raised her hand skyward and shouted, “Educator! I believe what Tock had meant to ask,” she gestured towards the sulking girl, “was, what is the purpose of teaching these two subjects together and not separately? Surely it isn’t simply because doing so is more advanced.”

Now all eyes were on her. Lumia’s cheeks reddened and she wanted nothing but to give up this foolish charade, but ending Tock’s misery came first. She glanced down at Tock and flashed a smile. The sulking girl tilted her head to face her, wearing an expression of utter bewilderment.

The corner of Educator Bentham’s mouth twitched, then his features softened. He assessed his terminal. “Tock, Tock, Tock. I can’t find it here.”

The girl in question raised her head and gave the Educator a defiant stare. “I sent you a mail about it!” she wailed.

“Ah, sorry,” he said, though in a tone that sounded almost like sarcasm. “I guess I must have missed it.” He put the terminal down. “Regardless, an answer to your question is in order.”

He pried himself off the desk and began pacing around the room. “Learning history on its own is fine. However, when one spends any amount of time observing historical evidence, one must ask, ‘What on this choking Earth does it mean?’ It does us no good to look at the what of history without understanding the why. So, on top of looking at history, we’re going to be placing ourselves in the minds of our ancestors and trying to understand the world as it was back then, through their perspective.”

A frown crossed Tock’s face and she stood up. “But isn’t that more interpretation of history? Why don’t we just stick to the factual information?”

Educator Bentham tipped his head sideways. “Yes, but I’d argue that most of what we know—not just history, but even science—is just interpreting the data. The real question is, what happens when you don’t have data? What happens when you don’t have enough? What happens when you have all the data and no clue what to do with it? That is what we’re doing in this class. We’ll be addressing the subject of morality in order to shape our understanding of the past, its people, and why they made decisions that brought the world to the brink of ruin.”

He shrugged. “Or, as the other Educators would say, alongside history we’re also teaching historiography—how to think about history.”

“Then why not just say that?” Tock queried him.

“Well, that’s because I don’t plan to follow the syllabus.” He gave Tock a wink, and the girl’s features softened in response. “Anything else?”

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Tock’s lips pursed, then she let out a sigh before sitting. Lumia bobbed her head at the Educator, who bobbed back in response, then she too sat.

“Good,” announced Educator Bentham. “Let’s begin with something simple. Who’s familiar with the Moscow Accord of 2042 CE?”

Tock’s hand shot up, and the short girl nearly leapt out of her seat. Morgan’s hand also rose, but Educator Bentham seemed to have already made his choice.

“Yes, Rox—Tock,” he grinned to lessen his accidental offense.

Standing, Tock said quickly and excitedly, “A deal between thirteen major fossil fuel producing nations that was meant to allow them to continue producing and exporting oil and coal. The deal allowed them to drop funding in primitive renewable energy production like solar panels and spend that money on post-hoc solutions like carbon capture, mass tree planting, and bio-engineering projects to offset their carbon footprint. However, all those solutions could not keep up with increased production and weren’t that effective besides.”

“Excellent,” Educator Bentham said. Tock grinned and plonked herself into her chair.

Lumia glanced over her shoulder and could see Morgan was a little miffed. It occurred to her that the strict girl took these moments very seriously, and Lumia guessed that the reason why is that she felt there was honour in it. Lumia decided it best not to get in her way. Sure, it was a silly kind of behaviour, but if it made her happy, and opposing her would only land Lumia into an argument, then it was best to keep her head down.

Educator Bentham continued, “Now, does anyone know how such an agreement was struck. Hang on, Tock, I’m not finished.” The excited girl dropped her hand. “The rest of the world had already moved to renewable energy, but these thirteen nations still managed to win this deal and increase fossil fuel dependence globally. How could this deal have so much impact in a world that already agreed to ween itself off fossil fuels?”

No hands were raised for a while, until Leo raised his slowly while stifling laughter. Raphael pushed his hand back down.

A smile split Educator Bentham’s face. “Oh, something we don’t know. The answer is political unrest. Over the course of decades, fossil fuel companies, along with the help of tech, automotive, military, and national actors, had worked to sow political divisions amongst most populations. In 2032, these interests crystalised into a think tank known as the Independent Panel for Alternative Climate Solutions, or IPACS. The purpose of IPACS was to reduce the impact of climate change policies, allowing them to drive up profits by exploiting the cheaper and more personally beneficial fossil fuel technologies. The tactic of choice: divide the population on matters concerning anything besides climate change.

“At the time, over ninety percent of every developed nations’ populations demanded a solution to climate change. However, political divisions were so severe that these policies were implemented haphazardly, usually by the volition of local governments.

“Let’s say you were a politician at the time and you wanted elevate your position within the politburo. The population is at each others’ throats and IPACS was throwing fuel onto the fire. What would you do? Yes, Morgan… not quite. Democratic governments also have the problem of electing from the population, so if there’s instability in the streets, there’s instability in the government. However, if you could get everyone on board with one of IPACS’ pieces of legislation, they could offer in exchange a ceasefire on their propaganda warfare. Furthermore, they would reward the politicians that helped push their policies with campaign funding and targeted propaganda at that politician’s voters.

“By 2040, the Calyx group, an inter-industry think tank, had devised a pathway for…”

It went back and forth like that: engaging, interactive, and enlightening. It was arguably the most entertaining class Lumia had taken so far.

“That was the best history class ever!” Tock shouted, loud enough for the whole cafeteria to hear.

Morgan scowled at her. “We are in a public place so mind your voice. Also, you should put those trays down before you spill them.”

“Woops!” Tock said with a giggle. She hooked around the table to where Lumia was waiting and placed a steaming tray before her. She smiled toothily. “Today, you get the good stuff.”

Sure enough, the tray looked and smelled like what Lumia imagined heaven would be. Piles of cheese and pastry, stuffed with tomatoes and sweet potatoes and morsels she couldn’t name, draped generously in oil. All the individual elements mashed together so that the overloaded dish smelled only like grease; it was the best scent Lumia had ever experienced.

Tock dropped onto the bench beside Lumia leaving Alan to take a spot opposite her. Lumia was hypnotised by her meal so she paid little heed to Alan’s pout.

Morgan placed herself in the last remaining spot beside Lumia with a huff. “I tried to deter her from stuffing your plate with too many calories, but she stole the tray from me and ordered without my permission.” Tock flashed a mischievous grin Morgan’s way. The black-haired girl rolled her eyes. “She ordered far too much and now I am worried that some of that food will go to waste.”

“Oh, not to worry,” Lumia assured her. “I’ll make sure to eat it all.”

Morgan stared at her with a blank expression, then exhaled and attended to her own meal. “Well, you still need to put on some muscle. I am sure a few extra calories will not hurt. However, do not make it a habit.”

Lumia dug into her meal without answering.

“You know,” Alan said, “if everyone keeps delivering trays for Lumia it’s going to become the norm.”

Tock wrapped her arms around Lumia and gave Alan a coy smile. “What? Jealous?”

If she wasn’t completely engrossed in her wonderful meal, Lumia would have hugged her back. Tock really did have good taste in food. She’d have to question her later on some other delicious meal options.

“No,” Alan snapped, glaring at Tock with his neck craned forward. “Why would I be?”

Tock replied with a mischievous chuckle, then turned to Leo. “What are you doing on your laptop, Leo? It’s time to eat and be happy.”

Sitting farthest away from Tock, the boy with mismatched eyes looked up from his terminal and gave a casual smile. “Then don’t worry about me and you won’t be as miserable,” he said sarcastically.

Raphael leaned in and read aloud. “Hurrem, known also as Roxelana, rose through the ranks of the imperial harem of the Ottoman Empire to become the Haseki Sultan, or ‘favourite concubine’ of the sultan. In a break from Ottoman tradition, she later married Suleiman the Magnificent, tenth sultan of—”

He cut off as Tock leapt across the table, knocking trays and drinks aside, and slammed the screen of Leo’s terminal shut. Lumia lurched back as her tray flew, sending food tumbling onto her lap. Her heart sank as she stared the mess, regretting all of those delicious mouthfuls she would never get to savour.

Leo stared at his giant classmate in horror. “Hell, Raph! You just read it out loud?”

“Don’t,” Tock growled. She drilled Leo with a furious stare. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

She backed off, locking Leo in his seat with a scowl. Leo looked away and said nothing, but Raphael lowered his gaze and muttered, “Sorry.”

The whole room was watching them, Lumia realised. She lowered her arms, which had been raised to avoid getting caught in the carnage, so that they covered the mess piled onto her skirt and once-white blouse. She had no idea how those stains would be removed from her blouse and pitied the robot that would be made to clean it. Most importantly, she pitied herself for the messy state she was in, and that she was the only victim of Tock’s stampede.

Morgan was the first to notice the catastrophe Tock had caused. “That was completely out of line, Tock. I do not know what your problem is, but—”

“Just drop it,” said Alan, glaring at Morgan.

“No, I will not. One of our classmates is now going to miss part of the next lesson because—”

Tock’s face was like thunder. Her upper lip curling, she bellowed, “Oh, I was out of line? Huh, that’s really funny coming from a girl who’s had it so easy, going to every fancy school there ever was.”

Morgan gaped at her. “If you are implying that I had an easy path into Class Euripides, you are greatly mistaken. Yes, it is true some students did get accepted into King’s College due to the arete system bumping up their scores. Yes, my previous secondary school, Charlemagne’s, was a prestigious secondary school and had a high arete, so my score was bumped up significantly. However, I studied harder and more diligently than any of my peers. I earned my place in King’s College.”

“Yeah? Well at least you could be accepted into those fancy schools. A Prospect like me only gets to go to average schools if we’re lucky.”

“That is your own fault,” Morgan snapped. “There is no restriction against Prospects entering higher arete schools. You just had to study harder.”

“Ah, yeah there is,” Tock moaned, rolling her eyes. “You know what it’s like to be a Prospect in a school full of Platonians?” Tock stood and leaned over Lumia to better glare at Morgan. “Do you know what it’s like to be in school when you have a name like mine?”

Morgan turned away and folded her arms. “Then when you had Ascended, you should have chosen a different name.”

“I was five at the time!” Tock screeched and slammed her hands on the table. “I didn’t know what I was doing. The Bulwarks told me she was a princess. I didn’t realise she was a—”

“Tock, everyone is listening,” Morgan hissed.

Coming to her senses, Tock settled back in her seat and put her head down. “Glorified whore,” she muttered under her breath.

Class Euripides fell silent. Snickers rose from the tables around them. Everyone in Class Euripides stared at their food, or fiddled with their meuses, or, in Lumia’s case, tried to hide the shameful mess in her lap. They’d created drama. This would be spoken about. But most importantly, it hurt. Seeing everyone so miserable broke Lumia’s heart.

They all shared a part of the blame, Lumia considered. Even Alan, who at the very least could have avoided this situation by speaking up about it sooner. Even herself, who had been aware of the problems as far back as their History and Morality class and had been so focused on her next meal that she neglected to say something to her classmates, in order to avoid this.

Suddenly, Tock reached over and began collecting Lumia’s tipped tableware. “Sorry,” she croaked, her voice breaking as though she were on the verge of tears. “I’ll clean it up. Just leave it.”

Raphael stood and waved a deterring hand. “No, leave it to me. I shouldn’t have said—”

Tock snapped up at him, sorrow and regret clashing on her face. “Just stop, alright? I don’t want to talk about it.” She finished picking up the last of the big scraps of food then grabbed Lumia’s arm. “Let’s go. Use me to cover up the mess.”

Not wanting to upset Tock any further, Lumia agreed and they made their way back to their rooms. They were silent for most of the walk. Feeling perturbed, Lumia decided to break the silence.

“I’m really sorry about what happened with your name,” she said low enough for only Tock to hear.

“It’s fine,” Tock mumbled. “I don’t deserve a better name.”

At hearing that, Lumia’s heart sank. Oh, you silly thing, that is so not true. You’re kind and cheerful, though you can be an earful. The world need only recognise you.

They were both late to their next class. Lumia never got a chance to make up for her lost lunch, though she was far too upset to eat a bite more. When Educator Arthur scolded them for being late, Tock took the blame with a smile on her face.