The bus to St. George's smells like fried chicken.

That's because there's a guy in the very back of the bus noshing on a bucket...a whole bucket...of Kentucky Fried Chicken.  He's suprisingly buff.  You would estimate he must stand over 6'5".  And the mass on him doesn't look like fat.  So maybe a whole bucket of chicken makes sense.

Just eatting it on a bus...this bus...

St. George's was pretty adamant on this condition.  Every new student would arrive at the school on the bus.  No exceptions.  Each student was to arrive at the Louisville airport on August 31, no later than 4 PM.  They were to head to the shuttle station and wait for a blue van.  They would signal the van and show the driver the student ID that they had received ahead of time.  The student was to board the bus. They were not to assist in the loading of their luggage.  Two carry on items were allowed to remain with the student.  So a purse, a novel, a bucket of fried chicken, or a halberd made of polished black oak carved with runes and topped with a axe head made of a bluish looking metal that can't easily be identified at first glance would all be allowed on the van and then the bus.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.  Let's get back to the ride in the black van.

You were the only student in the van when you took it.  The driver was a vague looking gentleman in shades and a pressed jumpsuit.  He was polite but firm.  He didn't make conversation but responded to any questions you had, though any answers he gave were vague and uninformative.

He drove you to a private lot near the back of the airport.  There, the bus to St. George's sat.

The van driver instructed you to board the bus and find a seat.  He would handle your luggage, other than your two items that is.

Whoever would be driving the bus was not present.  There were several others in the passenger seats, each wearing a St George's uniform such as your own:  a magenta and brown blazer.  A white button down shirt.  Either a skirt, slacks, or pants that matched the blazer.  Shoes that were acceptable but neither sneakers nor uncomfortable.  St. George's sent a list of acceptable shoes, including brand and make.

St. George's, it seems, is very particular about things.

You stand at the end of the bus aisle, having just walked up the stairwell on to the bus.  Because you have a practiced eye, you can quickly divide up the students present.

Of the 18 students, eight, besides yourself, are 'special'.  Probably meta.  At the very least of note. Starting at the back and moving forward, they are as follows:

The large young man with the bucket of chicken is obviously one.

The halberd mentioned before belongs to a gloomy looking boy staring out the window.  Other than the fact he looks sleepy, there is nothing about his person that sets him apart.  Only the halberd.  Though he sits one row up from KFC Bucket guy, they do not appear to be interacting.

There is the skinny young red head, apparently an actual red head and not a dye job, who has a canary perched on top of her head as she reads a copy of Fluers du Mal by Baudelaire.

The twins.  Both young ladies.  Almost identical judging by facial features.  But one has skin as blue as a clear sky and the other has skin that is in fact semitransparent.  Her skin seems to be more like a mist than actual flesh.

A familiar face after that:  Louise Telman.  You and she are not on speaking terms.  Honestly, you have never met in person. But like you, she has a fan club and has done quite well at the school she used to attend.  Just not as well as you.  If you recall correctly, she has light bending powers that she uses for a series of effects.  She is not the tallest woman in the world, but she is attractive.  Her honey colored hair is bound up in a braided tail that hands over one shoulder.

There is a rough looking young man sitting near the driver's seat.  He looks a bit scruffy, especially with the visible snake tattoos that run down the back of his left hand.  Whether he's meta or not is not readily apparent.  But he has an almost military type bearing about the way he sits.  He is at attention.  He is not relaxed.

Across from Mr. Dangerous is a pudgy looking younger girl.  She seems too young to be here.  You would guess she is perhaps 10.  Maybe 12.  Her thick glasses might be sterotypical.  The book on aspects of sacred geometry she is reading is not.  You would guess the girl is the 'genius' type.

The other students seem more honor student than 'special' student.  They sit together almost like they had been instructed to.  It seems they also knew who was 'special' and who wasn't when they boarded the bus to St. George.

There is a sign hung over the driver's seat.  It reads:

Welcome.

Please be on your best behavior.  Do not antagonize the other students.

Bus will depart at 4 PM.  If you wish to cancel your enrollment, please do not be on the bus when it departs.

Otherwise, your presence will be taken as agreement to enrollment.

If you need medical or emergency assistance, please press the button on your seat's armrest.

Otherwise, please exercise patience and restraint.

Thank You.

The Dean

There are several seats that are completely vacant.

You could also take the seat adjacent to any of the 'special' cases, other than the twins.  Or you can try to.

Your call.

I don't mind the strict rules. I'm used to arbitrary-seeming rules, and I've read enough martial arts manga to know that rules that seem stupid now are preparation for something else later. Not that my parents approved, but I get away with skipping class when I want to. Or at least I used to; I'll need to play my cards a little more carefully at St. George's until I find out how capable the staff are and how much they actually care about the rules. I anticipate that it will be like everywhere else; rules are for the little people.

I'm also not surprised that someone has a halberd. Many "normal" people carry dangerous weapons everywhere. I am, however, scandalized that I have to take a bus. With my family's wealth, and my ranking, I shouldn't have to do that. I do my best to take it in stride, greeting each new face with at least a little bit of pleasant attitude:

"Hello."

"Good afternoon."

"Did you bring enough for the whole class?"

"Nice halberd!"

I can be very charming when I want to, and first impressions are important. A sweet, mild smile and a feminine, soft voice can accomplish a lot. It's also part of being the prettiest and most charming, an arena of competition like any other.

Of course, I wear the uniform skirt. Every girl looks good in a pleated skirt, especially one as naturally gifted as myself, but it's a practical choice, too. The uniform skirt, like most of the skirts I own, ends a couple of inches above the knee and thereby offers more freedom of movement than pants or even shorts. There's a reason traditional martial arts uniforms are all tunics.

I've pulled my blazer slightly off my left shoulder and loosened my blouse collar. I don't feel like being completely indistinguishable from the masses. I've also put on subtle lilac perfume to complement the color.

I make sure to address the powerless students: "Hey no need to be so tense. I'm here to protect you." It's more a claim of territory than genuine, and people with actual power should know that. All part of the dance.

I sit next to the redhead with the book. She seems like she'll bother me the least.

"Seraphina," I say to her, to cause as little disruption of her contemplative reading as possible. Then I get out my phone, plug in my headphones, and start playing a game.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 2):

Thanks for coloring text.  It is appreciated.  Just as a reminder, any commentary from me in orage is OOC

The redhead glances at you, shrugs, and goes back to reading.

The canary on her head stares at you like it is eyeing a squirrel.

Most of the 'normies' nod at you distantly.  Many smile, though it looks more polite than anything.

After about twenty minutes, a guy walks onto the bus.  Nothing about him stands out.  Blonde.  Kind of a large nose.  Tall.  Has a sort of bewildered expression on his face.  You would guess a normie.

He looks around, reads the sign, and then takes a seat next to one of the other normie.

About ten minutes later there is a loud CHUNT sound from somewhere under the bus.  It sounds like a sliding door being shut forefully.  After a few minutes the van driver boards the bus and sits behind the steering whell.

"Finally" you hear someone mutter.

But he doesn't start the bus.

It is 3:27 PM.

Around 3:38 PM, muttering starts.  Some from the normies.  You believe Louise Telman also says something, but she is ahead of you, and you can't tell.

The volume of complaints about the bus not starting continues to gain some volume.  Until 3:42 PM when, from somewhere near the front of the bus, a masculine voice announces loudly, "Did you guys not read the sign?  Patience and Reestraint?  So can everyone shut up?"

The redhead next to you giggles, not looking up from her book.  "Also said not to antagonize other students..."  She says this softly.  You don't think she even means you to hear it.

Eight minutes later, precisely when the clock on your phone hits 3:50 PM, a woman boards the bus.  She is not dressed as a student.  She wears a cream colored blouse and dark colored skirt suitable for business.  Her blondish brown hair is tied up in a neat bun.  It appears her left hand, perhaps her left arm, has been replaced with a mechanical arm.  Her left hand is obviously state of the art cyborg tech.

"Good Afternoon Class of 2020.  My name is Amanda Welkes.  I will be serving as your class dean.  If you have any questions or concerns, either during the orientation period or during the academic year, my office door is open to you.  I will now be distributing your welcome packets.  Please keep your seats.  We can not depart until all packets are distributed. Please do not open your packets until instructed to do so."

She receives a box from the driver.  Where he came up with it, you aren't sure.  Ms. Welkes takes a stack of sealed manila envelopes from it and begins to pass it out.  But only to the normies.

She then heads back to the front of the bus, where the driver hands her another stack of sealed envelopes.  "If I call your name, please come up to the front of the bus, receive your packet, and return to your seat.  Do not open your packet.

"Adam Browoski."

The guy with the halberd walks forward and takes his envelope.  He brings the halberd with him, and returns promptly to his seat.  He has a bored expression on his face when he passes you, paying little attention to any of you or his envelope.

"Samantha Cullers."

The redhead shuts her book, placing it into the pouch of the seat back ahead of her.

"Excuse me," she says to you and gently moves past you to the aisle.  She walks forward, collects her packet, and returns to her seat, examining the front of the packet as she does so.  She places it in her lap, and folds her hands across it, shutting her eyes and seeming to meditate.

The canary stays on her head throughout the whole operation.

"I see we have two Adams this year.  Adam Duncan."

The last guy to get on the bus stands, and walks forward, still looking just as confused as when he got on the bus.  He takes the packet, glances at it, glances at Ms. Welkes, shrugs, and sits back down.

"Ahnia Guzman."

The pudgy girl just rises in her seat, as she is right next to Ms. Welkes.  She takes the packet and sits down quickly.

"Seraphina Martel."

Ms. Welkes is fairly well groomed, even more so on closer inspection.  Her ensemble is high end.  All exclusive brand names and all probably tailored to fit.  She hands you the envelope.  You can fell at least one sheet of paper inside.  And also...something else?  A cord of some kind maybe?

Running out of space, so continuing in a new post in a moment

"Robert Rutherford."

It's KFC guy's turn.  Looks like he has polished off the bucket as he leaves it behind.  He fills the entire aisle easily, and has to walk down sort of at a slight angle to make it.  His big hand swallows up the envelope.  He turns, with some difficulty, and tromps back to his seat.

Oddly, the bus doesn't shake at all from his passage.

"Louise Telman."

Louise stands, all bright smiles and sunshine.  She walks gracefully to the front of the bus, gives Ms. Welkes a slight bow, and returns to her seat, as grand as a parade.

"Let's start with Tuyen Truc..."

The twin with the smoky kind of skin rises and retrieves her envelope with little wasted movememt.  It's hard to tell what her facial expression is.

"And Giang Truc..."

The blue skinned twin rises.  Her facial features are more evident.  And she looks irritated.  She snatches the envelope and moves quickly to sit back down.

"And lastly Saul Zachius."

Mr. Scruffy stands.  Like Ahina, he just has to stand as Ms. Welkes is quite close.  He frowns as he takes the envelope but then sits back down as well.

It is now 3:59 PM.

"The bus will start in one minute.  This is your last chance to disembark."  Ms. Welkes waits.  No one rises.

Your phone clock flips to 4 PM.

The driver turns on the bus's engine.  The door shuts.

Ms. Welkes raises both hands.  "Welcome to St George's Academy.  Please open your  envelope."

Inside your envelope is a sheet of paper with your name.  The sheet lists your class schedule, has your room assignment, and a code to use the workout room.  On the back of the paper is a map of St. George's.

The other item in the envelope, what you thought was a cord, is a length of red cotton cord.

I will stop here so as to give you a chance to react, ask questions, etc.

Obviously I have some set up to do, so there will be some longish posts like this one intially.  As we get past orientation, things will even out.

Don't feel obligated to return a lengthy post.  Just react as you wish and let me know if there are any questions/concerns.

Oh.  I did add a '2020 St George's Class' thread specific to your game as well.  I will list the NPCs there, mostly so I can keep them straight as well.

Thanks
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:54, Wed 26 Aug 2020.

You're welcome! ^3^

Your posts so far are really fantastic. I'm impressed and amazing at the level of care and detail. Thank you for working so hard, and doing so well, for me and by me. I don't mind the long posts at all; I just hope I'm giving you enough to work with on my own posts. ^_^

I stick my tongue out, playfully, at the canary.

Perhaps the baselines don't know who I am. It doesn't matter; once the inevitable contests for status, position, and hierarchy begin, the whole school will very quickly come to know who I am. Hopefully they will both respect and fear me simultaneously; it is the best I can look forward to. The top of the mountain is lonely, but it is glorious. It is my place, and I wouldn't have it otherwise.

I'm surprised I'm not the center of attention for my good looks. Of course, the guys can't help but sneak peeks when they think I won't notice, and I enjoy the worshipful looks. Usually, though, it's more pronounced. I suppose they're all nervous; very few people are strong enough to feel safe in strange places.

Even so, I flash the new guy a smile as he gets on the bus and wave at him, just a bit. Polite and charming. That's not at all me, but it's expected.

When the CHUNT shakes us out of complacency, I stop time, get off the bus, and go to look to see what made the sound. It's an unusual noise, and I'm curious. The grey, washed-out world between the ticks, with no one and nothing moving but me, gets boring after a few subjective minutes, so if I don't see anything interesting, I get back in my seat and re-enter the timestream.

I'm not very good at waiting, but I brought my phone and earbuds, along with my wallet, onto the bus, so I have some games to play and while away the minutes.

I slip the stylus from the side of my phone and take notes on the names and basic descriptions of the students as they're called up to receive packets. When my turn is called, I also get my packet without any fuss.

"Thank you, Ms. Welkes," I say, politely but without deference, when I take the packet. Another smile. Is she afraid of me? She should be. Actually, it's refreshing that the people on the bus aren't frightened of me. I don't want to be normal, not at all, not even a little. I do, however, want to be accepted as part of the group.

Class schedule and room assignment? I raise an eyebrow at the paper. I've never had a "room assignment." I'm used to having my own suite in the family manor. Maybe it will be a private room. Hopefully it's a private room.

I peek over at Samantha's packet. Does she have a cord?

"Any idea what this is for?" I ask, holding the red cotton string up.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 5):

The canary cocks its head when you stick out your tongue.  It clearly is puzzled by the behavior.

The CHUNT does seem to have been just the driver shutting a large storage door under the bus after loading the last passenger's luggage.  You don't see anything suspicious.

Adam Duncan a/k/a 'Bewildered Guy/Last One on the Bus' smiles back at your wave.  But his confused look seems to be sort of a natural expression.  He falls right back into it as soon as he sits.

Ms. Welkes doesn't blink or look away.  Nor does she stare you down.  She simply meets your gaze, smiling politely, and nods to acknowledge your thanks.

Samantha glances at you.  She holds up a cord the same color as yours.  "I got nothin'."

Her voice is a little raspy. Like she's a heavy smoker.

The canary clucks.  Doesn't know...Doesn't know... it says in imitation of its owner.

Ms. Welkes finishes the packages and holds on to a post as the bus driver puts the bus into drive and pulls away from the airport.

Ms. Welkes waits until the bus has cleared the lot, heading out to the interstate, before she continues.

"Thank you all for your patience.  As I said before, welcome to the 2020 class of Saint George's Academy for Excellence.  Both of our programs are very exclusive.  We take only the best of the best.  While you should all be proud of having met our criteria, you should remember that getting here is only the start.  Whatever you have faced before, whatever you overcame before, it is nothing compared to what you will face going forward.

"So you know, Saint George's has a 32% failure and withdrawl rate during its first year classes.  That rate increases to 67% for the second year.  The last two years are much smoother sailing."

She smiles at you all, informing you that it is likely you will either fail out or withdraw from the program in the same time she might announce lunch is being served.

She continues.  "Now.  Let us begin.  Orientation and Education starts now.

"Lesson one.  The importance of observation.  Please recall everything I have said since handing out the envelopes.  What did I say that needs more elaboration?"

I reach out and tap Samantha's bird on its beak. "Cute bird."

When the "class dean" asks for something that needs elaboration, I don't raise my hand or my voice. I also don't make a query.

Instead, I make a statement: "You just said there are two programs."

I fix my gaze on her. This "What color was the ribbon?" test isn't just about what she says it's about. There's always more to things like this. Her appearance, expensive clothing, body language, tone of voice, timing of approach, every detail could have meaning, but then again it might not.

What's important is what she says and what she does with her hands while she says it.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:21, Sun 30 Aug 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 7):

Ms. Welkes smiles and nods.  "Correct Ms. Martel.  There are two programs."

The canary hops back a little bit, surprised by the tap.  But it ventures forward again.  Samantha is frowning, but it seems it has something to do with the class schedule or room assignment.  She isn't paying attention.

Ms. Welkes continues.  "We operate a program for metas and for non-metas.  Those of you who received a red cord are in the meta program.  Those who received a yellow cord are in the regular program.

"The two programs are run side by side.  In academic classes, there is no distinction between meta and normal.  Both are integrated into the same classes.  Both follow the same rules of conduct and code of ethics as it relates to those classes.  The rules for the academic classes are simple.

"First, each student must earn their own grade.  While you are allowed to assist each other through usual procedures, like study groups or sharing notes, you may not assist each other during tests or exams.  Cheating is cheating.  It will not be tolerated.  And if you stoop to that level, trust me.  You will be caught.

"Students who become aware of another student's cheating are also expected to inform the teacher or myself about the activity.  Staying silent is tantamount to assistance.  Those who keep quiet will be punished along with the cheater.

"Bullying inside a school building is not permitted.  In any way shape or fashion.  Telepathic contact or mental control of other students inside a school building is not allowed.

"Vandalism is not tolerated.  Any willful destruction or causing someone else to willfully destroy school property outside approved facilities is prohibited.

"Any questions on the rules thus far?  If not, please tie your cord around the bicep on your left arm.  We will need it displayed for our next exercise."

I'll let you ask any questions and then we will proceed.  Thanks.

I take notes, not that many notes need to be taken.

The academic rules are straightforward and more or less the same as at every respectable school I've ever heard of. On the other hand, I can't help but snicker at the concept of "no bullying." All of society is built on bullying, institutionalized on various levels. I don't vocalize an objection, though; I have no desire to argue with Ms. Welkes and even less desire to throw a faculty member through a wall before classes have even started.

"What about outside of school buildings?" I ask. It's rather specific to only forbid bullying and violence in school buildings. Maybe they just want to preserve property values.

The state secret police shtick, with every student expected to spy and inform on every other student, strikes me as a test in itself. Every student strong enough to get away with it won't follow that rule, and every student too weak to resist the strong will knuckle under it and quickly become pawns in an ever-escalating game of tattle-chicken. I relish the thought of imposing order and stopping that kind of nonsense.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 9):

Ms. Welkes smiles and shrugs at your question, keeping her palms pressed against each other in front of her.  "What we can't see, we can't do anything about, now can we?"

Someone near the front mutters, "Then what's the point in announcing what we already know?"

Ms. Welkes glances in the direction of Saul Zachius.  "Just stating what we all know to be true."

She studies everyone and then claps her hands.

"Now.  Let's move on.  Your first assignment.

"There are 10 yellow cords and 10 red cords.  In three and a half hours, we will arrive at St. George's.  By that time, two of you, one from each group, will trade in your cords for brown cords.  And two of you, one from each group, will trade in your cords for blue cords.

"Blue cords will become monitors for the dorms.  They will be in charge of maintaining order for their group in each dorm.  In return for their work, the monitor will receive a larger, private room....in case you didn't know, students share a suite with at least one other student, though they may not be in the same class as you.  Blues will also receive other perks, depending on their job performance.

"Brown cords become the class gophers.  Their duties lay in serving the other members of their group.  Once a week, the gopher will be responsible for going to town and doing the shopping for their classmates.  The gopher will also have other duties such as collecting the laundry, keeping the group hallway clean, and washing the windows on the floor once a month.

"The Brown Cords do not share a suite.  They share a room.  A single bedroom with bunk beds.  Complaints about the Brown Cords job performance can lead to punishments.

"Each group, red and yellow cords, will vote twice.  Once for a Blue Cord and once for a Brown Cord.  Your cell phones will be used for voting.  Thirty minutes before we arrive I will send a link to each of you so that you may access a website for the voting.

"Make sure you pay attention to what your class is doing.  Once we park the bus in the St. George's parking lot, the voting will be closed.  Anyone who has not voted by then will lose their right to elect anyone to a position.  In cases of ties, roles will be assigned by lots between all parties with the equal number of votes.

"How you go about making your determinations is up to your class.  The bus is considered school property.

"I will not repeat these instructions or answer questions.  If I issue any orders, they are to be obeyed immediately.

"The election process starts now."

Halberd Boy, Adam Browosky, seems like the type to go after 'quests.' Why else bring a medieval weapon with you? He'd make a decent gopher.

Of course, it's not at all surprising that hierarchy would be imposed immediately.

There is also no way I can lose. There are 10 people in my group, so I need 6 votes to win without contest, 5 besides myself. I would rather win without using my power to stop time, but I am not about to lose the first major contest in my years at St. George's. So, if it looks like it might not go my way, I can simply step out of linear time as soon as I see someone from my class take their phone out and put in their password, then take the phone, vote for myself, confirm, and hand it back. They won't know the difference.

Of course, I'll need to check the website to see if votes can be changed after they're submitted. If so, then I can do the same, just the moment before the bus enters the parking lot instead of right when phones are retrieved.

Of course, I'll be taking power and responsibility on myself, but isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Isn't the point of power to use it, to be responsible, to marry strength with social welfare?

I hesitate. Would it be better to be a regular student? Probably not. The outcome is less certain. I could make friends either way, right?

"Well, what do you think of that?" I ask the Samantha, while looking at the bird.

Then I put my phone away, stand up, and walk to the front of the bus, just in front of either the yellow "Do Not Stand In Front of Line" line or Ms. Welkes, whichever is closer. Despite being a teenage girl, I have the easy confidence and gravitas that comes with a lifetime of being powerful and obeyed, which means I project calm authority without trying to do so.

I turn to the bus in general and declare, "I am Seraphina Martel." I smile pleasantly, but without being schmaltzy. A fine line to walk, for a girl. It's taken a lot of practice to master that technique.

"We all know that hierarchy is established through violence. It's my hope that we can be friends, but I assure you, if you're at all concerned for your safety at St. George's, I will be able to maintain peace and order as our dorm monitor."

There isn't much more to say. I may have to provide a demonstration. Indeed, I would be pleased as punch if someone wanted me to show off.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 11):

Samantha frowns.  "I think I'd rather stay out of it.  I'm happy in the middle."

The canary squawks.

Ms. Welkes steps back, allowing you to take her spot as it affords a view of all the seats, except the driver's.

You see Saul's mouth twitch into a sneer as you make your statement.  And you see the Twins exchange glances.

Ahina seems to look thoughtful, her hands clutching into fists.  Yes.  If anyone here seems sensitive to safety and bullying issues, it's probably her.

The Normies all sort of glance at each other or check their room assignments or lean over to whisper to each other.

The other metas seem to be more in line with Samantha's reaction.

Well.  Most of the others.

"But isn't the dorm a school building?"  Louise Telman doesn't walk up front, but she does stand, hands clasped together in front of her, game show hostess smile firmly in place on her perfectly rouged cheeks.

"While safety and order are important, is that really all that should be considered?  After all, the school is apparently guaranteeing that to some degree.  What's perhaps more important is what happens outside the dorm?  Or," she pauses for effect.  "Perhaps besides issues of safety and order there are issues related to co-operation and camaraderie that need to be addressed. Maybe we can organize study groups that cross group boundaries.  Or develop a system to insure students who miss a day of class due to illness are covered by fellow students who will share notes.  But, let's get back to safety.  How would you propose to handle the hazing of one of us by upperclassmen in the public areas between our dorm and class buildings.  Those are spaces after all that are outside school buildings and may be wide open."

She gives you a friendly smile, just waiting to see how you react to the bait.

Louise's excessive verbosity reveals her weakness. Very few people understand, rationally, that she who speaks less is in the dominant social position, because that plays on human instincts. Yet, because it plays on instinct, it doesn't need to be said. It just is.

Little Miss Sunshine is a talker and those who are weak talk to compensate for their weakness. I enjoy philosophy and dialectic, because, when properly applied, they arrive at the truth, and the truth is powerful. Rhetoric, however, is weakness distilled into sound: I know. Oh, how I know, on a very deep level. I tried every set of words I could think of to earn my parents' esteem.

I smile right back at Louise, but my smile is genuine. Instead of arguing with her, I turn her rhetoric into my weapon and reinforce the authority I have already claimed.

"Cross-group study sessions are a great idea, Louise. We can handle that when we've got safety and order down."

I then address the issue of order and safety directly. I speak with the calm, collect tone and straight-backed posture of someone who has the strength to back up what she says."As for upperclassmen, or anyone else, hazing our class, I am more than capable of handling those situations. If it makes you feel safer, I'll give you my number, and you can call me any time you're in trouble."

I am completely sincere when I say that. I do, in fact, enjoy using my powers to assert my dominance, and the most satisfying way to do that is to grind a bully's face into the dirt with my foot and make them apologize for being jerks.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 13):

The two of you are interrupted when Saul stands up.  Mr. Scruffy gets up on the seat of his chair and sort of sits on the top of his seat.

He holds up a hand. "Sorry.  Just wanted to get a better view.  Don't mind me.  Please go on."

He crosses his arms, grinning like this is fun on a bun.

Louise rolls her eyes at him and then turns back to you.  "Anyway...so you are saying you will protect the whole class?  All by your lonesome?  I know you're powerful. I'm not disputing that."  Her smile broadens.  "But are you saying you can handle protection for the entire class over the whole term on your own?"

Lovely, another one who's too cool for school. I ignore Scruffy. He thinks he's showing off; by ignoring his antics, I make myself a prize he must chase for approval.

I am tempted to answer Louise truthfully. No, of course I can't protect the entire class for the entire term. That's ridiculous; I'm not omniscient. I can protect the entire class as long as I know when they need protecting.

But that's not how politics works. How rhetoric works. Over-promise, under-deliver.

I find it interesting that Ms. Welkes, or whoever designed this scenario, did so in such a way as to prevent the use of force to solve disputes. That's the usual pattern; the weak defer to the strong. I realize, in that moment, that this is a test. A test for me specifically: can I take charge without smashing someone's head in? Can I adapt to a situation that people so rarely encounter, where hierarchy is established with words rather than with direct power?

I relish a challenge and can't help but grin. Hopefully it's not too predatory.

"Could I? Of course. My powers are very well-suited to the task. And I will, so long as you're all willing to trust me and let me know what's going on."

Truth. Since I can stop time, I can get anywhere I'm needed in what the rest of the world perceives to be a fraction of a moment. Then, with my strength and durability, I can hit like a truck. Up to "kick it into orbit" if I go all out and accelerate my fists or legs to arbitrary velocity by stuttering time, but I prefer not to do that when I don't have to. It's quite painful.

I'd like to help everyone learn to use their abilities to the fullest, meta and non-meta, so that I wouldn't be needed everywhere.

But I want my own room, dammit.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:35, Tue 01 Sept 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 15):

Louise raises her eyebrows.  "Really?  Well.  You certainly got my vote."

She looks around at everyone.  "Then it's decided?  Ms. Martel will be our new monitor in return for keeping us all safe?"

She raises a hand and looks around, trying to urge other people to raise theirs.  You notice her smile is now a grin.  She seems to be enjoying this.

Saul/Scruffy pshaws, rolling his eyes.  "C'mon.  Is that it?  Waaaay too easy."

He looks at Louise.  "I kinda see where you're goin' with this.  But do you really think it's gonna work?"

Louise bats her eyes at him. "I'm sorry Mr. Rebel-Without-A-Clue, but if we need your opinion, we've obviously not tried hard enough to solve the problem ourselves.  Go back to sleepy town, 'kay?"

"Yeah.  Sorry to interrupt a bunch a' shit no one cares about," Robert puts his bucket of chicken aside and stands.  It's like watching a hill get up and turn out to be a mountain.  He's even larger vertical than he is sitting.

"But I wanna volunteer to be the gopher guy.  That's me."

"Uh...no.  I got that one."  Saul/Scruffy says, pointing a thumb at himself.  "So no need to worry about it.  I got it covered."

Robert smiles in the kind of way that makes you glad violence is not allowed.  "No.  I got that one."

They glare at each other.

Samantha suddenly raises her hand, her canary squawking loud enough to make everyone turn her way. "You know what.  After thinking about it...I'd like to be gopher."

"Sorry little lady.." says Robert.

"Ah hell no," says Saul.

Will pause here in case you want to jump into anything going on at the moment.

Thanks

I nod at Louise when she asks her rhetorical question. I didn't expect her to side with me like that, and I also don't expect people to start fighting over the brown cord position. I feel like I've missed something important, but whatever that might be, I'll get a private room, which is what I wanted from the situation.

On the other hand, I'm not surprised that the non-metas are keeping quite. Baselines have a hard time in general, being so weak. I wink at them collectively. I was going to go back to my seat next to Samatha, but now there's about to be a brawl over the gopher spot. Why would anyone want that? Volunteer for the low man spot? That's a good way to get the crap kicked out of you every day.

I slip out of linear time and into the greyscale world between Planck instants, and I walk over to Louise. Standing directly in front of her, I tap the end of her nose. Color flushes back into her and she joins me in the time outside time, where no one and nothing else moves or acts; the whole universe is frozen in a moment except Louise and I.

"Boop," I say, with a smile. It's only a little menacing.

"I expected you to put yourself up and argue with me. So, what was that all about? What does Saul think he's clued in on?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 17):

Louise gives a small start when you 'boop' her.  Her fist starts to glow.

But she frowns and shakes her fist, as if trying to shakes something off it.  The light dissipates.  "Sorry.  Force of habit."

You did 'boop' her by surprise.  It makes some sense, given the world you live in, she'd call up her powers at first.  But she seems to have caught on pretty quick.

She sighs.  "I don't know what Mister Breakfast Club there is talking about.  I think he's just trying to stir the pot.

"As to why I am acting as I am...why do I have to explain myself to you?"

She cocks her head, matching you smile for smile.  "We are in competition after all."

"You've got a lot of composure, for somebody who could be trapped here. Forever."

I grin wolfishly, then giggle and kiss her on the cheek. I whisper into her ear: "Kidding."

I take a step back and shrug. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I think, though, it would be a good idea to tell me if you suspect anything of Scruffington. If I'm to be taking care of your safety, I don't wnat anybody messing it up, and he seems like the type of person to love causing trouble."

I walk back to where I was before I left linear time and give Louise a few subjective seconds to respond. If she doesn't say anything, I restart time to resume observing the festivities and potentially intervening if things start to look like violence.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 19):

Louise sighs, wiping away the kiss. "If you're going to make threats, make sure they make sense.  Leaving me here would be a form of violence now wouldn't it?  And you are on school property."

She glances towards Scruffington.  "If you're asking me what he's up to...I really don't know.  He just seems the type to like to cause friction.  You can probably see the chip on his shoulder from the moon."

She seems to think about it seriously and then shrugs.  "I've never seen him before.  So I really have no idea."

She doesn't seem to have anything else to add.  The two of you step back into real time.

Samantha hasn't stood up, but the canary is flapping around the bus, squawking away.

Robert waves it aside.  "Keep it off me."

Samantha whistles and the canary returns to his perch.  "You guys acting up scared him.  Sorry.  But I don't see why the two of you get to decide who is and isn't the Gopher."

Saul shrugs. "Fine.  Then we can put it to the vote.  You dumbshits can certainly handle voting on an ap, can't you?"

Samantha rolls her eyes.  "Don't try to piss everyone off so they'll vote for you."

Robert smirks. "As she said."

Louise suddenly claps her hands twice in a loud fashion.  Everyone looks at her.  "This is getting us nowhere slowly.  Since this is a dispute, it should be settled by the one who is in charge of keeping order.  Ms. Martel?  Why don't you arbitrate?"

She gives you a stewardess kind of smile and then sits back down.

Everyone else looks at you.

Louise is clever and full of bluster. I do like her, somewhat. I respect her tenacity and spunk. In fact, I wanted to be friends with her, to meet her in person when I first heard about her, but she was set on competing with me. And my parents were set on me competing with her.

Before I restart time, I look at my feet, then back up at Louise. I want to try and take a page from her book, to be as brave as I think she is. I smile as genuinely as I can. "Louise, I know we haven't gotten along very well. I...I wanted to be friends with you. I still do. I admire how strong-willed and brave you are, and I hope I can learn from you."

Then back to the chaos.

I take Louise's cue and look back and forth, once, between Robert and Saul, Fried Chicken and Mr. Trouble. I don't smile like Louise did. Instead, I adopt a neutral expression. Radiating authority, command, and power are as natural to me as breathing.

I speak at a slightly-lower-than-normal volume, staring down each young man in turn. Short sentences. Absolute fearlessness. Robert's size means nothing; I can snap him in half in an instant. Saul's attitude is pointless; I am the queen of this realm, and my power is absolute.

"Robert. Saul. Samantha. Tell me, tell us, why you want to wear the brown cord for our class. One at a time. Samantha first."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:29, Sun 06 Sept 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 21):

You see the three contenders exchange looks with each other.  In an odd way, it is like they seem to come to some kind of understanding.  You see Robert nod his head slightly.

Whatever they've agreed to, it seems like they each still want to compete for the job.

Samantha scratches her chin.  Her canary dances back and forth on the back of the seat in front of her.  Then Samantha finally says,

"I have my reasons.  But I believe I am the best candidate for the job because I am better than anyone else at communications."

She holds up a finger and the canary hops on to it.  "For those who don't know, my power involves telepathy and control of birds.  I can set up a network of personal messengers so any student has access to me right away.  Want to put in an order for my trip to town?  Or want to let me know if you are expecting a package at the store?  Then you can send the bird I will assign to you my way.  There's a number of benefits to such a system.  And I will only put it in place if I am elected Gopher."

Robert guffaws.  "Well.  I'll tell you all. I want the job so I can see to my own needs."  He holds up the KFC bucket.  "I have a much higher than normal calorie need.  Yeah, I know.  All metas do.  But mine if off the charts.  This bucket is not even a snack.  So unless you want to be moving a metric ton of groceries a week, best leave the job up to me.

"Of course I won't slack when it comes to all my duties.  I'll have to work hard for all of you so I can retain it."

He shrugs.

Saul clears his throat.  "Well.  I'm not going to give my reasons per se either.  Though I will throw this one out there.

"I want to piss off our two princesses."

He smiles at you and Louise.

"I mean.  Am I the only one who finds the sacks of wet brownines they call egos kinda disgusting?  I don't think I am.  If you vote for me, trust me in saying I will not mess with your shit.  Just theirs. And won't that be entertaining?

"Thanks."

I watch and listen impassively. I wait until they are done speaking to reiterate what they said and build sympathy, empathy, and goodwill from them and from the onlookers. I look at each candidate in turn.

"Samantha wants to use her powers to communicate with and control birds to benefit us all and to stretch and practice her abilities. Robert wants to avoid inconveniencing anyone with his grocery needs. And Saul wants to cause trouble."

And now I look at the audience and say, again looking at each potential vote individually. "So, we now each have choices to make. We can choose to benefit ourselves by benefiting others," I look at Saul for the next clause, "Or we can choose to tear others down in order to boost our own egos and, in the end, gain nothing."

I spread my hands to include everyone on the bus, even the baselines.

"These decisions will color our entire experience at St. George's. We have all worked hard to get here, and it's up to us to make the most of our time. Does anyone have anything else to add?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 23):

Saul looks amused.  "Nice speech.  Way to go.

"But there's a couple of things I think Princess A here forgot to mention."

He nods at Samantha.  "Let's start with the birds.  While that sounds nice in principal, and I'm sure you don't have any ulterior motives...now at least.  But wouldn't a cell phone text be faster?  Even as the crow flies?"

He sits up.  "The disadvantage of having a bird on hand is that it means you also have a pair of eyes on you.  I'm sure Samantha doesn't have any intentions of spying.  But what if someone demands that she does?  Is there anyone here who hasn't been under some kind of microscope before?"

You see a couple of people shift uncomfortably in their seat.  Saul goes on.  "Again, Samantha, no disrespect is really intended.  I'm sure you have good intentions.  But road to hell and all that..."

He considers Robert a moment.  "I get where you're comin' from.  And I'm willing to concede."

He shrugs.  Then turns to smile at you.  "Do I need to yield the floor to our self-appointed moderator?  Or do you have a little ceremony you want to go through to let us all know we're free to go?"

I look over my shoulder at Saul. Sternly, but softly, I reply, "No. You are done making an ass of yourself." It isn't a question; it's an order.

People who know me, and I'm sure there are at least some on the bus who know who I am, know that "quiet but stern" is the attitude I adopt when I am starting to get angry. People are likely to get very badly injured when I am angry. I don't want to hurt him, and I won't unless he makes me, but I will not tolerate his attitude any further. If he won't shut up, I will make him.

I flip my hair over my shoulder and address the bus in general again. I deliberately raise my voice to normal level and tone to be more friendly. "Does anyone, other than Saul, have any questions or concerns they want to ask or raise?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:17, Tue 08 Sept 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 25):

Saul rolls his eyes.  "So just to be clear...you get to tell everyone when they can be silent and when you'll deign for them to speak, right?"

There is a point to this by the way.  Not trying to piss off you, the player.

Thanks
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:12, Tue 08 Sept 2020.

I look back at Saul again, once more over my shoulder. I am sick of his antics. He thinks he can flaunt and provoke with impunity, and that is very much not the case. The world does not need garbage like him. I am better than he is, and I will not be talked down to.

And again, I speak to him softly. "Yes, I do. Be quiet."

Then I freeze Saul in time, render him totally unable to act, or be acted upon. Only I can do anything to him. And he can't do anything. Of course, the bus will keep carrying him. I do leave him able to perceive what's going on around him; he can't move his eyes, but he can see. I want the knowledge of just who he's trying to provoke sink in.

There is no sensible manifestation of my powers. Only someone, or an instrument, sensitive to spacetime fluctuations could perceive anything at all had occurred. Other than, of course, that Saul had simply stopped.

You're not pissing me off! Thanks for checking, though. I appreciate your work so far; it's very good, as I've said. Top quality!
This message was last edited by the player at 02:38, Tue 08 Sept 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 27):

Just so I'm on the same page:

Seraphina just paralyzed him, correct?  She didn't blink him out of existence.  He can still be seen by everyone on the bus.  He just can't move, etc.

Right?

Yeah, pretty much. It's actually paralysis; it's temporal stasis. But that's close enough! There's also no obvious signals that she did anything, other than of course that she told him to be quiet, and now he is. =P

Thanks for asking!

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 29):

Saul freezes up.  There's some odd conversation going on, but you notice that Robert and Samantha are staring at Saul, to see if he's going to say anything.

Louise stands up slowly.  She seems to be smiling ear to ear.

Your cell vibrates.  Someone from an unlisted number is texting you.

Free him.  Hurry

I shrug, then I snap my fingers. I don't need to, but it's a good way to indicate the cause and effect relationship that's otherwise invisible. Simultaneously, I release Saul. I only turn a few degrees to my right to get a slightly better look at him. My body language conveys dominance; he doesn't deserve, or get, my full attention, and I don't need my full attention to crush him like a bug.

"You don't get to provoke people without consequences, Saul. Consider this your one warning."

Then I go sit back down, acting as if nothing important happened. Because it didn't. Casual displays of power are always necessary to establish hierarchy, and my time on this bus has not changed my understanding of that fact. My body language and actual words also indicate that I am the authority here, not the school or its representatives. It's a dance to which I've memorized the steps; I've been putting them into play perfectly since I was 11 years old.

Similarly, his petty antics are the classic signs of a low-status male aping above his station. Like all such monkeys, a beat-down from the group leader firmly puts him where he belongs: at the bottom. And his oppressor: at the top. That is the way of things, the natural  and proper order.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:57, Tue 08 Sept 2020.

In reply to Editor-in-Chief (msg # 30):

I just realized I put the 'Free Him . Hurry' in orange.  Sorry.  It was the message that popped up on Sera's cell phone if that wasn't clear. Let me know if that changes anything and I'll edit this post.

Saul sighs.  "Unlike the antics of a wannabe tyrant who thinks she can declare what is and isn't right without having even gotten the job-"

"Shut up.  Both of you." Samantha rolls her eyes.  "You're both arrogant as all get out.  You too Tootsie," she adds, glancing at Louise.

Robert shrugs.  "I gotta agree."

You see a few other heads nod, most notably the twins.

"Why don't you all shut up! Ms. Martel is absolutely right!"  Ahina's voice is high and reedy.  But she makes up for it by spitting a small cloud of phlegm as she stands up and hollers towards the back of the bus.

"Wait.  Wait.  Hold on now everyone." And it's another precinct heard from as Mr. Confused, Adam Duncan stands up.  "I realize we got off on the wrong foot.  Mostly cos a' this guy..." he jerks a thumb at Saul, but looks towards you and frowns as well.  "But c'mon.  We haven't even been on the road for an hour.  Let's not start gettin' at each other's throats."

Adam Duncan scratches his chin.  "We gotta decide on some kinda monitor-"

"Why?"  The voice from behind Samantha is suprisingly melodic.  Adam Browoski, who has been staring out the window all this time, turns his head and asks his question.  His voice is odd. You can almost hear harp strings strumming in the background as he speaks.  "Does it matter who votes for who?  We might as well just not vote and let the lots decide it."

Adam B goes back to staring out the window.  "It's not like it's a job worth having at any rate."

It doesn't change anything, no. I figured that's what the message was. Thank you for checking, though. I'm not sure where this is going anymore, but it's still fun! The characters are much more compelling than most GMs write.

Dammit.

It's happening again. I tried to get along, tried to play nice, tried to make friends, and some asshole had to ruin it. Had to tear me down when he thought he wouldn't endure consequences for his petty stupidity.

I take a long, deep breath. I don't stand up. A queen does not rise to address her peasants.

"I will only say this once. I tried to get along, tried to play nice, tried to let this school be a sanctuary from the cruelty of the world outside. I would still like to do that. And yet, someone always has to stir up trouble, to prove just how great they are. Irrelevant. I am by far the most powerful person on this bus. You can let me protect you from threats you can't handle by yourselves, or you can get out of my way."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:28, Wed 09 Sept 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 33):

Your announcement seems to kill any further conversation.  Everyone pretty much goes back to their seat.

Samantha finds a different seat.  Her canary squawks at you, peering curiously, before flying off to land back on top of her head.

The ride is silent for a while.

Your cell buzzes.  Again a text from the unlisted number.

I just want to say I'm right behind you.  I've been a big fan for a long time and you can count on my vote.

People are afraid of those who are strong.  Like people used to be afraid of dragons.

Would you say you're a dragon?

"Arrogant."

No. I am not arrogant. I am aware of exactly what my place in life is: at the top of the mountain. It's lonely, cold, and hard up here, but it's where I belong. There are benefits, but there are also costs, to being the best. One of them is the envy, jealousy, and hatred of others. I want friends, real companions, people who I can confide in and share my life with. My parents always told me I would never have anyone like that, because no one would ever be close enough to being my equal to be that kind of person to me.

I wanted to prove them wrong. I still want to prove them wrong. I want to use my power to help others, instead of just myself. But they're always so ungrateful! They bite and snarl like jackals, nipping at my heels when I try to protect them from lions.

But some admire the strong and aspire to be like them, instead of what the typical person does, even on this bus. Those typical people, Samantha, Saul, Robert, they see strength in others as weakness in themselves. They know that they gave up, that they chose to be less than they could be because they were afraid or the road to exceptionalism was too hard to walk. That is why they hate the capable, the strong, the best.

So I go back to fiddling with my phone and playing games. I politely get out of the way when Samantha wants to move. I have no need to bully her or box her in to prove that I am powerful. I just am. This is the source of much of my "coolness," the knowledge that I am, in fact, superior to the great majority of people.

I text back:

Thanks. Did you send that last message, too? Looks like your number is blocked.

If I'm a dragon, then I'm the good kind of dragon. Never kidnapped a princess in my life. =P
This message was last edited by the player at 21:51, Thu 10 Sept 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 35):

A reply comes back pretty quick.

Ha ha.  Yeah I sent the last message.  I figured out what little Ms. Louise's game is.  She's so jealous of you 's not even funny.

I always thought that story about dragons kidnapping princesses was BS.  Why would a dragon need a princess?  When you think about it, it doesn't make sense.

I know some others at the Academy.  They are big fans too.  So no tears!  You got lots of people smiling for you!

You should think about joining the Chess Club.  I know how it sounds.  But a lot of my friends are in it and they would just die if you even showed up once!

Just remember you have people on your side!  I will talk to you soon!

O.  This is Ahina G

Tappy tappy beep beep.

That's good to know. ^_^

You knew people already? That's cool. I may just drop by your club.

Why did you tell me to free him?

Actually, you can just tell me later.

I go back to playing games and wait out the bus ride until voting starts. The instant voting is opened up, I speed up my subjective time several dozen times and check out the voting works.

Does everyone get one vote? Can you change your vote after you cast it? My plan is still there, waiting to be executed to make sure that I get that private room.

Of course, with my own timeframe so much faster than everyone else's, they don't see me move at all, and it feels like it takes five minutes or more to load every webpage. I can be patient, though.

Okay!  Looking forward to it!

The rest of the ride is quiet.  The Normies are talking amongst themselves.  But they seem to be careful about being overheard.

Ms. Welkes finally steps up front.  "Well.  We certainly had an interesting afternoon.  I must say this class is a lot more direct than most.  But we will soon see who learned the lesson and who didn't.  Voting will start in a moment.  Please select from the candidates provided."

Your cell vibrates.  A text message pops up.  Actually two.

One has a link to the site.  It simply lists the names of the candidates, in yellow:


Hester Abrams
Samantha Cullers
Edda Fogley
Stephanie Gressher
Simon Gaston
Joesph Hu
Edna Issacs
Abdullah bin Mohammed
Oeinga Mycohbu
Saul Zachius

The link prompts you to select one name for Monitor and one name for gopher.

No.  Your name isn't on the list.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:12, Mon 14 Sept 2020.

Well, that's curious. My name isn't on the list, sure, but many other names are missing, too.

I stop time again, get up, and walk over to Ms. Welkes. Then I touch her and pull her out of the timestream with me. I don't intend to make a fool of myself in front of everyone.

"Ms. Welkes," I say, only slightly less respectfully than that with which I had previously addressed her, "Is this a test of our ability to pay attention? It looks to me like Samantha and Saul are up for election as potential monitor and gopher for the yellow cord program."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 39):

In the moment before you step outside time, you hear some of the others reacting.

Robert mutters, "What's this shit?"

You hear Adam B laugh in a condescending but musical way.

You flip the switch.

Welkes blinks and then looks around.

"So this is what it's like, huh?" she mumbles as she looks over at a frozen Saul and the normies in the seat behind him.

"I will go over some of the objectives of the assignment after the voting is complete.  And I believe I said I would not answer any questions until then."

She gives you a slight smile.

"But I never said I wouldn't offer hints if asked.

"Saul and Samantha...really Saul.  Samantha just saw him and repeated the behavior...found a loophole.  My guess would be they both gave up hope of becoming the red cord's gopher and instead are trying to become the gopher for the yellow cords. It will be interesting to see what comes out of that.

"But that isn't your hint.  Look at the candidate list you have.  Take away Saul and Samantha.  Who are your other choices?  Why do you think that is?  And why aren't any of the other metas like Robert on your list of candidates?

"Now.  Before you..." she seems to hunt for the best term.  "...start the clock again, I would like to ask you a question please.

"What do you hope to get out of the St. George program?  And I'd like your real answer please.  Not one you may have rehearsed for parents or teachers.  Your answer will stay between us."

I raise one eyebrow, questioning. A lot of people have to practice that expression on purpose, as a cultural shorthand, but it came naturally to me. Probably a "gift" from my mother.

"You're going to assign a meta to do chores for baselines, and a baseline to keep order for metas? Well, if it's worked in the past, I suppose you know what you're doing. 'You,' of course, referring to St. George's."

Beat. The greyscale world around myself and my dean with the cyborg arm is frozen, stopped in the span of non-time between two instants. Nevertheless, it feels like time passes normally for the two of us.

I fold my arms under my breasts.

"My real answer? Okay. I want two things from St. George's. First, I want to be around at least a couple of people who aren't pushovers. I've reached the limits of how powerful I can become dealing with lower-grade metas, and nobody gets any better at anything without a little competition. I like winning, sure, but I want to win for myself, not for my parents. Second, it'd be nice to make a real friend for once in my life, not a phony who just wants something from me or being near me. I thought maybe getting away from my parents, my old social circles, would help with that.

And before you ask, I wanted to be a monitor so I could have my own bedroom."

I wait for her to respond, especially if she has any more questions for me.

Welkes smiles slightly and shrugs when you talk about the monitors and gophers.  "I suppose we do," is all she adds to that.

Her smile disappears as she listens to your answer for her question.  She seems to consider it seriously for a moment.

"So.  You want to expand your limits.  Certainly.  A lot of metas who come to St George's want that.

"And you want friends.  Real ones.

"Can I ask then:  if you want friends, why do you want a private room?  Don't you think a good first step would be trying to share space with another lady?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:50, Tue 15 Sept 2020.

"As you just saw, the world is full of jackals and anklebiters. They'll take any chance they can get to tear down anyone who dares to stand out, and I stand out. I can't hide or who what I am. I don't want to have to worry about someone sharing pictures of me naked in the shower or, worse, getting knifed in my sleep."

I sigh.

"But I did think about that. Wouldn't it be better, more effective in making friends, to share a room? Probably. When you've been at the top of the mountain as long as I have, though, you know that the main goal of 9 in 10 people you meet is to knock you off the peak, not so they can stand there, but just to hurt you. Observe Saul."

I thumb over my shoulder at the troublemaker.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 43):

She studies you a moment.  "So.  Saul attacked you.  And everyone else is on the same level?"

She shrugs. "But then again, what do I know?  In my opinion, both of your goals might be better served if you took a roommate.  But it's your life and it's your call. A call you have to make on your experiences. I do wonder if those experiences really apply here.  But again.  What do I know?"

"In any event, thank you for answering my question.  I really do hope you find what you're looking for."

She smiles.  "Is there anything non-assignment you'd like to ask me?  You do have me all to yourself at the moment you know."

"For now, I don't know. Maybe it will be different here than anywhere I've been before. Ultimately, I don't have much experience. Louise and Samantha are certainly on the same level, but the rest, that's for time to tell."

I unfold my arms, and I smile at her. People tell me I have a nice smile. "You're welcome."

"Yeah, one thing. Do the metas and baselines live in the same dorms?"

Whatever answer she gives, I thank her for her time. Of course, I grin when I do that; it's a terrible pun, but I like it. Then, unless she has more to say, I go back to my seat and restart time, take out my phone, and vote for Saul as monitor and Samantha as gopher.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 45):

"Each class will live in the same building with another class.  But the metas and normals are segregated to some extent.  Usually by being on different floors.  It depends on the building.

"Your class was supposed to be in O'Rourke Hall.  Bu there was an incident."  She frowns slightly. "About two days ago.  I'm not sure what building you will be assigned to.  But it will be worked out by the time we arrive."

---

As you start time again, you notice various grumbling going on.

About fifteen minutes later, Robert lumbers past you.  He bumps you, but looks down at you and mumbles, "Sorry.  Narrow aisles," which for him is the truth.

He stops by a seat two rows up and asks the normies sitting there,

"Hey.  Can I see the sheet you got handed?  If you don't wanna, that's fine."

They don't seem to mind.  Or they aren't going to take a chance.  Either way one of them hands Robert the sheet Ms. Welkes passed them.

Robert scans it, frowns, and mumbles, "Really?"

He thanks them and passes it back, then returns to his seat and KFC bucket.

Anything else you want to accomplish before voting is over?  If not, I will move us on.

Thanks

When Robert bumps past me, I look up at him and give a thumbs up. "No problemo."

I stop time again when Robert reacts incredulously to the paper the normie got. Then I go read it myself. I wonder what's on it?

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 47):

The paper looks mostly like yours.  Until you get near the bottom half on the back.  There's additional instructions that weren't listed on yours.



Please read the instructions below carefully.

You are not to verbally discuss these instructions with anyone.  You may show this paper or send a copy of these instructions to anyone you wish though.

You will be asked to vote for the positions of monitor and gopher.  The explanation of these positions will be provided prior to voting.

You will not be voting for the monitor or gopher positions of your own group.  You will instead be voting for the positions of the monitor and gopher of the group that will be issued red armbands.

You should not ask questions or involve yourself with any debate that arises.  You should simply observe.

When you vote, you will be asked to briefly detail why you voted as you did.  You must both vote and answer the question.

You may barter for your vote or anything related to the voting as you wish as long as you do so non-verbally.

Please consider carefully who you assign as gopher.

No questions related to these instructions should be asked, nor will any be answered.

Huh. Well, I've already offered the baselines my protection, and most of them probably know who I am. They're supposedly academically strong enough to get into a top-tier school like St. George's, so surely they do their research. That's just about the only way for a normie to survive.

I sit back down, re-enter linear time, make sure my votes are entered, and then wait for the results to come in while I play some games. That KFC smell is making me hungry, and I don't even like fast food!

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 49):

Ms. Belkes gives a warning soon.  The bus will be pulling into St. George's in a moment.

As you look out the window, you don't see anything indicating a school.  It's all piney woods and rolling green hills.  There's even a horse farm with plenty of open pasture.

The bus slows and swings onto a gravel path. No signage out front.  No grand plaque saying WELCOME TO ST GEORGE or anything like that.

Just a bumpy gravel road.

You hear some murmuring and mumbles.  Seems like there are quite a few who are surprised by a gravel road.

Soon the gravel lets onto a paved two lane.  It seems to be a private road.  There are no center lines painted along it.  The driver skillfully turns the bus left.

The paved road dips and climbs.  At the top of the hill is a large stand of trees.  As the bus pushes into them, suddenly, there's the school.

Saint George's sits on the side of one of those rolling Kentucky hills.  Buildings line a main road that slowly and gently descends the slope.  At the bottom of the hill, more buildings spread out, forming a small town.

It appears the bus came in the back way into the school.  The road continues through the town and seems to join some kind of highway far in the distance.

The bus comes off the slope and pulls into a large traffic circle.  There are only a couple of other vehicles.  Mostly bikes and golf carts.  There are a number of pedestrians. Students in school uniforms.

The traffic circle winds around a large statue.  A knight in armor is brandishing a sword at a dragon.  In between them, laying on one side, an arm raised to shade her eyes as she watches the fight, is the typical damsal in distress.  Inscribed under the statue, running the circumference of the stand, is etched some latin phrase:

Hic Qui habet auctoritatem?

The bus turns off the circle and into a parking lot.

As the bus comes to a stop, Ms. Belkes nods.  "Alright. Voting is now closed. Please exit the bus."

As everyone gathers on the asphalt, you notice Louise eyeing Samantha and Saul.  They both have yellow armbands around their biceps.

Robert glances their way and shakes his head, chuckling.  "Bastards..."

Ms. Belkes is speaking to a man who is wearing what must be a janitorial uniform.  He says something to her, nods, and steps away.

Belkes turns and claps her hands.  "Alright everyone.  Your attention please.  Welcome to St. George.  You will be staying here," She points to a building to the right. You notice Saul flinch as she does.

It's a three story building, all brick, with large picture windows and smaller windows spaced evenly out along it's length.

"This is O'Rourke Hall."

You wonder ideally if it's Sybil O'Rourke a/k/a The Banshee.  She was a meta who was known as a popular super back in the 90s.  Very fashionable.  Her career was cut tragically short in a fight with The Doomsayer.  The Pay Per View of the fight is still a top ranker on Net Flix.

"Now what you may not know is...St. George has a long affiliation with Rigney Entertainment.  And tomorrow, Rigney will be sponsoring a fair to welcome you to St. George."

Rigney Entertainment is a power house.  They started making cartoons like Ricky Rodent and Mike Mallard as well as family movies like 101 Shar-peis and Gary Bobbins.  But now they're bread and butter is the meta-entertainment circuit.  They bought out most of the old comic publishing venues, like New York Comics and Pikture Comics.  Once Marvelous Comics went bankrupt, Rigney controlled most of the big name venues.  Your fan club website?  Nothing compared to one of the ones Rigney runs for it's core metas.

Belkes pulls out a cell phone and glances at it, nodding her head.  She reaches into a pocket.  "When I call your name, please step forward to receive your armband."

She holds up two brown ones.  "Robert Rutherford and Samantha Cullers.  Congratulations.  You are now the class gophers."

They both smile, seemingly very happy with this turn of events.

Belkes holds up two blue bands.  "Our class monitors will be Seraphina Martel and Saul Zachius.  Please step up to take your armbands."

You see Louise grin like this is the best news she's ever heard.

You hear Saul mutter, "Shit!".

"Lotta property, huh?" I observe, querying no one in particular and taking in the scenery.

Oooh, horses! Like every girl ever, I kinda like horses. Maybe not as much as most girls; I'm more intellectual than usual, and I'd rather punch something than put on tack and saddle. But still, horses are appealing creatures.

"Is that whole town the academy?" I ask, directed towards Ms. Welkes but not in such a way as to demand an answer. I imagine that a lot of the students are wondering the same thing.

I scope out the students milling around. Maybe I'll recognize some of them from the hordes of fights I've had or the fanclub meet-ups I've been to, or maybe just for casual reasons.

The dragon-and-knight-and-princess statue catches my attention immediately. I remember something Ahina said to me, and I take out my phone and send her a text:

Was that dragon thing about the statue?

I idly plug the Latin into Goggle Translate: "At this point, who has the greatest authority?"

Sybil, The Banshee, versus the Doomsayer was before my time. Organized meta battles for profit aren't crass, at least not in my mind. Some people might think so, but those people were weak. Why would one be afraid to show off or ashamed of being powerful?

Or beautiful. Or brilliant. I'm gifted in those ways as well, and I do not hide those gifts.

I wait to receive the election results by, again, playing phone games. I probably indulge in video games too much, but what use is power if you don't get a few perks, at least? I am, nevertheless, only slightly surprised when my name is called for monitor. I had actually expected to be assigned as the gopher by jealous baselines.

That lifts my spirits, and I put my phone away and go up to get my blue armband with a spring in a step a great big smile. "Thank you, Ms. Welkes," I say, with a bow.

I turn to the crowd, but primarily I face the baselines in my own class, and I say, "I will do my best to be worthy of the trust you placed in me."

I smirk at the baselines so that they know, or at least some of them know, that I know they elected me. Some of the metas may have figured it out, too. I kind of did, but I also had inside information after the fact.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 51):

Ahina responds back quickly.  I guess.  Never really thought about the name.  We can ask Paulette.  She's the club president.  She'll know.  She knows everything.

---

Most of the Baselines look away when you address them.  Some looking down, others suddenly playing with their phones.  About four of them look at you and nod seriously.  They must be your fan club.

Ms. Welkes makes a wide sweeping gesture after distributing the armbands.  "Now then.  Every building you saw is part of St. George's.  The school is surrounded by a low brick wall.  That is the borders of the school.  You may not leave the borders of the academy without prior permission.  The exception is of course gophers, who are free to come and go as they wish.

"There are also areas marked as off limits to students.  They have all been psychically makred, so you will be warned through an interior voice when you approach within five meters of them.  If you should wander into such an area, you will be given a ten second warning to vacate.  Once you do exit the area, report to the first faculty member you see and explain how you came to be there."  Ms. Welkes pauses, her smile hardening a bit.  "Do not linger in such areas.  Do not be in them in the first place."

Her smile warms.  "Tomorrow morning at nine, a guided tour will depart from this area.  Attendance on the tour is optional.  A GPS ap specific to the academy is being sent to yoru cell phones.  There are also brochures in your room which present a map.   During the festival tomorrow, you are free to wander the campus.  Areas that are off limits should be avoided.

"Now.  Your class has rooms on all three floors of the building.  The first floor contains the lobby, equipment rooms, a small gym with changing rooms, an internet cafe, a couple of private conference rooms which can be reserved, and the rooms for our gophers.  Samantha and Robert?  Because you are boy-girl you will each get a small private room.  Congratulations.

"The second floor will contain the main dormitory.  You will each share a room with an upperclassman, most from the second year of the program.  Take advantage of being with someone who has made it through the first year.  Good relations with a senior can be of great benefit in the days ahead.

"Seraphina and Saul,"  Belkes looks at you both.  "Your rooms will be on the third floor.  Your duties will begin the day after tomorrow, and there is an additional morning class you will have to take.  Details of it are in a brochure left in your room."

She looks at everyone.  "You can get your room assignments from the desk in the lobby.  Your luggage will be delivered to your room in the next hour.  Refresh yourselves.  Rest up.  Look over the brochures in your room as they have important information you must know.

"There will be a buffet style meal served out of conference room 2 on the first floor starting at 6 PM.  Enjoy."

Belkes nods and walks over to the bus driver, who is pulling out luggage from the undercarraige of the bus.

Students begin to head up the stairs to the lobby.

There is a desk with two guys and a girl sitting behind it.  A line forms in front of each of them.  They smile and pass out room assignments and key cards.

You have room 312.

I'll pause here in case Sera has questions, etc.

Forbidden areas, huh? That's practically asking for trouble; the quickest way to get anyone to do anything is to tell them you won't allow them to do it. Based on the mind games the faculty have already played, I suspect that the "forbidden zones" don't actually have anything interesting in them. They might even be completely empty. Perhaps it is test of compliance, bravery, boldness, some combination, or something else entirely.

And maybe not.

Ultimately, I don't know if it matters.

Having to get up early won't be new, though it will still be unwelcome. On the other hand, I get my own room. Yes! And the gophers get private rooms, too, huh? Oh well. My place is naturally at the top, and some separation is important for that. Really though, I just don't like sharing my bedroom with anyone. The extra classes and duties that "pay" for the privilege are just more obstacles to overcome and, consequently, opportunities for self-improvement.

The rule against not leaving without permission is ridiculous, of course, and probably meant to teach some sort of stupid lesson. I will almost certainly ignore it. If I ever want to get something without anyone knowing, I can leave, get the thing, and be back in no time whatsoever. Just leave my phone in my room and off I'll go.

As the gaggle of students departs, I ask Ms. Welkes: "Is there a directory of students along with their phone numbers, powers, or both? I think it will be important to know who everyone is, and what kind of trouble they might cause. Also, do the other classes have monitors too?"

Once at the front desk, I take my key card and smile sweetly to the desk jockeys, introducing myself. "Hello, I'm Seraphina Martel."

Mirroring is important for getting other people to view you positively.

That's what mother always said. She was usually right about that kind of thing, as much as I hate to admit it.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 53):

Welkes nods.  "There is a student directory.  And it will list meta vs. baseline.  But it does not list powers.  Though we find most of our students tend to advertise their powers on social media.  Don't they?"  She grins at you.

"Every class starts with monitors.  But if the monitor leaves the academy, the class decides if it needs a monitor going forward or not.  If the class elects not to assign a new monitor, the position is left vacant and each student in that class is responsible for their own actions."

The girl behind the desk grins at you.  "Hi!  Welcome to Saint George!  Let me see...oh."  Her smile seems to falter a moment before getting slapped back on.  "You are on the third floor.  Room 312.  Just a moment..."

She puts a key card into a scanner and taps something on her tablet.  The scanner makes a vooshing sound.  She hands over the card.

"The elevator is in the back. Stairwells are located at each end of the building.  My log shows there was an issue with the shower in your bedroom, but it was fixed.  If it acts up, you can send an e-mail to the maintenance mailbox listed in your handbook.  Any questions?"

You can see out the glass doors leading into the hall that Belkes is talking to Saul beside the bus.  The two of them start to move away, and seem to be walking around to the side of the building.

Ahina waves at you from the end of one of the lines.  She gives you a thumbs up.  "Congrats on the monitor job!"

I do not advertise my abilities on social media. In fact, I don't use social media; my parents didn't allow my to so much as have a phone when I was younger, and so I never got a taste for the easy attention social media brings. There was something vaguely disgusting about the whole affair, but then, of course I would think that: I don't need the crowds to tell me how great I am.

Even if I sometimes do appreciate their adoration.

"Thanks. Is there something wrong with being a monitor?" I ask her.

I get the sinking feeling that I'm still missing something important. Then again, if everyone goes after monitors because they're at the top, I've lived with that reality since I was old enough to attend kindergarten.

Paranoia.

It's not paranoia if they're actually out to get you.

They always are. My parents are right about that. The only people you can trust are people who are much weaker than you and people who have proven their loyalty multiple times. I want so badly to be an exception to that rule, not to trust others, but rather, to be the kind of person that even those weaker than myself can trust.

I look over my shoulder and smile at Ahina. "Thanks, Ahina."

I thought one of your posts had mentioned Sera having a fan site.  Not necessrily one she ran.  Is that right?  It's nothing that affects anything here. But just thought I should ask for future reference while I was thinking about it.  Thanks



Welkes shrugs.  "That depends on the class.  Monitors tend to have a high fail rate.  That's part of the job.   Sometimes the rewards you get for the risks you take aren't very substantive.

"The class you'll have to take will answer some of your questions.  Some you have to figure out for yourself.  Sorry.  Just...do your best.  And watch your six."

---

Ahina gives you one of those quick golf claps.  Not the insincere ones.  But it has a hurried kind of motion to it.  "Hope to see you at the buffet!"

Ahina gives you another little wave and steps up to get her room assignment.

There are a lot of baselines waiting to get on the elevator.  They stop talking as you walk up.  The elevator ride up is quiet.  They all get out at the second floor.  You wait until the elevator dings for the third.

The third floor seems to be one long hall with the elevators set in the middle of it.  Right across from the elevator doors are a row of vending machines.  Everything from Fresca to toiletries.  At least you won't have to go far for munchies or emergency pit stops.

312 is set near the end of the hall to the west.  There are only two other rooms, 314 and 316 beyond it on this side of the hall.  313 sits right across from your door.

You tap the key card on the lock.  It clicks, with a very distinctive THUCK chik set of sounds.

The room beyond...

Well.  It is a private room.

It could be described as a studio apartment, if the studio had been partitioned to turn it into two rooms.  A decent enough twin bed takes up most of one side.  A desk built into the wall occupies the other.  A mini fridge is wedged under the desk.

There's a window over across from the door.  The Venitian blinds are drawn and closed.  Between the desk and blinds is a thin door that leads into the bathroom.

There's a tub.  You can fit in it if you draw your knees to your chin.  Luckily it does have a massage wand shower head installed.

The sink looks dubious.  There's some kind of stain that's set into the plastic on one side of it.  Sort of a tannish yellow color.  It doesn't seem to be sticky.  It's just faded into the surface.

There's a smell in the bathroom like flowers that have gone past their expiration date.  Not unpleasant.  But not quite...floral...either.  Its odd.

On the other side of the bathroom is a walk in closet.  The closet is larger than the bathroom but thinner.  Assuming you don't have cases and cases of shoes or such, you should be able to get everything in here.

There's a full length mirror on one wall of the closet.  If Saint George's has spent any kind of money on luxury in this room, its on the mirror.  The glass is well polished and the frame is an attractive walnut.

A quick sweep of the mirror, rooms, and window show no bugs, cameras, or any kind of obvious spying equipment.

On a side note, we are almost past the set up.  So starting with the festival tomorrow (game time tomorrow), Sera/you will be in the driver's seat as far as where the game goes.  Feel free not to bite at any of the leads that have been or will be dangled.

What's going on with the monitor position will be explained as the game goes on.  Thanks

Yeah, Sera has multiple fan sites, but she didn't start and doesn't run any of them. She does have accounts on them and occasionally posts content, which her rabid fans devour. Sometimes she posts "mysterious" content just to see what her fans speculate about her.

You're still doing really great. I hope that I can keep things motivated!

I smile pleasantly at the baselines and wave at them. I even greet them verbally.

The rewards may be meager, but I value my privacy. After checking out the room, I make sure to give myself a good looking over in the mirror, in case some wacky nonsense had occurred on the bus and somebody stuck something dumb to me.

I then wait for my luggage to be delivered. It's not a lot, considering that I come from wealth. I've always preferred high-quality, durable things to fashion. I think I get that trait from my father, who is almost fanatical about disdaining popular things. I put everything away and put some air fresheners around to get rid of the weird almost-but-not-quite flower smell.

Then I check the time. If it's almost time for the buffet, I go there, and if not, I read that brochure we're supposed to have in our rooms, then I go to the buffet. I'm not a fan of buffets, but hey, it's sometimes good.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 58):

The brochures provide general information about the school.  You can see the various class lists.

It appears that Saint George operates on a two semester system, with an optional third semester running during the summer.  'Summer school' as it were.

During the fall and spring of each year, a new class is admitted.  Your class is the Fall 2020 class.

As Welkes mentioned, the student directory does list every student, and whether they are meta or baseline.  One thing that catches your eye are the class sizes.

The Spring 2020 class has 10 baselines and 6 metas

The Fall 2019 class has 8 baselines and 4 metas

Spring 2019:  9 baselines and 3 metas

Fall 2018:  4 baselines and 2 metas

Spring 2018:  7 baselines and 1 meta

Fall 2017:  7 baselines

It seems you are sharing the building with the Spring 2019 class.  At least according to the addresses in the directory.  There is one monitor listed for the Spring 2019 class:  Constantie Aubach.  You have never heard of him.  He is in room 310.

The buffet turns out to be better and worse than expected.  The meat is all super tough.  But they have a good range of salads.  And they serve these little meat and cheese pies that are pretty tasty.

You see Ahina walk in.  She grins at you, then takes her place in line. Soon she comes to sit beside you.

"Anything good?

"I love my room!  I'm sharing a space with a girl named Lydia.  She seems really nice.  I am soooo glad.  I was sweating that.

"How 'bout you?  Did they get you moved in okay?"

The bus driver did deliver your luggage about ten minutes before you left for the buffet.

I should talk to that Constantine guy at some point.

At the buffet, I wait patiently in line. No reason to push or insist on being first to a buffet, after all. I'm all calm pleasantness to anyone who looks my way. I get some salad and savory pies before taking a seat. It reminds me of high school cafeterias, which I suppose is the intention.

I'm surveying the people while I eat and I wave back at Ahina. Nobody at my old school would have dared sit next to me without asking first, so I'm surprised when she does. I raise one eyebrow at her.

Then she just starts...talking to me. That's even more odd. I feel almost like I've entered a portal to another dimension. Nobody here is either visibly terrified of me or asking me out. It's a strange experience for me, but nice, in its own way.

I don't answer Ahina for about three seconds, then I say, "The meat pie is pretty good. I've never been to New Zealand, but I hear they eat stuff like this a lot. They moved me in fine. The bathroom smells a bit off and there's a spot on the sink, but I brought air fresheners.  I read the brochure. The class sizes are consistently small, with more baselines than metas. What does mean? It's very strange; I've never heard of an elite school or academy with more baseline than meta students. The ratio of metas does seem to be increasing over time, though."

Nom. Vegetables.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 60):

Ahina blinks and then laughs.  "You're concise!  I like that!"

She picks up a meat pie.  "I guess I never thought about New Zealand.  I did go to Australia though.  Kind of an exchange program thing.  It wasn't as kangaroo-ey as I thought it would be.

"Anyway.  I wanted to let you know.  Chess Club's first meeting for the term will be Thursday.  It meets in the basement of the Oxenhill building at 4.  Hope you can make it!  I think you'll have a blast!"

"What'll be a blast?"

You both look over.  Louise is standing there, holding a tray.  She smiles at you both.  "Mind if I join you?"

"Well, uh. Thanks, I think," I reply to Ahina's description of my explanation.

Her invitation is almost an order more than a request.

"You're pretty forthright, everything considered. You'll have to show off your ability Thursday."

I look up from cutting open one of the savory pies to see Louise standing there.

"Nope. Go ahead," I answer her. I wonder what game she's playing, since she was clearly playing one on the bus.

"Ahina has invited me to join the Chess Club, and I think I will. It sounds about my speed, as far clubs go. Even the best can use leisure now and again."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 62):

"Chess club?  I would have imagined you more along the lines of Go.  That's such an elegant game."

Louise smiles as she sits.  Ahina sort of frowns at her, but busies herself with one of the savory pies as well.

Louise glances around the room.  "Just us from the bus huh?  Well.  On the meta side.  I suppose people are unpacking.  I always take forever to unpack so I just decided to do it tonight."

She bites into a chicken and spinach pie and then sips her mint cucumber lemonade.  "Have you considered what elective you want to take?  The class list seems fairly broad.  I was surprised by how much they offer."

You do have one open elective class.  English, World Civ II, Geography, Earth Science, Computer Science, and your language class are already scheduled.  You just have an elective.

As Lousie mentioned, the course list is suprisingly extensive.  Everything from the usual Choir, Drama, and Art classes are open. But so are Bad Mitton, Antiquing, and Spelunking.

Pitch a few elective classes Sera might like and I'll let you know what ones are and aren't available.

I reply to Louise, "I was invited. I might take up Go, if the same happens."

Her insults slide off me like water slides off a duck.

"We all eat a lot, I'm sure," I say, in response to Louise's supposed surprise at the lack of meta attendance at the buffet.

"There are a lot more metas in this class than in previous classes, though, so maybe you're onto something. As for electives, I haven't looked through the list yet. I read the brochure, put out some air fresheners, unpacked, then came down here. I was hoping they would have some martial arts, like Destreza or Jujitsu."

Learning to fight without using my powers has helped me win fights with me powers before. I'm not an expert or a master, but I do have a couple certificates and a black belt. Father was especially insistent that I learn to fence, a proper skill for a proper lady.

"If not that, then something in math or physics. It's good to know about the numbers behind one's powers."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 64):

"I did see most of the martial arts listed.  Kendo caught my eye.  But there was Jujitsu.  I'm sure of it."   She smiles at Ahina.

"What were you thinking of?  Ahina, right?"

Ahina makes an attempt to smile, but it is clear she does not like nor feels comfotable with Louise.

"I was gonna take an extra bio class."

"Right. That's your specialty, isn't it?"  Louise nods.  Ahina seems surprised Louise knows something about her.  "You are the reincarnation of Louis Pasteur after all."

Ahina frowns, pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose. "I prefer to say I'm just a descendant of his."

Louise nods.  "Got it.  I'll keep that in mind. Well.  Good luck with Chess Club."

She only had a couple of pies and some broccoli on her plate.  And she's finished all of it rather promptly.  Louise smiles at you.  "I was reading up about the festival tomorrow.  There apparently will be games.  Hope we get a chance to compete.  Have a good night."

Ahina is quiet as Louise leaves.  But you can hear her mumble the word, "...weasel..." right after Louise is gone.

Louise is either stupid or not as subtle as she thinks she is, in which case she's only somewhat stupid. It may be unladylike of me, but I prefer to be blunt and direct, rather than discreet.

That being said, Louise does seem less complacent than I am. I nod at her, slightly and respectfully, when she talks about Ahina's abilities.

"I look forward to it," I say to Louise. "Good night."

I wait until she's gone and then I say to Ahina, "Let's finish eating and then we can talk about this while you show me where the club room is."

And that is exactly my plan. I will finish my dinner, more substantial than Louise's, and then I will have Ahina lead me to the club room. We'll discuss Louise's weasel-ish behavior on the way.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 66):

"Oh. My.  Gosh!  Whadda bitch!"

The two of you have finished your meals and stepped outside.  The air is cool but not so bad you need a thick jacket.  Ahina checks an ap on her phone and points across up the hill to one of the buildings sitting in the traffic circle that surrounds the St George and the Dragon statue you drove by.

"It's over there.  Hope you don't mind a little walksie!"

She giggles and pockets her phone.

"Excuse my french. I just can't stand twosie faces like Little Miss Louise there.  What a sneaky snake she is.  But I guess they're everywhere, huh?"

Ahina sighs dejectedly.

"Anyway.  Watch your back.  I'll keep an eye out too."

Feel free to question away

"Yeah, she is. I don't know what she's planning."

I've always liked the cold more than the heat. Even in the short uniform skirt, the chill invigorates me.

"Don't worry about cussing. Feel free, and no, I don't mind walking." I smile at Ahina. She's genuinely nice to me, for now. I hope she stays that way.

"Two-faced rats are everywhere," I agree, as we make our way to the building with the club room.

"What do you think she was up to?" I ask, as I take a tin of sweet mints out of one of my skirt pockets. I put one of the candies in my mouth and, in most circumstances, I would just put it away again. It's a reflexive movement, but I catch myself halfway through and instead hold the tin out towards Ahina, so that she can take one of the candy mints if she wants to.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 68):

I just realized how much the Coral color looks like Orange.  Switching Ahina to Seagreen

Ahina sighs.  "Well.  She obviously wanted you to get busted for freezing up Asshole Saul on the bus.  And I think you would've been.  Ms. Welkes seemed pretty specific about the bus being school property."

She smiles at the mint and takes one, saying thanks before she pops it into her mouth.

"I might've...'accidentally' hacked her phone.  Right before the ballot came up, she was textin' those twins, asking them to vote for you for monitor.  They didn't respond.  Then the ballot came up and...whoopsie Ms. Thing!  Looks like your plan hit a detour!"

Ahina laughs and then stops. "Well. You still got monitor.  But I'm sure you'll make a great one.  And I think you're a hundred times smarter than Miss Louise."

She considers.  "I think she's gonna try to stir up everyone against you.  Like 'break the rules and get Seraphina in trouble' or somethin'.  At least that's what I can her trying to do.  I mean...it's like you're the sheriff.  How do you get a sheriff in trouble?"

"I had a suspicion that was the case," I say, "But since when has enforcing the natural order counted as bullying?"

I look over at Ahina as we walk. "You can hack a smartphone with another smartphone that fast? That's impressive. Anyway, thanks." I smile at her compliments.

I stop two steps ahead of Ahina, when she stops walking. I don't know where we're going, but I still naturally assume a leading position. "To be honest, I just wanted my own room. But I appreciate your faith in me and I hope I can live up to your expectations."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 70):

Ahina glances at you.  "The natural order is important."

She says this in a sort of neutral tone. You can't quite tell if she's upset or not.  It's more like she's wondering how you meant it.

The two of you stop at the steps to the building the Chess Club is in.  Ahina giggles and motions for you to follow her.  She ignores the stairs up to the lobby and heads to the side alley.

She checks her phone and then stops beside a security door.  She looks at her phone again and pushes a series of numbers on a keypad by the door.  The little light on the keypad winks green.

Ahina giggles again and holds the door open.  "We're goin' to the last door on the right."

The last door on the right has a sign that says Archives

Ahina opens it.  Inside is a large room with rows of shelves.  Each shelf is stacked with numbered cardboard boxes.

In front of all this is a large open area, and several card tables and chairs have been set up there.  On top of the table are several chess sets, some set up as if in the middle of a game, and some still in their shrinkwrapped box.

The only person here is a young woman, maybe a year or two older than you.  She is seated, drinking a Mr. Pibb, and leafing through a magazine.  Her auburn hair is thick and long, styled in a way that becomes her oval face.  Her eyes are deep blue.

The most striking thing is the skin on the back of her fingers.  From knuckle to tip, the backs of her fingers are a red darker than blood or the lipstick she wears.

She's attractive in both the classic and post modern sense.

She stands, smiling, as you come in.  "Hello.  Ahina?  It's a pleasure to meet you in person finally.  I hope you had a pleasant trip in.

"And who's this?  Are you Seraphina Martel?  I've followed your career.  It's a pleasure to meet you.  My name is Paula Mergrave.  I'm president of the Chess Club and The Dragons.

"Welcome."

I recite, as I was taught, in History and Moral Philosophy class: "Just as the weak are obligated to obey the strong, the strong are obligated to protect, lead, and guide the weak, by deed and word, with upright behavior."

Beat. Dispassionately, I say, "Saul failed in his obligations. He belittled and insulted the order and safety provided by those who are better than him by sowing chaos to soothe his own ego, and in so doing he harmed everyone around him. He will rise to his new circumstance, or he will fall and be replaced."

That's a lot of window dressing. The truth, of course, is that the strong rule because the weak cannot stop the strong from ruling. I don't have to like it, but in the real world, might makes right. I want to change that, though, as much as I benefit from it, and I also want Ahina to like me.

I'm not sure why I care about her opinion.

I raise an eyebrow at the electronic lock. "Very clandestine." I can't help but smile back at Ahina.

I hold up my hand in a greeting to the new girl. "Yo. That's me, Seraphina Martel. Nice ta meecha, Paula."

I take a seat across from Paula. "Do all the doors have passcodes, or is that just because it's an off day?"

I'm half expecting a secret handshake or introduction to a vigilante society. Those are pretty popular lately, even if they're distasteful to respectable people.

Ahina slowly nods to your speech.  You hear her mumble, "So cool..." under her breath.

---

Paula raises an eyebrow at your question on the pass code and then laughs.  "Oh!  The door to the alley!  The side doors on most of the buildings have such locks.  The main doors are open seven days a week during business hours.  Buildings like the gym and library have extended hours.  It's just faster to get to the archives here if you go through the alley door  You can come down the main stairwell in the lobby as well."  She shrugs.  "The alley door just saves you a few steps.  The passcode for it 1970.  That's also the year Saint George's was actually founded.  But not all the doors use that code.  This one is just a coincidence."

She sets her magazine aside.

"Do either of you want something to drink?  We have Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Mountain Dew...all flavors.., some skim milk, tea-hot and cold, and some Perrier.  We have some cookies too, but they're awful.  I'm waiting on our gopher to come back with the good stuff."

After giving Ahina a Mountain Dew and you whatever you want, Paula sits, crossing her arms on her lap.  She smiles at Ahina.

"So.  Like I said.  Good to meet you in person.  As no surprise, your application is approved.  Congratulations.  You are a member."

She looks at you.  "We were going to reach out to you as well.  We tried before semester, but we had some difficulty with a man named 'Reginald'?"

Reggie.  He's your Dad's assistant. He's always trying to end run some rule.  Your Mom really hates him.  But Dad won't let him go.

Paula shrugs.  "Anyway.  Welcome to Saint George's.  I don't know what you've heard...but this room is used by both the Chess Club and The Dragons.  I'm president of both.  The two are interconnected, though membership to the Chess Club is welcome to all students.  Meta and General Population.  The Dragons is a meta only establishment.

"I don't know how much you play Chess.  I'm not bad.  Won't be giving Jacob Aagaard a run for his money anytime soon.  But I only play for the intellectual stimulation.  Not for the art of it.

"The Dragons.  In brief, we are an organization that helps link like minded metas.  We are interested in working to change society for the better.  I know we just met.  And I apologize if this is prying.  But please let me ask you this question:  does the way the world works right now seem fair to you?"

"Coincidence, huh?" I repeat.

"Anyway, hot tea for me, please and thank you." Mind my manners. Politeness wins friends and prevents premature showdowns.

I take out my phone and verbalize what I'm doing: "The password for the side door is 1970. Okay, got it." With the note made, I put my phone away again. Then, I sit down and cross my legs.

I don't comment on my summary approval. I've never been denied membership in any group I've wanted to join. Being gorgeous, rich, and extremely powerful will do that for you.

"Reginald is my father's assistant. One of. He's a bit of a rebel and sometimes looks after me."

I flip my hair over my shoulder. I do that a lot; my glorious locks are princess-length, full and shining, and I am very proud of them. Paula's question is one I've given a lot of thought to before, and so the answer comes quickly and naturally.

"You're not prying. I think that I am lucky, blessed with good looks, money, and power, and so I probably don't understand how society really operates. I think that I can't really assess whether society is fair. There's probably more going on than I understand."

I look at my knees, adjust my skirt, and then look back at Paula.

With conviction, "But I think that what I do see is cruel and cold. The powerful rule and the weak obey. We, the powerful, are told we have an obligation to the weak, to be as morally superior as we are physically superior, but no one enforces that obligation. It's a farce and a lie, and I think that is wrong. The disconnect between presentation and reality, the lies used to cover the truth, whatever the truth really is."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 74):

Paula smiles and nods, leaning a little closer as you speak.

"An interesting view point.  And well said.  I especially like that admit there is much you still have yet to understand.  We all do.  There is still much to learn as well as do.  And you are correct:  when your perch is so lofty, it can be difficult to realize all the little dots below are more than just ants."

She waves a hand.  "The Dragons, as I mentioned, are a group that is interested in working to change society for the better.  But we are of course focused on how the meta community can make a better impact on the problems our world faces.  We sponsor volunteer work of course.  Everything to assisting in homeless shelters to helping consul victims of domestic violence.  But to be honest, a lot of that is more to bring our members face to face with the realities that we face.  We make the rubber meet the road so to speak.  It's one thing to think about how evil human trafficking is.  Its another to open the doors on a ship's cargo container and find seventeen families packed inside.  That happened to me when I first joined the Dragons.  I can't even describe what that was like."

She looks at the ground, her smile becoming more whistful.  Paula shakes her head and looks back up at you.

"But its important to see the maladies in order to face them, right?  A doctor can't prescribe treatment unless they've diagnosed the disease, correct?

"So that is part of what we do.  Another part is working to get our members to channel their energy into a common goal.  Even if everyone wants to do something about a problem, getting everyone to agree on how to solve it can be another matter entirely.  I'm sure you can imagine what I mean."

Paula stands, taking her empty can to a recycle basket and getting herself a water bottle.

"There's a lot of politics in the organization unfortunately.  If you've ever done charity work, you'll know that committee meetings can get rather touchy.  More tea?"

She returns to her chair, refilling your cup if you want anymore.

"One thing I try to do is encourage individual projects, at least as far as I can.  Ahina here will be working on bacterial research, right?"

Ahina grins and looks at you.  "I want to work on a bacteria that can be customized to treat conditions in medical patients.  Sorta like nanomachines, except organic."

Paula nods.  "We have some sway with the school.  So we can help get some projects green lit.  My goal with Ahina is to get her a lab she can use."

She turns to you.  "Any of that interest you?"

I sip slowly while Paula talks. It gives me something to do; I'm not using to listening to people talk for a long time before challenging me, and the bus ride has made me generally anxious. My parents, and my world, are strict, violent, and unforgiving. I crossed my legs so that I don't tap my feet.

Her comment that doctors can't prescribe treatment before making a diagnosis amuses me. I can't help but smirk, just a little. Doctors do that all the time.

When Paula is done talking, I wait three seconds before speaking. I've been listening to her, and of course I've been thinking of what to say in reply, but waiting until someone is done and then giving a few moments before saying anything always carries the impression that you're listening with your whole attention, which just about everyone likes.

"I've never done any charity work. My parents did not allow me to waste my time, as they put it. Not that I thought about it much anyway; the bus ride here was the longest span of time I've had without being scheduled since I can remember. And yes, thank you."

I hold out my cup so she can refill it, then go back to sipping at natural pauses in conversation.

"So you're the president of the Dragons, then? And the school leadership approves of your activities? I wouldn't expect that; every elite academy I've heard of has basically the same attitude as my parents."

Beat.

"If I'm being honest, I wouldn't really know where to start. All I've known, my whole life, is constant practice and hard work to improve myself. Practice, projects, assignments, tournaments, sports, academics, anything for greater skill, prestige, and power."

I glance at Ahina out of the corner of my eye.

"I've been under the microscope quite a few times. I'm sure you know it's unusual for someone to have more than one power. I inherited the abilities of both of my parents, and I'm stronger than both of them as well."

I look back at Paula. I've been in so many medical laboratories that I've started to find harsh white lighting natural. I take a long, deep breath.

"This is difficult for me to say: I chose St. George's, out of the dozens of prep schools and colleges vying for my attention, because I wanted to get away from the grind for at least a little while. I had this image in my head, that I'd come to the rescue of the downtrodden and oppressed, throw some bad guys off buildings, and have something interesting and productive to do with my powers instead of just...Well, instead of just gathering more power."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 76):

Paula nods slowly, seeming to consider what you said carefully.

"Yes.  I've followed your parents. They always have high ratings."

It's true.  There was a big bidding war for the televised version of Mom and Dad's last public battle with The Kill League.  According to Mom it was nothing in comparison to their 'off camera' fights with them.  The Kill League is one of the few villain teams of any caliber.  Only heroes of your parents level are rated to fight them.

Paula points at you.  "I like how you're honest.  It's much easier to speak to someone who is willing to tell you what their frame of refence is upfront.  Thanks for that."

She gestures at a poster on the wall.  It's a poster depicting that statue out in the traffic circle and has the St. George's logo under it.

"I"m not sure how much you've heard about St. George's.  I mean the real St. George's.  It is a much different place than the brochures depict.  It was certainly much different that I expected.  And I do mean that in a good way.  Like you, I had gone the tourney route since I was eight.  Although I was in red leagues.  I would imagine you were above me, competing in the blues."

She's right.  You were in the Blue or Advanced leagues.  The Reds are the level below Blue.

"St. George's has the usual top tier academics.  They do very well on that.  What's different is that they do allow quite a bit of freedom on the meta side.  Students can really pursue their own interests outside the classroom.  You just have to obey the rules.  Its that last bit where things can get tricky."

She purses her lips and seems to think over something a moment and then shrugs.  "Part of the education is figuring out what all that means on your own.  It is one of the things I like about St. George.  They allow you to shape your own viewpoint.  So if you want to figure out how you think and feel about things, congrats.  You're in the right place."

She chuckles good naturedly.

"The other thing you'll find is that the testing process is...unique.  For example, the any student can graduate at any time.  You just have to pass a two question final exam.  The kick is if you don't get the answers right, you fail out automatically.  They will cover all that in your first homeroom.

"As far as where to start...how about this."  She holds up a finger.  "One of our members will be doing some field work next week.  I can have him contact you with the details of what he'll be doing.  You can tag along.  Just as an observer if you like.  That way you can see our group in action and decide if its right for you."

The heroes and villains bit often rubs me the wrong way. It's so obviously and overtly fake, a corporate money-printing machine and entertainment for stupid people.

But it pays the bills. And comes with vast wealth and power; adoring crowds and cheering masses of baselines and metas alike. I grew up with that, with seeing my parents basking in fame and glory.

I know who they really are. They're not the heroes everyone thinks of them.

I reach out and touch my fingertip to hers when she points at me. I just feel like doing it, and I grin with genuine mirth. "Thanks, and you're welcome. Being up-front is difficult, but it's easier than keeping up with webs of deceit."

I put my hand back around the bottom of my teacup. After that, I again wait until Paula is finished before replying:

"That plan sounds fine to me. Do you get permission for the Dragons' excursions, or is it more clandestine than that?

I don't know much about the real St. George's. I didn't even have access to the Internet unsupervised until yesterday. St. George's is just as far away from my parents' usual haunts as I could manage and still be a top-tier academy.

I was in the Blues starting in second grade, then Advanced starting in fourth.

You make it sounds like baselines have less freedom at St. George's. That's true everywhere, I suppose, but is it explicitly the case here?

Oh, and here's my phone number."

I take out my notepad and write my phone number on it, then do the same for Ahina.

"Maybe it sounds presumptuous, but if either of you are in danger, give me a text with your location and I can be there in less than a second."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 78):

Paula smiles at both your giving her a finger 'boop' and the phone number.  She sends you hers as does Ahina.

"Thank you.  Not presumptious at all.  I appreciate the offer.  It never hurts to have allies.

"The baselines...To be honest, I think they actually have a great amount of freedom. But then...I'm not one of them.  So they may tell a different tale when we aren't around, right?  But I have a number of friends who are baselines.  And they always seem happy.  St. George's is a top tier program academically.  Especially in film, entertainment business, and the hard and social sciences.  Rigney is a big contributor to the school.  A lot of Rigny executives...meta and baseline...graduated from St. Georges. It's an open secret, but St. George's is like a university for Rigney.

"As for our activities, the school both knows about and approves our excursions.  They make a big deal about not being off campus, but there is quite a bit of activity off school grounds.  So you know.  The next town over is Pottersburg.  And it is an unwritten rule:  you don't use powers in Potersburg.  The city council keeps businesses open to us and doesn't ask questions.  A big power fight in front of city hall would sort of ruin that, right?"

She chuckles.

"You should have a lot more freedom here.  Make good use of it.  I hope you will consider joining the Dragons. We can offer you quite a few resources as you figure out what you want to pursue."

I watch the two other girls just send me text messages. I blush with embarrassment.

"I guess I'm just old-fashioned..."

Pause.

"No, I'm just not used to having a phone all the time."

Deep breath. Sip tea. Calm down. Maybe they'll think your 1980s-style preference for written communication is cute. In my shame, I forget to listen completely before formulated answers.

"Entertainment, business, and hard sciences are areas where baselines can really excel."

I giggle at the notion of power use being banned in Pottersburg.

"Oh that's just naive. How could they even tell if anyone uses powers that aren't externally obvious? But then, of course I would say that. I..."

I trail off, looking at Paula's hands.

"I've spent my entire life obsessed with power. It's almost the only thing I can talk about. That and manga. Video games. Don't uh, don't tell my parents. It's really hard for me not to just ask what your power is, what Ahina's power is. Talk about them, compare them, do math."

Leverage is important for the super-strong, surface tension for the super-fast, momentum for the super-tough, and all kinds of wacky physics I sometimes I think I'll never actually understand are behind the time-bending powers I inherited from Mother. Powers and math are connected, for me. I should have considered that they aren't so for everyone, before I said something.

I feel the heat on my cheeks, so I smile charmingly to cover for myself.

"Sure, I'll definitely consider it. I'm looking forward to my 'observation mission' already." Sip, change from left leg crossed over right to right leg crossed over left. Lean forward just slightly.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 80):

Paula smiles and says she will send you the details by the end of the week.

"My powers are just old fashioned momentum control. I can increase or decrease the velocity an object is travelling at.  It can be useful." She smiles.  "It is always difficulty to figure out who you can and can't ask about powers.  I feel like, if someone has been or is in a league, they probably are pretty open about their powers.  But yeah.  Not everyone is."

Did you have any more questions for Paula?  If not...

---

Ahina needs to talk to Paula some more, so after the three of you chat about pointless things for a little while longer, you walk out of the building alone.

The sun is starting to dip below the horizon.  It will be evening soon.  The air is already getting chillier.

The campus seems a little dead.  You spy the library from where you are.  It appears to be on the other side of the traffic circle, right by where the road runs uphill.  There are lights on inside.

You can also see the gymnasium from here.  It's further up the hill, but its a big round building so it is hard to miss.  There was a work out center attached to it.

You can head home too.  Or take a walk.  Let me know what Sera would like to do.

Thanks

"Old fashioned, maybe, but impressive, definitely."

I make enough small talk to conclude the conversation politely, then I excuse myself so Paula and Ahina can discuss whatever secret society secrets they're going to get into.

I find cooler temperatures invigorating, so I walk around for a few minutes. Then I get bored, so I go back to my room to finish unpacking, sorting, organizing, and putting my stuff away. I'm assuming there will be some kind of orientation, probably very boring, as there tends to be at academies and colleges. If not, I can check out the library and gym later.

With everything put away, I glance around. I still feel nervous doing this. I bought a very fancy gaming laptop, headset, mouse, and so forth with cash to bring with me. I still suspect my parents are spying on me; they'd never have let me have something like it before. I want to check out the kind of Internet we get in the dorms, if it's any good for gaming.

Not that I have much experience with "big girl" gaming on PC, but I want to try it. I'll probably have to download a ton of stuff and just set things up before I'm tired and go to bed, but I get a cheap thrill from the "rebellious" act of just checking out the Internet on a nice computer.

Of course, I'll want to look up on any school emails or the like before bed, check my schedule, reread the pamphlets, and write down where I need to be and when on my notepad.

I am the only person my age I know of who uses an actual physical notepad and pencil to write things down. Will it feel so strange here, at St. George's? Does it matter?

If there's no school stuff to address, I'll take a shower, change, and go to bed.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:27, Wed 14 Oct 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 82):

When you get back to your room, there is a note taped to your door. The writing is short and choppy, but legible.


Seraphina,

The teacher over the Monitor Duties class, Mrs. Oltham, came by.  She left some materials for the class.  She did not want to leave them outside your door so she asked me to give them to you.  Come see me when you get back and I will hand them over.

Saul

You do know which room is Saul's.  He is just down the hall two doors. Thanks
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:39, Thu 15 Oct 2020.

Huh. Okay then.

I pop another candy mint in my mouth and head down to Saul's room, where I knock.

"Hey Saul, it's Seraphina. You've got some stuff for me?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 84):

Things are quiet for a moment, and then the door opens.  You didn't hear anyone walk up to the door.

Saul is standing there, wearing jeans and a hoodie.  His expression is somewhat neutral.  He doesn't frown or smile.  Just nods at you.

He turns and picks up a small sack, passing it over.

"Mrs. Oltham is gonna be teaching the class.  She introduced herself.  Supposed to be a business card inside the text book with her contact info.  She seemed...strict."

He chuckles slightly.

Inside the bag are two books.  One titled Getting Along In A Just Society and the other Saint George's Academy Monitor Handbook.

"She said for us to have read the first chapter in Just Society and make it through the first section and section three point five in the regs.  First class is day after tomorrow."

He scratches the tip of his nose.

"Look.  For what it's worth, I apologize for my behavior on the bus.  We...we both kinda gotta raw deal here.  I won't give you any grief going forward."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:34, Fri 16 Oct 2020.

I take the sack from Saul and say, "Thanks."

Then I listen to his explanation with an expression as neutral as his own. I check the contents as he finishes speaking.

When he's done, I put the books back in the bag and let my hands hang at my sides.

"I accept your apology."

Then I look back at him. I'm rather tall, so meeting his eyes is not difficult. Then I grin at him. Somewhere in the Arctic, a glacier melts from the sunshine in my smile.

That's what I've been told anyway.

"I don't know if you know who I am. If you did, well, good job. It took a lot of guts to mouth off like that. Either way, it seems like everybody but me is in on some private thing, that this monitor job is a bad shtick. What's up with that?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 86):

He sighs.  "We're cops.  Have you ever heard of a cop who was paid well and got the respect they deserve?  The good ones I mean."

Saul scratches his chin, seeming to consider for a moment, and then adds, "I don't know if you're room is like mine..."  He moves aside so you can see inside.  At least from the doorway, it looks like a carbon copy of yours.  Just with the bathroom on the other side.

"...but...so you know.  When you see one of the regular rooms.  Like the regular student rooms. They are much better than ours.  Just giving you a heads up.  It's kind of off putting how much better."

He sighs.  "I also found out a little bit about what monitors do.  We have to patrol.  They'll talk about it in the class.  And our duties won't start until the class starts.  But we should probably think about comin' up with some kind of schedule.  You patrol one day.  Me the next.  Somethin' like that.  That way we still have time to study once and a while.  Anyway.  We can talk about that after the first class meeting.

"But for now..."  He holds out a hand.  "Thanks for accepting my apology.  Let's watch each other's backs.  Particularly with your friend Louise.  You know she's gonna try to start trouble to make you look bad, right?"

"The good ones, no."

I can't help but chuckle. "I just wanted a private room. I'll miss the silk sheets and down pillows in my room back home, but I was going to miss those anyway. It's the home part, not the stuff in it. Probably. I suppose I'll find out."

Pause as I adjust my hair. Dyed pink.

"You're welcome. And thanks for apologizing. I'm starting to suspect that the 'lesson' they want to 'teach' with this monitor and gopher business is that official power is useless and real power is wielded in secret. That's a bit silly; why bother with tricks when you're strong?"

I take his hand and shake, with a firm grip.

"A schedule sounds good. I'll read up on the requirements. If we're going to coordinate, we should probably share at least the essentials of the powers we have. We can talk about that later, if you like."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 88):

Saul chuckles.  "I think I got the gist of yours.  Time manipulation, right?  And I hear you're crazy strong.

"Mine has to do with memories.  I can read them and fiddle with them.  Can't delete them but can suppress them.  Keep it a secret, but you can tell I'm using my power because my brown eyes turn green.  Not like glowy green.  Just regular green."

The sound of a cell phone chimes behind him.  He glances back that way and then nods at you.

"Let's plan on meeting up after the first class then.  If you want to talk anything through before then, just text me."

He rattles off his cell number.  "Sorry." he jerks a thumb over his shoulder towards the sound of the ringing phone.  "I gotta catch this.  Later."

Anything else you want to do today?  If not we will move to the festival.

"Yeah. Time manipulation, that's right. Thanks for sharing, by the way. I appreciate that, too."

I share my phone number with Saul, too. For some reason, his approval makes me feel better than I already did. And less suspicious, too!

I tell him good night, and then I go back to my room to do what I was planning to do before: set up my computer, check the Internet, get all the security software Reggie told me to run going, and then start downloading some games before bed.

Teehee.

Should I really trust Reggie? He'd never betrayed my secrets before. I think.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 90):

I'm going to prep some stuff.  Festival day will be busy.  So let me post the lead in to that Thursday.  Thanks

Okie-dokey. Thanks for letting me know. ^_^

You have give Saint George's this:  they don't mess around.

Somehow, overnight, the traffic circle has been transformed into a fair.  And not some crappy one like you see in online shows.  The kind with cheesy booths put together by different classes.  No.  This is real deal.  There's even a Ferris wheel.

There must have been meta involvement, because there wasn't a sign of any of this when you walked back to the dorm yesterday.  Students, mostly dressed in jeans and light jackets, are gathering around the outskirts, meeting up in little groups.  The fair won't open until 10 AM but it seems like people are enjoying things early.

As you get closer to the actual fair structures themselves, the booths and tents, you get an odd sensation.  A feeling like you aren't supposed to be there.  You overhear someone remark they've got the fair ground 'off limits' until 10 AM.  This must be the sensation Ms. Welkes mentioned on the bus:  the sensation that you are somewhere you aren't supposed to be.

There are a line of food trucks and the 'off limits' feeling doesn't extend to them.  Some of are offering breakfast.  Everything is free, at least at the food trucks.  You can have Japanese breakfast, Mexican breakfast, good ol' American, or even Ecuadorian.

Someone is handing out a brochure.  You look it over.  It provides a map showing the various areas as well as a schedule of events.

There is a games area.

A 'house of horrors' sponsored by Rigney Studios.

An exhibition area which is showcasing an exhibit of famous Heroes and Villains in Post WWII era America, an exhibit about developments in genetic mutation research, and a history of Rigney Entertainment through the years.

A rides section with the Ferris wheel, bumper cars, a carousel, and a tilt-a-whirl.

There's movies being shown in the auditorium.  At noon, there's a showing of the classic Rigney movie 101 Shar Peis.  At seven they're sneak previewing the upcoming Rigney release of The Little Medusa 2:  Lots More Singing.

There will be a human chess match in the south athletics field starting at 2.

There will be a fireworks show to close the event at 9 PM.

There's also mention that anyone interested in this year's 'Tag Marathon' should report to the Admin offices by noon to receive an armband.  There's no explanation of what that means.

There is also a disclaimer:  Please remember that during Fair Day the entire campus is considered school property.  All rules related to the use of powers and violence is in effect.

Your cell buzzes.  Ahina.

Hidey Ho!

You want to walk around with me a while today at the Fair?

I review the rules about violence. Welkes said that bullying wasn't allowed, not that violence wasn't allowed.

Forbidding violence is...

Well, it's incredibly stupid. Deceptive. Morally wrong. Why would they do that? Violence, and its correct use, is the cornerstone of any society.

My parents talked a lot about indoctrination and how "regular" schools would impede my growth, make me into a villain with their restrictive atmosphere.

I've put on something nicer: a mid-shin-length pink skirt to match my dyed hair, strapped sandals with kitten heels, a slender leather belt with a silver buckle, short-sleeved white blouse, and a silver hair clip and silver bracelet. Clothes just tight enough to show off my figure without being uncomfortable. A small pink purse to carry my stuff; this skirt doesn't have pockets. I did up my hair in two long braids at the nape of my neck, a girlish and sweet hair style.

I get in line at the food truck with bacon, hashbrowns, and waffles. Mmmm, waffles. I expect a lot of attention for my looks and probably my reputation; that's what usually happens in public places. Maybe it won't, this time. St. George's is already turning out to be a strange place.

As for the attractions, the bumper cars sound fun. I've never been to a fair, now that I think about it. Most of the rides seem boring. The science exhibit, human chess match, and tag marathon strike my fancy the most.

I text Ahina in return:

Sure. I'm at the Waffle Wagon.

I wonder what she wants. If she wants anything other than companionship. I want to let my guard down, but I also know I can't.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 94):

Ahina shows up about fifteen minutes later, just as you polish off your last bite of waffle.

"Hidey ho!" she waves, beaming as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and plops down beside you on the bench you found.

"This looks like so much fun!  I haven't seen a real fair since I was maybe six!  I wasn't expecting anything like this my first real day at St. George's!"

Ahina is speaking in such an excited tone, it's a wonder she hasn't passed out.

"Whaddya wanna do first?!?"

It's about ten to ten.  So the fair will open soon.

I look up from the table, wipe my mouth with some napkins, and smile at Ahina. "Hey."

"I've never been to a real fair either." I'm a calm, cool contrast to Ahina's excitement. Her exuberance is a bit infectious, though.

"I'd like to go see what the tag marathon is. It seems like there might be some commitment involved, so I want to make sure that it doesn't lock me out of anything before I sign up."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 96):

The two of you wander towards the Admin building.  It's up the slope of the hill, almost at the top.

There are a few students wandering up to a table set out on the building's portico.  A sign labeled

TAG MARATHON

is displayed above it.

A woman working the table smiles at you and goes through the basics.

Each year, at Festival, a 'tag' marathon is played out.  Each participant wears an armband with a flag attached.  Other participants try to steal it.  At the end of the marathon, the ones with the most flags get prizes.

The rules are simple:

You must wear the armband and flag in plain view.  You can not alter the flag, hide it, or otherwise attempt to obfuscate it.  They must be visible at all times.

Anytime you capture a flag, it has to be attached to the armband.  Same rules apply about displaying them.  You can wear multiple armbands as some students will capture so many they fill up the armband space.  For a flag to be counted, it must be attached to an armband when it is turned in.

There are 'safe zones' where you cannot capture flags.  They include the Admin Building, the  Clinic, and inside the auditorium when a movie or play is being presented.  Everywhere else is a free for all.

You may not brawl to capture a flag.  You may not engage in any form of overt violence.  Involving non-participating students or guests in the game is not only prohibited, it is punishable.

While participating in the marathon, you must remain shod.  Not wearing shoes at any time during the marathon is an immediate disqualification.

You may turn in armbands to the desk at the Admin building at any time, up to 4:01 PM

"Ah, thank you," I say, smiling back at the woman.

"Do you have to wear all of your captured flags, or can you turn them in and 'bank points,' so to speak? And for that matter, are there prizes?" I'm sure I can't help but grin and light up at the notion of prizes. I do rather enjoy prizes.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 98):

The woman nods.  "Yes.  All the smart players 'bank' their points at intervals like you said.  If you have the flags on you, they have to be worn. But once you turn them in, they're yours.

"As for this years prizes, I don't know.  The Dean hands them out during the closing ceremony.  Some years they're really good.  Some years...not so much.  But someone usually gets a day pass as a prize.  I mean...you can just go to town.  But it's still a day pass."

"Do you have to wear a flag to be able to capture flags?" Welkes gave out so many 'attention tests' that the school is making me more paranoid than usual.

"And what's with the rule about having to wear shoes? It's strangely specific. Oh, and uh, thank you for your time."

I look over at Ahina. "This is usually the kind of thing I go for, but if you're not into it, then I understand."

I want to win the contest, but I want Ahina to like me. I want everybody to like me, really. I just hope that desire doesn't backfire too harshly.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 100):

Ahina giggles.  "I'm not gonna participate.  But please do!  I wanna watch you win if that's okay!"

The woman smiles at Ahina and then addresses your questions.

"You have to wear an armband to participate.  You can't turn in flags unless you are wearing flags.  But you can capture them even if all you have is the armband.

"Just make sure that armband is visible at all times.  If students are found not wearing an armband or hiding it while they are capturing, they are disqualified and there are penalties.  Let's say your power is turning invisible.  You can turn invisible and steal someone's flag.  But you can't turn the armband invisible when you do so.  It would have to look like there's an armband just floating in midair.  The target has to have a reasonable chance to see your armband and know you're in the game.  That's the rule.

"Also they are serious about no brawling.  Don't do it.

"I'll give you a hint.  The purpose of the game is to get you to think about other ways to handle situations outside of just straight up brawling.

"As far as the shoes...it's kind of school tradition.  Someone always tries to steal other people's shoes during the game.  It's a long story.  The rule is just to make you aware of that."

I nod along at the explanations.

"All right, that makes sense. Thank you again. I'm Seraphina, by the way. Seraphina Martel. I might be back; I'm going to check out the human chess match. Don't want to overburden myself, after all."

I grin cheekily at her and wait for her answer, to be polite. Unless she has something important to say, I excuse myself and go do just what I had said: I want to see what the human chess match is about. I've never heard of that before.

Holding off on the Tag, at least for the moment.  Got it.

The Chess Match doesn't start until 2.  But even though it's still being set up, it's quite teh sight to see.

The south athletic field is a wide space not far from your dorm.  There are three fields, each lined with white streaks to form soccer length fields.  Short sets of bleachers line each side of each field.

The grass of the third field has been altered.  Either someone's laid down a wooden platform or some kind of alteration power has been used, because a giant chess board covers most of the field.  Each square is about two paces wide.

Students are queued up at both ends of the board.  It looks like there are faculty members with illusion type powers.  As each student steps forward, there's a little disucssion, and then the faculty member waves a hand.  The student's appearance transforms.  One lady is being turned into a muscular man with the head of a horse and holding a lance.  Another girl is being transformed into an outfit of papal looking robes.

Ahina taps you on the shoulder and points.  There's a desk marked INFORMATION at one end of the field.

It's about 11 now.  You have a couple of hours to kill before the match starts.

Yeah. Browsing competitions! Tag seems like the best so far, but I, the player, genuinely do not know what human chess is.

I give Ahina a mild thumbs-up, at waist level, then go check out the INFORMATION desk.

Assuming somebody is there, I greet, "Heya. What's this event about? Are people actually playing chess with other people as the pieces?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 104):

It's not a common thing.  But...

Ahina brings out that source of all information...her cell phone.  She taps out and reads from a Google search.

"Yeah.  Basically.  It sounds like instead of pieces, players order teams that move across giant boards...well.  Like chess pieces."

"That's more or less right.  But we do things a little differently."  Paula is walking up behind the two of you.  "Sorry to eavesdrop.  I thought it was you two and figured I'd come over to say hi."

She nods towards the field.  "This is our club event for the festival. It's kind of a tradition.  It is the end of a year long competition within the club.  The two victors each year get to be the Kings.  The Kings are the ones who are playing for victory.  The winner gets to be President next year."

I look back at Paula while she speaks. I'm not thinking about my expression, so it's neutral, as it usually is.

"Hello, Paula." I turn so I can see the redhead and Ahina at the same time.

"Are all the people playing the pieces in the chess club as well? Do the pieces actually fight, or what? And I suppose you're playing as a King?"

Well well. It's not what I expected. But it is the culmination of a competition, so of course I almost immediately want to win the position of King for next year. Then win that. It's a reflexive desire, instilled by my parents over pretty much my whole life, and I have to concentrate to make it go away.

Chess club president.

"Or is this not about the chess club?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 106):

"The President doesn't compete.  Once you get the position you act as more or less a judge as well ad the administrator for the club."

She looks over the field.  "The pieces are selected by each King.  You could say acquiring them is part of the competition.  Sorry.  Can't go too much into the rules.  It is a  'members only' kind of discussion.  Hope we can have it soon though."

She smiles at you.  "As far as how this game actually resolves, there's no tourney style brawling here.  That would be against the school rules after all."  Her smile turns into a grin like she's just told a funny joke.  "The game resolves itself according to typical chess rules.  But that doesn't mean powers aren't allowed.  They are.  If you watch the match, you'll see what I mean.

"One lesson St. George's really pushes is using your strengths in new ways.  It's an interesting idea.  Not everyone can be the champion of a tourney circuit after all. But there are other ways to go about things.

"Sorry.  I gotta go and see to my duties.  But I did want to say hi.  Oh, and I will be in touch tomorrow about that tag-a-long charity visit you were curious about Seraphina.  You two enjoy the fair."

I wave at Paula, once, and I wink at her. "Have fun, Madame President."

"Well, that settles that," I say, to nobody in particular. I take a packet of jerky out of my purse and stick a piece in my mouth, then hold the bag out to Ahina.

"Tag Marathon for me, then. I don't know how fun it will be for you to watch, if I really play to win. Should I be sporting about it?" I grin at the other girl, eyes twinkling with mischief.

If I didn't care about her opinion, I would just sign up for the Tag Marathon, pause time, read the contestant list, and wander around for a few hours in subjective time, reading a manga, until I'd spouted everyone else and taken their flags.

But I do care about Ahina's opinion.

And Paula's. Paula is super cute, too. I wonder if she thinks the same about me. I've never wanted to have a different power before, but I suddenly wish I were telepathic.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 108):

Ahina takes a jerky.  "Thanks!  No need to worry about me.  If I get bored, I'll just wander off.  Besides.  I'm curious to see how you go about it."

She looks at you a little shyly.  "I've seen you in the tourneys.  But I've never gotten to see you use your powers...live I guess is the term.

You get your armband.  Your first flag dangles off your arm.

The list of entrants is suprisingly long.  Fifty two at the moment.  You know a few names from various tourneys.  No one you ever tangled with.  But you are generally aware of their powers.

You also see Louise's name on there.  No surprise.  But...Adam 'Mr. Bewildered' Duncan's name is on there too.

I take out my phone and check the school's GPS locator program. Does it just show my own location, or can it find other students, too? That would make things surprisingly easy.

If not, I ask Ahina if she knows how to do something like that, and if she doesn't, then I'll spend a few minutes looking for some apps online. I can program a little bit, well, better than most, but I'm no hacker.

And if there's none of that, well, I'll walk around and explore for a while scoping out potential targets and their locations. Of course, I can move faster than light, in effect if not direct fact, so nobody is going to be able to protect their flags from me! Not unless they know the specifics of my powers anyway.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 110):

There isn't a program on the school's site.  At least not one you can access.

Ahina doesn't have that problem though.  "Jus' a sec..."

She must be world class hacker because she hands you back your phone a few minutes later with the program installed.

You have the locations for forty nine targets.  But the program only tracks by phone number, so you aren't sure who's who.

There are five targets in your immediate area.

"That's impressive," I praise, because it is. At least to me.

"Tag along if you want to. Well, if you can keep up." I smirk with a combination of mischief and self-assurance.

"You said I had a fan club here. Was that just a way to get me to join the chess club? You seem like you've been here before. To this school, I mean."

I almost wait for her reply, but I'm already distracted by the notion of winning and showing everyone else that I'm on top. It's one of the few things I know how to do.

Instead, I step out of time and into the grey world that's all my own. I used to wonder why everything between time was greyscale, but I have other things to worry about at the moment. I have five targets to track down. That should be easy, since they can't move.

Who's the closest victim?

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 112):

Ahina's smile becomes shy.  "But you do have one.  Well.  I have some friends who go here.  And we all kinda crush on ya."  She laughs.  "Seriously, we are all big fans.  They're the ones who gave me the scoop-"

You wink out around here.

You can locate three of them pretty fast.  Two guys and a girl.  The ironic part is the girl is actually stealing one of the guy's flags at the moment.

The other two close by aren't as obvious.  One seems to be inside the admin building.  The other...

Wait.  Is that you?  Looking at the frozen GPS screen, you think you actually popped up on the program.  Which maybe makes sense.  But it's weird.

I should be on the locator program, since I am physically present, but I should also not be moving on the GPS program. Odd. I let go of my phone and let it slip back into normal time, frozen for me but present for everyone else, who of course won't perceive that anything has happened.

Or shouldn't.

There have been anomalies before. As far as I know, my mother is the only other person in the world who can stop time like I can. Maybe she's around.

There is, of course, also a degree of skill involved. A lot of it. Practice, control, calm, concentration. I have mastered my powers to a level that very, very few people ever do, because my parents' training and expectations are relentless. They're not psychic powers, nothing like "holding a spell" or video game logic. It's like learning to use muscles you can't see or feel.

I shrug and saunter over to my first three targets, appraising them. I would like to yoink their flags without actually touching any of them and, thereby, giving them a chance to grab back. I can probably get the girl's and the second guy's...

Wait. The rules say that they have to know I'm participating. Does that mean I have to at least give them a glimpse of me?

If all else fails, they can't touch me if I don't want to be touched.

I go back to get my phone, then I return to the scene of the action and re-enter linear time. I've got immense strength, speed, and stamina, too, from Dad.

I put my hands on my hips and announce, "Hey! The rules say you have to get a chance to see me, so here's your chance." I grin at the girl and the boy she's grabbing a flag from.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:23, Fri 06 Nov 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 114):

They both turn and start, the guy doing a triple take because he hadn't noticed the girl before.

With a swip swip, you snatch both flags before they can blink a second time.  Then you're grayscale.

You study your phone.  Again, you're back on the grid.  But there's something weird about it.  It seems to be that your phone number is showing up twice, one number stacked on top of the other number.

The third one who's around is over by steps up to the admin building.  He seems to be looking up at one of the windows.

The blip inside the building might be in the room with the window he's looking at.

On a hunch, I stutter-step in and out of time three more times to see if the "me" blips keep stacking on the GPS locator, then I try moving my phone, which I'd been leaving where I started, near Ahina, to see if the blips move that way.

It occurs to me that maybe the GPS locator was a bad idea. I asked Ahina to get it for me. Does that mean I involved her in the game? She's not actually playing. Is it any different from morale support? Hm.

After seeing what the GPS program does, I'll probably uninstall it. Probably.

It's not that I always play the rules because they're the rules or I'm afraid of getting in trouble. It's that the rules are artificial restrictions on behavior, extra additions of difficulty, and by overcoming those restrictions, my participation is more meaningful.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 116):

Ahina looks confused by your behavior, but she doesn't say anything.

Your testing seems to clear the GPS program of any issues.  It's not a glitch.  And the duplicate ping you get is registered when you are in real time and disappears when you are not.

The second signal seems to be coming from you.

Momentarily distracted by the curious phenomenon, I tell Ahina about the strange "glitch" behavior with myself showing up as a duplicate in the program.

"Look here. See how I've got a duplicate signal? It disappears when I step outside time and appears when I step back in."

"What do you think that's about?" I ask.

Ahina frowns and scratches her chins.

"This...could only happen if you were transmitting two signals from the same source.

"It's weird cos it's got the same ID as your phone.  So I would think it meant your phone was transmittin' two signals.

"But if the extra drops off when you leave your phone here..."

Ahina considers.  "Then that second signal would have to be comin' from you.  Could someone have planted a bug or somethin' on ya?  Something that might transmit to your phone?  If you think about it, if you caught the outgoing signal and looked into it, it would just show up as your phone number.  Also, the bug's battery life would be extended cos it's just beamin' to your phone."

Ahina taps your phone.  "They'd have to have downloaded somethin' into you phone.  A trojan or some kida virus.  But easy enough to do."

"Huh. I thought it had something to do with my powers. I hadn't considered normal spying. I suppose they could have planted a bug on me. Is there a way to find out? Some kind of radio scanner?"

I may be nigh-impossible to hit in combat, but my parents put so much emphasis on direct competition, on overt power and strength, that I know it isn't beyond possibility that my enemies might attack me in more subtle ways. Because I know that, and I know that subtlety and spying are weaknesses of mine, I am especially wary of them when I do suspect their existence.

That and reactive defenses. People with powers or abilities that cause damage on contact have been a problem for me for years. I still beat them, usually, but they get some "hits" in.

I fold my arms under my breasts and tap my foot. The idea of a bug on my person has got me spooked. Maybe it's just my parents. That would be the best-case scenario I can think of.

"Maybe the school does that to track us? Try downloading the same program to your phone and I'll use my time-skipping power to see if it duplicates. After you're done looking for viruses."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 120):

The two of you go through the steps.  Ahina seems pretty quick when it comes to tech stuff.

Your investigation determines the following:

Ahina is not being tracked outside her phone.  No double blip for her.

There doesn't seem to be an obvious electronic bug on your person.

Your phone does have a trojan virus on it.  What's weird is it shows it was downloaded about forty minutes ago.  About the same time you signed up for the tag game.

"I don't know where that might have come from. Do you think it's part of the marathon? Actually, hold on."

From Ahina's perspective, I disappear.

I stopped time to head over to the building where I signed up and look for the lady at the info desk again, to ask if she knows anything about the trojan virus on my phone. Of course, I don't tell her about Ahina. But first let's see if she's there.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 122):

The lady is there.  She blinks when you pop back in.

"What?  No.  We don't bug any of the players.  You're monitored by other methods.  But no idea where that,"  she points at the duplicate reading, "...is coming from."

Flummoxing!

"Huh. Well, okay then. Thanks. Oh, by the by, what exactly does it mean to involve non-participants in the marathon? Can I talk to non-participants? Or ask them if they've seen anybody else with flags?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 124):

The woman nods her head.  "That is fine.  You can use others to locate or assist.  As long as you have your own flag visible to the target when you capture theirs."

I give her a thumbs up. "Thanks again! Ciao!"

Then I disappear into timelessness and step back in next to Ahina.

"The desk lady said they don't track us with software. Should I believe that? I'm not sure. You know more about this place than I do. Anyway, I'm going to leave my phone here. Keep it safe for me, wouldja? Thanks!" I grin at Ahina again.

"I'd love to meet the rest of the gang, at some point. Maybe even later today. Anyway, be right back."

I once more exit time, leaving my phone hanging in the air right above Ahina's hands. I take out my pad and pencil to make a quick sketch of the map. I'll have to come back for updates and to check things, but I have, quite literally, all the time I want. If I really thought about it, I could probably find I've lived at least a year longer, subjectively, than I have objectively.

I want to investigate the trojan, but I also want to win the game. Competition is a pure thrill for me, the greatest expression of myself. At least, as far as I know. I hope I can discover something I like just as much, but the siren song of contest calls.

Actually!

I re-enter time and hold out my hand to Ahina. "Do you want to come with me? It probably won't be the most interesting thing to watch, but you'll get to see what it's like outside of time."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 126):

Ahina's eyes go wide.  She seems to stiffle a squeal.

Her answer seems to be yes.

The updated map shows the following target positions:

Six targets in the exhibit area.  Most are in the WWII exhibit, but two seem to be in the Rigney history exhibit.

There are eight around the food trucks.

Three in the house of horrors.

Seventeen in the games area.

Six scattered around the auditorium.  That movie will start in an hour.

Five around the chess field.

There are still those two in the admin building.

And you pick up two overhead in the air.

I take Ahina's hand and bring us both between the ticks, to the greyscale world without time. Sound is muffled and distorted. The effect is subtle, but it becomes more noticeable the more noise one makes. I've gotten used to it, but it might surprise Ahina.

"You can get lost here. Remember that you're outside time. You can't effect anything with kinetic energy in this state, and you won't be able to get out without me. Well, I don't know of anybody who has. But you don't need to hold my hand; you can explore. Just make sure to stay within yelling distance of me, okay? Oh, and if you let go of anything, it will re-enter time and become impossible for you to move again. So you can play practical jokes if you want, but only with the stuff you brought with you. Of course, that doesn't quite apply to me, but those are the basics. Any questions?"

I start walking, heading towards the admin building to track down those two flags.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 128):

Ahina's eyes are still big, round circles.  She considers what you said and then nods, stopping long enough to poke at the cheeks of a cute guy over by the falafel truck.

She streams along behind you as you head for the building, keeping your stricture about yelling distance in mind apparently.

The two of you climb up the stairs of the admin building.

The signals parse onto two floors, one right on top of the other.  They are both coming from the rooms that occupy the southwest corner of each floor, which happens to overlook the marathon sign up table.

There's a guy on the third floor.  He has a pair of binoculars and a cell phone sitting next to the chair he's pushed up to the window.  The phone is in the middle of a call on speaker it seems.  The contact name is just REX.  The number shows up as one of the targets in the games area.

There's another guy on the fourth floor.  He's also sitting in a chair near the window.  But he is seated in the lotus position, eyes closed, facing as if he would be looking out the windows if his eyes were open.

As you step into the room, the thought pops into your head.

Are you sure you wanna do this?

OOC: Which room provokes that thought?

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 130):

Sorry.  The room with the guy meditating.  Fourth floor

No problem! Does the lotus-position guy have an armband then?

"You should probably watch from the hallway so no rules get broken," I say to Ahina, waiting for her to stand next to me in the hall outside the room with speakerphone guy.

When Ahina does stand next to me, I walk over to the seated fellow and pull myself and Ahina both back into time. Color rushes back into reality and sound returns to normal. I'm right behind the guy with the binoculars, and I lean forward.

Getting very close, I quietly and sweetly ask, while wearing my most charming smile, "Hey, can I have that flag?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:47, Wed 18 Nov 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 132):

Yes to that too.  Anyone I mention having a blip on the screen you can assume has an armband.  Will state otherwise if that is not the case.  You will have to ask how many flags they have on said armband though.  Thanks

Binoculars jumps in his seat, juggling the binoculars as they threaten to leap from his hand.

He turns and blinks at you.  Frowning, he says, "Hell no..."

"Oh, are you sure? I mean, normally we'd fight for it, but that's against the rules, so, you know, I thought I'd ask nicely." I say, continuing to smile.

Of course, I go for the steal with my superhuman speed. I can always pause time and take the flag if I have to, but it will be more fun to yoink it the old-fashioned way. Not that I'm going to compromise my chances of winning by playing fair, of course. According to the rules everyone agreed to, yes. According to rules people make up on the spot, no.

Once I've got 'em, assuming I do, I run away giggling and grab Ahina on the way out. I want to go after meditation boy next, but I'll only do that if I can lose binoculars man in the elevator.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 134):

"Hey!" Binoculars heys at you.

He gives chase, but the two of you watch the elevator doors close on his face.  His really angry purple face.  Seriously, the guy looks pissed.

Ahina giggles and points at your flag.  "That's four, right?"

You get out on the next floor up.

Meditation Guy hasn't moved.  But you hear that voice again.

So you came back.

We can do the whole yoinks-I-got-your-flag, or we can make a deal.

Fair warning:  you'll be sorry if you take the 'yoinks' option.

I snicker at him. He acts as if he's the first person to ever try to slip a fast one by me. I've been lied to before, many times, by people looking for advantages. The downside of having famous parents, and of being a well-known top-tier power, is that my powers aren't exactly a secret, and clever people use that against me sometimes.

"Nice bluff. You'll have to do better than that, but I like your attitude. You're smart enough to have used my popularity against me; you know my what powers are, and you've set some kind of telepathic trap."

I put my hand on my hip and flip my hair over my shoulder. "Well, go ahead. I'm listening."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 136):

"Interesting that you automatically think I know who you are or what your powers are.  But whatever.  That's not important right now.

"Here's my deal:  You pass on my flag.  And capturing the flag of the person I'll describe to you.  That person's flag is mine.

"In exchange, I'll offer you a choice of information.

"If you want to know something about the game, I'll warn you about how you can lose it if you don't change what you're doing.  Or.

"Sometime in the future, I'll owe you a piece of information.  Basically I'll answer one question for you at any time provided you ask the question before I graduate and it is information I can obtain either legally or without getting caught.

"I realize you may need more information to decide if my deal is worth accepting. And, if it is, which option is worth taking.  So I'll answer up to three questions related to my offer as long as they are reasonable.

"Go ahead.  Ask away."

In case that got confusing:

He is offering you three questions to decide if you want to take his deal.  The questions must be reasonable.

His deal is:

You pass on his flag and one other person's flag.

In exchange, he can give you what he seems to feel is good advice about winning the marathon or the answer to a question sometime in the future.  The stips on the future question is you have to ask it before he graduates and it has to be information he can come up with.

Clear as mud?

I roll my eyes. The smug superiority some people project comes across as plain hubris.

Playfully, "Very well, oh great guru, I am humbled in your presence."

"How do you know what I'm doing and how that will lead me to losing the game, if you don't know who I am or what my powers are?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 138):

"Oh I'm not so great.  Just better than you."

The voice snorts and chuckles.

"Sorry.  Couldn't help it.

"Well I can tell you are playing the game because of the armband.

"While I don't know who exactly you are, I can tell you have some kind of temporal manipulation power.  Part of my power is reading auras.  And that's how I know you are in danger of losing.

"Giving more of an explanation would tip my hand.  So I'll say this.  I can tell you're strong.  But strength doesn't always win the race.  If you go with the marathon option, I can tell you how a particular tortoise is planning to kick your hare ass.

"But if not...oh well.

"So.  Deal?"

Question! Why did his text change color? Was the earlier, dark blue some sort of telepathy and the green vocal speech?

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 140):

Nope.  Just changed because I got my NPCs confused is all.  He's still guru-ing away inside your head.  He will be Seagreen for the rest of your interaction.

Sorry about that.

Okie-dokey.

I raise one eyebrow in that characteristic questioning look I inherited from my mother. I can't help but think that, for a guy who hasn't even introduced himself, he's stating some pretty obvious stuff.

I also know that the threat of harm is often worse than the harm itself; leaving the capabilities of a potential tormenter a secret made it so that the potential victim envisioned things that were usually worse than the attacker could conjure.

"And what can you do that would make me regret taking your flag?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 142):

You notice his mouth kind of curls upwards at one end.  A smirk.

"I guess you'll have to take it to find out, now won't you?"

Ugh, what a smug asshole.

"I'm Seraphina. What's your name?"

I look over my shoulder at Ahina.

"You know about this guy?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 144):

Ahina shakes her head while also shrugging her shoulders.

"Alec Johaness.  I've got a cheesy-ass cape name of AfterImage.  You mighta heard of me like that."

AfterImage.  That does ring a few bells.  He was on a professional team.  Security Force X out of Seattle if you remember correctly.  No one knew much about him.  You recall reading an article that Security Force X reorganized about two years ago and cut half their roster.  AfterImage was one of those who got pink slipped if you are remembering the article correctly.

It would be really odd for someone in their teens to have been on a pro-team.  Especially someone who had never gone through the Leagues.  But it is possible.  Some powers are so useful, pro-teams will recruit their holders as soon as they crop up.

But why would he have been cut if that was the case?

"So? Whaddya think?"

"Yeah, you were a pro before you finished high school. That's pretty unusual; SFX right? You must have an extra-useful power to get on a team like that without going through League. And some pretty stupid managers to kick you out, too."

I never wanted to be a professional "hero." Or a "villain." My parents put me off that particular dream with their fake smiles, empty personae, stupid costumes, and selling half of their personalities to Rigney.

I shrug. "Well, assuming that's what happened anyway. One last question before I decide. Who's the person whose flag you're laying claim to?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 146):

You can almost hear a smirk in his 'voice'.

"An old...friend.  Louise Telman."

I pause for two whole seconds.

"Huh."

Then I shrug again.

"Well, okay. Why not? I won't take your flag or Louise's flag."

I lean in, grinning mischievously.

"Now spill those deets."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 148):

"Gladly.

"You are electing the 'how not to lose the game' option.  Right?"

Just want to make sure I'm not assuming your choice.  Thanks

I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I meant. Tell me how I'm going to lose to somebody playing the slow strategy."

No problem! It's good to check. =)

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 150):

He chuckles.  Or at least you hear him chuckle in your head.

"Simple.  You got a rider.  Someone's clinging to you.  I think they've hidden themselves in your psyche. Sorta like a mental tick.

"If my guess is right, they're planning on letting you gather up a bunch of flags and then snatching them from you.

"If you want, I can pop them off you."

I feel my eyebrow twitch.

Telepaths. A bunch of self-important midwits who always think they're better than they are. Their existence reminds me of my parents and their failure to give me some more direct method of dealing with those mentalic snakes.

Quietly, and frigid, "Who?" My icy stare and clipped commands make most peoples' blood run cold.

If Alec Johaness really can read auras, whatever that means, he'll surely be able to sense the hostility radiating from me. He doesn't need to be telepathic, but if he's like any other telepath I've ever met, he's socially stunted and relies entirely on his mind woojie to understand other people.

His arrogance, of course, has gotten the better of him. He's already broken school rules flagrantly by telepathically contacting me. Not that I care too much what the school rule is, because the law is clear enough: telepaths can, in fact, know for sure whether their targets consent, and so involuntarily telepathic contact is assault. When I find whoever did it, I will be fully justified in beating their face in until they wet themselves whenever they think about doing it again.

In that moment, I think I understand why I loathe telepaths. They have power, and can attack me, on vectors along which which I have limited defenses. It is a sort of helplessness that I do not like feeling. I am, however, not actually helpless, so what might be fear in a baseline becomes hatred in me. It is the same, I think, as the contempt I have for people who obey the letter of the rules but not the spirit in order to gain advantage over others: injustice and wickedness brought about by a lack of consequences.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:10, Mon 07 Dec 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 152):

If he can sense your hostility, Alec doesn't seem to mind it.

"If I had to guess, it's Tabitha.  Hey Tabby.  You been found out.  Might as well give it up."

There's a long moment.  Ahina suddenly starts.  She points at the ground.

"Your shadow!"

"Yeah yeah.  Don't make a federal case out of it."

Your shadow lengthens along the ground and then a large part of it peels itself up.  It seems to refocus and suddenly you're looking at the hazy image of a girl about your age.  She's translucent at the moment.  But she's not unattractive.  Her hair is a bit too frizzy and her chin a little sharp.

She studies you a moment, makes a noise like she's clicking her tongue, and then looks at Alex.

"Asshole.  I had a good racket goin' here.  Why'd you have to stick your nose into it?"

"Well, among other reasons, you're a self serving bitch and I hate your guts."

This 'Tabby' gives Alex the middle finger and then looks back at you.  "Look.  I tried playing you and it didn't work out.  Don't make a big deal outta it."  She puts her hands together.  They pass through each other.

"I'm still in phase.  You won't be able to touch me.  So just cool your jets, alright?"

Despite my anger, my composure is as unflappable as ever. I listen to them in silence.

After a few seconds, I force myself to adopt a neutral tone. I do have some grudging respect for her playing the game with a clever stratagem. "What is it, exactly, that you did, Tabitha? I've never seen a power like that."

I glance behind myself to look for my shadow.

I am undecided on how to react. Everything I've been taught, my instincts, my parents, all would tell me to crack some heads until they learned who to fear. I know why they would say that: the hierarchy exists because it does, and if it is not overtly enforced, evil and deceitful people will hide behind social niceties and face no consequences for wicked behavior.

I've seen so many shows and read so many manga with the same subject that I know it to be the case.

And yet, can I ever know if there is a better way than the tyranny of strength without actually trying something else?

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 154):

It's Alec that answers.

"She can turn her body into a visual effect.  Shadow.  Hologram. A rainbow.  She can change her form but, just like her personality, she won't have any substance."

Tabitha gives him another finger.  He continues with even more smug satisfaction oozing from his voice.

"She likes to ride around in people's eyeballs.  You look at her, and she rides the light waves back into your eye.  Then she just hitches a ride.  Ain't that right sweetie?"

Tabitha shrugs, but other wise ignores Alec.  She looks at you. "That is really the gist of it.  If I turn solid, are you gonna try to whallop me?"

I sigh and shake my head. "No, I won't try to wallop you."

I hear my mother's voice, remembered from lesson after lesson: Easy, girl. You are faster than her; faster than any person ever, because you move faster than time itself. But this is a game, nothing serious. Be cool and play your cards only when you absolutely have to.

I pointedly ignore Alec's smugness.

"I would like to ask you for a favor, though. Let's trade digits; I want to know if your phone works when you're phased out, so to speak. It shouldn't, since there's nothing to send or receive signals if you don't have any mass in that state, and if it doesn't, then something more sinister is going on than you being clever."

Was Tabitha the source of the duplicate GPS signal? On the one hand, it would make sense in that situation, since the duplicate signal only followed me around inside time. On the other hand, it wouldn't make sense, because if Tabitha was just a light wave, her phone shouldn't work. The physical circuitry shouldn't function without space between the wires or mass to carry the charges.

I'm already learning about some interesting powers and that there's a wider variety out there than I imagined.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:05, Fri 11 Dec 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 156):

Tabitha gives you an odd look, but shrugs and trades digits.  It is her number that's showing up as the dupe.  Or was.  Her signal is now showing from where she's standing.

"You mind if I ask about what's so sinister?"

"I think she found out about the satellite."

Alec sounds more serious now.

"It's an open secret they don't put in the brochure.  They track all the students.  You can hack into their tracker pretty easy.  Sometimes it tags the students by their phone numbers.  Sometimes by their student IDs.  Sometimes it's an anagram of your name or some kinda code."

"Oh yeah.  Those codes are a real pain."

"It can track you no matter what kinda state you're in.  When I seperate from my body, it tracks my spirit instead of my body for instance.  It's a real pain.

"No one knows how they do it.  Some say it's a satellite that stays in orbit over the school.  That doesn't really explain anything, but most everyone calls it the 'Satellite of Love' now."

"Really?  I always just heard it called the Satellite."

"Just tellin' you the story I heard is all."

Alec opens his eyes and yawns.  He stretches his arms over his head.  His voice now comes out of his mouth.  "Anyway.  That's the deal.  Welcome to Saint George.  They know more about you bein' naughty or nice than Santa does."

I've spent a minute and twelve seconds forcing myself to be calm now, so the need to force it melts away into genuine calm rather than icy self-control.

I still keep an ear open, giving the other two students my attention when they speak.

"Oh? An open secret, then. What happens if someone confronts the school big shots about it? Are they actually keeping it a secret or just not mentioning it without being asked?"

I start to formulate an experiment in my mind. I twirl the end of one of my braids around my fingers, and I look over my shoulder at my companion.

Friend? Yeah, friend. The thought makes me smile.

"Ahina, can you put that tracking app on your phone, too? I want to try something, if you don't mind."

I'll have us switch phones, leave time, and then see if the "satellite" tracks us outside time. It didn't seem like it was before, but I want to make sure. I also want to verify Alec's claim, that it somehow tracks the person rather than a device. I'll also leave my cord behind for just that reason. Outside time, of course; no need to test inside time just yet.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 158):

There's a lag.  But it seems to move with you.  Not the phone.

Alec shrugs when you pop back.  "I dunno if anyone's ever carried anything out about the tracking.  Or the 'honor system'..."

Tabitha waves a hand.  "St. George's is kinda weird in a lotta ways.  It's like they expect you to try to buck the system. And there have been people who  have tried to challenge this or that issue.  You hear different things about 'em.  Some leave the school.  Some go on to finish the program.  I've only ever heard of one person getting expelled."

Alec giggles.  "Why would they wanna expel their cash cows?  You have to really try to get expelled.  It's much easier just to go through the program.

"Course..."  He smirks as he finishes his stretching routine.  "Most people just finish the program and withdraw from the school.  Not many actually pass the graduation test.  At least that's what I hear."

Tabitha shrugs.  "I've heard somethin' like that too.  But who cares?  You can get work if you finish the program is what I hear.  One of the official teams.  The private security companies.  The Feds or the Spooks.  Hell, most of the big corporations like to keep a meta security force on payroll.  And Saint George's is where you get the connections."

She glances at you.  "What kinda gig are you angling for when you get outta here?"

To be clear, the idea is that no time passes at all for anyone else when Seraphina "goes outside;" it's not ultra super speed so much as a "cheat" that isn't obvious to someone without a way to sense space-time directly. Of course, if you don't want it to work that way, that's fine too; that's just how I was imaging that particular ability.

Does it track me outside of time as well, or does it only snap to me once I re-enter time?

I lean against the wall and tap my palms against it.

"I know you were just trying to win the game, Tabitha. Same for you, Alec. I just really don't like telepathic contact. I've...well, long story short, I've been trained my whole life to be paranoid and violent, so telepathy always feels like an attack, even when it isn't."

I tilt my head to the side. "You can finish the program without graduating but somehow have the program still 'count,' so to speak? That seems a little weird. What does graduating even mean, then?"

Beat.

"Me? To be honest, I just wanted to come here because it was away from my parents. I'm the daughter of the elite and have both of their powers, so the expectations were always overbearing and every little thing I did was managed and scrutinized." I smile winningly at them both. "It would be nice to change the world for the better, to be a real heroine, but I think I need to work on myself a bit first."

A long sigh.

"My dad is The Hammer and my mother is Clockstopper." At least my dad's hero identity makes sense; our last name means "The Hammer" in Old Frankish. On the other hand, the "Clockstopper" name always seemed cringy to me. A little too fake and sterile.

I look over at the other girl. "You gonna come in, Ahina? Hallway looks lonely."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 160):

I may have been thinking about your power in a different manner.  Sorry about that.  I'll adjust.  For now...

Tabitha shrugs.  "Didn't you use your power on some guys to snatch their flag a little while ago?  Powers are gonna get used.  When you signed up for the marathon, you kinda opened yourself up to these things you know."

Alec nods.  "As for me, when I'm detached from my body, I don't have any other way to communicate with someone standing beside my body other than telepathy.  And there's some here who head-talk all the time.  Afraid you're gonna have to get used to it if you wanna attend Saint George."  He seems to consider for a moment.  "There is a trick I can teach you.  Think of it as a way to set up a chat room in your head.  It also helps trip up anyone who wants to dive deep into your head from doing so.  Not sayin' it will stop someone who's determined to get into your mind.  But it will at least give you a way to set up a safe zone and set up an alarm to let you know someone's walking around your brain.  If you're interested, shoot me your digits.  We can set up some time to go over it."

Tabitha gives him an odd look.  "Aren't you being nice?"

He laughs.  "Not at all.  I'll want something in return eventually. I am a mercenary after all."

Tabitha rolls her eyes then listens to your question about graduation. "It is weird yeah.  But so is everything else about Saint George's.  When you finish your coursework, they give you a certificate.  Like you'd get if you had put in hours to become a plumber or a carpenter.  The only way to get a degree from Saint George's is to graduate as a normie or take the graduation test.  Which only a few ever do."

Alec nods. "Most companies treat that certificate like a college degree.  So just complete your coursework and you're set."  He scratches his chin.  "To be honest...not sure what passing the Final Exam really gets you.  Other than a fancier piece of paper."

They both listen to your answer about your future plans.  Tabitha raises an eyebrow and Alec chuckles when you mention your lineage.  "Wow.  You must be under a ton of pressure to perform."

Alec cackles.  "I knew you smelled like money.  Well I'll tell it to you straight.  I'll be happy to provide my services at any time.  And as long as I am compensated, I do not double cross.  Ever.  That is my motto."

"As weird as it sounds, he means that."  Tabitha looks at Alec with a mixture of admiration and disdain.  "He's an asshole.  But he is an asshole consistently and to everyone.  And I've never heard of him breaking a deal.  Hell.  I don't even wanna guess what all he's been involved with."

"You'll have to guess. Cos I'll never tell you."  He gives you a wink. "Complete client confidentiality is part of every package."

Ahina has been studying the phone. She starts when you speak to her, then nods and comes inside, waving the tracking record.  "There's a lag.  If you play back the tracking info you can tell.  I think what's happening is that the program loses you maybe when you...uh...'blip' out.  And then it snatches you back up when you 'blip' back in.  It might be worthwhile to see what happens by blipping out, going a long distance from your original spot, and blipping back in.  Until now, you haven't really covered much ground from your point of exit and point of reentry."

No problem! I just want to make sure we're on the same page.

"No, I used my power on myself," I answer Tabitha. "It might have looked like I was using it on them, though. I've only ever been myself, so I don't know what it looks like from the outside when I use my powers. Especially for you; I've never had anyone along for the ride in quite the way you were before.

"I'd appreciate that," I say to Alec, and I exchange numbers with him.

"So how's all that telepathy work then, when it's against the rules? Apparently we're expected to break the rules. Surely there are punishments for getting caught though, right? I wonder if the teachers or administrators can somehow track when we're using powers."

I tap my palms against the wall again, listening to Tabitha's and Alec's further explanations.

"Blech! Who'd want to finish as a normie?"

I emphatically do not want to be normal. Friends, yes. Social circle, why not. Normal though, definitely not. As much difficulty as they may have given me, I appreciate my parents and the powers they passed on to me and trained me to use well.

"I've been under pressure since I was old enough to remember. The bus ride here was the first time in my life I've had more than an hour at a stretch that wasn't planned and scheduled in advance by my parents to squeeze out every last bit of whatever they expected from me. I think the only reason they allowed me to come to St. George's at all is the sheer prestige of the place."

I smell my wrist. "What, doesn't everybody wear perfume?"

I think the subtle floral scent is nice. Fifty dollars seemed like a reasonable price for the bottle. Right? It occurs to me I have no actual idea what "expensive" means. I tend towards understated, elegant, high-quality materials and craftsmanship over conspicuous consumption, but that's just because Dad does too. Mom likes things a little fancier.

"I can respect that. The mercenary attitude. I appreciate people who are up-front and honest about their intentions. I've dealt with so many fake friends in my life that just straight-out telling me you want money and favors is return for help is kind of refreshing."

I'm genuinely interested in Ahina's discoveries, as my focused wonder watching her fingers fly over the screen probably shows. "How'd you get all that data so fast?" My admiration of her skill with technology, or at least, what seems like skill to me, comes with more emotion than I've overtly displayed in anything I've said yet today.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 162):

Tabitha giggles.  "Everything's legal if you don't get caught."

Alec nods.  "Look at it like this:  the only way I can talk to somebody when I'm out of body is by telepathy right?  So me using telepathy on you just then wasn't an attack so much as communication.  It's a loophole."

"The whole system is set up with loopholes.  Unless you're a monitor, you can make use of them."

Alec snorts.  "Or you just can't get caught.  But yeah, the professors and admin seem to have a pretty good idea about who's doing what."

Tabitha glances out the window.  "Enforcement is kinda random.  I've known a couple of people who get kicked out for this or that.  Others..." She shrugs.  "Just don't piss off the Rigney people and keep your head down."

Ahina blinks, surprised by the praise.  Her cheeks blush and she waves the phone.  "Well.  's not really hard.  The system is pretty much set up to do all that.  I'm just used to keepin' track of data for my research is all."

Any other questions for this peanut gallery?  If not you may move where you wish.  The festival awaits.

I don't like all of the scheming I've done already. I wanted to make something different. But it seems clear that, for the time being, I'll have to scheme. Is that what they're trying to teach me, here? Among other things, of course. Information is power, and the inattention of potential enemies is a weapon against them. My parents said that a lot. Said a lot of things...a lot.

Guh, I'm repeating myself in my own thoughts.

The plain truth is that the school rules say that telepathy isn't allowed. They do not, however, say anything about violence whatsoever, only bullying. Everyone I meet seems fixated on not solving disputes the straightforward way the whole rest of the world does.

What would Sailor Sun do?

Sailor Sun would lose and then come back later to win with the power of love. Sailor Sun was literally magical and had a literally magical talking dog that taught her new superpowers.

Tabitha parrots my own words back at me.

I thank Alec and Tabitha for their help and information, respectively. I keep my word not to take Alec's flag and I step out of time to draw

(=^‥^=)

on Tabitha's flag.

I make sure that Tabitha doesn't hitch a ride again.

While still outside of time, I grab Ahina and pull her out into the greyscale world between moments. I lead her away from the admin building to the next flag: the farthest blip from the admin building. Then I take stock of my new target. I don't say anything until we get there.

Then, while outside of time with Ahina and looking over my prey, I break the silence and say to the girl who's been helping me: "Thanks, Ahina. I know I can be cold. I appreciate you helping me, though."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 164):

Ahina starts at the sudden praise.  She pushes her glasses up on her nose and blushes, like you had just asked her to prom.

The farthest blip has actually taken you back out to the chess match.  A few students are in the stands.  They don't seem to be participating.  Just visiting with each other away from the crowds.  Among them are a couple.  They are sitting up at the top of one of the bleachers, hugging and kissing, lovely dovey.  They both wear flags, the guy having three flags on his arm band.

Just want to pop in and say how much I'm enjoying your game.  Any feedback thus far?  I will be working on plans for post-Festival day this weekend and wanted to ask.

Thanks

"I hope that I can do as much for you as you've done for me. It's hard for me to talk about, but I've been lonely most of my life. You're the first person I've had a real connection with in a long time."

I grin at her, trying to cover my embarrassment.

I go to sit next to the smoochers and drop back into standard time. Doing that brings Ahina back with me, as long as she's nearby, which she is. I don't actually know what happens if I leave the greyscale world between moments with someone else there; I just assume they'll be trapped forever, because time does not advance there and travel into the past is impossible.

As far as I know.

Though sometimes I wonder if time travel backwards could be accomplished. The only other person I know of to have ever had this power is my mother, and she says she's tried every way she could think of to go back. I've also tried many, many times, to no avail.

Ah, not the time to think about that. Even though I have all the time in the world.

"Hey you two, don't mind me. I'll just take those..."

I go for the steal. Even without my time manipulation powers, I've got my father's superhuman speed; pair them together and I've never been beaten by anyone in a contest of reflexes or quickness. Maybe Tabitha could, though, at least in the specific case of moving over distance. She has a very odd power.

Assuming I secure the flags, I am of course ready to immediately step outside of time again, grab Ahina, and retreat back to the games organizer lady so I can turn in the flags I have so far. But first I'll see if I actually get the love birds' flags!

Thank you! I'm really enjoying it as well. ^_^ As I've said before, you're doing a fantastic job of narrating.

The worst part is that there's only one update a day and sometimes no updates, at times I'm usually not online. Partially my fault though! =P

The world feels much more real and lived-in, and the characters more complete as people, than is usual for RPGs I've played. I get the impression that Seraphina is a person in a world rather than an avatar through which I impose myself on a series of puzzles.

The slight name changes to well-known businesses and movies are also great. Light-hearted, almost, to contrast with what feels like a morally complex game world where a lot more goes on that meets the eye but that isn't obsessed with being cynical.

Whether those impressions reflect reality of things you've planned or you're very good at making it seem like they're true, it's still really great. =D

As for negative things, nobody seems to care one way or another how anyone looks, positively or negatively, which is jarring because real people are very concerned with appearances almost all the time. Of course, I'd like my character to be praised for being pretty, but that's not the sum total of it. This isn't a big issue, though.

Many of the NPCs Seraphina has interacted with so far have had a "too cool for school" vibe to them, of smug superiority, which would ordinarily bother me if it was too common, but I think it makes sense given the circumstances. Real people also bluff and have arrogant attitudes.

So really, the negative aspects are minor. 10/10 would RPG again. =)

I edited this post to put the first block of Seraphina's speech in the proper color, periwinkle.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:22, Sat 19 Dec 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 166):

They are in mid smooch when you pop back into real time.  The girl's eyes are completely silver in color.  He doesn't have any distinguishing features, other than his blonde hair is all poofy and real stupid looking.

They both barely manage to look surprised before you are out again.  Ahina gives a quick clap as you both step back into gray time.

"That is so cool!  It's really a different experience watching you operate in person as opposed to watching it on my computer.  And you don't have to do anything for me!  Just hangin' with someone as cool as you...I never thought I'd get the chance!"

Ahina is blushing again.

The lady at the table counts out your flags.  "Alright.  You have six flags thus far.  Still got plenty of time.  Not many have turned in flags thus far, so you're second place.

If you check your tracker, you can see lots of flags still out there.  The greatest concentration are around the games area.  There are more at the movie theater then there was before.  You realize the movies are about to start.

Thanks for the compliments.  I'll try to recall adding more physical character description as we continue. Also varying up the personalities some.  As I look back, I can see what you mean.  There is definitely a cynical vibe to them all.

Okay.  I'll work on next steps.  Hope you have a great weekend.  Thanks again.

I've watched videos of myself, especially in the Leagues. Watching myself is the key to doing better; if I don't watch myself, I can't know when I mess up or when I make the right move.

"Yeah, it probably just looks like stutter-teleporting around on video, huh?"

At least, that's what it looks like to me. I can slow down my perception of time as well as step out of it, but even viewing the world at 10,000 frames per second, my mother and I don't move around impossibly fast. We just skip from one place and position to another. Slowing down my temporal perception is one of the skills I have that my mother does not; since she doesn't have superhuman speed like Dad and I do, it's not useful to her.

Second place, huh? Well I guess that means I better pick it up.

I go for the greatest concentration then, to snatch up as many flags as possible before anyone beats me to the punch. I plan to win!

I didn't necessarily mean the physical descriptions. I think you've done fine with that so far. Rather, I meant that the NPCs don't seem to react to the way other characters look much, if at all.

Also, you're welcome, and thank you too. =)

Have I been giving you something fun to spring off of? Any comments, complaints, suggestions, complements, etc for me?


This message was last edited by the player at 10:22, Mon 21 Dec 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 168):

You are in second place.  Not sixth.

No complaints or suggestions thus far.  I am looking forward to seeing how Seraphina handles some of the curve balls as she moves further into Saint George's.  I will be interested to see who she forms alliances with and who she won't.

Thanks for the good game. I am enjoying it.

You hit the game area, scooping up ten flags in the first ten minutes.  Ten minutes real time that is.

No one puts up much of a fuss.  They all seem too surprised by the sudden popping in.

Are you keeping the flags on you?  Or turning them in as you go?  Thanks

As you search for number eleven, you see Louise.  She spies you at the same time and waves, a crocodile smile on her mouth.

"Hey there!  Care to try your hand at a game with me?"

Oops! Fixed it.

Indeed, it's fun! A really great game thus far. =)

As I go, I turn in the flags in batches of five, or less if that's particularly convenient. I can cover whatever distance I feel like in an instant, so, from the perspective of everyone but myself, I'm going impossibly fast. Ahina probably discovers, as I bring her along with me, that I am almost never in a hurry, since I can pause time. The ten minutes of real time that passes between my popping in and out of real time conceals more than an hour outside time.

I wave back at Louise, merely lifting my hand, palm outward. The sort of lazy not-quite-wave that I'm used to giving. "Heya, Louise. I might be interested; but we're both trying to win the flag marathon, yeah?" I tap my armband.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 170):

Louise chuckles. "Sure!  But you'll probably win that, won't you?"

You notice now her flag is missing.  Alec must have already gotten to her.

She waves at some of the booths. "Why not try something a little more mundane.  Haven't you always been curious what Normie games are like?"

I shrug at her assertion that I'll win the flag game. I am very competitive; it's true. I am, however, also emotionally "flat" in most situations. Feeling anything but anger too strongly was always a weakness, according to my parents. Well, Mom at least feels the same about anger, though Dad has more of a temper.

I might lose the marathon. I don't want to, but I've lost before and will lose again.

"Gimme a minute," I reply, and then I pop back over to the desk to turn in my flags.

Am I winning? If I am, I might be willing to try a couple carny games with Louise, but I also want to ask Ahina's opinion.

In the greyscale space outside of time, I ask her, "What do you think Louise is up to? I'm guessing she's in cahoots with Alec."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 172):

Ahina shrugs. "I dunno. She has it in for you, that's for sure.  Didn't that Alec guy say he wanted to be the one to capture her flag?  In any event, she's got some kinda trick up her sleeve here."

"Mhm, she does. She seems to think we're rivals." I smirk and flip my hair over my shoulder. I'm quite proud of how good I look in general and feel a sense of smug superiority that I'm both prettier and more powerful than Louise. I shouldn't, but I do.

At some point, I have to stop blaming my parents for my competitive streak.

I go ahead and turn in my flags to check my position in the ranks before deciding whether to "play" with Louise.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 174):

You have overtaken the one girl who was ahead of you.  But you both got overtaken in the last five minutes by someone turning in 34 flags in one go.

Adam Browoski.  Seems your fellow classmate with the halberd has decided to play the game as well.

A quick check of the scanner shows the movie theater clear of all flags.  He must have hit the largest concentration of students at one time.

By my estimate, you have 27 flags at the moment.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:09, Fri 25 Dec 2020.

So the flag game is over, then? Just checking!

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 176):

You do a quick calculation.

You can turn in flags until 4:01 PM.  You still have three and a half hours.

A quick check on the scanner shows 28 flags still outstanding.

You can still win this.

Well then! I'm still not in a hurry, because I have, quite literally, as much time as I need.

"Time to get serious, I suppose," I say, nonchalantly.

If Ahina wants to keep tagging along, I'll take her. I don't plan on doing anything superfluous, though.

Step 1: Go to nearest active flag.

Step 2: Pop into real time, steal flag, pop out of real time.

Step 3: Repeat 27 times.

Step 4: Win.

I have little doubt in my ability to win, as long as I keep on track. Focus and persistence. How many thousands of hours have I spent practicing, honing, and mastering my powers? Even then, there is more to learn and improve.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 178):

Things go well at first.  By flag 10 though, you notice the number of available flags is starting to dwindle more than your activity alone would explain.

Ahina frowns.  "Adam took two more flags.  I don't see how.  But that's okay!

"You got 37 right now.  He's got 36.  So as long as he doesn't take anymore, you got this!"

And he doesn't seem to.  You snag up the remaining 16 flags without any effort.

As you slap them down on the tag desk, the lady behind the counter nods.  "That puts you in the lead.  And we haven't had any new entries.  Looks like you'll be our winner."

Ahina claps while bouncing around on her heels.

I feel smug about winning. Of course, I knew I would. The Hammer's daughter never loses, and neither does Clockstopper's. What was the point, though, other than winning? I glance at Ahina. My expression is neutral, but I feel a little happier knowing I could share the activity with someone who might be called a friend.

I make sure to thank the desk lady and tell her to have a good day, then I wander off with Ahina.

"Well, we did what I wanted to do. Anything you're particularly interested in?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 180):

She glances at the clock on her phone.

"I'd kinda like to watch the chess match if you don't mind.  But that's not until later.  You hungry?  We could get something to eat.  Oh!  And didn't you want to see that exhibit?"

"I could eat," I reply, off-handed. That's true almost all the time, but I'm sure Ahina knows that.

"If you don't have any preference, let's go see what Louise wanted, then we'll get some lunch and check out the chess game. The museum will be open after that and, if not, eh, the Internet is a thing."

I start to head that-a-way, back towards Louise and the carnival games.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 182):

There are a number of food trucks.  Falafels.  Kebabs.  Fried Rice.  In fact, if something can be fried, one of the food trucks will fry it for you.

You find Louise near a Whack-A-Mole game.  She's gotten the high score.

"Oh!  There you are.  Was wondering if I might have scared you off."

She gives you a big grin.

Waving her hand at the row of booths, she says, "Let's play a game.  But it'd be boring if it was something we could both use our powers on.  So what about one of these."

She gives you two choices.

One game is a string pull.  There are a large mass of strings bundled together, each with one end tied to some kind of prize or booby prize. You can only pull one string.  One who gets the better prize wins.

The other game is skee ball.  It seems to be a fairly pedestrian version of the game.

Oooh, kebabs. I wasn't allowed to have street food at home, which made sense, I suppose, since we do have a chef. I get some falafel and kebab and offer to pay for Ahina's, if she wants some. I'm not even sure if I'll like the stuff, but it smells good.

"I didn't think you'd like carnival games," I say to her, as part of a response. "Good whomping."

I impassively munch on roast chicken when Louise jabs at me.

Deadpan, I reply, "Oh no. Oh dear. Louise has a hammer. Run away. Run awaaaaay." Then I playfully stick out my tongue at her.

"I'll go a few rounds, then we're gonna watch the human chess match and maybe check out the museum. Ahina, you wanna play?"

I've never played either of the carnival games Louise is interested in. The skee-ball game seems more fun overall, but the spontenaity of the string game also appeals. I opt for the skee-ball game because it involves a skill I can improve, even if luck is still the major factor.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 184):

I'm assuming you the player know how to play skee ball.  If not, let me know.

The skee ball game seems to be on the up and up.  You both use the same machine and, because Ahina has never played it, you each get a practice game in.

The section with the holes is netted off.  Tinkering with the balls after the are rolled up the ramp would require moving and replacing the net each time.  Not impossible for either you or Louise.  But problematic.

Of course, with your strength, it's more a matter of how soft you roll the ball as opposed to how hard you roll it.

If Sera wants to cheat, let me know how she does it.  If not, let's leave it to luck. Choose five numbers, each number one to ten.  We'll leave it to luck after that.

Let me know if there are questions.  Thanks.

I didn't know how to play skee-ball, but I looked it up.

My first few tosses are way past the mark, coming over the ball jump at 90 miles an hour and flying up way into the air. The third miss of that kind is on purpose; it makes me giggle. I use my time stopping powers to grab the runaway balls before they hit anybody.

Of course, I plan to play the game fairly and according to the rules. The rules of the game do not, in fact, exist to be broken; the rules are the game.

I pick 3,6,9,9,2.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 186):

Loved the line 'the rules are the game'. Nice touch

If the whole meta thing doesn't work out for you, you might have a career in skee ball.  You don't manage to score the 100 point goal.  But you get three 40 points, one 30 point goal, and one 50 point goal.

Ahina gives you the usual clap.  She manages to get one 100 point goal.  The rest of hers are 10s.

Louise gets four 40s and a 30.  She sighs.  "Close but no cigar huh?  Well.  That's the way the skee ball bounces."  She gives you one of her crocodile smiles.

"Good game.  Thanks for playing.  I hope you'll give me the chance for a rematch sometime."

Thanks! ^_^

I win! Yes!

Er, I mean, of course I win.

Seraphina Martel always wins.

And yet, I can't show emotion in front of Louise. That's how you reveal your weaknesses and get stabbed in the back. I wonder, as I have many times before, why my mother is so adamant about maintaining a cold exterior, a mask of perfect composure. Very few of the big-name powers do that; most affect or even actually have bombastic personalities.

I nod at Louise. "Apparently so."

i make a decision to try to make friends with her. Again.

"You wanna come with us to watch the chess match or see the museum?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 188):

"I saw the museum already.  Thanks.  But...you are going to the chess match?  I'd be interested in watching it.  You have my cell right?  Let me know where you sit and I'll join you."

Louise studies you a moment, that smile still on her lips.  "Were you thinking of joining the Dragons too?"

I nod at her. "Yeah, sure. That's the plan. I'll call you if it goes through."

To answer her question about joining the Magical Girl Justice Club, I make a complicated gesture with my right hand and say, deadpan, "The rooster crows at midnight."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 190):

Ahina looks confused but Louise just laughs.  "Alright then.  Happy crowing."

After Louise moves off, Ahina pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.  "Uhmm...you mind if I ask what you meant about the rooster?  I hope you'll join too!"

I check my phone to see if we have time to look at the museum exhibits before the cheese match. That is, of course, a rather silly thing for me to do, and I catch myself halfway through reading the time.

"Let's see if we can get some good seats for the game."

I pull Ahina outside time to go towards the "arena."

As we walk, I say, "With great power comes great perks. Anyway, the rooster thing, it's a line from a video game. Kind of a classic at this point: Overwatch. One of the characters says it. It sounded appropriately cryptic for a quote unquote secret club. And then, you know, hand signals."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 192):

Ahina laughs.  "Oh!  Sorry! I never got much of a chance to play games."  She looks a little uncomfortable for a moment and then grins.  "But it's like a really cool line!  I'm gonna have to think of when I can use it."

The chess match is still far enough way that you can pretty much get seats wherever you want.  You can sit midboard, towards the black side of the board, and towards the white side.

There's still some time before the match starts.  So seeing the exhibits, even without going grayscale, is possible.

"I dunno about cool, but if you think so, then go for it."

After seeing that we have plenty of time to get good seats for the chess game, I head on over to the museum. Along the way, I say, "I've not played many video games either. I watched people stream them on my phone. I'm probably going to be a terrible student and play games all the time here. My parents were pretty strict. Are pretty strict."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 194)

"Oh cool!  Lemme play too!  That'd be great!"  Ahina really seems hyped about it.

The museum building is small but appears to be just that:  a museum.  Marble lions are perched on the steps leading up to the front doors.

The rotunda inside has a smaller version of the statue on the square.  Saint George and the Dragon.  The princess is missing from this one though.

There are three exhibits.

Great Metas of WWII:  East Annex Floor 1

History of Genetic Mutation:  Upper Floor

One Hundred Years of Magic:  The Story of Rigney Entertainment  West Annex

"I only brought my laptop, but maybe there's a game lounge on campus somewhere..."

I trail off, thinking about that possibility.

"Why do you think this statue doesn't have the princess like the statue in the main plaza does?" I ask Ahina, as I head for the History of Genetic Mutation exhibit.

I prefer hard sciences to history and stuff like that. Or do I? Sometimes I wonder if that's not a lie I tell myself to feel less guilty for being part of the elite by birth.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 196):

Ahina only glances at the statue and shrugs.  "Space maybe?  It does take up a lot of the room as it is. Besides.  Who really needs her?  It's a story about a guy killing a dragon right?"

The Mutation exhibit is laid out in a rectangle.  The first leg covers general level biology stuff.  What is a gene.  What is a mutation.  Ahina looks bored and you can probably agree.

The second leg is where things get interesting.  It starts with the infamous Nazi, Soviet, and US experiments of the 1940s and 50s.  The 'science' back then was more torture and less experiments.  There are short films about the 'Moth Man' experiments conducted in New Jersey by the CIA, the Russian Sleep Experiment, and of course all the atrocities done to the Jews and Gypsies by SS.

Ahina shakes her head.  "How wasteful.  They could have just grown clones and experimented on them you know.  They had the tech back then."

I fiddle with the end of one of my braids as we look around. "I think there's something more to it. The knight and the dragon fight over the princess; they're only present and using their powers because of the princess. I think the faculty wants metas to understand that true power is subtle and mostly held by baselines."

I am, in fact, bored by the basic exhibits. I also knew about the Moth Man and the German pogroms, as well as the associated horrors. The Soviet Sleep Experiment, though, is new to me. Sometimes I wonder what it was like for my parents' generation, growing up with a national enemy like the Soviets. Did it unify people or tear them apart? It seems like ancient history to me. So much has already been erased from the records of the time, whether by accident or on purpose.

"They did? You mean the Germans? I didn't know they had cloning technology. That does make more sense of the supposedly impossible escape of Hitler from Berlin and the South American Reich, though."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 198):

Ahina glances at you, blinking.  She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.  "Whaddya mean?  You've never heard of Quarto Perfeito?"

It's Portugese for "Perfect Room".  But beyond that...

Ahina nods.  "They're a group based out of Rio de Janeiro. Blonde hair.  Blue eyes. Not a single unmodified gene among them.  Direct descendents of Nazi refugees.  Supposedly you can't be an officer in their organization without some Hitler DNA spliced in.  I'm kinda surprised you've never heard of them.  Every few years, they try to take over some country down in South America."

I will leave it up to you whether Seraphina has heard of them or not.

"No, I haven't heard of that."

I peer at the map of South America, circa 1955. The whole continent, except Chile and Argentina, are colored dark grey. Greater New Germany.

"Everybody knows about the Storm Soldiers and the Nazi genetic experimentation, but I didn't know about the cloning. Do you think people are still cloned? It's supposed to be illegal everywhere, but you know how humans are."

Selfish, fundamentally, and the worst people are willing to do anything to have more power. The Nazis never actually managed to form the Fourth Reich, as far as I know, but the map reflects their ambitions. It's from one of the Brazilian Nazi Party's clandestine meetings that was broken up during a brief period where being a Nazi was directly illegal in most places.

"Maybe you can tell me more about the cloning thing. Now or later. There's a lot I don't know," I say, as I look at the pictures of the Soviet experiments.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 200):

She points at New Germany.  "Well.  Since the Nazis fell from power in the 80s, I heard they don't.  Officially.  But almost all the meta-experiments these days use cloned tissue.  Almost all the legal ones anyway."

She glances at you, pushing her glasses back up on the bridge of your nose.

"Did you...sorry.  I don't know if this is a personal question.  But...did you ever give up a tissue sample for testing?"

Again.  Your call.  It's possible your folks may have taken a sample without your knowledge of course.  But did Sera ever give any of her tissue away since she became older.

Thanks

Blood tests are routine in real life. I don't see why they wouldn't be in the game world, too. Maybe if cloning is real then there's some kind of stigma against sending off samples and people insist on being present for the lab tests? I also wouldn't put it past ambitious parents to send their kids' samples off for testing so they can buy gene therapies later. I think it's more interesting if she has given blood samples, at least. Thank you for asking! I appreciate that. =)

I tilt my head a bit to the side. "Not for cloning, but then, I've had medical tests just like everybody else. Drawing blood and swabbing cheeks and stuff like that. Does that make enough of a sample to do cloning shenanigans?"

I look back at the map of South America.

"Maybe I shouldn't have. But my parents were in charge of consenting when I was a kid, so I never thought about it before now."

Pause.

"Do you think...can they clone whole people?"

I'm curious if my powers are genetic in nature. They were, like all powers, very weak when they first manifested, but with practice, training, and potential, I got to where I am today. A clone might be able to do that, but if they're adult clones, then they'd have to have grown faster, so they wouldn't have a chance to learn as much as I have. Right?
This message was last edited by the player at 09:42, Mon 18 Jan 2021.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 202):

"Oh sure!  They grow whole bodies all the time.  They can't the brains to work out right though.  Most human clones only live at most 2 years before they stroke out.  And no one has been able to clone for powers yet.  They can build 'em in for some powers.  But they can't say grow a Seraphina Martel clone and have her be able to do all the cool stuff you can do."

Ahina sighs and gestures at the map. "Well.  Supposedly they can.  But if they really could, why haven't they just batched up a whole army and taken over the world?  They can't even stay in power."

She shakes her head.  "That's why I stick with plants.  There's a lot less pressure.  Did you wanna look at the other exhibits?  We still have time."

I smile, just a little.

"Was it that obvious what I was thinking? Sure, let's check out the WWII exhibit. We'll hit the Rigney exhibit if we have time, though if I'm being honest, I'm not exactly a fan."

Sometimes I take pride in the fact that my parents' earned their fortune without being Rigney stooges. Everyone assumes that The Hammer and Clockstopper are professional heroes and get paid like every other costumed goon, but our family fortune comes mostly from investing, land, and apartments.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 204):

The WWII exhibit is more intersting than perhaps you thought it might be.  A lot of the history they teach is the kitschy stuff.  Lady Liberty in her thong outfit.  The Yanks super team.

But they cover a lot of the 'lesser lights'.  Like the Russian metas who died fighting the German ultrameta Walpurgisnacht at the Battle of St. Petersburg.  Or the work of Chinese underground metas in liberating their country from the Japanese.

Ahina is studying a display about The Sandpiper.  You've never heard of them.  Apparently The Sandpiper is a semi-mythical figure.  Historians debate about whether there was such a person.  If there was, they were a member of the Nazis, at least in name.  They supposedly had a low ranking mental power, but used it to undermine the infrastructure slowly over the war.  They apparently leaked information to underground railroaders who helped smuggle Jews and others out of the country.

Near the bottom of the display, someone has graffittied it with the words MY HERO

Ahina studies it and shrugs.  "Someone's just a jerk."

Knowing what I know, about people, about "heroes," I think that a lot of the official stories of WWII are probably just propaganda. It was a war, a very big one, a conflict over resources and power, like pretty much every war. It was a gunfight between national leaders to determine who got to rule the world.

The exhibits seem to show that individuals, even at the lower echelons of power, still had influence, meaning, and purpose in the conflict, other than as pawns for the people at the top. I can't help but reach out to touch the glass in front of The Sandpiper exhibit.

"Do you think he was real? Or she, I guess. If they were actually a Nazi though, probably a he. Nazis were very misogynistic."

Pause.

"What's up with the vandalism, you think?"

I don't have much desire to linger. The space feels sacred, somehow, and not welcoming. Dimly-remembered youthful idealism pushes at the edges of memory and makes me nervous.

I start towards the Rigney exhibit. Something to cynically evaluate will help banish the uncomfortable thoughts.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 206):

The Rigney exhibit takes up two floors.  And they have not skimped.  The opening leads to a sort of overview.  Some of their best known characters like Ricky Rouse, Gluey, and that pantsless duck that curses a lot and doesn't wear any pants.  You think his name is Kennedy Kanard.

Anyway, there are four areas.  The history of Rigney.  A look at some of their most famous movies.  A 'Rigney and You' exhibit.  Not much more about what it is than that.  And a 'Coming Attractions' style exhibit which seems to be about areas Rigney is looking to develop into.

You glance at your phone.  You probably only have time for one of these if you want to make the chess match.

The Rigney mind-trash is, of course, given priority placement in the museum. Rigney did pay for the whole thing, so it makes sense in that context. Unless Ahina has a strong preference, "Rigney and You" is the exhibit I head towards. The mere fact of its mystery makes it at least somewhat interesting, despite my distaste for Rigney.

I'm still loving the alterations to real-world companies and characters. It's both funny and enriching; the setting feels more real because of the details.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 208):

Thanks

The exhibit starts with a map of important Rigney locations.  Rigney Acres.  Rigney Hemisphere.  Their studios in California, New York, and Florida.  But it also moves in to their factory spaces worldwide, an annual sales report, and other business like concerns.

You realize that this exhibit is less an 'exhibit' and more a recruiting platform.  The entire space seems to be pushing the idea of going to work for Rigney.

Ahina studies a display showing the number of Rigney Employees in each country.  "I heard that a lot of management at Rigney came from St. George."

I tear my eyes away from the Rigney mind-poison to look at Ahina. "I heard that, too. I'm not a fan of the idea. I don't feel like selling my very identity for Rigney to make me into a product. I'm surprised anyone does, but then, I've only ever been myself."

Spending this much time in the Rigney exhibits is making me uncomfortable. The whole place feels creepy, like something is watching me, waiting to pounce.

"Are you ready to go to the chess match?" I ask Ahina, starting to leave but not hurrying. I don't want to leave her behind.

Or maybe...

...maybe I don't want her to leave me alone with that freaky Ricky Rouse statue.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:04, Sun 24 Jan 2021.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 210):

As you head to the field, you get a text from Louise.  The seats are filling up.  Want me to save you two seats?  Midfield, white side, or black side?

I take Ahina outside of time to appear next to Louise.

Once there, I say, "The middle is fine. Wouldn't want to miss the good seats, a couple rows back from the front."

So we go to get seats! Unless somebody has a better idea.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 212):

There is still seating in that area, and the three of you take your places.  It takes another fifteen minutes before the match starts, but as soon as it does, everyone goes quiet.  It's a bigger crowd than you thought.

At first...well. It's just a chess match.  People are dressed as pawns and bishops and rooks.  And they move across the board just like their pieces.  The white player advances a pawn.  Black does so.  This goes on for a few minutes.

The first exchange of pieces occurs.  Black uses a pawn to take another pawn.  And...that's it.  That's what happens.  The white pawn player scurries off the field.

Ahina is watching with rapt attention.  She seems like she would like chess.  But as you glance around the stands, you notice everyone is watching the field in rapt attention.  Everyone.  You and Louise seem to be the only two who seem puzzled by what's so exciting here.

White makes a move to counter attack the black pawn with one of their pawns.

And the white pawn suddenly shoots up into the air, rocketing up into the stratosphere.  They are lost from view in only a moment.

The referee blows her whistle.  She steps out onto the field and, using her head mike, turns towards the white player.  The ref's voice booms out, "Are you challenging?"

The white player is a girl with thick, blonde hair.  A screen set up to one side projects a close up of her.  She's pretty.  You vaguely recognize you.  A player from the arena games a few years ago.  You never fought her, but she racked up good numbers.

The blonde stares daggers at her opponent at the other end of the field, a red headed guy with skin the color of steel.  The screen at his end shows him smirking.

White starts to chew her lip as she looks around the field.  The ref speaks up again.  "I need an answer."

White bows her head and then shakes it.

Some of the people near you groan.

"I can't believe she missed that."

"Did you notice who did it?"

"Well...no.  But she should at least make an effort."

"Poor Cheryl.  She worked so hard this year."

"You think she's gonna lose?"

"Burton is a snake.  If she can't get ahead of him..."

The ref holds up both arms.  "No challenge!  The play stands.  Pawn is removed from play. White's turn."

Louise looks at you and shrugs.  Ahina cocks her head, puzzled.  "Well that's not right..."

Mother trained me so that my reflexes would activate my powers in self-defense if I was attacked directly, faster than even light. But that didn't mean I could react that fast all the time, to anything, and so the white pawn flying into the sky like it does makes me jump. I had gotten bored enough to start fiddling with my phone, and I nearly drop it.

"Whoah! What was that?!" I say, shocked by the suddenness of the thing.

I turn to Louise and Ahina by turns, then ask Ahina, "Do you know what just happened? What are they talking about, 'she missed' something? Did someone outside the game use a power to influence it?"

I'm not being quiet, nor am I shouting, so anyone nearby who might be inclined to show off how smart they are certainly has the opportunity.

OOC: Great work once again! Multiple text colors communicates that different people are talking succinctly and effectively. Plus, the mystery and action just jumped up two levels. =)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:23, Wed 27 Jan 2021.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 214):

Thanks

Ahina shakes her head.  She doesn't know either.

You hear someone chuckle behind you.  A guy leans forward.  Sort of average looking, although his eyes are mismatched.  One is indigo and one is gray.

"Hey.  Sorry to interrupt.  You guys must be new students.  Never seen the chess match before?"

Louise gives him a measuring look and then shakes her head.  "Yeah.  We're all newbies.  So...you mind me asking what just happend?"

The guy nods towards the field.  "The game isn't really a chess match.  It's about sabotage.

"The rule is you can't use powers.  And get caught."  He laughs.  "Just like St. George's, right?

"However the player's gotta be able to prove the cheat.  Black just sent that pawn flying away.  And White can only call it illegal if she can prove Black is the one who did it.  Or prove it was someone working for Black."  He shrugs.  "I mean.  It could be someone not even on the field who has a grudge against White, right?"

He shakes his head and gives White a pitying look.  "I don't think poor Cheryl has it in her to win this.

"These games never go all the way to checkmate.  They go until either one side catches the other in a cheat or the one side has lost so many pieces that they can't keep playing and concede."

"No it did go to checkmate once," says someone nearby you can't see.  "I think it was back in the nineties though."

Indigo/Gray shrugs.  "Anyway.  Cheryl is probably gonna lose.  Burton is too slick. It's a shame cos she's really got a lot riding on this game."

I'll pause here so you can digest.  Let me know if there are questions. Thanks

I used the wrong color in my last post. Oops. I have fixed it!

I hold up my hand in a perfunctory wave at Mismatched Eyes Guy. "Yo. Thanks for the explanation."

Looking back at the chess "board," I start to get an uneasy feeling. St. George's Academy is really starting to bother me. Why is there so much deception, deceit, and trickery? There's treachery, too, I imagine. Is this really what education and training for the future leaders of society looks like?

I wanted to change the world into a kinder place, but now I'm starting to think maybe there isn't enough violence.

"Do the faculty encourage this kind of thing, or is the chess match special in some way? Also, what's going to happen to that kid who flew up into the sky? Do we need to catch them?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 216):

"Nah.  I don't think so." Mismatch Eye guy says, glancing the way the pawn flew away.  "Killin' somebody is a different ballgame then just messin' with 'em."

"Faculty will retrieve them."  The guy who told you about the checkmate match leans closer.  He's tall and thin, with glasses that would make even Ahina go dude you got some thick glasses

"This match was sponsored by the Dragons.  It's meant to be special," he adds.

The hypothetical speech from Ahina being in her color is amusingly cute. =)

I do my best to pretend I wasn't invited to the secret treehouse club meeting.

"Sponsored by the Dragons? So does that mean they can get away with a little more than usual? I've heard a lot about them today already. What are they like? Do people not in their club get to play this match? How are people picked, anyway, I wonder."

I look back at the board and the match once again. The deception that Rigney's toadies went through was always disgusting to me, or at least, it was disgusting to me as far back as I could remember. The insincerity of it all. Surely a just society could not come out of deceit.

Maybe I should make it my mission to overthrow that order of deception. I would need a lot of allies with a similar goal, plus a few initial victories and many followers.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 218):

"Oh no.  This is a Dragon's game." Mr. Checkmate seems very confident about this. "The rules are set by the Dragons.  Only Dragons can be players.  Though I think they invite anyone to be pieces.

"If you want to know more about them, you could buy me a soda after the game."

He gives you a friendly enough smile.

I raise one eyebrow at Mr. Checkmate. I have perfect posture, as well as charisma and a regal, commanding presence. My parents made sure of that, with extensive training to make sure I could own any room I was in. Add to that my top-shelf good looks and you get the perfect princess package. That was, after all, what they wanted, and it's what they got. I recognize the value in it. I'm surprised I haven't been hit on more often, since so few people at St. George's seem to know who I am.

"If you want to ask me out, then ask me out. You're not cute enough to be indirect."

My fanclub calls me Frozen Empress as a term of endearment.
This message was last updated by the player at 09:21, Wed 03 Feb 2021.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 220):

He laughs.  "Me?  I'm the sexiest guy alive!  Just ask my overinflated ego."

He leans closer.  "My name's George Reynolds.  Wanna go out?"

I continue staring at him. I have stared down much fiercer creatures than he and had them running in fear. Maybe I just don't have the reputation here to make that work. Maybe he's just drunk with bravado.

I can't help but smirk as I hold up my index finger. "Everybody gets one." Then I write down my phone number on my antiquated paper-and-pencil notepad, tear off the paper, and hand it to him.

Then I look back at the game. Unless something is obviously off, I'll go on a date with anyone once. Sometimes people make bad first impressions. I don't know why I decided to do that, but I've stuck with that rule since I was 14 and I plan to keep sticking to it until I get married.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 222):

As you turn back to the game, you notice Louise is missing.

Down on the chess game, White makes a sudden and very decisive move.  She has left her rook out in the open.  It's obviously a trap.  But Black can't afford to miss the opportunity.

You see the Black player considering the situation carefully.

"She's good." Ahina is looking down towards the White player.  But you don't think she's talking about the White player.

Louise is somehow standing next to her, whispering in her ear.

Scheming is not my strong suit, and it never has been. I prefer direct confrontation. But then, of course I do; I can throw a bus and run faster than lasers.

"What do you think she's doing?" I ask, idly pondering the situation myself. Loise's politicking doesn't interest me directly; it's more of an academic curiosity, a desire to know why people do what they do, rather than to gain tools to manipulate people.

"It wouldn't surprise me if Louise could move near the speed of light, maybe at the speed of light. Her powers are all about lasers and that kinda thing."

Pause for Polish sausage. Nom nom nom. Chew, swallow.

"This game is more about deception and adherence to arcane rules, isn't it?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 224):

"More or less."  George answers from behind you.  He seems to be considering Louise's presence as well.  "It is the Dragons after all.  Ow."

Someone nearby elbowed him.  George laughs.

Ahina shoots him a look.  "The Dragons are pretty cool."

George returns her look and then shrugs.  "Everyone has their own way of looking at things."

Meanwhile, on the field, Black takes the rook.

White quickly responds by taking the pawn that took the rook.  George sighs.  "Now we'll see if Black takes the bait."

In looking at it, Black had to take the rook. But he has left himself in an awkward position.  He either has to have been planning how to deal with this situation two moves ago or...

"He'll have to cheat his way outta this."

A couple of moves go by.

Suddenly White is waving an arm.  You can see Louise has a smug look on her face.  Well.  Smugger than usual.

"Where?"

"White pawn at G4.  He went MIA.  Black made him go poof."

The ref has come over to listen to White.

George clicks his tongue.  "Well.  That is it then."

In a moment, the ref has returned to the center of the field.

"Illegal use of teleportation powers.  Penalty on Black.  Game is forfeit.  Victory to White."

Since I'm no chess master, I don't understand why trading a rook for a pawn, when you're already behind, is any kind of good move. I just watch, though, because it's clear to me now that the game has almost nothing to do with the board or pieces. Chess is just a vehicle for the real game, which is a matter of deception and cunning.

As far as I can tell, however, the "real game" keeps the players hemmed in, mentally. Victory is ultimately determined by appealing to a human authority, who, in the end, controls the fate of the players. Playing a game for fun or self-improvement is one thing; trying to be clever and use a game to establish position and power while giving up that very power and authority to someone else who isn't even playing is surrendering before you start.

I think I might share that with Ahina later.

I finish my sausage and wipe my mouth, then ball up the paper container and napkin and make a 50-yard shot into a trash bin with seemingly no effort. Paper is not at all aerodynamic and should not fly that far, fast, or accurately. Superhuman strength has its perks.

I stand up, smooth out my skirt, and hop off the bleachers to go to the little supergirls' room. And check the time! I'll see the winner of the "chess" game later, presumably at the Dragons' next secret treehouse meeting. Right now, I'm more interested in wrapping up the closing ceremony, collecting my prize for winning the flag game, and going back to my room to read up on those lessons I'm supposed to know in two days.

As much as I disdain the misdirection and lies used to control the students, I know that I don't know everything. The insights and knowledge St. George's has to convey, both by individuals and by the institution, have persisted for a reason.

I already miss beat the stuffing out of people though. This is the longest I've gone without a fight since I was...six? Maybe seven.

OOC: Hopefully this is enough to build on for your next post. I'm never sure if I'm putting forth the kind of "content" that can match your excellent writing. =)
This message was last edited by the player at 23:22, Wed 10 Feb 2021.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 226):

That was just fine.  Let's move things along then.

Your class schedule arrives via an e-mail.

Tuesday and Thursday you will have a 7:30 AM class for your Monitor duties.  You have two academic classes that afternoon from one to four.

Your MWF schedule is a little more packed.  Classes from 9:30 to 1.  Then a class from 3 to 4:30.

Did we ever discuss what courses Seraphina wanted to take?  I cannot recall and don't see anything in my notes.

She will have to take the usual.  English.  History.  A foreign language.  A math.  A science.  A computer class.  And an elective.

Within that framework, please pick three classes Sera would like to focus on.  The Monitor class doesn't count. You may be choosy within reason.  St. George's won't be teaching Basket Weaving or the History of the Lymphatic System.  But any living language (Basque, Navajo, etc), any psuedoscience or odd math (Cryptozoology, Chaos Theory 101), etc. is offered. 

There seems to be a gym requirement.  You have to do four hours of physical fitness a week minimum.  There is a gym that will tailor to metas.  But you'll need to make an appointment with a 'personal trainer' there to work out your program.

As you laze on your bed, taking a break from your studies, your prize for the flag marathon catches your eye.

It's a snow globe.  Well.  It's the cadalliac version of a snow globe.  The glass is tinted a cherry color.  The snow flakes inside somehow still show a bright, vibrant white.  The scene inside the globe seems to be some kind of hologram.  It depicts a young girl sitting beneath a huge oak.  There is a wind and her pretty hair flutters in a breeze that isn't there.  A squirrel runs up and down the tree, taking nuts from the girl's hand.

Let me know about the courses and we will move along to your first day of classes.  Thanks

I re-read the thread from the beginning yesterday and this morning. I can't find anything about Seraphina's opinion on electives, other than that she was interested in martial arts. There was already mention of some classes, in msg #63. It looks like it jives with what you wrote in your last post.

I thumb through the email on my phone. There are actually fewer classes and less regimentation here than I expected or that I've dealt with in the past. English, World Civ II, Geography, Earth Science, Computer Science, Russian, Calculus II, Monitor Shenanigans, and an elective. Then the fitness requirement on top of it. Only four hours a week?

I scoff at the notion of only four hours of physical training a week. I've been doing at least eight hours of training a week since I was old enough to walk, then I put myself down for kendo. Why not? I wanted to take martial arts, and I've never done kendo before.

I also make a note to myself to check out the chess club on Thursday. I use the calendar function of my phone to set an alarm for a couple hours before the meeting. I also set a reminder to meet with my personal trainer.

I'd like to focus on math (because I like math; it's my job after all), the monitor class thing, and kendo.

I slowly turn the snowglobe over in my hands, gingerly turning it to see if the hologram, or whatever it is, maintains its shape when held at an angle or even upside-down. It's a beautiful thing and I'm not sure where to put it.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:56, Sat 13 Feb 2021.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 228):

Okie doke.

The hologram stays true to the horizon, no matter which way you turn the globe.  When you upend it, you notice someone has etched a heart on the bottom of the globe.  It doesn't look like a manufacturer's mark.  Someone has cut it in on one corner.

---

Your alarm goes off.  Whether you are already up or not, your first day of school has officially started.

As you step outside your door, you see Saul is locking his door at the same time.  He nods at you.  "Mornin'.  You catching breakfast first or heading right to class?"

The cafe downstairs should be open.  You probably don't have time to sit down and eat-well. If you weren't you that is.  But you could get something to go and munch on it during the way.

Well that's mysterious. Kind of. I wonder who would carve a heart in the bottom of a very nice snowglobe. Maybe it was an heirloom of sorts, passed between contest winners? Or perhaps a magical artifact! I laugh at myself; more likely someone making mischief. However, it seems that just about everything at St. George's has a hidden meaning, so I leave myself a note to look into the heart on the snowglobe.

---

I wake with a start, then I go into the bathroom and make myself presentable. It takes me all of a quarter of an objective second, though about 15 minutes in my own time. The standard uniform is fetching on me; tight around the chest, but that's all right. I leave my glorious mane of (dyed) candy pink locks flowing free. I need to exfoliate again tonight. The black paint on my nails will probably start wearing through by the end of the day, too. There is, in fact, some maintenance involved in being drop-dead gorgeous.

Out in the hall, I answer Saul: "Breakfast first, of course."

A charitable impulse strikes me. Should I offer to get him anything? He did apologize to me yesterday and offered friendship. Generosity is common at the highest levels of society, but it's almost all for show. Big donations of huge amounts of money to "charities" that ultimately just kick the money back to one's high-powered friends or some shell corporation one owns.

"You want me to get you anything?"

Either way, I go to get breakfast, zipping around outside time, helping myself, getting whatever Saul was after, and paying with cash. I'm back in about ten seconds and then make for class, eating before lectures start, throwing away, in a trash can outside the room, whatever I can't finish before the appointed time.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 230):

He shakes his head but has an amicable enough smile on his face.  "Thanks, I already ate though.  Just wanted to see if you were heading to class right off the bat.  I'm heading that way now."

He chuckles.  "Don't ever get the tomato egg wrap.  It's like nastiness personified.  See you in class."

The cafe has a few students.  It's still too early for most.  Ahead of you is Robert Rutherford.  The big guy who ate fried chicken on the bus.  He's got a tray full of food and is deciding between Fruit Loops and Corn Chex to add to it.

The lady behind the counter gives you a smile. "Good Morning!  We got a special on our tomato egg wraps!  Two for one!"

The menu seems typical American breakfast.  Lots of bagel varieties though.

I am moderately surprised that there is not a buffet. I was expecting there to be a buffet. Huh. I give Robert a perfunctory wave, the sort of off-hand movement that acknowledges someone's existence without prompting conversation.

Perusing the menu, I reply, pleasantly, "Good morning."

"I'd like the ham, egg, and potato hash. Double, please." The menu says it comes with multiple varieties of peppers and fried broccoli, which intrigues me. I can't recall ever having fried broccoli.

I make sure to be polite to the counter jockey. I really believe the standard line that society throws out so often, that the powerful have a responsibility to be as morally superior as we are physically superior. That means, among other things, treating subordinates with consideration and respect. Plus, it's just not very smart to be nasty to the people who handle your food.

Who doesn't love a smile from a beautiful girl?

Oooh, the lunch menu has spicy queso. It's too low-brow for my parents to have allowed, except at the occasional fondue party; I greatly enjoy that stuff and am already looking forward to it.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 232):

Robert blinks at you like he's not sure who you are.  You realize he must still be groggy.  Seems he does not wake up well.  He returns your wave with a friendly enough nod.  His hands are holding the tray, which is groaning under the weight of the food on it.

There is a lunch buffet.  And it has a spicy queso fountain.  Which sounds both odd and fascinating at the same time.

You notice the dinner menu seems a bit high brow.  Steak Wellington.  Coq au Vin.  Spanish style Cod with seasonal vegetables.  This cafe seems to change its tone from meal to meal.

The fried broccoli is awesome on a stick.  It would probably be even better with spicy queso.

As you head out for class, you notice more of the students are coming downstairs.  Seems like the best time to hit the cafe for breakfast is before 7:45 AM.

You check your directions ap and find your way to the classroom.  It's a large lecture hall, easily able to seat 150 students.  There are currently only 12 in here.  They are spaced out around the first seven rows right before the podium.  The only one you recognize is Saul.

The other eleven glance your way.  They seem...odd.  You notice they look away from you as soon as you make eye contact.  One girl is muttering to herself as she massages her temples.  Another guy is drawing circles on a sheet of note paper.  Just circles inside circles.  The one he's drawing now is so small, you aren't sure that he pen tip is larger than it is.

Saul is reading over the monitor book.  He looks up at you, sensing everyone else is looking at something, and nods, giving you a smile, and then he looks back at the book.

Sitting by Saul?  By yourself?  One of the others?

You may, if you want, narrate in one of the other monitors in terms of how they appear and sit beside them.  Your call.

I'm starting to wonder whether I enjoyed being the center of attention, positive or negative, every second of every day. I miss it. I miss the deference and fear other people had for me. It was secure, stable, a constant to grab when I was having a rough time.

Once I've acquired my food, paid, and been genial with the staff, I disappear into frozen time to save time on my way to class. I eat in the classroom, in the greyscale world only I and my mother (as far as I know) are able to inhabit, taking my time and reviewing the chapters assigned for today. Once I'm done, I throw away the garbage, leave the room, restart time, and walk back in.

This of course makes my entrance look entirely normal to anyone involved, and I smile and wave at anybody who looks my way. I'm used to people looking away when they look at me. Very used to it. Ah yes, the comfort of others' fear when they look at me. I did miss it, yes indeed.

I sit exactly in the middle of the room. Not the middle of the seats, of the room. Two seats to my left is a bespectacled brunette who looks like she didn't get enough sleep, hair disheveled and bags under her eyes, desperately struggling to not pass out.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 234):

The Brunette has a bag slung over the empty seat to her right.  She starts when you first sit, glancing at the bag like she's wondering if she's supposed to move it.  When you settle in, she goes back to the romance novel she's reading.

The name Gilda Hawthorne is stitched on the side of the bag.

A side door opens.  Loudly.  Everyone looks over.

A rather stern looking woman with iron gray hair marches in.  Her pants suit is neatly ironed with crisp creases running in military fashion along the sides of the pants and shirt.  Her glasses dangle by a chain around her neck.

She moves towards the podium with the inevitability of war.  Taking her place behind it, she pushes the glasses onto her nose, looks at a role book she carried in with her.

"And then there were thirteen," she chuckles.

She looks around at all of you.  "I see some familiar faces.  A few, frankly, I'm surprised are still here."

She eyes Saul and then you.  She gives you the stink eye for what feels like a few seconds too long.  "And some new faces."

She shuts the role book.

"I am Ms. Edlstrum.  I am usually the advisor for the class monitors.  But I was attending to other duties last year.  I'm back.  You all report to me more or less.

"Now.  Let's jump right in, shall we.  Why is Justice arbitrary?"

Most everyone simply keeps their heads down.  Saul raises an eyebrow at her.

"Did you mean to ask is Justice arbitrary?"

"Did I use the word 'is'?"  She looks back at him coldly.  Then around the room.

"But let's put that out there.  IS Justice arbitrary?"

I hold up my hand in greeting to Gilda but don't say anything.

Am I too judgmental? My immediate reaction to the lecturer is that she is trying too hard to project authority. Her comportment brings up instinctive feelings of rebellion. My posture and bearing are, of course, perfect; I don't have to even think about that anymore. I convey regal dignity with my body language.

My parents' motto: My will is forged steel; I will not break.

I give it a few seconds if anyone else wants to say anything.

Then, assuming nobody speaks up after Saul, I paraphrase Alexander Dubois in his History and Moral Philosophy:

"Justice consists of two parts: moral and social. Moral Justice is the consistent pairing of privileges and responsibilities in commensurate pairs and is a matter of individual conduct. Social Justice is necessarily arbitrary, because social Justice is the application of rules instituted by the strong in order to control the weak. All appearances to the contrary are wishful thinking or outright deceit."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 236):

Edlstrum regards you a moment.

"Hmm.  That definition seems to imply Moral Justice is not arbitrary.  Or am I misunderstanding you?"