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!".