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?"

I nod at Ms. Edlstrum. Many students would quibble, saying that they're not sure or they think or other mealy-mouthed equivocations. I get my ideas from Aristotle and Dubois. They were both far wiser than me, and I don't pretend to fully understand their arguments, but I agree with them.

"Yes. Moral Justice is nonarbitrary and can be determined with logic. Like any virtue, acting according to it is self-reinforcing and improves both the person and their society, even when it does not appear to do so in the short term."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 238):

Just noticed I had Edlstrum the same color dialouge as you.  Switching her to Rose.  Thanks

"Okay.  Just to play Devil's advocate:  there is a man who is terminally ill. He's lingering in his hospital bed during his final days.  The doctors say he could take months before finally expiring.

"At the time, there's an outbreak in the city he lives in.  Hospital beds suddenly become a valuable commodity.

"There isn't a hospice or nursing home bed available to take him. Other patients like him are moved there, filling up those spaces.  And the man has no relatives who will step forward to take responsibility for him.  Legally, there is no way to eject him from his bed.  Most states have laws that would require him to receive a minimum level of care which requires medical attention.

"A nurse gets frustrated by the situation.  She has no ill will against the man. But people who could be saved are dying because they can't get a space in the hospital.  So she poisons him. He dies and his bed is taken by someone with the plague going around.  That person lives because they got treatment.

"Logically speaking, her actions make sense.  It certainly is for the good of the society she is in at that moment.

"Leave aside the legal questions.  We aren't going to discuss about whether the state will try her for murder.  Just in terms of her actions, in and of themselves, has she committed murder?"

Okie-dokey.

I listen with neutral expression and posture, then I reply, "Without considering the legal system and so discarding whether her actions are legally defined as murder, yes, she committed murder in the moral sense. The nurse's killing of the elderly man was wrong, in and of itself."

I ponder the implications of that statement, as well as potential justifications, for a few seconds, then continue: "I'm sure people with a lot more experience and insight than me have thought about problems like this. Here is a potential reasoning: The nurse didn't find an innovative solution to the problem of a lack of hospital beds, and she didn't get anyone else with greater technical ability to do so. Instead of improving society through innovation, when faced with an obstacle, she killed a man who did not want to die. She took the shorter, easier path that did not provide any future solutions to similar problems. Neither she nor society is improved as a direct result of her actions."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 240):

"So you're saying it is the responsibility of the individual to find the best possible solution?  Interesting.  But what if the nurse was at her limit?  She is after all only a grunt in the war on disease.  She can't come up with funding for additional space.  She doesn't have the resources to conduct experiments on...say...rotation of patient space or alternative hospital room set ups.

"She is faced with a situation in the here and now.  She is in the trenches as it were.  The rubber has met the road.  Consider also her mental state.  In that situation, she is probably being overworked.  She is seeing people die on a daily basis.  No matter her professional detachment.  No matter how ethical she wants to be, it is likely that at some point despair is going to set in.

"Does any of that bear on her moral responsibilities?"

I wait until she's done, despite the temptation to interrupt. She's putting words in my mouth, and that sort of thing is irritating. I also wait a few seconds after she stops talking before I answer her.

After flipping my hair over my shoulder, I say, "No, it is not the responsibility of the individual to find the best possible solution. The apparent conflict, that is, that an old man who was doomed to die soon refused to effectively commit suicide in order that someone else would potentially live, only came about because the nurse created it in her own mind. The real conflict was in herself; her hubris demanded that she save someone's life, but she was too weak to actually do so. Instead of accepting her inability and seeking further solutions to her self-created problem, she instead murdered one person to save another person. This in spite of her sure knowledge that the potential plague patient who would take the old man's bed might die of the plague anyway."

I put my hands on the desk in front of me. My nails are painted black.

"As to whether she deserves punishment, that is a different question altogether. Determining that is why courts are necessary for a functioning society."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 242):

"Hmm. Intersting."

She gives you a rather irritating little smile and then looks around at the class.

"Alright.  Let's talk about your roles as Monitors.  As many of you already know, it is not an easy job.  You are responsible for your group's compliance to the rules of Saint George's.  It is a round the clock endeavor.

"Now for our newbies..."  She gives both you and Saul a smile.  "You can always consult the rule book for any concerns about what does and does not constitute acceptable behavior.  The number one priority is the safety of the student body.  The second priority is
making acceptable choices.  The third priority the integrity of Saint George's.

"Whenever you see an infraction occurring, you are to halt it if the activity is dangerous, document it, and report it to faculty.  You may investigate as you deem fit.  But if an activity is deemed criminal, you must insure any evidence obtained is legally viable.  You can't use illegally obtained evidence as part of a case.

"There is always a staff member on call. If you contact the Monitor Switchboard...the cell number is here...by text, call, or e-mail, it will be routed automatically to that staff member.  Make sure you give the situation an appropriate priority in your message.

"Once you have reported the incident, the staff member will hold court.  You will have to present a report on the incident as well as provide any relevant evidence.  False accusations are not tolerated."

You see Gilda flinch a little here.

"And of course, Monitors are responsible for their group's behavior.

"Any questions?"

Well, so much for anything interesting happening in this "class."

I take notes on what Ms. Edlstrum says, partially out of boredom. The delegation of tyranny to deflect blame away from the actual holders to power to their subordinates is a classic strategy, one specifically mentioned many times in my ethics education as part of the reason for the downfall of all past societies. I'm starting to wonder just how subversive my parents actually are, if they taught me and even required me to read and know about that sort of thing, when St. George's, an elite academy, endorses it so completely.

"Responsible in what sense?" I ask, likely the question that gets asked by one of the new kids every year.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 244):

Edlstrom blinks, as if surprised.  But it looks too practiced a gesture. "Well, for taking the punishment of course.  Monitors either present the guilty for punishment or take the punishment themselves."

I raise one eyebrow.

"Is that policy your decision?"

The delegation of tyranny is evil not because it is tyrannical but rather because it is inconsistent. I wonder if the administrators are aware of that fact. I have almost no faith in authority figures. On the other hand, St. George's is big on hidden meanings and secret tests.

I decide to take a social risk. My tone and expression remain as flat as usual.

"If you will excuse me for being forward: How could a Monitor take punishment for unreported infractions if Monitors are the only method by which infractions are reported? Unless, that is, we are encouraged to report each others' failings as a form of social sabotage or, alternatively, there are other methods by which infractions come to the attention of faculty?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 246):

She seems nonplussed.  "Infractions usually come to light sooner or later.  Are there infractions that slip under everyone's radar?  Of course there are.

"But if an infraction is found out by faculty before the monitor for the offending group reports it, then the infraction is not just the fault of the students.  It is the fault of the monitors who were unable to keep control.  The best way to stay 'safe', as it were, is to report infractions before they can be found out through other means.  Though, in the past, there are monitors who elected to help offenders cover their tracks.

"When you accepted the perks of the job, you also took on the responsibilities.  And that is the responsibility for monitoring and controlling your group. Ensuring safety, usually through compliance.

"Will others attempt to use this to undermine and harm you?  Of course they will."  She gives you a sly smile.  "Are you concerned that someone will outfox you?"

"Is this why there is such a high rate of burnout and drop outs among monitors?"  Saul has leaned back, placing his feet on the back of the chair ahead of him.  He's giving Edlstrum the same sneer he gave you back on the bus.

"I would imagine so, yes."

"You would imagine so.  Meaning, you don't know.  So you didn't ask the ones who bailed out?  Why things fell apart on them?"  Edlstrum's lips pinch together.  She frowns at him.  Saul laughs.  "In other words, you don't really care.  This is some type of game."

"You have an attitude problem."

"You have a crappy system.  Looks like we're both disappointments, huh?"

Edlstrum gives him another withering look and then turns back to you.

"Does that answer your question?"

I think for several seconds before answering, staring right back at Edlstrum. I have an extremely cold stare; polar bears feel a chill.

"Yes. Thank you."

The journey from these conditions to absolute tyranny is very short.

I won't push Edlstrum any farther during class. It is mean-spirited to challenge her authority and gravitas further, with numerous witnesses. The impulse I feel, to rebel against perceived injustice, is the seed from which the jealousy and pettiness of others, that very same thing I both hate and find comforting, grows.

I will wait until class is over. I will wait in my seat to talk to her after the other students are gone. I will ask the burning questions then. When we are without witnesses, those questions will not be de facto challenges to her position. Perhaps she will answer me honestly and perhaps she will not. Either way, I will learn much.

There's also a chance that someone will want my attention and I will talk to Edlstrum later.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 248):

When the bell rings, most everyone scurries away.  Gilda, like some of the others, gives you a pitying look.  But none of them say anything to you.

Saul stops by your desk.  He glances at you and murmurs, "You want back up?"

Edlstrum is seated behind her desk, hands folded under her chin.  She seems to be waiting for you.

When everyone who is leaving is gone, she gives you a raised eyebrow.

"You want to discuss things further?"

Your call if Saul stays or not.

"No, thank you," I reply to Saul. "I don't think there will be a problem."

I wait until I am alone with Edlstrum to answer her question.

"Yes, I did." I keep my posture straight and strong, as usual, and my tone remains neutral. I do not wish to convey any disrespect; on the contrary, forthright honesty is very respectful, especially in private. If I wanted to be disrespectful, I would have challenged Edlstrum in front of the class, as Saul did, and if Edlstrum is even a little bit more intelligent than average, she will also know that.

"Most of the rules and procedures of this academy seem to me to be geared towards encouraging backbiting, subterfuge, and deception. Hidden power, rather than overt power. I could certainly be wrong about that; I'm sure things are set up the way they are for deeper reasons than I know. That being said, I will not be played a fool. You know, as well as I do, that making monitors responsible for the infractions of other students is an inherently unjust system."

I wave my hand in front of my face, dismissing the idea.

"That does not concern me. Two things do. First, on the bus ride here, I was elected to be a monitor, and I was not informed that I would be held responsible for, and punished because of, the misbehavior of other students in my group. Why was I not informed? Was our chaperone, Ms. Welkes, lax in her duties? Ignorant? Malicious? Second, this is an academy; its rules were put in place deliberately. What is the purpose of holding monitors responsible for, and punishing them because of, the behavior of their fellow students? Am I meant to learn something from the arrangement?"