by Andrew Gates
Ms. Vitneskja paused for a moment as she answered but then nodded.
“You’re close, Tanya, great job. Yuri Gargarin was his name and he came from the Soviet Union, which, as we all remember, was one of the world’s two largest superpowers at the time,” she explained.
Ms. Vitneskja’s class was often much more interesting than any of Jallah’s other classes, especially after the field trip. They had just finished their unit on the early 20th Century and today was their first day learning about something called the Space Race. Jallah did not know much about space, but he found it all fascinating. As if the surface was not interesting enough, apparently there was an entire world above the surface. What’s next? Animals from other planets?
The teacher appeared to be excited about it too. Ever since the trip, she seemed reinvigorated. Each day Ms. Vitneskja would come in tired, as if she had spent the entire night working, but no matter how tired she looked, once class began, so did her energy. It was as if the trip to the agricultural sector had changed her into a new woman.
“Now,” Ms. Vitneskja continued, “does anyone remember from the reading, why the Soviet Union wanted to put a man in space so badly?”
Margery raised her hand again, but once again the teacher called on someone else. She pointed to Ashley, seated near the door. She was always so easy to spot with her bright red hair. That’s probably why she gets called on, Jallah thought. She’s so easy to see.
“Because of the Space Race,” she answered.
What a stupid answer.
“Yes, and what was the Space Race?” Ms. Vitneskja asked, trying to get more out of her.
“It was a competition between the Soviet Union and the United States. They were fighting a war and wanted to get space for themselves. It was like the first war in space,” she answered.
“Not, quite, but close,” the teacher corrected. “Don’t think of it like a war. During the Cold War, there was fighting in certain parts of the world, but it was largely a competition of who was more powerful. Each side kept getting more weapons and allies, but they never used them in actual combat.”
Sarego raised his hand in the air as Ms. Vitneskja was about to continue. She seemed surprised to be interrupted so suddenly. Sarego did not often raise his hand.
“Uh, yes Sarego?”
He put his hand back down.
“How do people breathe in space if the atmosphere
is different?” he asked.
Ms. Vitneskja’s eyebrows went up like a curious old man. This was clearly not the question she expected.
“Well, astronauts and cosmonauts had to wear special suits, EVA suits they called them. It had all the air they needed inside the suit for them so they could breathe,” she answered. “And there actually isn’t a different atmosphere in space. There’s no atmosphere in space. Think of it like a suit full of atmosphere that people would bring with them.”
“Why don’t we use that today?” Jaycn asked without raising his hand.
Ms. Vitneskja looked up towards him.
“What?” she asked.
“I said why don’t we use that today?” he repeated.
“Well, remember to raise your hand Jaycn. But to get to your question, people don’t travel to space anymore. We don’t need a space suit if we’re going to stay in the station. There’s artificial atmosphere here to protect us. That’s why we need to produce all this oxygen all the time.”
“No, no, no,” Jaycn corrected. “I mean like, if there’s really a surface up there, why don’t we use these suits with atmosphere and go to the surface?”
Suddenly Ms. Vitneskja understood the question. She paused for a moment and held her finger in the air. She struggled to find the right words to respond. Jallah had not seen her so without answers in a long time.
“Well,” she eventually replied. She seemed almost hesitant to proceed, “that’s a very political topic. Some people agree with you, that we should send something or someone up there, but other people argue that it’s pointless. We know the atmosphere is unsafe. That’s the whole reason we came down here anyway. Right now there are no plans that I’m aware of-”
“What do you think?” Sarego interrupted.
Ms. Vitneskja paused.
Jallah was intrigued. History class had not been this interesting in a long time. He leaned forward and held his breath, waiting for the answer. He looked around and realized that his entire class seemed just as interested as him.
“This is just my opinion,” she began, “so I’m not saying this is right or wrong… but if the air is toxic, then it’s toxic. I don’t know why we should go up there if we spent so much time and money coming down here to get away from it. Especially since we don’t know who could be… I mean, given the circumstances, we don’t know who… I mean we don’t know what might be up there.”
She seemed to get nervous in just a short matter of seconds, stumbling on her words and hesitating to answer. The new Ms. Vitneskja was gone, replaced with the old teacher from before. I wonder what set her off like that. Not only was her behavior off, but her answer was just bizarre. References to who and what made no sense.
And just like that, Margery raised her hand. Jallah glanced over towards her in anticipation. He could not wait to hear what she had to say. He loved it every time she spoke up in class.
“Yes, Margery,” the teacher said, pointing towards her.
Margery lowered her hand.
“If someone goes to the surface now, then they’ll be like the new Yuri Gargarin of the Atlantic Station though, wouldn’t they?” she asked.
Ms. Vitneskja shrugged.
“I guess so, yes. But the Cold War brought us into the Space Race. What is our incentive now?”
Jallah hoped Margery had a good answer for this one. She looked so confident every time she spoke in class. It seemed like she was prepared for anything.
“Well, if not for science research then what about another war? What if we did have a Cold War now?” she responded quickly. “What about the Pacific Station or the Indian Station?”
“I don’t think you understand,” Ms. Vitneskja said. Her confidence seemed slightly restored. “The fact that other stations exist doesn’t necessarily mean that we have an inherit drive to compete.”
“So what was the Cold War really about then?” Margery asked.
Ms. Vitneskja raised both of her hands and took a step back, as if she did not want to be responsible for answering that one.
“Well,” she responded, “you tell me. Who can tell me, what was this whole ‘war’ really about?”
A few hands went into the air. Jallah could not tell if Margery’s hand was up too, but he was interested to see what happened.
“Yes, Tanya.”
The hands went back down.
“Well basically it was a ‘who’s better’ contest,” Tanya answered.
“A pissing contest,” Palm added, interrupting.
The class started laughing and Ms. Vitneskja nodded her head, leaning against the wall behind her. She raised her arms up, trying to get the class to calm down. It seemed the new Ms. Vitneskja had made a full return.
“Actually, that’s not exactly wrong,” she stated as the class calmed down. A few giggles followed. “The Soviet Union and the United States were determined to outshine one another. It was a battle of fundamentals, a battle of ideas, and they basically fought that battle by getting the most guns and building the biggest armies.”
“But why can’t that happen now?” Margery added, not worrying about raising her hand.
“Well…” Ms. Vitneskja answered. The class lowered their hands and eventually reached a dead silence as the teacher searched for the words. “Why can’t it happen now? A secret war between the different stations? A war of fundamentals?” The class continued to wait. All eyes were on Ms. Vitneskja as she paused, waiting to find the right answer to her question. Eventually she walked up to her desk, placed her hands down and shifted her weight forward, leaning
over the desk like a character in a crime movie.
“Well,” she said again, “maybe we already are.”
Ms. Vitneskja’s pod started to beep. That was her timer. Just like that, class was over.
No, it’s over now! It can’t end here! Jallah could hardly believe how interesting history class had become. Before today he never thought of traveling above the sea above the water in a rocket ship, finding animals from other worlds or secret wars taking place without anyone knowing. He could not believe all this was real.
Students slowly made their way out of class. Jallah could tell that many of them were just as fascinated as he was. Casually, he placed his pod into his bag and snuck a quick glance towards his beautiful Margery.
“Jallah and Margery, can you two please stay late for a moment?” Ms. Vitneskja asked as the other kids slowly filed out.
Jallah felt his heart speed up. He glanced over to Margery again, not trying to be subtle this time. She appeared visibly nervous too. Oh no, he thought, she knows about us. He remembered what happened to Ophelia’s dad. I don’t want to get caught, please no, I can’t get caught.
Both of the students slowly walked towards Ms. Vitneskja’s desk. Jallah could feel the room get quieter and quieter as more kids exited. When the last girl closed the door behind her, the silence was chilling. Jallah did not know what to expect, but he doubted it was anything good.
Ms. Vitneskja got right to it.
“So, how long have you two been dating?” she asked.
Jallah froze. This was exactly what he feared. He did not know what to say. Should I lie? Yeah, maybe I should lie. He was about to make up a story, but then he reconsidered. No, no, if she already knows we’re dating then I’ll just get in trouble for lying too! He was conflicted. There were so many things he could say, but he did not know what was best. He simply stood there.
“About a week,” Margery eventually answered. Jallah turned to face her. She seemed nervous, yet somehow confident.
Yes, the truth, Jallah thought, that’s probably the best idea.
Ms. Vitneskja sighed and took a seat behind her desk.
“Sit down, you two,” she told them.
Both of them went back to the front row and sat in the chairs attached to desks. It felt odd sitting here while they were not in class. Jallah felt so nervous his legs trembled like a motor. Both he and Margery remained silent, eagerly awaiting their judgment.
Ms. Vitneskja was quiet too, searching for the words to say. She seemed visibly conflicted. Eventually she leaned forward like an interrogator.
“I understand that you may like each other, but you know you shouldn’t be doing this,” she eventually said. “You’re right to keep it secret, but it’s too risky. I think you two should break it off.”
Her statement was blunt. You two should break it off. The words hurt like a knife.
Jallah lowered his head. I guess that’s it, he thought. We’re done.
“Okay,” he said quietly. He looked over at Margery, who did not seem to like this idea one bit. He turned back to the teacher again. “What’s going to happen to us? Are we going to end up like Ophelia’s dad?”
Ms. Vitneskja shook her head.
“I don’t know who Ophelia’s dad is, so I don’t know. But I don’t think you two will be in any trouble. You are too young to worry about it,” she explained. “How old are you two anyway?”
“13,” said Jallah.
“11,” said Margery.
Only 11, wow, I always forget how young she is, Jallah thought.
“See,” Ms. Vitneskja continued, “nobody is going to care about a middle school romance. The law is designed to regulate procreation, not pre-teen crushes. You’ll be fine.”
Jallah felt relieved. No jail. I should’ve known there was nothing to worry about.
But Margery was not so content.
“So why should we stop then?” Margery asked, jumping in. Ms. Vitneskja seemed surprised by her intrusion.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You just said ‘nobody is going to care about a middle school romance’, so why should we stop?”
Jallah was not sure if he should say anything. They had just gotten away without any punishment. He did not want to make matters any worse, but at the same time, Margery had a really good point.
“I don’t want you or any of the other students getting used to the idea,” Ms. Vitneskja continued. “If the other students see you two together, they’ll start thinking this is something that’s okay.”
“So?” Margery continued. Her voice was loud and intense this time.
“So… we don’t want the students getting used to the idea. That also goes for you two.”
“No,” Margery said, “I mean so what if we’re together? Why is it so bad for people to get used to that? Why is that a problem?”
Jallah was surprised that Margery would ask this question. She was the one who explained this to him in the first place. You’re African. He remembered her say those words only a few weeks ago. Now here she was challenging that exact point. Jallah smiled. He knew what this change in Margery meant. She likes me, he thought. She must really like me.
“The problem,” the teacher explained, “is that when you get older, we don’t want students like you to get involved in sex.”
“Sex?”
“Yes,” she answered with an exhale. The tone of her voice was odd. It almost sounded like she did not want to say it, but had to. “Look, do you guys have any siblings?”
“Yes, two brothers,” Jallah answered.
“I have a sister,” Margery answered too.
“And your siblings are like you, aren’t they?” she asked.
Jallah thought of his two brothers. They were a good influence on him growing up, but sometimes he wished he had a sister too.
“My sister is not like me,” Margery debated, bringing Jallah’s focus back to the classroom. “Sure, she looks like me, but she’s totally different.”
“But she looks like you,” Ms. Vitneskja said.
Margery nodded. Jallah figured he should nod too.
“That’s what this law is all about,” the teacher explained. “On the surface, there were all types of people. People who look like you and me,” Ms. Vitneskja pointed to Margery as she said it, “and there are people who look like you,” she continued, pointing to Jallah, “and these people were all over the world. On the surface, people could mix around and share their genes because for the most part, these different people were spread out across the globe. But now we’re all stuffed down here in the station. In this kind of space, we’d lose our ethic heritages in three generations.”
“But who gives a crap?” Margery asked.
Jallah could not believe his ears. He never knew Margery could use a word like crap. He looked over at the teacher, who seemed just as surprised as he was.
“Margery, those are the rules. The Atlantic Federation wants to preserve our old way of life,” she explained.
“But it doesn’t matter,” Margery interrupted. “That’s the old way of life. You are always saying how everything is different now. Why can’t this be different too?”
Ms. Vitneskja sighed like she wanted no part in this conversation. Jallah wondered if she was really defending this point, or if she was merely explaining the government’s position.
“Look, Margery, I just don’t want you guys to get into any trouble.”
“But you just said yourself we won’t. We’re too young to get involved in sex, and that’s what this whole rule is about, isn’t it?” she asked.
Jallah felt embarrassed when Margery mentioned sex.
“The law forbids fraternization with people of different ethnic heritages. Fraternization is a broad term, I know, but it’s intentional. It’s meant to block any relationships where two people are partnered up, whether husband and wife, fiancés or just boyfriend and girlfriend. The law is designed to block it before it reaches sex. Of course, just sex itsel
f is outlawed too. You guys will learn that when you’re older,” she explained. “In any case, it’s all illegal unless it’s with someone of the same ethnicity.”
“But don’t you think that if two people love each other, they should be allowed to be together?”
“You guys aren’t in love, trust me. You’re in middle school,” Ms. Vitneskja replied without hesitation.
Jallah was surprised Margery brought up love. He liked her a lot, but he did not think he loved her. Does Margery think we’re in love? He wondered.
“I know,” Margery answered, “but I’m speaking hypothetically. When we’re older, what if we still want to be dating? Or what about other people?”
Ms. Vitneskja stood up. It seemed her patience had run its course.
“Look Margery, this isn’t my rule,” her voice was loud and her tone was stern. “I’m just trying to keep you two out of trouble, you see? When you guys are a few years older and this starts to matter, I don’t want you guys getting into any trouble with the government and I don’t want any of the other students seeing you guys right now and getting any ideas either. This is a very sensitive subject, I know. On the surface there were many people who agreed with you, Margery. The surface had people actively protesting the things you’re challenging, but down here things are different. Down here, we’re just surviving, okay?”
“But that doesn’t make it right,” Margery shot back. Jallah was surprised that she shot back so quickly. Ms. Vitneskja was clearly upset. Now was not the time to keep debating.
“No,” Ms. Vitneskja replied, “you’re right.”
She’s right?
“So why do you want us to stop?” Margery asked.
The teacher sat back down again and placed her hands on her head. Her fingers slid through the blonde roots of her hair.
“Because that’s what we do in the station,” she answered. “We survive. I’m just trying to help you survive.”
“I’d like to survive,” Jallah said, deciding he should contribute to this conversation somehow.
Margery gave him a look of disapproval.
“Well I’d like to live,” she added. With that, she stood up and headed for the door. Jallah wondered if she would get in trouble for leaving so suddenly.
