by Alex Drozd
“My goodness,” Brenda said. “I’ll never get tired of this.”
I wish you would, thought Stuart.
“Me neither,” Brian boomed. “Like I said, it’s the only thing I like about these damn cruisers.”
“I really should draw this,” she said. “This view with all these thousands of people looking up through the dome at all these stars. It’s really beautiful.”
“I’m sure the culture center would love to see it. Well, now you’ll know what you’re doing on your first day of work.”
“Oh, I’ve already got too many ideas lined up first—but I could get to this one eventually.”
They stood around for a few more minutes, admiring the view. Slowly, people began to filter out, heading back for their rooms. It was a large ship; some of them had quite a walk ahead of them, including Stuart’s family. He tried to hint to his parents that he was ready to go, but they made him hang around for a few more minutes, still staring upwards.
“Hold on, Stu,” Brian said. “Appreciate the view while you can.” His father smiled to himself. “Well, one more day until we’re back. We’ll need to go grocery shopping once we’re home. After a long trip like this, I’d like to go to the off-world market. What do you all think?”
“Oh goodness,” Brenda said. “All the way out there after all this? It’s on the other side of the colony.”
“Well maybe not right when we get back, but I’d like to go soon.”
“Craving a banana?” Brenda asked.
Brian laughed, a bellowing thunder. “You got me. They have so many on Earth I got too used to having them around. Damn do I envy their soil. Shit actually grows there.”
“Is there anything you want, Stu?” his mother asked him.
“Not really,” he said.
“Oh by the way,” Brian broke back in. “Stu, did you hear what the exobiologists said about the microbes on Janus?”
“No.”
“They didn’t find them! Turns out the methane in the soil was just from the soil water mixing with olivine, some rock that’s all over Janus. What do you think of that?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I haven’t thought about it.”
“I think it’s pretty funny. They’ve been talking about those microbes all year, and all they found was rocks! I’m glad you picked programming over exobiology, Stu. Those jokers have no idea what they’re doing.”
“I was never considering exobiology...” Stuart trailed off. His father had ceased listening. He sighed. Sometimes, it seemed as if his father phrased things in such a way as to make everything he said a life lesson for Stuart, some grand piece of advice. And he never seemed to want to hear what Stuart thought of that advice.
“All right, let’s go,” Brian said, looking over the edge of the railing. “It’s clearing out. Take one last look.”
They walked down the stairs of the elevated platform and back to the lobby floor. All around, people milled about, saying the most stupid things Stuart could have ever imagined.
“How remarkable!” someone exclaimed. “I wish we could see this every night.”
You can, Stuart thought. Just look at the damn sky. He didn’t realize that it was the sight of all the stars coming into view at once that held the appeal. To him, their brightness taking over the infinite black void, the one he wished he could fall into, was something to be mourned. Again, the glitch consumed his world view, even out here, millions of miles from Janus.
15
To Stuart’s relief, nothing had happened after getting off the star cruiser. They had gone to the spaceport and made it back to Janus without incident. There’d been no sign of the glitch, his hallucinations, or the imaginary people only he could see.
Stuart felt his apprehensions die down—and as soon as he acknowledged this, they came back. This is what she’s waiting for, he realized, for me to let my guard down. She’ll be back soon. Any minute now. She’ll appear and make me see something that isn’t there, embarrass myself in front of everyone else, condemning myself to the nuthouse.
The first day of classes didn’t mix well with these feelings.
Stuart entered the communications building. It was a modest sized complex where many of the planet’s programmers worked and held their classes. To Stuart’s delight, it was far less crowded than the education building. It made for a good first impression, but one that didn’t last long. When he saw who was teaching his first class, his attitude changed.
Mr. Timsina, the man he had met with on advising day, stood at the front of the room, smiling and waving at the students as they walked in. There were only eight of them.
“Hello class,” Mr. Timsina said. “How are all of you today?”
“Good,” they all repeated stochastically.
“Very good, very good,” he beamed. “Well, I’m Mr. Timsina, and this is Projects in Programming 101. As I understand it, all of you are the computer science class of 2203. So, we should all introduce ourselves.”
Stuart cursed to himself. He hated when instructors did this. He was terrified that when it was time for his turn he would suddenly forget how to speak, or that he would stutter, or make a strange face, or breathe funny. It was a hard thing to nail down, looking normal in those eight seconds or so when they were all focused on you; when it was your turn and each pair of eyes waited for you to get through your sentence, pleading for you to not make a joke, begging you not to converse with the teacher and prolong the tortured ritual for even longer.
“My name’s Courtney,” a girl in the front of the class said. She was one of only two there.
“And what made you decide to go into computer science?” Mr. Timsina said.
“I like being on the OpenNet,” Courtney said. “Janus needs more experts, I guess.”
“Very good,” the teacher chimed. “Well now, next!”
As the next boy was introducing himself, Stuart almost turned red. He realized there was now only one more person left before it would be his turn. A deep fear wrestled its way into his awareness. Once that dreaded time came, he would have milliseconds to compose himself. It was a deep and abject terror met by a deep pressure, one that pressed down on the top of his head, making it hard to open his mouth.
After the boy was finished, the next one spoke.
“Hey, I’m Jerry,” the handsome-faced young man said, the one he’d met before. Stuart felt a familiar feeling of hate. Here was someone he envied, and here was someone who reminded him of Alissa. He wished people like this would leave his life for good.
“Well, tell us why you’re here,” Mr. Timsina said.
“Oh,” Jerry smiled. “I don’t know. I like playing on the computer I guess.”
“Don’t we all,” their teacher said. His eyes turned to Stuart.
All of theirs did.
Stuart swallowed, almost needing to gasp for air after doing so. He was losing precious time.
“I...” he choked, and for some reason, he stood up, even though no one else had done so. “I’m, um, Stuart,” he said, wincing, wondering why in the world he had gotten up.
“Oh, we’ve met, haven’t we?” Mr. Timsina said.
“Y-yes, sir,” Stuart stuttered.
“Well, why are you here?”
“To, um, code.”
“What’s your long term goal?”
“What?” Stuart was almost sweating. He could feel all of their eyes on him. He decided he didn’t like smaller classes. Somehow, they amplified the feeling of being watched.
“Your long term goal,” Mr. Timsina said. He wasn’t smiling. “What you want to do for a career—come on now.”
Stuart was worried that, out of the corner of his eye, they were smiling, enjoying watching the teacher gouge out from him every last word that he could.
“To, uh-uh, code.”
“Well, it’s like I’m having to decode your answer, young man.”
There were no laughs. Mr. Timsina glanced around at the students, hoping to find one anyway.
>
Stuart gulped. Thankfully, the teacher went on. The torment was over.
Once everyone had finished introducing themselves, Mr. Timsina proceeded on to his lecture.
“Well, Projects in Programming is a course we want first year students to take because it throws you right into the purpose of what you’re doing. We want you to know right away why all those boring exercises you do in your other classes matter. Computer skills are a discipline like any other, and so you’ll need to practice. Here, you’ll apply those practiced skills to making things, which is the real purpose of it all.”
He handed a few papers around the room. The students took out their glow-pens to fill them out. Mr. Timsina went on as they scribbled.
“At the end of every week, we’ll have a project due. The first day of every week, I’ll tell you what the project is. Now, I’m a firm believer in this course, and I believe it should start off with a serious project. There will be one due at the end of this week. The assignment starts as soon as you walk out of here.”
There were a couple whispers and groans, but the rest of the class was silent. They stared at their certification instructor with sad eyes, begging for mercy.
“So, I think you should start off with having to write a program that will make your life easier. Now in the past, I’ve let the students pick their program, but far too many settle for things that are far too easy. That ruins the point of the exercise. Write the trivial programs on your own time, I’m here to push you. So...”
A devilish grin spread over Mr. Timsina’s face. A pit grew in Stuart’s stomach. The man was about to say something that he did not want to hear.
“I would like for all of you to write a program—“ the teacher paused. Stuart’s impatience almost peaked. “To write a program that wipes your OpenNetwork history whenever you’ve viewed a pornographic site.”
There was a wave of silence from the class. They stared at their instructor, wide-eyed. Stuart gulped again, frozen in place. Did he really just say that? Is that really our assignment?
Mr. Timsina let out a laugh, one that almost shook the room. He slapped himself on the arm a couple of times, shaking his head, still laughing. He pointed at the students, “Your faces are priceless!”
“Well,” Jerry said. “I could use that!”
The entire class laughed. Stuart envied the young man even further. Why was it that when he mocked himself, they liked it? When Stuart had tried it in the past, everyone had found it pitiful. Was the trick to not be that worthy of mocking anyway? Was it like sarcasm in a way? Did it not work when Stuart did it because he was worth mocking?
After they had all collected themselves, Mr. Timsina went on.
“So, unfortunately, I cannot give that assignment due to Janus education policy, but I will give a similar one. I want you to write a program that clears out duplicate files from your disk-drive. This will not be easy. I’ll talk about the setup today, and it’ll be due at the end of the week.”
Stuart was surprised when the school day ended as early as it did. It seemed there would be a lot more work involved in getting his Ranks, but at least he could do most of that work at home. He wouldn’t have to spend too much time outside, away from his family’s dwelling unit and where people could see him. That was somewhat appreciable.
He left the communications building and headed for the bus stop. While walking there, he felt a sort of numb feeling, like his mind was blank. He didn’t seem to be thinking about anything. It was a strange sensation.
Listening to the sound of his own footsteps, Stuart noticed another pair had joined in their rhythm.
“Hey, Stu.”
He turned around to see him standing there, his features lit up in the glow of the colony world’s sun. Stuart almost fainted at the sight.
“Don’t worry, they can’t tell you’re talking to me.”
Stuart tried to say something, but he couldn’t find the words. His mouth simply hung open.
“Say something, Stu.”
“H-h-how are you here,” Stuart stuttered.
“What do you mean?” Dwayne asked.
“Are you—you, like Alissa?”
“Yes, I’m a glitch too, Stu.”
“But how?”
“It’s complicated, and I’m not sure I can explain that right now. I came here to tell you something.”
“What did you come to tell me?”
“That you can’t trust that skinny guy who came and talked to you.”
“What?”
“That skinny guy, the one who asked you about me, you can’t trust him, Stu. I need you to know that.”
“Why not? Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re my friend, in a way. I’m not really Dwayne, Stu.”
“What, what are you? Why do I see you? And Alissa? Why can’t anyone else see you?” Stuart was almost whimpering at this point.
In a placating tone, Dwayne said, “There must be a glitch in your brain, Stu, I don’t know. I don’t know why you can see us. You’re the only one who can.”
“Can that guy over there at the bus stop see you?”
“No, he can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s like everyone else. No one can see us because we’re not part of this nature, really, we exist in its cracks.”
“Do you give me answers like that to scare me?”
“No, Stu, we don’t. It’s just that it’s hard to translate what we mean. Your language lacks the capacity to explain it.”
“Why should I stay away from the skinny guy, huh?” Stuart asked. He was agitated now. “Can you tell me that? He’s like me, normal? I tried to touch him once but he backed away, so I don’t know if my hand would have gone through him or not.”
“He’s human, like you, and just to convince you that I’m not really Dwayne...” the boy leaned forward to brush Stuart’s shoulder; his hand passed right through. Stuart almost shivered at the fact that there was no sensation, though he knew that was silly—it was like he was shivering at the idea.
“You’ll stay away from him?” Dwayne asked.
“I guess so,” Stuart said.
“Good. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, Stu, but he’s trouble.”
“Will you ever be able to explain this to me? Will you ever leave me alone? Why do I see you?”
“Like I said, there’s something wrong with your brain. It’s not that you’re seeing something that isn’t there, it’s that you’re seeing something you’re not supposed to see. But we’re trying to help you, Stu. I want to leave you out of this.”
“What is that man trying to do? What are you trying to do?”
They were waiting at the bus stop. There were people around, but not one of them turned to look at them. It was as if they couldn’t hear him and Dwayne conversing—just like with Alissa in the English classroom.
The bus pulled up to the stop, and they all got ready to board.
“I’m sorry, but I need to go,” Dwayne said.
“No, please,” Stuart moaned.
“Stay away from him, Stu. Look, you just have to trust me.”
The bus was waiting. Stuart stood there, trying to stretch the conversation out.
“What’s his name?”
“The skinny man’s?”
“Yeah what’s his name?”
“Hey,” the bus driver shouted at Stuart. “You getting on?”
“Yeah,” Stuart turned to the bus. He began to walk onto it and look back at Dwayne.
“Bye, Stu,” his friend said, and then he was gone.
“You all right?” The driver asked him.
“Y-yeah,” Stuart stammered. “I’m just really tired.”
“Me too,” the driver huffed. “Well, take a seat.”
The ride home was a shorter one than it used to be. Instead of rounding up all the kids in the colony to take them to the education building, the bus he was on now simply circled the colony, following an all-day schedule. Stuar
t was almost amazed at how much time left he had in the day. It was wonderful. Too bad the meeting with Dwayne had scared him too much to enjoy it.
When he got home, his mother was in the living room, making a painting on the VidScreen. It looked to be another shot of the colony from afar. Stuart frowned. She sure seems to be drawing the same thing a lot: distant shots of some kind of building or a group of people.
“Hey, Stu,” Brenda said, turning to him. “Look at my new painting. Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” Stuart said. He wanted to tell her to draw something else, but he had learned to keep his real thoughts to himself. People liked it when you lied to them, especially about the things they made.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be submitting it in a couple days. They want to build an artist portfolio to have on file, something they can promote.” She smiled. “I’m one of Janus’s official artists.” She emphasized the last word in a way that made Stuart want to cringe, but he kept himself together.
“Cool,” he murmured. “Well, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“How was the first day of class?” she asked.
“Okay.”
“Well, all right then.”
Stuart went to his room, his heart thumping. He had a pile of homework in front of him, but he couldn’t make himself focus on it.
All he could think about was that he had just spoken with his friend who had been dead for almost a year. Though, it shouldn’t have surprised him; he had been told it would happen.
Trying to make sense of it all, Stuart turned on his computer.
Part of him wished he could disappear, like the people he was seeing.
Disappear but never come back.
16
It was the last day of the week, and Stuart was standing outside in the backyard with his father. It was early in the morning—Macrobius had yet to rise—and it was also quite chilly. Stuart found himself wishing he had brought along a jacket, but he and his father were only out to change the water filter. It was the sort of thing that usually didn’t take very long.
