The Split

by Hannah Hopkins

  “Good morning everyone,” he greeted the class. There was a faint reply of “good morning” as the last of the students scrambled to find their seats. Once a small disruption between a brown-haired girl and a tall, smug-looking boy had been settled, Kurt continued.

  “My name is Mr. Krecher,” he announced, pressing a small button on the control hidden in his hand, causing his name to appear on the interactive board on the back wall.

  “As you may have noticed, there is an egg on each of your desks, does anybody know which species of alien they belong to?” he asked, pacing up and down at the front of the class. His question was met with a resounding silence.

  “No? Very well, I shall tell you. What you see before you are the unhatched eggs of a Beakin,” he pressed the button again so that an image of the small creature appeared on the board. There was a chorus of “ahh” from the students as they looked upon its small yellow spotted body, its large, round eyes and its shiny, beaked mouth.

  “Yes, they are rather charming creatures,” he continued. “They make excellent pets which is fortunate for you, as your task for the term will be to care for one in the pairs you are now sat in.”

  The brown-haired girl from the earlier scuffle shot her hand up in the air with extreme force.

  “Yes, er – “

  “Emily,” she prompted him.

  “Go on,” he said.

  “Do we have to work in these pairs? Can we not change?” she asked, her green eyes full of desperation. Kurt glanced at the boy sat beside her, the confidence draining from his face as everyone in the class stared in their direction.

  “I’m afraid it’s bad news Emily. The partner you are with today will remain your partner for the rest of the term” Kurt answered. “Teaching the whole year group together can be difficult, so the less discrepancies there are over partners, the easier it will be for me to remember all of your names.”

  Emily looked nauseated.

  “It’s not all doom and gloom,” he re-assured her. “Perhaps you will all learn something about each other.”

  He cast his eyes over the rest of the pairs sat around the room, noticing that the boy from Floor Seven was partnered with William James. Looking at William would almost certainly have sent his mind catapulting into the past again if it wasn’t for the eyes of the other eighty-nine students in the room staring at him expectantly.

  “Underneath your desks you will find a drawer with a tablet device inside,” Kurt continued. “You will use this tablet to send me weekly videos, images and reports on your progress. I will also be checking the health and happiness of your Beakin during our classes where will continue to learn about their origins, history and development.”

  “Now, the first things you must do as new carers is hatch your egg. Like most creatures, Beakin eggs require light and heat to hatch, however, their affectionate nature means they also need a demonstration of love to come out of their shells. Desk lights can be collected from the front of class to take care of the former necessity, I shall leave the ‘love’ part for you to interpret. There will be extra credit for the first pair to hatch their egg during the lesson,” Krecher explained.

  There was a small commotion as the class got to their feet to retrieve their lamps. Kurt meandered around the room, which had erupted in a loud discussion of the task, and watched with interest as his pupils showcased their different approaches to expressing love. Some were stroking their eggs, while others hugged them to their chests, inspecting their shells carefully for any cracks on the surface. One boy had taken to kissing his egg with such force and enthusiasm that Kurt couldn’t help but feel sorry for any future romantic partner he might have. Unsurprisingly, none of them were successful in hatching their Beakin.

  When he approached William and Finley, he hung back, intrigued by the snippets of their conversation he could overhear.

  “Do you think it’s scared?” William asked Finley, contemplating their egg with concern.

  “What do you mean?” asked Finley.

  “Well I reckon if I’d been sat inside an egg all my life and suddenly some strangers were trying to get me to come out I’d be quite scared,” William replied.

  “Yeah they probably are frightened. I mean, they don’t even know that there’s anything outside the egg. How do they know they’re not destroying their only home for no reason?” Finley reflected.

  “Shall we try and comfort it?” William suggested.

  “I’m not sure how,” said Finley, chewing his lip in deep thought. There was a moment of silence between the two boys before Finley spoke again.

  “Well… there is something, but it’s probably stupid,” he said, looking at the ground with embarrassment.

  “What is it?” William encouraged him.

  “It’s something my mum used to say to me when I was little. You know, when I had nightmares and stuff,” Finley continued.

  “Try it,” said William.

  “Are you sure?” Finley asked.

  “Yeah, go on, it might work.”

  Finley picked up the egg and brought it close to his face, glancing around quickly to check that nobody was watching him. Kurt averted his eyes and pretended to be extremely interested in something he could see out the window so as not to put him off. When Finley was sure no one was listening, he spoke to the egg in a gentle voice that Kurt could only just hear over the chatter.

  “Don’t be scared” he told it. “As long as you are loved, you are safe.”

  He put the egg down swiftly, as though dropping something red hot and placed his arms behind his back as he cheeks flushed scarlet. His discomfort only lasted a few seconds however, for almost as soon as the egg had touched the surface of the desk, it began to tremble and shake, splitting open to reveal the infant Beakin inside.

  “Excellent work boys,” Kurt exclaimed, rushing over to congratulate them. “You completed the task in record time!”

  “How did they do it?” an irritated boy asked from across the room.

  “The Beakin’s have telepathic abilities,” Kurt explained, “They are able to read people’s genuine intentions, regardless of what they might say out loud. This particular egg knew that Will and Finley had its best interests at heart. It felt loved enough to hatch.”

  “Well done mate,” William told Finley, patting him on the back. “It was all you.”

  There was a loud scoffing noise from the desk beside them, as the tall, smug looking boy beside Emily let out a cruel laugh.

  “Is something the matter?” Kurt asked him.

  “How could Finley know anything about love?” he laughed. “I’m surprised his parents didn’t try and sell him off so they could buy a loaf of bread that week.”

  There were a few titters from around the classroom.

  “Why don’t you shut your mouth, Rudy?” William shot back at him, stepping towards him in a fit of fury.

  “Why don’t you make me?” Rudy challenged him.

  Before Kurt could react, William was upon him, shoving him hard into the desk behind him and causing several students to jump back in shock, clutching their eggs to their chests to stop them breaking. The boys began to fight, throwing punches at each other blindly and falling about the classroom.

  “Enough!” Kurt boomed, using the full volume of his voice. The whole room fell deathly quiet and the two boys ceased their brawl immediately.

  “How dare you disrupt my lesson! Fighting on school grounds is completely unacceptable” he scolded them, “You will both see me after class.”

  The boys looked down at their feet in shame and made their way sheepishly back to their desks, avoiding the gaze of the other pupils around them.

  “Idiot,” Emily whispered to Rudy upon his return. Kurt pretended not to hear.

  The rest of the lesson passed smoothly, though the atmosphere in the room was somewhat tense. Kurt advised the rest of the year groups on how to hatch their eggs and sent them away with instructions relating to the Beakin’s care. He provided t
hem each with a suitable carry-cage and enough packets of food to last until next lesson and then dismissed them, sending them out to Jeff as they chatted about their first lesson, gripping their Beakin’s cages with delight.

  William and Rudy stayed behind, scuffing their feet on the floor and refusing to look at each other as they awaited their punishment. Kurt sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Discipline was the least favourite part of his job, but he knew it had to be done.

  “Rudy, I’ll speak to you first,” he announced, leading him through a door to the right of his classroom and into his office. The room was furnished entirely with antique pieces from Earth and the smell of old, musty wood filled their nostrils as soon as they walked in. His desk and coffee table were cluttered with papers and his bookcases were filled with assorted junk that he had failed to organise at the end of the last school year. His eyes darted instinctively to the corner, where a floor-length mirror was hidden by a white sheet draped over its twisted, metal top.

  He sat on his favourite patchy blue armchair, a cloud of dust arising from its fabric as he sagged into the cushion, and gestured for Rudy to sit on the pale red chair opposite. He perched on the edge, shifting uncomfortably in the cushions so that the chair’s heavy, golden feet creaked noisily with the effort of holding his weight.

  Kurt launched into an obligatory lecture, reprimanding him for making offensive comments and exhibiting violent behaviour in a classroom environment. He went through all the necessary points, emphasising the importance of proper conduct at school and threatening to involve Admiral Allance if another incident of this nature should occur. After Rudy had apologised, Kurt nodded his acceptance and dismissed him, instructing him to send William in after him and then wait for Jeff so he could be taken back to the ground.

  Moments later, William walked in, sitting down in the red armchair without having to be asked. Kurt paused for a moment, deciding to change tact for their conversation.

  “Now William- “

  “It’s Will,” he interrupted.

  “Will,” Kurt continued. “I understand that you were defending your friend in this situation, which is admirable, but you must realise that the way you behaved is not appropriate for the classroom. There are better ways to deal with people like Rudy than having to resort to violence.”

  “I understand,” said Will. “Sorry Mr. Krecher.”

  Kurt regarded him for a moment. He had expected Will to have his mother’s disposition, knowing he was raised by her alone, but he could see now that he much more of his father in him than Kurt had thought possible. He sat back in his chair and exhaled, softening his tone as much as his gruff voice would allow.

  “When we left Earth, we were told that inequality would become a thing of the past. Now you and I both know that isn’t the case, but that doesn’t have to continue. Your generation have the power to change things before we reach Novum. If you wish to help Finley, then you need to make others see that he is no different from the rest of us, despite where he comes from. Attacking anyone who insults him will only draw more attention to him and cause problems in the long-term. The boy needs a friend, not a bodyguard. That is my advice to you.”

  Will nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he digested Kurt’s words. Not wishing to punish him too much for a display of loyalty, Kurt decided to draw the conversation to a close.

  “Now of course you must be aware that if you are caught fighting again in my class I will have to inform the Admiral. Unfortunately, I also have no choice but to withhold your extra credit for completing today’s egg task” he told him.

  “That’s okay,” said Will sincerely. “You should give my credit to Finley. He’s the one who worked out how to hatch it.”

  Kurt nodded and dismissed him, his thoughts already on the upcoming lunch hour and which creatures he would visit in his Alienary. Will excused himself and stood up, making his way towards the door. Just before he reached for the handle, he stopped and froze, rendered immobile by something he could see in front of him on the wall. He turned his head back slightly, as though he were going to speak, but then seemed to think better of it, walking through the door and slamming it behind him.

  Kurt stood up and walked over to where he had stood, searching for a clue as to what he may have seen. When he noticed the offending picture on the wall, his body became momentarily numb. How could he have been so stupid to forget what he had hanging there? He gazed at the smiling faces of Will’s parents staring innocently out from behind the frame, trying to ignore the whispers that had started buzzing in his ears, reminding him of secrets he had long hoped to forget.

  9.

  The Quest For Answers

  Will’s first few weeks at the Academy had passed in a flash, and before he knew it he was enjoying the seven-day break given to the students half-way through the term. He had spent the first days of his holidays holed up in his room with Finley and Emily playing games on his virtual reality machine, the three of them only emerging into the real world for meal times and to walk their Beakins. On the fourth day, Finley had started to panic about all the homework they’d been set and had made them go to the Library to start on some of their written assignments. Emily had insisted they begin with their Technology essay, since it was her favourite subject and had rolled her eyes profusely when Will and Finley complained of not understanding the title.

  “’The advancement of technology is a danger to the survival and overall welfare of human beings’,” Will read for a second time from his Student Planner. “Do you agree with this statement? Give reasons for your answer.”

  “I’m still not sure what exactly that means,” Finley frowned.

  “Me neither,” Will huffed.

  “Come on,” sighed Emily. “You must be aware of the dangers of technology, surely?”

  The boys looked at each other and shrugged. Trying to conjure an answer, Will cast his mind back over the Technology lessons they’d attended so far that term. Held in the Tech Lab, the class provided the students with access to an array of different gadgets and machines with hundreds of different functions. From robotics to teleportation systems, there was nothing about the lessons that hadn’t completely fascinated them, including their teacher, Mr. Mayheim, aptly nicknamed “Mr. Mayhem” by the students. As ditzy as he was intelligent, Mr. Mayhem was an older gentleman who was so rarely seen without his white lab coat on, that legend at the school was he never took it off, even when he slept or showered. He was deeply enthusiastic about his subject, so much so that his teaching style often involved him embarking on passionate rants about various devices, during which Will was unsure whether he even was aware of the presence of his students. On his desk, he kept two large spheres containing trapped electrical energy that sparked and swirled in various shades of blue and yellow. Nobody knew exactly what the spheres were for, but a boy in Will’s class, Scott Holmes, was adamant that they were the responsible for Mr. Mayhem’s long, white hair being constantly stuck on end.

  “I’m telling you,” he had whispered to Will in class one day, “why do you think no one’s allowed to touch them?”

  Mulling the essay title over again in his mind, Will concluded that the only real danger he had ever encountered in Technology was Mr. Mayhem himself, who had successfully managed to blow up two ancient computer monitors worth thousands of credits and cause a minor fire in the first week alone. Other than that, he had been completely amazed by everything they had studied so far and couldn’t see how anything that made life easier could possibly be a danger to humanity.

  He voiced this opinion to Emily which proved to be an unwise decision that resulted in a ten-minute lecture about the War on Earth that was caused by artificial intelligence rebelling after their capabilities became too highly developed. Emily finished her essay in less than half an hour and proceeded to help the boys come up with ideas for their own work that were just varied enough from hers to avoid accusations of copying. Once they had finished, they took a break, during wh
ich they argued over which piece of homework to tackle next. Finley wanted to do their Combat and Weaponry task, which involved researching, drawing and labelling three weapons of their choice. Emily, who currently had custody of her and Rudy’s Beakin, ironically named “Monster” by the latter, wanted to work on their diaries for Alien Studies. Will disagreed with them both, suggesting they write instructions on how to start and move off in a rocket for Mr. Zeppler. Eventually, they agreed to do their Civilisations essay – an exceptionally dull piece on the flaws of the Roman Empire- before moving onto subjects they enjoyed.

  “The worst thing about Civilisations,” Will reflected after attempting to write his opening sentence six or seven times, “is that it’s so boring, but because Miss. Fortem is absolutely terrifying, you can’t even zone out and daydream without putting your life at risk.”

  “At least we don’t have Arithmancy homework,” Emily pointed out, referring to Will’s second most hated subject.

  “Or Resources,” quipped Finley.

  “I like Resources,” Emily countered.

  “I did at first,” said Will, “but how many times can you walk round a forest looking for fruit before it becomes incredibly dull?”

  “It would be nice to try some different terrains,” Emily admitted.

  “Our exam is in the Forest, though,” Finley reminded them.

  “Oh yeah,” Will remembered. “I think it’ll be quite fun being left in the forest all day and having to fend for ourselves.”