C9 Central Exeter

When Gerald made it back to the admissions office, he was careful not to say anything this time, for fear of jinxing himself. He just hobbled silently past the bent flagpole and went inside.

The receptionist looked at him down the bridge of her long nose as her tentacles tapped away at the screens that hung in the air around her. The gills on the side of her head released a few gurgles, and a moment later, the translator kicked in.

“May I help you?”

Gerald straightened his robes as best he could. “Yes, my name is Gerald Dyson, I’m a new student here.”

Her tentacles paused. “The quadmester began nearly a month ago.”

“Yeah, I tried to call from the starliner, but the phone shorted out.”

Opening up his worn essentials kit, he rummaged through it and pulled out the darkened tablet his mom had given him. “This is what we received in the mail.”

Two little tentacles wrapped around it and examined it. “You broke it.”

“I didn’t really breake it, it just stopped working while I was holding it.”

“Tablets don’t just stop working,” she corrected.

“Well, this one did, and before it did, it displayed the terms of my scholarship.”

The receptionist gave out a bubbling noise which he quickly realized was laughter. “Central Exeter doesn’t give out scholarships, sweetie.”

For a moment, he felt himself panicking. He was light years from home, with nothing more than pocket change and no identification. “Yeah, that’s what I thought as well, but just go ahead and look me up.”

Grumpily, she clucked her gills and blew a little grey bubble into the air, then tapped a few buttons. Pulling out a small cable from her desk, she plugged it into a socket on the back of her neck.

Pictures of students flashed by faster that the eye could see, until it stopped at his image, green text flashing around it.

“Green flashing is good, right?”

Her eyes grew wide. “It says here you have a full-ride scholarship. I’ve never even heard of such a thing.”

“Life is full of new experiences.”

She pursed her lips. “Whatever. Let me verify your data. It says here you are from Eeeyarth.”

“We pronounce it Earth.”

“Erth?” She looked at him oddly. “But it has an ‘a’ in it.”

“I know, that’s just the way it’s pronounced.”

“Whatever, I’m just going to call it Eeeyarth,” she said, typing away. “Oxygen breather, omnivore, diurnal... oh, carbon based, that’s a new one. “Male...” She lowered her glasses and looked him over critically. “...at least on paper. It says here we still need a letter of recommendation from your planetary senator.”

He blinked. “That’s going to be... difficult.”

“Why?”

“Well, you see Earth...”

“You mean Eeeyarth.”

“Right, Eeeyarth doesn’t currently have a planetary senator. Or any leaders for that matter. The government sort of collapsed a while back.”

The receptionist took her glasses off. “Sweetie, what kind of place do you think this is?”

“A really nice school?”

“No. This is THE really nice school. A prep academy for future world leaders. Every one of these students are representatives from the most powerful worlds in the Alliance. Individuals that scored high enough to beat out millions of other applicants. 96% of our Alumni go on to become planetary senators themselves. We have the finest faculty and facilities in the galaxy. Now, why would a school like this give a scholarship to someone from a world that doesn’t even have a functioning government?”

“Diversity. Maybe they thought a poor kid from the sticks could enrich the learning environment here and broaden perspectives.”

She looked at him humorlessly.

“Okay fine, I don’t know why,” he said, raising his hands up. “But you guys invited me here and I came. What more do you want from me?”

“Just a thumb print and retinal scan,” she said as the top of her desk reformed itself into a scanning receptacle.

“Oh, that is neat,” he gushed, poking at it.

“It’s just a desk.”

Gerald placed his face on the chinrest and kept his eyes straight as the little beams played across the surface of his eyes.

A flash of light and a friendly chime later, and the receptionist handed him an I.D. card. The picture was out of focus and cut off the top of his head, but he hugged it all the same.

“You’re hugging the picture. Is that some sort of human thing?” she asked critically.

“Kind of,” he said, rocking side to side, the card pressed against his cheek. “I’ve taken lots of pictures, but I’ve never had one of my own before.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes. “Class 1-A is the only one with an open seats, so you’ll be with them for now. First left, third right, up the stairs then turn around. If you reach the statue of Toberon you’ve gone too far.”

“Got it.”

As Gerald painfully walked off down the hall, the receptionist shook her head and blew another spit bubble. The scanner on her desk made an electric popping sound, then all the windows around her flickered and died out.

“What the...”

Despite the pain, Gerald could not help but gawk at everything as he walked down he vaulted corridor. It was all so clean. He paused to watch one of the little robots scoot about, polishing the floor to a mirror shine and beeping happily to itself. He bent down to touch it but it scooted away like a little animal. He walked into an open area, a single curved piece of glass arching over the entirety of one side, letting in the gentle morning light from the triple suns. A marble fountain sat at its center, with a broad-shouldered statue. The cascading water was cleverly positioned so that it took the form of the robes that he wore, with one clasp about his shoulder. It reminded Gerald of pictures he had seen of old Greek statues... except it had the head of an otter.

“Is this Toberon? I have no idea.”

Gerald went up a pair of winding staircases that looped over one another like a helix. One was functional while the second was decorative, water running down the steps and into the fountain below. When he got to the top, the ceiling grew transparent, allowing him to look up at the rows of air traffic crisscrossing their way through the skylines. From here five corridors reached out like a star, but they all looked identical to him. Stylish signs were posted in a variety of languages, but none that he recognized.

A short little student walked by, clutching a tablet in her hands. Her long blue hair hung down behind her, nearly reaching the floor.

“Excuse, me, I’m a little lost,” he began as he approached her. She reached up and tapped her translator and Gerald waited a second for it to find his dialect. When she looked up he continued. “I’m supposed to go to room 1-A, but I don’t know which hallway to take. Could you help me?”

The girl held up her tiny hand and flipped him off, sticking her middle finger up right in his face.

“Room One down the first hallway there,” she said sweetly.

Gerald stared at the obscene gesture, then looked back at her kind smile. It just didn’t fit at all. It took him a moment to realize that she was indicating the number one with her hand.

“Oh, thank you,” he said, chuckling. “For a second I thought you were... never mind. You know, back on my world we do it this way,” he said, holding up his index finger.

The girl screamed in offense and slapped him. The force snapped his head around and sent him spinning to the floor as she ran away.

“You pervert!” her voice shrieked.

Gerald groaned as he propped himself up and was met by a pair of shoes and a swinging fluffy tail.

“You know, you really should be careful what you do with your digits, most any gesture you can do is bound to be considered offensive on one world or another,” came a familiar voice.

“You!” Gerald said looking up at the shapely wolf-girl.

“Me?” she asked, looking around over the stack of tablets she was carrying.

He rose to his feet. “You’re the one that crashed your skiv back there.”

She dropped the tablets and covered his mouth. “How do you know about that?” she asked, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

“How do I know? I’m the one you hit.”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked him over doubtfully. “You are?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, freeing his lips from her grip. “How could you not remember?”

“Sorry, all you prey look alike to me.” She leaned in and sniffed his hair, her eyes growing wide. “It is you.”

“Of course it is,” he said, straightening his hair.

She stepped back, and for a second she tapped her claws together nervously. Then, her expression changed and she held out her hand. “Hi, my name is Ilrica Faolan.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, taking his hand and shaking it.

“But you...”

“No silly, when someone gives you their name, you are supposed to give yours back.”

He looked around in confusion. “Gerald Dyson?”

“A pleasure, let me give you the tour.”

“The what?”

She took off, dragging him behind her by the hand. Unable to keep up with her long strides and leaps, he could do little more than be fluttered along like a kite, occasionally touching a toe down to prevent himself from being dragged along the floor.

She took him to a balcony overlooking a study area filled with living trees. Staircases wound up the trunks and couches sat out on the branches. Hanging lanterns filled the area with a soft twilight glow. Various students lounged about. Studying, flirting, and courting. So many different races and colors; from where he stood, the different groups reminded Gerald of a handful of Skittles.

“You’ll like it here,” Ilrica explained. “We have representatives from all the best game in the galaxy. Utorians, Galavans, even Almos. It’s like an all-you-can-hunt smorgasbord.”

Gerald glanced over at her. She had a dangerous light in her eyes. “You’re joking right?”

“Of course I am.”

“Oh good.”

“I had to swear an oath not to hunt any of you prey species while I’m here. It would bring shame upon the Bertulf if I broke my word.”

His eyes grew wide. “Oh.”

Next she dragged him across the quad and through a hedgerow to a fractally-colored domed building. Deep throbbing music came from inside, and the scent of wines and sweets wafted from within.

“This is the Eligiya Hall. With so many different religions, pretty much every day falls upon someone’s holy calendar. To keep things tidy, all of the celebrations are held here. It’s pretty much a constant party. Just make sure and read the guides posted before you enter, or you may find yourself sacrificed to some statue. It’s happened before. Sometimes we even have one of the gods show up to attend, and that’s always exciting.” She leaned in closer. “But seriously if they do, don’t bug ‘em. Don’t ask ‘em for an autograph, don’t ask them for a picture. They’re sick of all that stuff, and if you tick em off you’ll spend the rest of your life as a frog... and that’s not a metaphor. We had a kid last year that tried to argue scriptures with NeoThema The Great. We’re still finding bits of that kid here and there. Anyway, the schedule fills up pretty quick, so you’ll want to plan ahead if you want to use the hall to worship whatever god you fancy.”

Gerald coughed. After running so far he could barely breathe, she didn’t seem winded in the slightest. “Soeckism is a philosophy, not a religion. We don’t have a deity, although we do have enlightened ones that we venerate and pray to for guidance.”

Ilrica took both his hands and looked him in the eyes. “That is so amazing. I find your beliefs completely fascinating.”

Gerald frowned. “You’re just trying to be nice to me so I won’t tell anyone about the skiv accident.”

“That is exactly what I am doing,” she said, pinching his cheek. “You’re so cute. Ooh, let’s go to the cafeteria next!”

“Wait...”