Date: 2013-05-07 07:00:00+00:00
Description: Alternate cover edition of ASIN B00CPPBBO2 For previous cover edition see here It's bad enough to wake up with some kind of monster trying to invade your brain. But then your parents make you go to school. Where the monsters have already taken over.
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services
Rights: Copyright 2018 James Beach. All rights reserved (#2016647954720473).

Lessons Learned

James Beach

Contents

Lessons Learned

More

About the Author

Billy Short woke up one morning, with an enormous green pod growing out of his left ear. It was slick with some dripping fluid. As he tried to turn over, he could feel a creature rustling inside it.

"Mom!" Billy screamed.

"What is it?" his Mom replied from downstairs.

"It happened again! It’s bigger!"

"Oh dear." She set down a carton of orange juice on the table, and turned her still face towards her husband. She was proud of how unchanged her expression was; it had taken years to be come this well-adjusted. She maintained her frozen smile. "Phil, perhaps we should help him. Do you know where the head clippers are?"

"I don't have time for this. You're coddling that boy," said Mr. Short, as he mopped the remains of his eggs with the corner of his toast. “Carrying on like that! At his age.”

"Phil…” she said cautiously, “growing up can take some getting used to."

“We still need to get done what we need to get done. We’re not supposed to complain about - things!” Mr. Short exclaimed. “If everyone complained, then -" Something ruffled angrily ruffled beneath his dress shirt, around his shoulders. His face twisted in a momentary spasm of pain and shock. "Then no one would want to work!"

"Calm down, dear."

"I'm calm!" His face resumed its normal placidity. He swallowed the last bite of toast, and pushed his plate away. "But if he’s going to have a job when he grows up, then he's got to learn to take it." He reached for the reassurance of his morning mug of Coffee.

"You're right, of course," Billy’s Mom sighed.

Billy could feel the creature move more purposefully. It was waking. He started to cry.

"Mom! MOM! HELP!" came Billy's voice from upstairs.

Billy’s Dad leaned forward to refill his Coffee. He put down the mug, stood up and walked over to the downstairs bathroom. He began adjusting his tie in the mirror, as the thing beneath his shirt firmly wrapped its tentacles around his neck and tightened the reins. The tie was soon tied perfectly; 13 twists to the left, and one backwards. Billy’s Dad patted it approvingly, and the thing agreed. They returned to the kitchen.

“You just have to let him go through it,” Billy’s Dad continued. “He won’t carry on so much in the morning, once he knows there’s no way out.”

"Yes, dear." She readjusted her mask, and pecked him on the cheek. The cracks at her temples faded, and were soon indistinguishable from the rest of her skin.

Mr. Short put on his suit jacket, and picked up his briefcase. The thing beneath his shirt adjusted briefly under the new weight, and settled in as they both went out the door.

Billy lay in bed, crying, praying for someone, anyone to come and save him.

Billy's Mom finished clearing the table, and sighed. She went down into the basement to find the head clippers.

After a while, Billy stopped screaming. He lay there without the energy to shiver. Tears dripped off his face onto his pillow. The more he had screamed, the more this thing had inflated. Now it was the size of a cat. It was dripping its fluid, of mucous pus and sweat.

And it was moving.

Hello, Billy, it said softly and slow. The flesh they shared transferred its muffled speech. Its murmuring voice was the sound of dirty things burrowing in rotting leaves; the sound of blood cracking as it dried from rich red life into blackness. It was smooth and sweet, seductive and terrifying, some strange mixture of chocolate and gangrene.

I'mmm you're newww friendddd, Billy.

Billy found the strength to gasp, "Go away! Leave me alone! I don't want you here!"

But I want youuuu, Billyyyy, it responded with mocking sweetnees. Whyyy would I ever wanttt to leavvvvve? Billy could feel it chuckling as some sort of inhuman digit started exploring where the parasitic creature was attached - the fleshy inside of Billy’s ear. It scratched and picked at this barrier of skin between Billy’s brain and the outside world.

Just relaxxxx, Billyyy. We're going to be gooooood friendssssss. For the rest of your life, yesssss, yesssss....

Billy lay crying, helpless. He wanted to run but he couldn't move. His head was too heavy with this thing attached. And anyway, where could he even run? He would just bring it with him.

And the louder he screamed, the more desperate he became, the bigger and stronger it grew. Like his fear and his pain wasn’t fighting it, but feeding it.

"Somebody," he called out quietly. It was all he could do. Just keep hoping someone, somehow, could reach him. That someone could save him, because he couldn't save himself. "Help. Me. Please."

Downstairs, Billy’s Mom sighed. Her face strained not to reveal and encourage emotions. Still, some came through. She made a decision.

“Now where did I put those?" Billy's Mom scratched her head. She opened the basement door to look under the stairwell.

Back in Billy’s room, the thing attached to his head extended its exploring digits. They found the purchase they were looking for. They dug in and gripped his ear. In the sudden flood of pain, Billy began flailing and fell off the bed, landing roughly on his back. He reached up and tried to get his arms around the creature, and rip it off. The loose bag of filth and tissue easily flowed out of his grasp.

Whyyyy do you fightttt? Billy’s ear tore in an instant of excruciating pain. It began to reach inside.

"Aaagghh!"

Fighttt if you wantttt. Soonnn, I will be youuu.....

Billy’s Mom broke in the door.

Billy felt the enormous sac of fluid start to shake and shudder. Strange nailed tentacles further ripped and pinned his ear open wide, and he screamed as the slimy thing reared back in preparation to launch all the way inside his head.

Just as the creature began to surge forward, Billy’s Mom shoved the head clippers between them and clipped off what remained of Billy's ear.

Billy cried out in surprise. The creature, disconnected and suddenly unbalanced, fell onto the floor with a wet thud. Its momentum caused it to roll away from Billy. Billy scrambled to the far wall as, with expert speed, Mrs. Short grasped the sac at its top and twisted. The creature was entangled in its own casing.

She bent down and tied a bow knot in the top of the sack. Inside, the creature made wheezing sounds and shuddered as it began to fade without its host.

"Well, Billy," she said, picking up the wet pod and wiping some stray mucous on her apron, "I hope you're ready to go to school now. You've wasted a lot of time this morning."

She slung the pod over her shoulder, and headed downstairs lightly humming a tune.

Billy looked around the room, dazed, and huddling in the room's far corner. He realized something. "Mom! MOM!"

She turned around sharply. "Oh, what is it now?! You’re almost late for school."

“I still have to go to school?” Billy asked incredulously.

“Of course you do!” said his Mom. “Don’t you want to be able to get a job one day, like your father?”

"But – what about my ear?"

"Oh, honestly, Billy. Can't you do anything for yourself? I still have to make your sandwiches."

She sighed, and her expression softened slightly. "I'll sew it back on for you. But make sure you listen up in school today." She gripped the slick, green sac tightly as she turned and stepped down the stairs. The stairs protested creakily, but knew better than to make a fuss.

Billy stood up. He shook his head, but it refused to clear. He walked on shaky legs into the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, his breathing slowed down to a more normal rate. Soon, he was able to bring himself to look at blood, greenish fluid and flecks of Pod on his neck and wipe it off.

He hoped school would be a little easier than this.

Billy went downstairs, and found his mother in the kitchen, hard at work over the sink. She was pounding the remains of the Pod with a meat tenderizer. Green mucous occasionally sprayed onto the soothing blue of the kitchen walls, and did not clash.

She saw him and smiled distractedly. "Go sit in the living room. I'll have your lunch ready in just a second." Billy left the kitchen and did as he was told. She hefted up the dead creature in its sac, and drained it into a colander. Wax paper was set on the counter, and next to it, two slices of whitebread. She brought a carving knife back to the sink.

A few minutes later she came into the living room. “Go sit by the sewing machine,” she said. Billy went over. “Now put your head down under the needle.” He did so. She put his ear on top of his head, and began to stitch it back.

"Stop squirming," his mom said curtly. He gripped the bottom of his chair, and tried his best not to scream. Mrs. Short resumed humming, as her foot worked the speed control pedal. "There. That should do it." She stood up, and holding Billy’s chin to the left, surveyed her work with pride. His ear was now reattached to his head with the new herringbone double-stitch pattern. “Perfect,” she said.

Billy’s Mom went to the kitchen, and returned with a brown bag.

"Here’s your lunch," she said. She handed him a neatly wrapped brown bag with a perfect fold at the top. “And don’t forget your hat.” She put his favorite red baseball cap on his head.

"Today’s lunch is made fresh. You should really like it.”

Billy looked up at her for a second, and watched the sides of her face, at the cheekbones. Her face was doing that weird thing, where it almost seemed like there was another realer face beneath it. She noticed his look, and returned what seemed like a genuine smile.

“Mom…why…” He looked down. “I mean, I’m grateful, but can’t you and Dad help me get rid of it all the way? There’s some kind of a - seed or something in my head. And it seems like it gets worse every day I’m at school. Can’t we just get rid of it all the way?”

Her mask shook a bit, around her eyes. Billy could have been imagining it, when he saw just a hint of sadness. “There’s only so long we can do things we want to. Growing up means giving all that up, for your own good.” She kissed his cheek. "Now hurry up. You don’t want the bus to miss you.”

Billy walked down their driveway, and waited for the bus. He looked up and down the road; no one else was outside. For the moment, he could relax. He somehow had the whole world to himself.

It was such a relief to not have to pretend that everything was fine. To not have to figure out how many questions he could dare.

Billy had noticed awhile ago that his Dad had something strange underneath his suit-jacket, which seemed to tell him what to do. More recently, Billy had noticed his Mom also had some weird look to her face, almost like there was another face layered on top. That looked exactly like her face, but smiled the same way every time. Whenever Billy asked them about it, they always just changed the subject. It was all so strange. They both acted like everything was absolutely normal.

Maybe it was. He was just a kid. It sure didn’t seem normal. Any more than how his Dad would dress up in a suit and risk his life on the highway, just to work inside an office making phone calls and answering emails. Or how his mom dressed up just to stay inside the house.

And then that…thing had started whispering from inside his ear. And last night when he’d slept, it had grown big enough to almost take him over. Whatever it even was! And worst of all, it looked a bit like what he’d seen on some of the other grownups, including his dad.

Bad enough he had to go to school 5 days a week. He kicked a rock, and sighed. At least Mom had fixed his ear. Billy touched his ear gingerly. It still hurt. He was lucky it hadn’t been his entire head. The thing had been letting Billy restore his confidence, lulling him into a false sense of security…Good thing there was still enough of his Mom behind that thing on her face to save him. Even though she just couldn’t go beyond that and help him completely finish it off. Or even tell him what was really going on.

Were there any other grownups who would tell him? It was hard to trust adults, let alone teachers. But his teacher Mr. Murple seemed different. Not only was he less mean and weird than most of the other grownups, he actually seemed able to listen. Billy came to a decision. Billy was going to risk it, and ask him what was really going on.

Until then, Billy felt it was wisest to hold back the questions that burned inside him.

Billy breathed out, and tried to just enjoy the quiet before the bus. He tried to look on the bright side. At least they lived outside the Developments. Sure, some sort of inhuman creature no one would talk about, was trying to take Billy over from the inside and turn him into its unthinking slave. But in the Developments there wasn’t any space between the houses. At least where Billy lived they had a yard, some trees and even nearby forests.

Tees and grass could grow unplanned and free. Squirrels ran around without explanation. The lack of asphalt helped the morning be both cool and bright. The fall leaves turned both sides of the road into carnivals of color. He sat down on his favorite rock, right behind their mailbox, and watched it all.

It really was amazing. Whenever he tried to talk with his parents about things like this, about this beauty, they kind of just patted his head. Grownups never seemed to see the world, just move through it. Billy sighed, and closed his eyes, and felt the peace around him. His hair felt warm and snug under his hat. The brisk fall air caressed his face. Leaves fell around him in delicate, multicolored spirals. On trees and telephone wires, birds swapped notes. Small animals danced along the grass and in trees along the road.

He couldn’t even feel the pain of his ear. He temporarily forgot about the thing that had tried to invade his head. Everything was real, and beautiful. Sound, and sight, and touch and smell. And all of it was just as it should be.

That was the thing. Life really was beautiful. This world really was beautiful. He could feel it inside his own chest. It was the furthest feeling from that creature that he could imagine. It was all connected, and he was a part of it.

An idea started to come to him, inspired by the rush of openness, of sights and smells and sounds. Maybe there was a way! Maybe he could-

An enormous yellow beast suddenly screamed to a halt, knocking a nearby mailbox into splinters. Shards of wood sprayed through the air, some of it glancing off Billy as he stood there stunned.

It was the schoolbus. It had missed him by inches.

Billy was in shock. He tried to shake it off and return to that lovely state of mind. It was shattered.

The bus door slammed open, and one red eye glared down at him over nicotine-stained lips. Where the man’s other eye should have been was only a patch. The man's beard was filthy, and his shaven head was scarred with ancient surgery.

"Are you our new bus driver?" asked Billy.

"No, I'm your pig-sucking uncle!" he roared. "Ya getting in or not?!"

"Yessir," said Billy. He meekly made his way down the aisle to his usual seat. Billy’s friend Timmy got up to let Billy take the seat next to the window. Timmy preferred to sit in the aisle, where it was easier to trip people.

Timmy was a very happy child, brimming with school spirit. In particular he enjoyed inflicting physical and emotional trauma on anyone weaker than himself. He was very popular, and was sure to go far. Billy made sure he was one of Timmy’s closer friends.

Billy sat down, just as the school bus lurched forward with a scream of tired metal. The children desperately gripped the aged green vinyl covering of the seats before them. "Move, you old cow! " the driver screamed. “MOVE hahahaha!!!”

Billy adjusted his seat, and placed his backpack on his lap. He rubbed some dirt off the smeared window with his sleeve. The tiny hole of clarity gave tantalizing hints of the sunlit morning passing them by.

"I hope today's Poisonball day," said Timmy. He clutched his backpack in a spasm of adrenaline.

"Think it might be?" said Billy.

“Yeah!” said Timmy, his face flushed with excitement. “I can’t wait to pound people with my balls.”

Billy leaned forward, to see the other side of Timmy’s face. Timmy’s ear wasn’t visible…

“Timmy,” said Billy, hesitantly, “did you ever get a…did you ever get a pain in your ear?”

“What? No way. Pain is for wussies.” Tim looked at him for a moment, and smiled dangerously. “Why? Did your ear ever hurt?”

“No way!” Billy recovered. “Can’t wait for Poisonball.”

The bus screamed through the various suburban developments, picking up more children and leaving smoke in its wake. They soon encountered the final stop of their morning journey. A large old house, surrounded by a couple acres of lovely meadow, where they would pick up Tracy Appelbaum.

As the bus jerked around the corner, Billy gazed through the smeared safety glass into a field. His eyes lit on an unsaddled horse. The morning sunlight's made it’s mane seem to glow.

The strong young horse trotted from left to right. It stopped suddenly, turned, and found Billy's gaze. As the bus continued around the corner, Billy held his breath and wanted this rare glorious instant to last forever.

The bus drew nearer, the unbroken creature rediscovered the sun, and galloped joyously away. The bus screeched to a halt at the end of Tracy’s driveway.

Billy watched as Tracy turned towards her house and waved back at her parents. She walked towards the bus, her footsteps light and firm. The bus driver swung the door open. As she ascended, the breeze blew her hair as her face was caught in the morning light shining through the bus’ front window. Billy was struck by her beauty. The driver spit a stream of tobacco juice and bile upon the floor.

Tracy sat down with her friends, several seats in front of him. She was smart, too. Bill had also never seen her mistreat anyone less popular or beautiful. Some of the older boys would talk about her in ways that seemed to break her into a set of parts. Billy had no such illusions. She was beauty itself.

Timmy smacked him.

"Ow!" said Billy.

“That’s what you get for not paying attention to me,” Timmy said.

"But you weren't saying anything,"

"How about if I was? What were you staring at?"

This was a delicate situation. If Billy protested too strongly, Timmy might decide to beat him. But if he said nothing, Timmy would see him as easy prey. Then Timmy might notice his ear. And start flicking it. And then there'd be nothing to do but pray for the morning ride to end.

Billy decided to assume an attitude halfway between it’s-no-big-deal and what’s-your-problem. "Oh come on, I would’ve heard you," Billy said, smiling.

Timmy looked at him strangely for a second. And then he smiled, too.

"You've got the moon eyes for Tracy, don't you?"

He knew! Billy flinched instinctively. He caught himself, but it was too late. Timmy smelled blood. He laughed wickedly, his grin never quite reaching his eyes.

Timmy leaned in forward for the kill.

"Billy-willy's willie's got a woooo-dy," Timmy started reciting in a dangerously catchy sing-song tone. Billy squirmed. "Billy-willy's willie's got a woooo-dy..." Some other kids were starting to look over. If it caught on he was done for.

"Billy-will-"

"Say, did you hear about that horrible accident?"

"Huh?" Timmy said, momentarily distracted.

Billy had only one chance. "The horrible accident, over the weekend. You know, the train of orphaned infants?" Billy tried to hide the desperation in his voice.

Timmy's eyes began to cloud in a sweeping wave of bloodlust.

"How many dead?" Timmy licked his lips. He leaned forward and grabbed Billy by the shirt. "How many?"

"I dunno, could be a couple hundred," Billy said, trying to keep cool. "They won't know until the bodies are filtered from the spaghetti sauce." Would it work?

Timmy let him go, and turned away, entranced. He turned back again to Billy. "How- did it- happen," he asked slowly, intensely.

"I don't know for sure," said Billy as he self-consciously readjusted his hat. "But I heard the train exploded near a spaghetti factory, and some of the smaller bodies fell in the sauce," Timmy was almost there... just another second...

The left side of Timmy's face began to twitch.

“They say it made the sauce more salty,” Billy finished, with sudden inspiration.

Timmy’s head tilted back, and his eyes glazed over the rest of the way. Drool began to gather in the corner of his mouth.

"Coooolllll," said Timmy. Billy sighed with relief. For now, he was safe.

"Blood," Timmy whispered softly, wistfully. "Sweet blood."

The school bus lurched through the iron gates of Alan Foster Dulles Medium School. It came to a screeching stop right before a speed bump, throwing unprepared children forward. One girl flew down the aisle and past the bus driver, to rebound off the windshield.

The driver drove delicately over the speed bump, and cackled. He pulled up to the curb behind another bus and swung the bus door open. He then sat back in his seat, grunted, and inserted a wad of chewing tobacco into one of several gaps between his filthy teeth.

Tracy and another student helped the shaken girl to her feet. Then, with order born from repetition, the children walked out of the bus and stepped onto the sidewalk conveyor belt outside.

Billy readjusted his hat, so the brim would slightly cover his wounded ear. He swung his backpack over his shoulder. Making sure that Tim safely stood in front of him, he stepped out of the bus and onto the conveyor belt.

The belt moved forward. It led off into the distance into the school’s gaping red-bricked maw. As his conveyor belt moved forward, it began to merge with other conveyor belts loading students from the other buses. Billy looked far off towards the entrance to the parking lot, just in time to see the wrought-iron gate slam shut.

Billy turned forward. The entrance to Allen Foster Dulles’ Medium School loomed above him. Soon the conveyor belt brought him close enough to examine the school’s magnificent entryway mural. It depicted a smiling sun, shining down upon ranks of suited grownups as they tilled a field. The fields tidy rows of plants were yielding a fresh crop of happy children. The boys grasped identical blue briefcases, while the rows of smiling girls waved pink spatulas.

Billy and his fellow schoolmates were conveyed inside, and then past the hidden cameras and gum-sniffing dogs. Billy carefully hunched his shoulders to show a properly respectful attitude. No non-compliant students were detected, and they moved forward without incident.

The conveyor belts flowed onwards through the lobby, and then down the hall past the school’s sports trophy case to reach the towering double-doors of the Main Assembly Room. This was the end of the line. The students stepped off the conveyor belts. The nurses, coaches and teachers stood by, lasers in hand, ready to scan the UPC code on the inside collar of each student’s shirt.

Once past that gauntlet, Billy followed the other students into the cavernous Main Assembly Room. Here the students lined up to await the morning address by the Principal. Billy walked towards his preferred place in the ranks.

With the last child scanned in, the Faculty put away the lasers and retreated to the large vat of Coffee at the far right side of the huge room. There they refilled their mugs, and drank deeply, conversing with each other or thinking their own unfathomable Faculty thoughts.

It was fairly safe to observe the Faculty during this morning ritual. This was a good way to determine which Faculty members might be particularly dangerous today. Billy watched his Shopping teacher exchange a glazed smile with the new Vice Nurse, Miss Hauptmann. The teacher softly stroked his moustache. It was small in the distance, and Billy couldn't tell if the moustache moved by itself or if that was just an illusion. Some of them seemed to have strange rustling things beneath their clothes, but others did not at all. Billy could make no sense of it.

"Good morning, children!" a firm, loud, dry voice snapped from the doorway.

"Good morning, Mr. Maybee!" the children responded in unison. Each child strived for a tone that perfectly merged eagerness with awe for authority.

With his hands clasped tightly behind his back, Principal Maybee slowly strode into the room. He gave a brief nod to the adults worshipping at the vat. They nodded back, before returning to the Vat for more Coffee.

Principal Maybee walked to the front of the Main Assembly Room. The children saluted and then stood waiting in quiet rows.

Maybee was slightly tall, and whipcord lean. His thin, black hair was cut brutally short, terminating exactly under his almost lobeless ears. His suit was black, single-breasted, and flatly spotless from the top of his bowtie to the bottom of his squeaking shoes.

Maybee removed his feared Red Stamp from his inner suit pocket, and inspected it. He placed it back inside his pocket, and pulled briefly at his ear before clasping both his hands tightly behind his back. The Principal’s one vanity, his goatee, twisted slightly from side to side as he inspected his charges. His gaze moved restlessly over the ranks of small humans. Searching ruthlessly for any flaw, any weakness, any sign of incipient spirit.

Billy wondered if Maybee had some weird hidden thing, like his parents. If he did, it didn’t show anywhere. Mr. Maybee was really thin, and his clothes were unusually tight for a grownup. Maybe he just was a creature, Billy wondered. And the whole school was his host.

Maybee started walking through the ranks, and soon strolled out of Billy’s view. That was fine by Billy. Through trial and error, he had long ago found his favorite position - three rows back, and slightly to the right. Far enough to escape immediate inspection, just close enough to look like he wasn't trying to avoid it.

"What are we here to do today, children?" Maybee asked.

"To learn to live!" the children shouted together with feigned eagerness.

"And how do we do this?"

"By living to Obey!" they yelled in almost-perfect unison.

The room choked silent with sudden tension. Perfect - except for one lone voice.

Someone had missed. Someone had been late with the response.

Billy realized with terror that it had been himself!

"Who was that?!" yelled Mr. Maybee. He paced quickly through their ranks, enraged. The children tried not to look at each other.

"Who wasn't PAYING ATTENTION?"

What was Billy going to do? He glanced nervously at the fellow students to his left and right. Did they know it had been him? Would they rat him out?

"Well?" Mr. Maybee demanded. He passed Billy’s row, stopping a couple of rows past. "It came from this area. Was it you, Trilling?"

Billy wished he could see, but he didn’t dare step out of line. He could barely contain himself. Behind him, he heard Andy Trilling swallowed nervously. "N-no, sir! N-never!" he squeaked. Billy knew Andy. The poor kid was as good as gone already.

“This is the Morning Assembly”, Maybee continued. “This is where we assemble the student body. Where we you present yourself, so we can see how well we’ve put you together for the coming day.” Maybee looked down at Trilling as if he was something stuck to his perfectly polished brown shoes.

"Your nose is running, Trilling. Maybe you were distracted by the cold?” Mr. Maybee asked, his voice becoming soft and seemed almost compassionate. "Maybe you think we should turn up the heat? Maybe that's the reason for this disobedience. You don't think we're spending enough money heating you?"

"No, sir!" Nervously, Andy Trilling wiped his nose.

"You. Bulbous. Piece of garbage," began Maybee, slowly and quietly. Billy was dying to turn around and see what was happening, but he didn't dare. "You wiped your nose - on your sleeve! On your sleeve! Is that how you show respect? Is that the attitude that made this country great? Is it? IS IT?!"

Trilling knew he was in trouble. He tried to speak. Under Mr. Maybee's fiery gaze, his words just turned to mumbled mush. Maybee reached into his suit and drew forth the Red Stamp. Without taking his eyes off Trilling, he adjusted it.

“What letter shall it be for you today, Mr. Trilling? How long would you like to be Tested?”

“Please sir! I didn’t mean to -”

“Shall it be a ‘C’? Perhaps a ‘D’ would make you try a little harder?”

Billy told himself he couldn’t save Trilling. The poor boy was doomed from the instant he’d wiped his nose.

But…it wasn’t right to let Trilling be punished like this. Billy had made this happen, by not paying attention to the singing. Billy swallowed. Should he turn himself in, and be punished? Or stay silent, and let someone else be punished in his place?

Another voice rang out into the main assembly. "Me, sir," someone said. “It was me.”

Startled, Billy strained his ears. It was a normal, conversational tone without shame, or terror, or even begging! Was he insane?

Billy tracked Mr. Maybee's clacking steps as he walked, with agonizing slowness, away from Trilling and towards this new transgressor. Whoever it was stood two rows ahead of Billy. Maybee’s footsteps slowed, then stopped.

"You," Maybee said. "Pfeiffer." Maybee chuckled. "I should have known. It would have to be you, wouldn't it, Raymond? Dear, sweet Raymond…" He sighed. "Whatever shall we do with you? Sometimes I think you just don’t have the wit to do well. But others say different.”

“You mean, differently, sir,” Raymond said, corrected his grammar. Billy’s heard a collective gasp of shock from the students.

Maybee paused, as if unsure how to respond. “They say that you're intelligent. Perceptive, even." Maybee resumed. His voice grew heavier, darker. "That must mean you're doing this deliberately. Are you? Are you deliberately mocking me, Pfeiffer? Are you spitting in my face?"

"Not really, sir," said the boy. "I’m just tired." Billy watched as Maybee began adjusting the handle of his Stamp.

"You're tired!" Maybee laughed abruptly. "I must admit it's beyond me. Oh, well." His voice hardened. "I guess we'll need some help to get to the bottom of this quandary, of why you're so lacking in the proper…focus."

Maybee abruptly swung the stamp against Pfeiffer’s forehead. When Maybee pulled it away, the stamp gave a sudden, sucking sound that carried across the silent room like a gunshot. On Pfeiffer’s forehead was a red, angry welt surrounded by the Principal’s official seal.

“’I’”, said Mr. Maybee. “For ‘Incomplete’. Do you know what that means?”

“No,” Ray asked.

“It means,” Maybee sneered. “I think differently about proper behavior,” he said. “Take him to Testing until we can mark him complete." Maybee ordered.

"NO!" screamed Pfeiffer. He turned, perhaps to run. Miss Hauptmann, the new Vice Nurse, was suddenly standing right next to him. She reached forward, and placed her hand firmly on Raymond Pfeiffer's shoulder. Relatively new at the school, she was already quite well known to the students. She was young for an adult, with thick, dark hair that elsewhere might have been considered beautiful. Here, it gave her the polish and perfection of an obsidian blade.

"Yes," whispered Miss Hauptmann, and smiled.

Pfeiffer screamed in the cavernous silence as the Nurse took him away. Maybee returned to the front of the Main Assembly. From the corner of his eye, Billy watched as Coach Brumble and Nurse Kraft-Ebbing put down their Coffee and hurried over to Hauptmann and her new captive. Nurse Kraft-Ebbing took Pfeiffer’s other arm. Coach Brumble followed behind, in case Pfeiffer tried to escape. This was merely a formality. No student in living memory had yet escaped the Iron Nurse.

Billy noticed several other children trying to control their shaking. It wasn't from the cold.

"Well,” said Maybee. He seemed quite satisfied. “I hope the rest of you will learn from this. If you've all Paid Attention to this- unfortunate incident, then you are on the road to learning the Right Things." He reviewed the assembly one more final time. "I'll be seeing you."

"Good day, Mr. Maybee!" the crowd screamed back.

"Dismissed." The children slowly shuffled back out to the conveyor belts, to be transported to their morning classes. The teachers took final refills of Coffee in their mugs, and unplugged the Coffee vat for its transfer to the Faculty Lounge.

Billy had also picked his spot for its closeness to the Main Assembly Room’s exit. He was once again fortunate. He was able to leave the room quickly enough to avoid selection for work detail.

Billy stepped off the hallway conveyor belt, and paused outside his first period class. Mr. Murple was the teacher. Billy hoped he could talk with him after class.

Billy stepped inside. The classroom was small, but the room was fairly high. The large windows reached from the tops of the heaters to almost touch the ceiling. Apparently this had worried the Parent-Teacher Authority – if the windows let in too much light, it could cause uncontrolled cheerfulness. Rather than undergoing the costly process of bricking them over, the PTA instead ingeniously hid the windows behind discarded sunshades. They tinged the sunlight a perfect, filthy greenish yellow.

Billy turned his attention from his foiled attempt to look outside, and saw a new teacher sat behind the front desk. Billy watched as he leaned back in the stuffed leather chair, sipping his morning mug of Coffee meditatively as he reviewed an all-black ledger. Billy’s heart sank. Where was Mr. Murple? Billy hoped he was alright. Maybe Mr. Murple was just late, or on vacation or something? Grownups did that from time to time.

Billy hung his jacket on one of the nails the PTA had thoughtfully pounded into the wall and walked to his desk. Other students shuffled past him to their selected destinations. One of their few freedoms was choosing where to sit. Billy had selected his favorite seat at the beginning of the year, and through persistence it had become recognized as his own. It was almost entirely to the back, in the first row from the right. Just like the Main Assembly Room, he preferred to be as far as possible from the grownups and still be near the exit.

Billy placed his backpack under his chair, removed his pen and notebook, and tried to prepare himself for the class ahead. His ear had stopped throbbing, and his desk was perfectly aligned with the linoleum floor tiles. Billy felt as ready as he could.

Across and to the left from Billy, Chris Barlowe sat his large frame carefully. They exchanged nods of greeting. Barlowe was the heaviest child in the 6th grade. He was relatively easygoing and difficult to physically intimidate. He was the brunt of occasional jokes of extreme cruelty, but was for the most part relatively popular.

To the front of the room, Russel Neidermeyer moved his short and gawky frame to his favorite spot - directly in front of the teacher's desk. He took out his pocket notebook, and prepared to take notes on his fellow students. Most children preferred to sit further away from the teachers. For Russ, this closeness was vital. It was all that kept him from anonymous student reprisals that could well end his dreams of a bright gray future in middle management.

Keith Moranis sat down in the seat before Neidermeyer. Billy waved hello to him too. Keith was genuinely well liked, because he posed absolutely no threat to anybody. His truly astounding mental thickness and clumsy feet had earned him the nickname "Stumpy." Keith had yet to even learn what the word meant.

The classroom filled with other boys and girls of various shapes, sizes. With a couple of rare exceptions, their skins were all similar shades of a slightly pasty, well-scrubbed pink. They all knew each other. Some exchanged muted greetings with Billy as they realigned their desks and prepared for the day's lessons.

Then Tracy came in.

She walked slowly across the room, her flower-print skirt flowing lightly. She walked right down Billy's aisle to hang up her coat! She smiled at him, as she passed! He smiled back weakly. Then Tracy turned around and went slowly back up the aisle. Billy He could not take his eyes off her, and swallowed hard as she strolled across the room and took her seat.

Just three rows over. Three…. Billy was feeling a way that hurt that also somehow felt really good.

Billy breathed deeply, and tried to distract himself by inspecting the edge of his desk. There were the scratched-in initials, curses, short jokes, and the logos of various popular musical groups which had been left there by other children, in classes past. Some day, when no one was looking, Billy, too, would take out a drawing compass or sharp-tipped pen, and add his own short statement to this legacy of the damned.

The last student walked in, just as the bell tolled. The teacher wrote a mark next to the last student’s name in a large, black ledger. Then he rose to address the classroom.

"Good morning, students." The teacher paused as he looked the rows up and down.

"Align your desks." Keith's was out of line, of course. He marshaled his large feet to quickly kick it into place.

"Good. My name is," he picked up a large piece of chalk, and scrawled on the chalkboard as he spoke, "Mr. Perkins." He finished writing with a piercing scrape of thie chalk, put it down, and smiled at the class. "And this class is English – The Right Way. Are there any questions before we begin?"

In the third row, a girl raised her hand. "Yes, uh," Perkins looked at his seating chart, "Marla, what is it?"

Marla bit her lip. "Where’s Mr. Murple?"

Mr. Perkins went to his desk, and took a mimeographed sheet from his black ledger. He put on a pair of reading glasses.

" 'Mr. Josiah Murple has voluntarily submitted to treatment for his unrepentant noncompliance. He has now been Substituted. He will return to lesser duties somewhere else as soon as his treatment is complete. Any further questions or mention of him will be met with suitable reprimands.' " He put the sheet back down on his desk, and looked across the classroom. "Any other questions?"

In front of Billy, Keith Moranis raised his hand.

"Yes, uh, Keith?"

"What's a reppimand?"

"It's when you do something you shouldn't, and something completely justifiable happens to you or your family."

"Oh," said Keith. So much for that, thought Billy. It looked like Mr. Murple had bigger things to deal with than answering his questions about how the world worked…

Mr. Perkins placed his glasses on his desk. "Now then. Are there any assignments due?"

Everyone in the class stifled a groan as Russell Niedermeyer's hand shot into the air.

Perkins glanced down at him. "Yes, Russell?"

"The last assignment was to read the newspaper and list 100 English words that could lead to bad ideas."

"And did you list them?"

Russ cleared his throat, and his mighty Adam's apple cocked into position. He began reading in a proud, monotonous voice. "In alphabetic order- aberration, abnormality, absolution..."

Billy's head remained rigidly forward in an impressive imitation of attentiveness. His eyes wandered listlessly around the room. Finally they settled on Tracy. A natural, easy place to rest. She was looking ahead too. Maybe she also was giving only the appearance of attention.

Just sitting there, in stillness, she was a breathing artwork of life. Like a dawn’s glow.

"....debauchery, deviate, dissent, eccentric, ecstasy ...."

As Billy watched, Tracy leaned back and reached back with a perfect arm, and arranged her long, free-flowing hair to hang behind her chair.

Then Billy saw something impossible.

Billy looked again. And the impossible refused to disappear.

The teacher, Russell's voice, the classroom, faded into nothing. Everything went away but what he could not just have seen.

Tracy's ear. Her perfect, lovely ear.

It was bleeding....

The bell tolled again. The class was released into the hallway. Billy followed the class out the door, his mind reeling.

There stood Tracy, walking just a few feet ahead. Tracy had seemed so perfect. So beautiful and so good. Could Tracy really be imperfect? Could she have something in common with him? Something she was fighting too?

Tracy stepped on the hall conveyor belt to her next class. Billy’s next class was in the opposite direction. Did he have enough time to talk to her? It was very risky. If he was late to his next class, it would be marked against him. He could even draw attention to them both.

At the same time he just had to talk to her.

Billy watched the students go by. They all looked so very obedient and industrious. Upperclassmen would occasionally step off and visit their lockers, and primp themselves in small mirrors. Were they hiding secrets too, that were just like his?

Billy shifted his bookbag and watched Tracy near the end of the hall. He might not have another chance to talk with her all day. Chris Barlowe chose that moment to walk over to Billy, in the middle of his indecision. “Hey,” Chris said, and adjusted his backpack. “So, uh…” Chris looked at him, and then looked around them both, nonchalantly. He leaned in.

“So, what do you think of the new teacher?” Chris asked.

Billy looked around him. There were no obvious Neidermeyers in sight. “He seems like all the other teachers,” Billy said. Chris nodded knowingly. Mr. Murple had been different. He even seemed to be on the childrens’ side. He seemed to like what he spent his days doing. He’d even had a sly way of pointing out what the lessons weren’t teaching them.

Billy looked up the hallway. Tracy was gone. He had no idea which direction she had gone in.

Billy took a last look into the old classroom. He saw Perkins reach into Mr. Murple’s desk, and throw something that looked like a book into the trashcan with disgust. The substitute teacher then left his desk to walk around the room.

Billy looked at Chris. He looked at Chris. He felt like he could trust him – but could he be sure?

“That book or whatever must have been Mr. Murple’s,” Billy said.

“Really?” said Chris, curious.

Billy poked his head back into the classroom. The new teacher was busy laying worksheets on desks for the next class. His back was turned. Billy reached into the traschcan, snatched the book and hid it under his shirt. He left just as the teacher had begun to turn around.

“We should probably get out of here,” Billy said.

“Absolutely,” said Chris. They both had just enough time to get to their next class and not draw suspicion.

They stepped on the conveyor belts to their next class.

“What were you doing?” said Chris softly. “Have you gone crazy?”

“This thing was probably Mr. Murple’s! Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Well, what is it?”

Billy looked around carefully. No one appeared be eying them as the conveyor belt whisked them by. He pulled the book from underneath his shirt.

It was a hardcover book, tattered and old with a cracked binding, and with appeared to be a round hole that reminded Billy of bullet holes he’d seen in video games. It also had a little blood on it. It’s title was The Real History of Coffee and its Only Cure.

“Well, I sure hope that was worth risking Testing,” said Chris. “Why the heck did you take that risk?”

“Do you ever-“ Bill began. He stopped. Either Billy could trust him or he couldn’t. Chris hadn’t ratted him out yet. He might as well go forward now.

“Do you ever get these ideas, that seem to come from - voices or something? Something that seems like a part of you, but isn’t, and doesn’t want you to be happy, but that also fits in with school and your parents like completely?”

Chris looked a little scared. He kept his voice down as they rolled along on the conveyor belt between the classes. “What do you mean?”

“Like something in your ear. Something deeper inside, but like inside your ear that seems like it wants to take you over. And it doesn’t want you to be happy. But it seems like everyone is encouraging it to grow.”

“I gotta go, there’s my class,” said Chris. “And if you know what you’re doing, you won’t talk to anyone else about that nonsense that you’re talking about.”

At least Chris wasn’t telling him he was crazy.

“Ok,” said Billy. “I gotta go too.” They stepped off the belt, and towards their separate classes.

As Billy stepped into the class, he realized they could also have been talking about how much they had to go and get away from the school.

Billy arrived at his next class, and set down his books. He was starting to feel hungry. He prepared to try to keep his eyes open.

This class always seemed to last forever. He had no idea what it was about this class that was so difficult. Billy realized with a start that he didn’t even remember what they went over in this class.

What was even this class’ name?

Perhaps it just didn't matter. It was, after all, just another class to get through. Billy did wish Tracy was in this class though. Especially today. He’d give almost anything for a few seconds to chat with her. It rushed back to him again, the anxiety and the excitement jumbled together. The shock, fear and wonder that one of the most magical girl creatures he knew could be even a little bit like him.

Mrs. Hobbey cleared her throat. Billy reluctantly brought himself back to the present. Whatever this class was, Mrs. Hobbey taught it, with a vengeance.

She bolted the classroom door securely shut, and smiled at the students, revealing strong rows of crushing, yellowed teeth. She was overweight, and over fifty; her face was pocked and pitted from what must have been a short and brutal youth. As heavy as she was, the children had long ago learned that she was surprisingly fast and strong when angered.

“Good evening, children,” Mrs. Hobbey began. “Today we’re going to –“ There was a knock at the classroom door. Mrs. Hobbey undid the bolts. “Ah, Raymond. Come in,” she said.

Ray Pfeiffer was led into the class by Nurse Kraft-Ebbing. He looked pale and drawn, and appeared now to have a slight limp. Mrs. Hobbey and Nurse Kraft-Ebbing shared cold smiles.

"So nice to see you again today, Raymond," said Mrs. Hobbey. “Take your seat over there,” said Mrs. Hobbey. Ray limped past Billy to his desk. Nurse Kraft-Ebbing turned on her heel and left the classroom.

“Now if you’re all going to be good little boys and girls, today we’re going to watch a video.” Billy almost laughed in delighted relief. He couldn’t believe his good luck. A few actual seconds to himself. “Sally,” Mrs. Hobbey continued, “would you turn out the lights? And you children over there, pull down the window shades.” The students eagerly complied.

Mrs. Hobbey pulled down a gray screen from its holding case above the chalkboard. She then waddled over to the back of the class, and turned on the projector. Satisfied, she sat down at her desk in front, and smoothed out her distended skirt.

A white square appeared on the dingy gray screen stretched over the chalkboard. It turned a matching gray. A black circle then appeared, with a number 5 inside it. A line sprang from the center of the circle, and travelled slowly clockwise, gradually erasing the number. When the line completed its journey and was once again at the top of the circle, a number 4 appeared. It all reminded Billy of radar screens in old war movies; the white bar sweeping the circle to detect unwanted intruders. It was very soothing, the way the numbers melded into the next. Now it was at 3.

Billy suddenly began to feel the weight of the whole day, down his eyelids. How nice it would be to rest…

A number 2 appeared, and then a number 1. The 1 softly faded into the image of a television, with a spiral inside it. Billy recognized it, as the happy-wacky spiral in the Mr. McGillicutty’s baseball hat that he usually wore in Shopping class. It looked funny and safe, there on the screen. Why, it was even dancing around a bit. Spinning. Billy's…eyes….began…..boring through it…into…the screen…

Billy felt a sharp pain hit the back of his head. He heard a penny hit the floor. He shook himself awake with a start. What the heck was that?

Billy turned around, and saw Ray. Ray held an improvised slingshot, made of two plastic pens and a rubber band. On his desk lay several other pennies. With his other hand, Ray held his finger to his lips in a “Shhh!”gesture.

Ray loaded and shot another penny at the kid to Billy’s right. The kid jumped in surprise. Billy turned forward and kept his eyes trained straight ahead. He heard more pennies Ray shot at other kids, the coins ringing out as they fell onto the floor.

Mrs. Hobbey suddenly looked up, and leapt up from her desk. She strode the aisles between the desks, searching for the source of such rebellious sound. Billy kept his eyes pointed straight forward. She looked over Billy’s shoulder at Ray, and her eyes narrowed. She pounced. Mrs. Hobbey re-emerged into Billy’s field of view, dragging Ray by the neck. She undid the classroom door’s bolts, and dragged him outside into the hall.

Billy told himself there was nothing he could do. He hated himself. Poor Ray was going to go right back into Testing. All for trying to awaken Billy and some others. The rest of the classroom didn’t even notice Ray’s removal. They continued staring into the screen.

Billy began to hear a voice droning from the projector. "Sleepy…you don't need to be awake, be sleepy….Let your fears drift with your sleep…let your mind relax…sleep…."

Billy blinked quickly. Even though he knew it was some kind of trap, Billy still felt the pull to drift off into unconsciousness. It was so very, very tempting to just let himself go under. To drift into wherever they were being guided. Billy strained mightily to stay awake. He remembered Tracy.

Eventually the pull lessened, and he was able to look away. Carefully avoiding looking at the screen, Billy glanced surreptitiously around him. He could see perhaps a handful of randomly scattered children around the classroom, who might have also resisted the projector. The few possible resistors revealed themselves to Billy through their postures; their shoulders were tense, even as they imitated the drugged, contented slump of their less wary peers. They sat, like him, rigidly facing forward; afraid to draw attention to themselves.

Billy looked at the kid in front of him. Charley Morley. Billy barely knew him. They only had this one class together, which before today Billy barely ever remembered.

Mrs. Hobbey was gone. Maybe Billy could nudge him awake. Billy began to lean forward in his desk. Just in time, he saw the doorway darken again. He leaned back and forced himself to face forward, imitating the slack-jawed expression of the others.

Mrs. Hobbey came back into the classroom, bolted the door shut, and sat at her desk. She took a deep sip of Coffee, and gave vent to a relieved sigh. Billy stole a sideways glance at her. Could she tell which students were still awake? She put down her cup, and lifted her eyes to the class. Billy quickly resumed a glazed stare in the screen’s general direction.

The projector’s voice droned on. It was a deep and liquid voice, neither male nor female, young nor old. “You are going to sleep. You hear everything we say clearly. Deep sleep. Your thoughts are our thoughts. You are drifting deeper…. You are totally asleep. We are one,” boomed a brilliant bass voice from the projector.

“Welcome to Socialization Studies class. Let our voice carve deep into your tiny minds.”

Billy felt safest focusing his eyes on the chalkboard past the left edge of the screen. In his peripheral vision, he saw the picture change slowly. The television with the spiral inside faded from view, and was replaced with a bright and cheerful picture of the modern suburban workplace. A business suited man appeared beneath it. Another picture faded in on the right side of the screen; it was of the modern suburban home. A mother in her apron faded in beneath it.

A happy, smiling pod-thing, not unlike the leering menace that had just this morning emerged from Billy's ear, appeared in the charming animation from behind the business-suited man's head and waved, before returning beneath the clothes of it's host.

“We will bring order to your world,” said the voice. “With our seed deep in your minds, you will follow the perfect predetermined path. From your planted rows in class to your coming rows in offices, to your rows in hospitals and then at last to your rows of peaceful graves.”

The face came off the woman standing next to him, its tentacles acting as hinges. It waved smiling as well, revealing an unhappy frown beneath it. It swung back into place again, and all was well.

“You don’t need to notice them. You don’t need to think about them – don’t think about them. Just feel how productive they make you feel…” The image on the screen changed into a lovely summer’s day. Illuminated in beams of light, with blue skies dangling puffy white clouds far back into the horizon, stood a pod, it’s mottled green casing and fresh mucous gleaming in the sun.

“If you see a fellow student struggling or in pain, don’t help them. You’re wasting your time. Help yourselves by listening to us. We will help you think and do right, just like everyone else.”

Billy blinked back tears of frustration. How long had they been putting these thoughts into his mind ? How many times had he missed it?

"And when you’ve grown into adulthood, all you'll need to do to hear us every day is keep your lovely pods and masks alive with deep drinks from the healing vats of Coffee.”

Murple’s old book had a title that mentioned Coffee. Could it provide the key to all these mysteries?

The video continued...

“And if anyone ever asks strange upsetting questions about aliens, Pods or Coffee, don’t bother with them. Just tell us. We’ll know what to do.”

Billy shuddered and tried to clear his lumpy throat. Mrs. Hobbey pulled a small silver metal can out of her desk drawer, and began walking down the first aisle. She stopped at one desk, and then another, while looking directly into the children’s glazed and staring eyes. When she came to the third desk, she saw something that she apparently didn’t like.

She pulled a green seed-shapped object from the can, and inserted it in the child’s ear. She looked satisfied, and then continued.

Soon she came to Billy’s desk. He rigidly fixed his gaze on the screen. He could sense her dissatisfaction. She pulled forth a seed, and inserted it into Bill’s unwounded ear. He controlled a shudder, and somehow managed to maintain the illusion of being hypnotized. From the corner of his eye he saw her nod with satisfaction, and move on.

He could start to feel the seed begin to dissolve and even perhaps to wiggle.

“Now you will forget this lesson, you will love us, and above all you will trust us without question. At the count of ten, you will awaken, and remember a beautiful movie about horses, circuses, butterflies and laughing balloons. One….two….”

Billy pretended to come to. He mimicked the daze shown by other students. Mrs. Hobbey told them all to talk amongst themselves for the rest of the period. Billy noticed her watching the students carefully, so he managed a good imitation of his fellow students’ half-dazed post-hypnotic babble.

As the class period drew to a close, Mrs. Hobbey began to prepare her papers for the next class. Billy mustered up his schoolbooks with a barely concealed desperation.

Billy had just enough time before the next class to visit the bathroom. He locked himself in a stall and began scratching at his ear. He worked with desperate speed, first with his fingers and then a pencil, in a vain attempt to get the seed out. But there was nothing to gain any purchase on. Whatever the thing was, it had dissolved within his skull.

Billy neared the classroom doorway. He stepped off the conveyor belt, and stood still for a brief moment, mentally preparing himself. He had no idea what to do about the thing that Mrs. Hobbey had put in his ear. He had no idea how to put together the information he was receiving. He still could not allow his attention to waver. It was very important that he stayed very sharp in this class.

It was Shopping - a course so fundamental that no student could pass to the next grade without this teacher’s approval. It was taught by Mr. McGillicutty - a teacher like no other.

Billy approached the doorway. Sure enough, there was Mr. McGillicutty. Dressed in his favorite red-and-blue striped sportscoat, and giving all impressions of complete eagerness to start as soon as the classroom filled.

Billy took his seat. A few seconds later, the school bell tolled.

“Hiya Class!” said Mr. McGillicutty.

“Hi!” said the class as one.

Billy’s began to feel an itch inside his ear. He struggled to keep his face straight and not to scratch it.

“Excellent! Boy, we’re gonna have fun today!” Mr. McGillicutty waved his arms in joy. His bushy moustache quivered with excitement. “Now, let’s make a wish! All of you think about your favorite product!” All the children did so. Billy had the impression that some of the children were now showing genuine interest.

“Quick! Hold that picture in your head, and write it down on a slip of paper! Yay!” What game is he playing? Billy thought.

“OK! Done yet? Cool! Now, put them all in this hat,” he said, and produced a baseball cap with a television emblem on the front. This image of the television had a spinning spiral inside it, and it was moving. The hat was passed around the room, and the children placed their product wishes inside it.

Billy’s ear was really, really itching him.

“Good! Now, children, it’s time to demonstrate a very important principle.” He chuckled. “Perhaps even more important than Principal Maybee! HA-HA!” He leaned back and screamed in belly-lafter. The classroom politely chuckled. In front of Billy, Chris Barlowe looked at Mr. McGillicutty nervously. Billy watched Chris shift his weight. Chris was probably getting ready to drop sideways out of his desk, in case McGillicutty had another random psychotic breakdown.

The hat received its final paper slips, and was passed back up the rows to Mr. McGillicutty. He placed it on his desk. “Now, here’s today’s lesson. Listen up, little children! It may be the most important, valuable, and best of all marketable information you hear today.” He licked his lips. “All of you children are going to part of a very important super-secret mission! That’s right. Today! Yessir!”

“Oh, boy!” said Keith Moranis. Mr. McGillicutty looked down at him, and beamed Several other children emitted tiny squeals of glee.

“And not only that,” he continued, “but you might even get to go home with your favorite product!”

“Wow!” exclaimed Keith, as if on cue.

“That’s right! Wow!” McGillicutty heartily and cheerily agreed. “Of course, we wouldn’t be doing our jobs as Teachers, as your elders, as your guiding lights of behavior and citizenship, if we just gave you something. That just wouldn’t be right. But the price is so low, so cheap, so darn dirt-level tiny, that you won’t even miss it! And it’s something that you’re even better off without!” He paused dramatically and, like the master showman that he was, moved back and forth in the front of the classroom and let the excitement build.

“So here’s the deal, children. We’re having a contest, between all my classes. The winning class will go home with the product of their dreams, get an extra-credit A, and – should I? Oh, heck, why not. - And a guaranteed raffle ticket for a whole month of dessert rations-” at this, another gasp started from the entire class, “and all you have to do is one teeny, tiny little thing.”

Mr. McGillicutty folded his arms, and waited confidently. Soon hands shot up all over the classroom. “Yes, Suzy?”

“What is it, Mr. McGillicutty sir? What is it we have to do?”

“Why, I’m glad you asked that question, Suzy. It’s real simple. All we’re asking the students to do, is each report a student who doesn’t seem interested in shopping. The class which reports the most revealed anti-shoppers, wins!”

“That’s it?” she asked incredulously.

“That’s all!”

“Everyone in the whole class gets the prizes?”

“YES!” Mr. McGillicutty nearly danced for joy. He spoke to the whole class. “Isn’t that amazing?”

The whole class answered him with a spontaneous cheer.

Billy’s inner ear had stopped itching him. He closed his eyes in relief, but the respite wasn’t long. Just at the edge of his senses, something beginning to move deep inside his mind. He hoped it was only his imagination.

Two desks over from Billy, Paul Kuroff raised his hand. “But how are we supposed to know if they don’t like shopping?”

“The clothes their parents buy, what they talk about, whether or not they watch the right commercials…there’s as many clues as there are reasons to shop!”

Two seats in front of Billy, Annie Field raised her hand. “But how could anyone not like shopping?” she asked.

Mr. McGillicutty all of a sudden looked very sad. “I would rather not have to talk about this, children.” He sighed. “Some people are sick. They must not know how important shopping is, to our survival. They must not even care.” He shook his head. “It’s sad, children.” His smile brightened his face again. “But don’t worry! It’s easy to spot them, and make sure they get the help they need! So let’s go through the warning signs, so you can get to work as soon as you leave class!”

Billy closed his eyes and stifled a groan. The itch in his ear intensified until it was a white-hot agony. Then it subsided. Just barely audible, a familiar voice began to whisper, “Ssssstop strugglinggg,”

Billy opened his notebook, and pretended to take notes.

“Youuu have to do sssomethinggg,” it whispered with glee. “You know you have to pick sssssomone. Ssssomone will get hurt, yessss….Or sssomeone elssse will jussst hurt youu.”

Billy had been hoping for at least a day’s reprieve from this enemy within.

If anyone even saw him struggle with the pod, the other children might see his maladjustment. In this class, they might report him as an anti-shopper. Then they would find the old book from Mr. Murple in his backpack…

“Are you ready for a fun magic trick now?” said the Teacher. The kids responded in joy. What a fun class this had become!

Mr. McGillicutty took the hat filled with paper slips off the desk. “Watch this!” He grabbed the hat, held it by the brim, and waved his hand over it. “Allakizim, allakazam, bring us the goods as fast as you can!” He put the hat on his head. No paper fell out of it; it was completely empty! The children laughed delightedly.

Mr. McGillicutty took off his hat. The part of his pod that was his moustache quivered. Behind his neck, the rest of his pod slowly moved the paper’s it had taken from the hat into the teachers’ back coat pocket.

“Now think of someone you know who might be an anti-shopper, and put their name in the hat! And may the best student win.” He handed the hat to a student in the front of the classroom, and it began making it’s way back.

Billy realized that the hat made it somewhat anonymous. Still, they would be checking all the answers. Any false entry would trigger their interest. They would know someone in the class was resisting. They would investigate. But Billy couldn’t live with implicating another student. If he was going to do that, there was no reason to fight the pod at all. He might as well just give in.

Yesss, that’s rightttt, a voice inside him whispered quietly. Give inn. Billy shook his head to clear it.

Could he falsely accuse someone no one would seriously suspect? Like Russell Nedermeyer? He dismissed that notion immediately. It was unlikely that any adult could ever suspect such an obvious bootlicker. That would be almost as bad as not suggesting anyone.

Mr. McGillicutty’s heady promise of betrayal and greed was really inspiring his pod. Billy ignored its whispers and searched desperately for any way out.

“Okay, children, time’s up,” said Mr. McGillicutty. “Now fold up your slips of paper and put them in the Magic Hat.” He handed his hat to a student in the front left corner of the classroom. “And for the rest of today, think about the product that you believe in! ”

The students folded up their slips of paper. The hat began making it’s way towards Billy. What was he going to do?

He came up with a gamble. He wrote a name down that absolutely enraged the thing inside is ear.

Angry but temporarily defeated, the itching in his ear subsided. Billy was able to relax inside himself.

The hat was passed up to the front of the room.

The teacher took the hat, looked in it briefly, and smiled. He set the hat aside.

“Now onto a new part of our class - computers!” Mr. McGillicutty waved his hands as if magic was appearing.

The top part of his desk moved aside, and a new computer emerged from a platform beneath. It was impressive showmanship.

The rest of the class was about the proper use of computers - to shop. In addition to doing work for those above you, and to criticize your equals and those beneath you. All aided by everyone’s buddy, the device inside the computer named Chip.

“…So just remember that when you’re on the computer, Chip is looking at what you read and what you write, what you see and what you send, to keep things safe from you so you can shop forever.” Mr. McGillicutty looked at the clock on the wall. “Perfect timing! You’ve learned so punctually today. Any questions?”

For once, there were none. The bell tolled, and the students gathered their books. “Very well then. Until tomorrow,” and Mr. McGillicutty smiled a toothy, moustache-ridden smile, “be seeing you!”

Billy left, feeling a bit of hope. It had all come from somewhere inside, that hadn’t been from the creature in his ear but somewhere else. It was an idea that had come, as a way to avoid hurting someone else.

Even before today, when the secret of the school and the world outside had been revealed, Billy had known something was going on that couldn’t be trusted. He had been pretty good so far at remaining outside the school’s suspicion.

Maybe too good, the realization had been. They might realize that someone who never got in any trouble, but never did too well in class, could be consciously evading their control. So, it might be good for Billy to have a single black mark. That way his record wouldn’t be so perfectly clean.

So, in carefully anonymous block lettering, he wrote his own name down and put it into the hat.

Lunchtime came at last. The students entered the Main Assembly Room, and queued up to the cafeteria window for their lunchtime rations. They brought their lunches back through rows of long plastic tables to their chosen seats. On the raised platform at the front of the Main Assembly room, the Faculty gathered at their separate table. Principal Maybee discussed matters of finance and psychology, as the teachers consumed their Coffee and recharged.

The students' chatter was quiet, but much more spirited. There was no hiding the fact that half their day's classes were over, and soon it would be recess.

Billy had brought his lunch today, so he had an early start to find a seat. He looked for the safest place to sit. Chris Barlowe was seated at his usual table. He had been sitting near Trilling, lately; oddly, Trilling was nowhere to be found. That meant he could sit near Chris, which would be comfortable. Maybe Billy could even show him Mr. Murple’s book and they could try and figure out what was actually going on.

Billy looked around a bit further, and saw that Timmy had taken a seat across the room.

Furthermore, Timmy was looking straight at him. Billy realized he had no choice. He sighed and walked over towards Timmy’s table.

As Billy walked over, he passed Tracy sitting with one of her friends.

“Hi,” he said suddenly.

Her eyes were so huge, and looked so open. “Hi, Billy,” Tracy said.

“Uh,” he said. He wanted to talk to her, warn her, tell her what he’d learned. Would she even believe him? He looked at her friends. Could they be trusted?

After a few short eternities, he gave up. His face turning red, he said, “That’s it, hi”, and hurried on towards Timmy’s table.

Billy sat down next to Timmy, his face burning with imagined failure. Tracy, would never talk to him now. Had Timmy seen this? Fortunately for Billy, Timmy’s mind was elsewhere. “I can’t wait for Poisonball today," Timmy announced. "I practiced throwing rocks at my dog all weekend." Timmy grabbed his cardboard milk ration and ripped it open with gusto. "It’s so much better with kids though. They scream and beg and stuff. That’s the best part."

Billy avoided disagreeing by pulling his lunch from his knapsack. He took out his sandwich and held it in his hand. It had an odd heft that he didn’t quite like. He unwrapped it slowly. The folds of wax paper revealed ever deeper, darker stains. He became more and more apprehensive. As the final layer was unfolded, Billy saw the meal his mother had prepared for him. The horrid green creature that only this morning had been a sick part of his head, lay before him neatly sliced on bleached white bread, under a slice of American cheese.

His Mom had also thoughtfully packed an apple.

Billy repressed a tidal wave of nausea and fear, and rewrapped the sandwich.

"You aren’t gonna eat that? You're supposed to," said Timmy.

"I guess I never thought about what it....” Billy mumbled. “I'm not feelin' that hungry t'day, I guess."

Timmy reached over and took it from him. He sunk his teeth in and took a bite.

"You like it?" Billy asked, surprised.

"My Dad makes it fresh for me like this all the time," Timmy said between eager mouthfuls. "He says it made a man out of him."

"Really?"

"For sure." He gulped down a huge chunk of something, and paused to lick some greenish fluid off his fingers. "It tastes really good, once you get used to it. Dad says it helps us get ready for Coffee. He says it can help you work forever."

Billy stared at him for a bit.

“Does your Dad say why it tastes so…good?”

Timmy shrugged. “Who knows? But it’s always better than the stuff here. School food is watered down. This is like the same stuff, but stronger.

Billy’s heart sank in despair. “It’s the same stuff?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s the same stuff! We need it to grow. Don’t you want to be big and strong like me some day?” Timmy reached to slap Billy playfully.

Billy was expecting him to swing, and moved out of Timmy’s reach before it connected. He chuckled politely. From the corner of his eye, Billy noticed a squad of Faculty members had come into the cafeteria. A perfect change of subject. “Hey, what’s going on over there?”

“Wha?” Timmy mumbled around his sandwich. Billy pointed towards the Faculty. Timmy turned his head to see. The Coaches and Nurses had closed the cafeteria’s doors, and begun looking closely at the students at every table. Some were looking underneath the tables as well.

“They’re looking for someone!” someone whispered excitedly. Billy wanted to run but held himself still.

Principal Maybee stood up and hurried over to the searching Faculty members. He conferred briefly with one of the nurses. Then his face turned red. The nurse stepped back out of his reach.

Maybee stormed to the front of the room, and cleared his throat. The low hubbub of the student’s curious whispers faded into silence.

“If any student has any information about Andy Trilling’s whereabouts,” Maybee declared, “now is the time to step forward and give it to us. We may even reward you, now. If you wait, we may not be as….understanding.” He cleared his throat. “You have been warned,” Maybee said darkly. He returned to his seat at the Faculty table.

From the other table Tracy asked “What could have happened?” He turned and noticed her again.

“He must have run,” Timmy declared. “What a wussy chicken.”

“Where could he have run to?” Billy wondered.

“That’s what makes it so stupid. There’s no place to run. The Schools are everywhere. Everyone knows that.” Timmy took another bite from his sandwich.

Billy nodded amiably and changed the subject to some past military disasters he'd heard about. Inside, he began to think.

Tracy’s friend Gertrude pointed out Billy a few tables away. She shook her head. “What’s up with that Billy kid? He’s kinda weird, huh?”

Tracy shrugged.

“Look at his clothes,” said Gertrude, a little smile appearing on her face. “I bet his parents are poor or something. ”

Tracy looked at her friend a little closer. “You know, you seem different lately.”

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that lately you’ve gotten so - like you don’t like people who don’t even…“ Tracy couldn’t find the words.

“Do you like him or something?”

“I don’t dislike him, do you?”

A thought came to Gertrude, that she thought was her own. Little miss perfect, something inside her ear said. Gertie poked at her green salad. “You’ll find out what’s going on soon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gertrude smiled again, the same little smile, and said nothing.

Tracy brushed her hair back over her ear. She couldn’t help but feel that Gertrude was glancing at it. She noticed how Gertrude’s features had changed recently. More confident, more smooth. Without that nervous, frightened wrinkle of the brow. Although not as happy either, or not showing it. Her face was becoming harder. Almost like a…mask.

Tracy suddenly wondered if she really knew her friend, and if they would ever be close friends again.

“How was your morning?” Gertrude asked.

Tracy smiled politely, and kept her thoughts to herself. The rest of the lunch was spent talking about things that didn’t matter. She found herself resenting Gertrude for making Tracy lie with her own face. Both that feeling and repressing it seemed to make Tracy’s own ear itch.

Recess.

The weather was clear, brisk, and bright. Breezes scattered leaves in delicate patterns. Gentle reminders of winter to come.

Billy had seen eleven autumns, and could remember six distinctly. It was his favorite time of year. Something in the air had a quiet calm. It just felt right. It confirmed that there were cycles no one could alter, not even adults. In a world once again entering into coldness, it felt good to know he was a small pocket of life and heat.

Behind the school was a blacktop strip about fifty feet wide and a hundred across, with a fenced in field of grass just beyond it. Here, for one inexplicable hour every day, adults let children play. The children ran, laughed, skipped and jumped. They talked about stories they had heard, and told childish jokes, and played games with whatever they could find. Squeals and shouts of joy expanded over the field. And the grownup’s faces softened, as they remembered what it was like to be allowed to play.

All sorts of games….Basketball. Soccer. King of the Hill. Hacki-sack. Hide and Seek. Blind Man's Bluff. Kickball. Billy was invited into a game of Spaceman by Chris Barlowe. Billy declined politely; he felt like walking around today, and just enjoying the sights. Suzie Adams was giggling and running, from Tommy Hamilton, who was chasing her with a cricket he had found. It all made Billy laugh.

The afternoon sun had driven almost all the clouds away. He looked around some more, enjoying himself for a brief, priceless moment.

Then he made sure he was unobserved. When he was there were no eyes in his direction, he took out Mr. Murple’s book from his jacket. With nervous hands, he opened it.

Some of the pages were torn, stained or missing, but enough of the text remained for him to follow.

“….arrival some centuries ago. Some suspect their birth-seeds were carried here by meteor, landing just off the coast of Africa. The how is less important than the what. To control their hosts, from their own bodies they created a strange new elixir - the fluid on which our entire civilization is now built: Coffee.”

Billy’s eyes widened. He’d never seen a grownup last more than a day without their Coffee. Only Murple had seemed to have the same unsipped cup all day.

That page trailed off to a torn corner. He found the next legible page and continued.

“The creature is inserted when the human host is young, and usually battles with the child during puberty. Once the creature has defeated or overwhelmed the host, the creature will choose it’s desired position. Sometimes the creature resides on the outside of the human, and intercepts all communication at that layer. It becomes very much like a living mask that holds the host inside it. Other times the creature resides on the inside, like the heart or the gut, and controls the host from within."

Billy put the book down for a moment, and his thoughts raced. His mother’s mask…and his father’s strange actions, the thing occasionally visible rustling under his chest or shoulders….

The next page continued. “Coffee is made by the masters. And Coffee feeds the masters. "

The next few pages were illustrations from different periods and sources. Some showed early knights and then kings of the Renaissance, all holding cups of coffee and strange, misshapen cloaks or masks. This chain of portraits continued up the present day, now showing presidents, movie stars and CEO’s. Always with a cup of coffee, at their table or their side.

Billy put the book back inside his jacket. Instead of having too little information, maybe he had too much.

Off in the distance, at the far corner of the school’s exterior, Vice Nurse Hauptmann emerged from a side door. She was leading a boy onto the field. The boy sat down on the grass, and looked away from her. She leaned over and reached out a hand at once delicate, firm and cold, and brought his chin back towards her. It looked as if she was smiling. It was too far for Billy to tell for sure. The boy shook his head free of her grip, and looked straight back at her.

She shook her head sadly, but still smiling, and walked back into the school. The boy walked to the corner at the absolute edge of the field, and leaned back against the fence.

Billy realized the boy was Ray Pfeiffer. Some other children had noticed him too. They went back to their play. Even on a normal day, not many people would play with Ray. He was so strange. There was no way anyone would play with him today, after the Mark from the Red Stamp he’d received this morning.

Billy looked around the playground for a second or two. Then his curiosity got the better of him. He walked over to where Ray sat in a patch of dying grass, his arms huddled around his legs.

"Hi, Ray," said Billy, after an uncomfortable silence.

"Hi, Billy." Ray always looked messy, but he was really disarrayed this afternoon. His hair was the same length as Billy's, and the same sandy brown. Where Billy's was neatly cut and combed, Ray's hair was a broken mandala that pointed in all directions. His sneakers weren't even fully laced.

"So I found this weird book," Billy began. "It's got all this stuff about - things, and coffee, and grownups, and it used to be Mr. Murple's, and..." Billy's words trailed off as he saw Ray's face. Ray wasn't even changing his expression. He looked more exhausted than Ray had ever seen a kid.

"So...." Billy hesitated, and then dove right in. "So you were Tested."

Ray picked a fist-sized rock out of the dirt, and examined it. "Yeah. They’re taking a break. After Recess, they’re gonna do some more.”

"What do they do?"

"You don't remember?"

"I only got Tested once, when I was real young."

"I don't think you want to know." Ray turned the rock over, and examined it. A couple of stray insects scrambled around on the stone, their world turned upside down. He carefully brushed them back onto the ground. He looked back up at Billy, and suddenly his eyes looked very old. "I know I don't want to remember."

They stayed still in silence for a little while. The sun shone on them, and a stray squeal of laughter made its way to them from over the blacktop.

“Why do you do stuff that makes you stick out, Ray?” Billy asked. “Why can't you just pretend to pay attention?"

Ray explosively threw the rock into the dirt. "Because it's crap! It's all lies!" He stared at Billy, daring him to deny to it. "Because every minute we pretend is a minute we lose forever. Why do we they have to make us be like everyone else? Stand in line? Sit inside and memorize these lies?" He looked down at the ground, and seemed on the verge of crying. "Why can’t they just let us grow up how we want? If they know so much and only want to help us grow, why don’t they have even a single class in being happy?”

Ray lifted his head up, and wiped away what might have been tears. "I mean, why do you pretend so much?" Ray finally asked Billy.

"What?"

“You know. Play along more than you have to,” said Ray. “Because you do that. It makes you a liar. That’s how you grow up like them.”

Billy shifted his feet nervously, but Ray just wouldn't stop.

Billy looked around to make sure no one was in earshot. “It’s not just that. It’s the – those things they stick in kids ears. Did you see that, in class today?”

“Of course I saw it,” said Ray. “I’ve been trying to wake you up to that for weeks.”

“Do you – what do you do about them?”

Ray shrugged. “I don’t know. They don’t grow in my head. I don’t know why. Maybe that’s why they keep testing me. I don’t know if they want to find out why, or hurt me so much those seed-things stay, or both.”

“I’m not so lucky,” said Billy.

“It’s all so messed up! And everyone knows it, and no one does anything! They get us to not help each other!” Ray exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down,” said Billy urgently. Ray lowered his voice, but wasn’t happy about it.

“Why should I even have to lower my voice?” said Ray. "Why is yelling and making noise so wrong too? It's like they don't want us to be alive!"

“Okay, yeah. It’s a lot of bad things, alright? It’s also in the food they feed us. And that Coffee they drink too, that’s like a grownup version. And there’s maybe other stuff. I don’t even know what.” It really was a lot when you said it out loud. Billy rallied. “But you can’t just fight everything all the time! It doesn’t do any good if you get caught.” Billy wondered if his voice had gotten too high. He looked around. No one seemed to be looking at them.

Billy lowered his voice. “Look, we just gotta get through it. That's all. We won't be here forever. We'll - we'll be grown up out of here, someday. And then we’ll be able to do what we want. Until then, you’ll just have to learn to..." he sighed. "It stinks, I know. But you gotta learn to pretend."

Ray looked at Billy for a long, long time.

"But it's not a game." Ray picked up another rock, and looked at. It was shiny and flat, easy to hold. He put it down again. " It's real." The wind blew cold. Ray let out a long breath, and wrapped his arms around his shins even tighter than before. “They want us to pretend, so they can forget. So by the time we grow up we’ll forget.” His hair caught the wind and flew in all directions. "It's not just that I don't want to. I can't. It's not possible."

A moment of silence passed between them.

"Yeah...," said Billy, “I know how that feels.”

For a moment, Ray’s face was as bright as the sun that warmed them both. "Thanks, Billy."

A bird landed in the grasses behind them, and they turned to look at it. It pecked at the dirt briefly. Finding nothing it wanted, the bird rejoined the sky.

Ray's eyes hid none of his envy.

"Well, uh, later," Billy abruptly turned around and headed back towards the playground. He wished he had a piece of gum. He stuck his hands in his warm coat pockets.

It was too late for him to join any games now. Which was alright. He kind of wasn’t feeling like it. Plus he didn't want to hurt his ear. He settled into his favorite position for recess. Standing with his back to the wall of the school, under the protection of a nice shady tree, with a good view of the whole playground in action.

Soon, Mrs. Grundy blew a whistle. The children quickly stopped playing and reassembled. Billy, in his spot, was already near the front of the line by the time it formed. He was sure to get another standard acceptable mark on his behavior chart.

They were marched back into school. He checked around but did not see Ray.

Dressed for exercise in sweat pants and T-shirts, the students poured forth from the locker room into the gymnasium. They gathered loosely in small bands of companions. Finally, just as the last of the young stragglers came into the arena, Coach Brumble emerged from the easy chair in his adjacent office. He clutched a candy bar in his left hand as his right hand scratched his belly.

"Attention!" yelled Coach Brumble. The children moved into rows. He negotiated his impressive bulk through them to the front of the room, like a tanker moving through toy sailboats.

Brumble examined them silently as he finished his bar of chocolate-covered pork. He stuffed the empty plastic wrapper into a voluminous back pocket.

"Jumping Jacks!" he bellowed suddenly. The boys quickly separated their feet to shoulder width, and held their arms level.

"On my count- begin! One! Two! Three! Four!" The children began pumping their arms and legs in an exhausting rhythm. From another pocket, Brumble produced a candy bar and peeled back the wrapper. He moved up and down the rows of larval citizens, making sure all were taking part. His counting, somewhat muffled by nougat and caramel, continued steady and strong.

"Windmills!"

"Situps!"

"Leg stretches! ...Push-ups! ...Crunches!"

The exercises continued in all possible variations, until the medically advised limit of physical damage had been reached. At last the exercises were finished. The boys collapsed. Coach Brumble burped softly.

"Well." He glowered at them through heavy eyes. "That wasn't much of a work out. How do you expect to be men, if you can't even work?” His stomach heaved angrily. Barely anyone had even passed out today. “Fine! Be a bunch of slackers, if that's how you want to do it. See where just getting by will get you.”

Several rows back, Billy felt himself slowly come back into his gasping body.

"I guess I can't expect that much from a buncha girls.” Brumble's contemptuous facial expression was briefly erased by a truly heroic belch. “Well,” he said as he wiped a strand of stray digestive fluid from his upper lip, “the girls are coming over today, and with the shape you’re in, they’re probably gonna kick your little candy asses."

Slowly the boys’ heads rose from the floors. "Really?" went several voices at once. “The girls are coming over?" asked another.

“It’s got to be some sort of trick,” Mark Chambers whispered to Billy. Billy nodded in agreement.

"I want you to all to behave like little gentlemen. Remember, it's not their fault they're so weak and useless. After all, so are you. And," here the Coach leered and hitched at the back of his pants, "At least they have some uses. - SO. Get yourselves off the floor and line up against the wall.”

"What are we gonna do, Coach?" asked Keith Moranis.

"You'll find out, Moranis. Meanwhile, do what you’re told." Billy wished he could get away with asking questions.

Just as the boys finished lining up, Head Nurse Kraft-Ebbing led the girls into the room. They were dressed in sweatpants and T-shirts, but their shapes did pleasantly un-boyish things to their gym clothes.

Tracy was among them - the first and last person Bill wanted to see. Tracy. Billy saw her, walking and chatting with another girl. The line stopped and she leaned back against the wall.

“And now,” said Brumble. He let the words hang in the air for a dramatic pause, during which the remains of his candy bar met its final demise. “Now, you’re all gonna dance!”

“Dance?” Murmurs spread through the lines of children. What the hell was going on here?

“You boys are growing old enough, that it’s time you learned something about girls. Like the proper ways to touch girls. So, here they are. Square Dancing, Ballroom Dancing, and Line Dancing. And,” Brumble savored the moment, his tongue sliding between his lips in a final licking motion not unlike a lizard reveling in slime beneath a rock.

“…The Cha-Cha.”

The children went silent with shocked horror.

No! Billy screamed inside. Not today. His wounded ear would be noticed in an instant. And they would make fun of it, make fun of him. Billy wouldn't be able to hide in the background, mark his time, survive and make it through. He would be noticed and ground down like all the rest.

Unless….

Unless I point out Tracy’s wounded ear instead.

Wait a minute, Billy wondered. How could I think that?

Another thought followed soon after. Someone will see it anyway. You might as well.

It was true, a flaw on her would be the talk of the school. While she was being persecuted, he might not even be noticed at all. He could have time to heal, and to deal with whatever Mrs. Hobbey had put inside his ear.

Billy closed his eyes and found that he could never, ever betray Tracy.

Billy opened his eyes. That really meant something. Since he couldn’t betray Tracy, these thoughts had to be coming from that seed Mrs. Hobbey had put back inside his ear.

Do it! the thing said, no longer pretending to have his voice. You’re wasssting time! it whispered with dark seductive tones. Do it, or I’ll forccce my wayyyy outtt!! I’ll tell all of them what you know!

Billy looked across the gym. The girls stood in silent anxiety, just as underjoyed as all the boys. From across the room across the gym, Coach Brumble and Nurse Kraft-Ebbing exchanged darkly knowing smiles. Billy looked at Tracy again. She was leaning her face slightly to her left, so her ear was out of easy view.

The system was so perfect. Someone would always have to lose. Maybe everyone. Kids whose wounds he hadn’t seen. Something was done.

Next to Billy, Chris Barlow was wrestling with his own thoughts. “Why do we have to dance?” Chris Barlowe dared to ask the Coach.

“Some of us could use the exercise, tubby,” responded Brumble. Several children within Brumble’s eyesight laughed politely at Brumble’s witticism.

Billy made his way over to where Timmy leaned against the wall. “Hey,” Billy whispered. “You want to do this dancing stuff?”

“What do you think?” Tim snarled and leaned towards him. “You think I’m a wuss? C'mere…!”

“Hey, hey. I was just thinking, we should be playing Poisonball, instead of this stuff.”

Tim’s eyes lit immediately. “Yeah! That's right!” He ground his fist into his palm. Some other kids on either side of them chimed in. “What is this ‘dance’ stuff, anyway?”

Billy watched expectantly as Timmy they grew more restless. The word spread. No kids wanted to deal with the risks of dancing. They all knew that poisonball brought bruises, nerve damage and blood, but that hurt less and was much easier to heal than ridicule.

“Hey, Coach Brumble sir! Can’t we do something else?

“Is there a problem, boys?” Brumble rumbled. He glanced over at The Nurse, and they shared another smile.

“It’s just, dancing, you know, it’s not that fun,” a voice ventured down the line.

“What could be better? You don’t want to touch girls?” the Coach leered sadistically.

“Jus’ wanna play games, ‘n have fun 'n stuff…” the student’s voice faded out weakly.

“Games. Huh? You wanna play games. Well,” Brumble’s voice rose in volume to address the whole class, “that’s not what life’s about. You shoulda learned that in kindergarten. It's about work! What are you, a bunch of babies?”

His stomach began to move with a will of its own, as if something living inside it was becoming restless.

“I said, what are you, a bunch of babies?” He roared, as his stomach began jumping up and down.

“NO, SIR!” yelled the class all at once.

“You don’t act like it….” the Coach’s eyes wandered down the line of boys. “How about you, Timmy? You’re usually the perfect student. Do you wanna pway games wike a widdle baby?”

Timmy’s face reddened, and a young blood vessel pounded in his temple.

“Well, Timmy? Speak up. Why aren’t you man enough to follow orders?” Timmy’s fists clutched empty air as he strained for self-control.

“Dancing is for wusses,” said Tim finally. “I wanna hit somebody.”

"Oh," Brumble said. His belly rustled thoughtfully. He scratched it, and it responded with a thunderous release of digestive gases. “…I can understand that, at least,” he said. His stomach settled down a bit, somewhat mollified. Billy could almost make out what looked like some sort of thing rustling beneath the coach’s tent-sized sweatshirt. “We can’t really do that with dancing.”

"What ...about..." Timmy asked, in a voice that nearly broke with intensity, “…about Poisonball.” At the last word Timmy’s whole body convulsed with bloodlust. His hands tensed for something to throw, to strike. Several of the boys nearest him moved away.

“Hmmph.” Brumble looked over at Nurse Kraft-Ebbing. “Do you think your little girls can handle it?” he asked mockingly.

“I bet they can, better than your little babies,” she taunted back.

“How about it, lads?” said the Coach, enjoying the feeling of inspiring his troops. “Is that how the rest of you feel? Would you rather dance or hurt?”

All the boys voiced their approval for physical pain.

“Shall we do it, Nurse?” Nurse Kraft-Ebbing caressed the iron cross around her neck, and granted her assent. It was decided. Billy joined in the collective sigh of relief. Dancing would have been inescapable torture. At least in battle a child had a chance.

The seven Poisonballs were placed in a pile in the middle of the gymnasium. The class was divided into boys against girls, and then several of the more psychotic boys were transferred to the girls’ side. This would even out the teams, by embarrassing those transferred boys into a truly maniacal frenzy.

Billy was on the boys’ team. He briefly wondered where was best to stand and await the battle, but it mattered little. Wherever he stood, the outcome would be the same; after some minutes of frantic adrenaline-soaked dodging, he would collapse in pain with his nerves on fire. Still, Billy liked to feel somewhat in control of his destiny. He elected to try the right side of the gym, about 2/3 of the way towards the back. Behind a couple of fat kids who would shield him, at least until they realized the exposed nature of their positions.

Coach Brumble and the Iron Nurse retreated behind the plexiglass safety barrier. The whistle blew. The most homicidal and suicidal students ran to the center, and began to hurl their poisonballs at the other team.

A chaotic swarm of kinetic fury filled the room, as the balls bounced harmlessly off walls or producing a loud sizzling Spung! noise when striking human flesh. Billy stayed mobile, and the slower-moving kids ahead of him drew most of the fire.

Some poisonballs missed their targets, and rolled around slowly at the center of the room. Timmy ran forward to grab a bunch at once. This was a high-risk, high-gain maneuver - a player could either control the field early or be instantly, painfully eliminated.

Timmy was able to snatch two. He immediately whaled his first strike at a slowly-retreating girl. The poisonball's stored neurolectricity caught her square in the midsection. She fell to the floor, twitching in convulsions.

As Timmy laughed with glee, an opponent ran from the other side and threw. Timmy twisted but failed to completely avoid his rival’s attack, which struck him on his hip. The ball bounced back and the kid grabbed it for another shot.

Neurolelectricity still tingling in his leg, Timmy responded with a lightning throw to the other boy’s neck. The kid dropped the ball and went down clutching his throat. Timmy picked up this ball and broke the rules to limp across the line in the middle of the room, and stand over his latest victim. Keeping a tight grip on his Poisonball, he repeatedly struck the fallen boy in the face.

"That was nicely done," Brumble commented to the Iron Nurse. She nodded in agreement. He recorded an extra credit for Timmy's 'kill'.

Across the room, Billy saw Keith Moranis, both doomed and blessed with a low level of awareness. Keith was just running frantically around the room, and no big kids were even trying to hit him. Keith just wasn’t a challenge. Dumb enough to ask questions and not be chastised, too dumb to ever really get in trouble, maybe even too dumb to ever be really unhappy … A wave of envy washed over Billy, and grew deeper, into anger.

Just inside his ear, he was feeling the itching again. Something struggled to come forth. I wish I could show him what it felt like to be me, Billy heard inside his head. I’d sssssshowww himmm… It whispered hoarsely. He shut his eyes and tried to will the voice away. But all he could hear was the tiny, dark voice, with an edge to it, like a knife in darkness. We’ll throw at them! Hurt them, it was saying. I’ll do itttttt!

You’re not me! Billy thought back. Stop pretending to be me!

I am a part of youuu, it whispered. Sooonnn enough, we will needdd to hurt themmm. You will needdd meeee…

An upperclassman saw that Billy was distracted. He threw a Poisonball directly at his head. Acting on reflex, Billy caught it. It sizzled the palms of his flesh, but didn’t deliver a full shock. The kid who had thrown it stood still, startled. He was now out, and Billy had a Poisonball.

Billy began to run around, wondering what to do. His Pod wanted him to throw itt! Show them your power, give them painnnn! Another poisonball came near Billy. He dodged quickly, and it bounced off the wall beside him.

Figghhtt!!!! Hurtttt!!! the voice inside him screamed.

Billy looked at the grownups. He realized they thought the ball had actually hit him. The strike had been shielded from the adults’ line of sight, by the lone fat kid who remained before him. Billy judged that the Coach and Nurse hadn’t seen it’s exact trajectory.

Billy dropped the poisonballs, and screamed and fell as if it had hit his leg. He got up and limped towards the sidelines. As he came closer, he noticed Tracy had already left the game, and was leaning against the wall, this time without her friends. He wondered if she had faked her loss as well. She seemed to be standing without difficulty.

All of the remaining less violent children were quickly taken out by one brutal act or another. Only a dwindling group of would-be conquerors remained. Soon there was only Timmy, Ralph Petronio, and Mikey Stripe. They circled each other slowly, Poisonballs in all their hands, not wanting to start the endgame until the perfect opportunity.

Billy looked around. The Coach and the Nurse were distracted by the game. Now was actually a relatively safe time to talk with Tracy.

What could he say? Billy tried some things out in his head. “I have this disgusting Pod thing in my head, and it’s trying to take me over. I think you do too. Isn’t that awesome?” Yeah, right….What did he want to say? He ran through various scenarios in his mind. He realized he had nothing to say. He just wanted to be there, talking with her, because she was the only person there who interested him at all.

He swallowed, and walked over. “Hi, Tracy,” Billy said nervously.

She turned to look at him. “Hi, Billy,” she smiled. Billy’s heart jumped. That voice inside him yelled at him to run! Run away before she hurtssssss you! You’ll only get made fun offfff!

He opened his mouth to speak. “What do you think of school?” he found himself saying, not knowing why.

She looked back at him, a bit intensely. “My parents want me to do good,” she said. “It’s real important to them.” She sighed.

Billy nodded. “My parents too.” Billy paused. He lowered his voice, and he realized he had to ask her about her scar.

“So…”

“Yes?” she asked. He tried to figure out how to get this out.

“Tracy,” he started again, “did you ever notice how it seems like grownups have these -”

Billy was interrupted by a loud scream. Everyone in the room turned towards the middle of the arena. Billy turned just in time to see Timmy pummel his last remaining opponent with multiple neuroelectric balls. Ralph Petronio fell to the ground with a wet thud. Timmy laughed in dark abandon as he smashed the agony-inducing globes into his fallen foe’s head and neck. There was a red mark on the side of Timmy’s face; he must have been hit squarely there. That should mean Timmy had already lost, but Brumble had chosen to ignore it. Of course the Faculty always liked Timmy. He was a winner.

Billy turned back to Tracy. A couple of her friends had come over. One of them had a stiff face that reminded him of how his mom looked when she disapproved of something. It wasn’t safe to talk to Tracy now. Billy turned away from Tracy, trying to hide his sadness. Timmy he walked off the gym floor like a hero, his face quivering in rapture.

Brumble and Kraft-Ebbing returned from behind the safety barrier. “OK, great game, Timmy.” said Brumble. “I need two kids to take Petronio to the Nurse’s Station,” Nurse Kraft-Ebbing declared. Billy wanted to get out of the Gym. Right now, before he said something else to Tracy. He raised his hand.

“Good boy, Billy. And…Barlowe! Yes, that sounds good. You can use the firewood sled.”

Chris went over to the far corner of the room, and brought the sled over to Ralph Petronio’s prone body. Billy grabbed him by the wrists, and Chris grabbed him by the ankles. As the rest of the class lined up for more calisthenics, Chris and Billy wrestled Petronio’s limp form onto the sled, put on the yokes, and strained and tugged the sled out of the gymnasium.

Back in the gym, Gertrude eyed Tracy. “What was he saying to you?”

Tracy shrugged warily. “Just stuff.”

“I just don’t know about him,” Gertrude continued. “I don’t think he’s normal.”

“What if he isn’t normal? So what?”

Gertrude gasped. “You don’t care if he isn’t normal?”

Tracy stared back at Gertrude. “I don’t think it’s as big a deal as grownups make it.”

“Maybe you’re not normal,” said Gertrude.

“Don’t call me that!” said Tracy.

“See? You want to be normal. So why do you like that boy?”

“I don’t like the way you say that. The way you say it, you’re just being mean.”

“You should know better than to say Tracy isn’t normal, Gertrude.” Mary jumped in. “Just look at you. You aren’t even pretty.”

Both Tracy and Gertrude looked at Mary, surprised. Mary smiled. She had seized the center of attention. She was pretty, and Tracy was pretty too. That could make them a good team, of saying mean people to others and rising above them. Tracy would be foolish not to accept such a teamup. To some people, Mary was prettier than Tracy.

“Who asked you?” said Tracy.

This time both Mary and Gertrude gasped.

“I’m just helping you!” said Mary.

“No you’re not,” said Tracy. “Gertrude is my friend. You take that back that mean thing you just said.”

Mary scratched her head, honestly confused. “Take back what I said?” She nodded at Gertrude. “About her?”

“Yes! Say you’re sorry.”

“Fine, whatever. You’ll see what you get then, hanging out with ugly oddballs.”

“My friends are my friends. If you want me to be nice to you, you be nice to them.”

Mary turned her back on Tracy, and mentally added her to a list of enemies.

Tracy turned back to Gertrude. Gertrude was shocked. Something was slipping through her face. She mumbled a little.

“What?” asked Tracy.

“Why did you do that?” Gertrude whispered. “She’s popular. I’m not.”

“Because you’re my friend, you dummy,” said Tracy.

The stiffness in Gertrude’s face slipped a bit. A tear was quickly wiped away, as a fragile and real smile came to her face.

Chris and Billy pulled the sled up the empty hallway, and maneuvered it onto the conveyor belt. They rode in silence towards the Nurse’s Station.

Soon they rounded the corner, and Chris breathed a sigh of relief. It echoed around the empty halls. Usually when Billy was in these halls he was rushing to reach some class on time. It was odd being in no hurry, and being the only kids around.

“Heard anything about Andy Trilling?” Billy said softly.

“No,” said Chris. He pointed at the Faculty Lounge they were passing. “I don’t think they have any idea where Andy’s gone, or even how he got away.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Billy said.

“Yeah – as long as it lasts,” said Chris.

They walked a few more moments in silence.

“I read some of that book,” Billy said under his voice. “The one Murple had, before he…the one he had.” Billy didn’t say anything further.

After a short while Chris gave in to his curiosity. “What did it say?”

Billy looked ahead. They were almost there. “I’ll tell you later,” Billy whispered.

The Nurse’s Office loomed around the corner. Billy and Chris arranged properly downtrodden, unhappy and respectful expressions on their faces, pushed the sled off the conveyor belt, and quickly jumped off beside it. They walked up to the door. Billy raised his hand to knock on it. He heard voices from within, and stopped. Unable to resist, Billy and Chris leaned in closer to hear.

First there was a pleasant, even, adult and well-modulated voice: “You are one of the following. You will choose and check a box you will be in.”

Then an upset, young boy’s voice cracked, saying “I choose my own choices! Not yours!”

“You can only have one choice. One of those who follow.”

“I am anything I want!” Billy realized the kid’s voice belonged to Ray.

“What you want is not in the choices.”

“I don’t care!”

“A Seed will be placed in you, until it keeps. In the rich dark soil of your hate and fear. If you resist it will hurt.”

“So what?” said Ray’s upset, cracking, still-defiant voice – and for once, Billy was proud to be a kid.

Billy turned to Chris. “That sounds like Ray Pfieffer,” he said.

Chris nodded. “They’re Testing him.” Chris shook his head. “You’d think he’d know better than to resist.”

Billy swallowed. He was beginning to experience some vague, unpleasant memories. Even though they were controlled by these strange things, his parents had delayed Billy’s Testing. Maybe they had resisted. If it weren’t for Ray awakening him during the filmstrip this morning, Billy might have already been been Well Adjusted …

“You can only be one of the following,” the voice began again. “To do that you must follow.”

Ray’s response was drowned out by Chris. “We have to drop off Petronio,” Chris reminded Billy. “If we get back late, we’ll both be in a lot of trouble.”

Billy nodded. This also meant they could interrupt the Testing, which Billy found himself wanting to do. He raised his arm, swallowed, and knocked on the steel door. “Who dares?” demanded the voice from within. It was the same voice as he’d heard before, the voice of Nurse Hauptmann. “I’m in the middle of important work here!”

“I’m very sorry to bother you ma’am,” said Billy. “We were sent by Coach Brumble and Nurse Kraft-Ebbing. We’ve got a boy who…” How did Brumble always put it? “…Who tried to get out of gym class by collapsing.”

“Oh, very well,” she said. Enormous door bolts klanged rang free, the door slid open and Nurse Hauptmann beckoned them. Up close, Billy noticed the length and sharpness of her fingernails; her other claw clutched a cup of Coffee that was almost all gone.

Billy and Chris dragged in the sled.

“Put him over there,” she said, “and sit down while I write your return note.” The boys wrestled Ralph’s form onto a nearby wooden bench, and sat next to him.

The Nurse handed them the note. “And say hi to Coach Brumble-butt,” the Nurse said. The boys looked at each other, confused. Suddenly Billy got it – she was attempting to make a joke. Billy laughed politely, and nudged Chris. Chris quickly joined in. “You’re good boys,” she nodded approvingly. “Don’t get in trouble now.”

“Grownups get so weird without their Coffee,” Chris noted to Billy once they were outside.

“Yeah,” said Billy.

They passed the Faculty Lounge again.

“What do you think would happen, if someone got rid of all the Faculty’s Coffee?” Billy asked.

“Are you kidding? They’d probably go nuts. Well, even more nuts.”

“That’s right,” said Billy. He swallowed, and then grabbed Chris by the shirt. He stepped off the conveyor and Chris followed him.

“We can do go into the Faculty Lounge, and get rid of all their coffee!” Billy said. “If we do that, maybe we can make all this stop!”

“Huh? Why?” said Chris.

Billy stared at him in surprise. “Because it’s not right!”

“Nothing here is right, Billy,” said Chris. “It’s a School. The best we can hope for is to do our time and get out with good behavior.”

“But Trilling escaped! Maybe Ray can too!”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Do you ever have a – a thing in your head?” Chris gulped nervously, then nodded. “Me too,” said Billy. “Mine attacked me this morning. But Ray, they don’t seem to stay in his head! He knows how to fight them!”

Chris shook his head. “What are you talking about? He’s losing, Billy! He’s stuck in there being tested. He doesn’t even know how to save himself.”

“But maybe we can save him,” said Billy. “And he can show us how to keep the weird things out of our heads!”

“No way am I going to get between adults and their Coffee. It’s too risky.

Billy started to speak, stopped, and started again. “I’m going to do this. Are you with me or not?

“What are you going to do?” asked Chris.

“Just keep an eye out.”

Chris’ eyes opened wide in fear. “You’re really going to do something,” said Chris, becoming increasingly alarmed.

“I have to,” Billy said.

Billy and Chris slowly opened the door to the Faculty Lounge. There were no teachers to be seen. “All the spare teachers must still be looking for Andy,” Billy said.

“Okay,” whispered Chris. “You go ahead, and try your stupid plan. I’ll make a noise if I see anyone, but there’s no way I’m going in there and I definitely don’t want to know what you’re doing.”

Billy stepped in softly. Chris closed the door behind him. And the plan that had started to form in Billy’s head…

…began to fade.

What was he doing again?

He should just go find a teacher to talk to. Billy moved towards the intercom near the doorway. His hand was halfway to the button before he stopped himself.

He wasn’t the one trying to call a teacher. That was that thing inside his head.

You’llll be caugghhhttttt, the thing said. Billy’s ear began itching. I’llll maaaakke you screammmm. And you’llllll be punishedddd. Just give uuuuppp.

As the thing expended effort in speaking and struggling, the net of confusion it had cast over Billy’s thoughts disappeared. Billy remembered his plan. He turned and walked towards the Faculty Lounge’s large brass vat of Coffee.

His ear suddenly exploded in pain. Billy fell to the floor. NO! it declared. I WON’T ALLOW ITTTTT! it screamed. The pain and desperation were giving it strength….as was something else. Was it Billy’s proximity to the Coffee?

Yes! These things seemed to need coffee! Maybe it fed them inside the grownups? Gave them some kind of sustenance that pain and misery could not?

Billy grit his teeth against the pain. Inch by inch, Billy crawled towards the Coffee Vat. Feeding off Billy’s fear and anguish, his Pod began to grow. I won’t waittt until the nighttt again thisssss time, it declared. I’ll take you now! And you’lll rat out little Chrissssy next!

“Never!” Billy yelled, and bit his tongue. Haaaah, that’ssss it, the Pod continued. Givvve usss away. Or don’t! And I will winnnn laterrrr. I’ll give up little Traceeeey too. Billy bit his tongue in rage. The rage only made the Pod-Thing stronger.

Billy remembered why he was here. Not all the details, that was still too fuzzy somehow. But there was an emotion he could remember. It was sometimes at the edge of how he felt around his parents, and his friends. Around Tracy. He didn’t know quite what this emotion was. It made him stronger. He was able to the last few final feet, to reach the brass vat’s side.

The Pod began emerging from Billy’s ear. It was preparing to take him over.

You loosssse, sswwweet Billy! It screamed in triumph. Nowww you willl be minneee at lassssttt!

Billy didn’t waste his strength trying to fight the Pod. Instead he struggled to his feet, and leaned all this weight upon the vat.

It tipped over and fell to the hard polished floor. The vat cracked, and the putrid cover fell. The strange powder inside spread all over the floor. The pure afternoon sunlight streamed in through the windows, and set the substance into flame. Billy fell again to the floor, feeling waves of pain take him into unconsciousness.

Billy was in terrible pain, yet he felt strangely satisfied. He could stand to end like this. He had done his best, and no more could be done. Nooo the thing inside his head declared. You must fear. Billy laughed feebly. Feed me your fearrr!!

As he drifted out of this world, Billy knew at least he’d done what was right.

The creature began to scream….

Billy woke up on the conveyor belt. “Stand up!” said Chris.

“What?” said Billy, still dazed.

“I said stand up!” Chris demanded again. “Some grownup is going to notice you!”

Billy struggled to his feet and tried to stand with nonchalance. They were moving back towards the gymnasium, with the empty sled they’d brought Ralph in.

He touched his ear. His Pod had shrunk again, and gone inside - mostly. “What happened?” asked Billy. “Where’s my – my…” He pointed at his ear.

Chris shuddered. “All I know is I pulled you out, and you owe me big time.” He shook his head. “Boy you made a racket in there.”

“You saved me?”

“Yeah, well,” said Chris, embarrassed. They traveled on down the eerily still and quiet halls.

Billy rubbed his eyes. “What about Ray?”

“What about him? As soon as the Faculty finds out they’ve got no Coffee, maybe he’ll have his chance to run. I hope he can still make it out.”

“Me too.”

They got back to the gym class. The girls were already gone and the boys were already coming out of the locker room dressed in their regular clothes. Just then the bell began to toll.

“We’re late!” said Chris in panic.

They rushed into the locker room and changed out of their gym clothes. Chris made it out first. Billy hurried soon after, still putting one arm through the sleeve of his shirt as he held his book bag through the other.

He pressed his way through the other kids. His next class was all the way across the school, and it was with Mr. McGillicutty! That man would take no excuses and look deep into why Billy might be late. He absolutely had to be in class before it started, if he wanted to escape this day alive.

As he got closer to the classroom the hallways grew increasingly empty. Ahead of a thinning crowd of students entered separate classroom doors. Was he going to get caught anyway, after all of this risk? Had they been right to leave Ray? If the Nurse was without her Coffee, would she let up on Ray? Or would she Test him even more cruelly?

If suspicion landed on Billy then poor Chris wouldn’t be far behind. Chris, who had saved Billy even after backing Billy up had put them both in danger. All this other worry – and on top of it he realized that all this stress might also feed his pod. A sick, oozing sensation of diseased satisfaction was his reply, from deep inside where he didn’t want to look. Maybe this fear and speculation itself would feed his Pod.

Almost no one was left in the hallway. The final bell would have to ring soon, and he still might be late to class. At last he neared the open door to the classroom. He was going to make it! He broke into a run.

He made it inside the door. Somehow, the bell hadn’t rung yet! He was the last student in, so he hurried to sit before he could be noticed. He found his desk, and breathed a sigh of relief. Billy kept his eyes averted from the front of the room, as he dug out his workbook and his trusty pencil.

McGillicutty hadn’t said anything yet. The best Billy could do was play this out. When all his materials were properly arranged on his desk, as innocently as he could, he raised his head to gauge the attitude of his teacher.

When he was finished, he looked up.

His mind reeled when he realized the classroom had no teacher.

“Why hasn’t the bell rung yet?” Theresa Cunningham asked her fellow studients. “No idea,” said another student, just as surprised.

“Say, where’s Mr. McGillicutty?” asked Tommy Moranis. He stood up. Billy waited until another couple of students had risen out of their seats, and got up also. Slowly the class drifted towards the doorway. Tommy again could be counted on to take the first step, with the innocence of the oblivious. Billy found his way through the students to see what might be going on..

Directly across from them, another class of students poked their heads into the hallway. “Hey Fred!” Tommy yelled across. “Is Mr. McGillicutty in there?”

“No,” said the kid. “Is Mrs. Jonesenrank in there?”

“Thank God no,” said Suzy, right behind Billy. The other kids laughed a little nervously. Mrs. Jonesenrank was almost mean enough to be a Nurse.

“Hey!” came a child’s voice from down the hall. Billy stepped past his classmates into the hallway, to see where it came from. “Do you have any teachers down there?” the student continued.

“No!” yelled Billy joyously.

The students began to step outwards into the hallway, eyes wide with wonder.

One child finally dared give voice to their greatest dream. “All the teachers are just gone?”

The fire bell rang.

The children knew the sound, and responded with motions drilled in by repetition. The piercing sound cut through all talk, all thought, and any urge except to get as far away as possible. Even with no teachers, they formed lines, and stepped onto the now-motionless conveyor belts, and walked as fast as they could towards the nearest exit.

They got all the way outside, and still no Faculty appeared. This was even stranger. No one could ever remember having been outside in such numbers, with no teachers around at all.

The children stood silent. After some time, someone began to cheer. They all took it up, and began to clap. Some of them sang songs they had been taught long ago, back when there had been a Music class.

Billy watched Timmy, several feet over. Timmy appeared to be mystified. He didn’t know what to do. He half-heartedly pushed a couple of kids who stood near him. They pulled together in a group, and Timmy found them a bit harder to intimidate. He walked away, glowering.

Other kids began gathering into small groups, to play.

After a few minutes had passed, a strange sound was heard off in the distance. The children slowly stopped playing and strained to listen. It grew louder, as if something was coming closer. The sound had a vague aspect of something being chopped by a machine.

Billy followed the sound’s direction. Suddenly the sound grew louder, and a long green shape emerged above the nearby hills. It looked vaguely like a dragonfly. The children watched, silent and astounded, as it drew closer.

It was a helicopter. As it came closer into view, they could see a strange globular object dangling beneath it. When it passed directly overhead, Billy strained his neck to look straight up it. The object was round, silvery-gray, and about the size of a small refrigerator. Billy quickly recognized it.

It was a Coffee vat.

The helicopter slowed and stopped, and then hovered in place above the Faculty Lounge. The vat was slowly lowered down. When it seemed about to hit the school’s roof, two huge bay doors opened outwards. The vat slowly slipped between them, and quickly disappeared from view.

The cable was drawn back up towards the helicopter. The end of the cable dangled loosely, no longer carrying its burden. When the cable had disappeared entirely inside the helicopter, it rose into the sky, and flew over the opposite horizon.

Silence followed, and minutes passed. During which the children just looked at each other.

Suddenly the bell rang, and the Faculty emerged from the school’s doors. They gripped their freshly refilled Coffee mugs, and looked frightened and angry. They commanded the students to fall back into their homeroom ranks.

That’s it? Billy asked himself. I risk everything, and all we get is a few minutes to stand outside?

As they marched back in to class, he wondered if his pod-thing was chuckling.

The school day was soon over. Billy rode the conveyor belt with the other students, through the front doors and out of the school. He looked ahead. Down the tarmac, the long yellow cocoons were filling slowly with larval workers. The tide of children was flowing home. Relief was in the air. For what little still remained of today, at least school could be left behind.

Billy glanced over his shoulder. No grownups appeared to be paying attention to him. As the belt moved forward, he reached into his bookbag. He pulled out the book, and looked at the title again: The Real History of Coffee and its Only Cure. He knew all cared to know about the history. He needed to find out about the cure part. He couldn’t do it by himself, he’d tried. He had to find a way to cure this thing inside him, inside his friends, this thing that had grown to maturity inside his parents and robbed them of their childhood joy when they needed it most - in their adulthood.

He went to the back of the book. More history. He skipped ahead further. He looked ahead furtively at the conveyor belt that was moving him along; they hadn’t reached outside yet. He looked back, and at last he reached a title page that said” Part 2: Its Only Cure. He flipped past it. A page followed at the top, titled “Connection”.

The page was empty. He tried to flip ahead - but there were no more written pages in the book. All that remained were some small shreds near the binding.

Billy shoved the book back into his backpack. Was this all some kind of joke? He picked up the backpack and put it on his shoulders. It felt like it held all the weight of the world. He wondered if, somewhere inside his head, the seed-thing within him smiled.

At that exact moment, the belt rounded the last corner and took them outside the school doors to the sidewalk. Suddenly Billy saw Principal Maybee, standing next to the conveyor belt. And Maybee was looking directly at him. Billy had passed all the other Faculty inside, still recovering from having missed their dose of Coffee. Billy hadn’t expected Maybee to be outside, since the Principal so rarely ventured into direct sunlight. He had this time, however, and he was staring at Billy quite intently. Billy wondered why. Then he suddenly realized how foolish he had been. Billy had not been looking properly depressed and respectful.

Maybee motioned to him to step off to the side of the conveyor belt. Billy swallowed, moved to the side of the belt, and stepped off onto the sidewalk. The other students rolled on past. Those students riding nearest to Billy immediately ignored his existence.

The Principal held his riding crop in one hand. In his other hand, he held the Red Stamp. Billy restrained a shiver.

"Did you enjoy yourself today, Mr. Short?" the Principal inquired, with disarming innocence.

"Oh, yes, sir. I learned a lot of valuable things today, sir," Billy replied, trying to to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"Really…" Maybee said. He drew out the single word as if it were a line of rope. Hands clasped tightly behind his back, he towered over Billy. "And what things have we been learning…?"

"How to work and how to buy. I can’t wait to grow up and be able to make money and buy things, sir."

Maybee raised his eyebrows. "It’s good to work at some things…you were talking with Ray Pieffer on the playground, today, Billy. "

There was no use in denying it. "Yes sir."

Maybee leaned in suddenly like a hungry snake. "What about?"

Billy kept his gaze steady. "Just, stuff, you know. He owes me a cookie from a couple of lunches ago.”

"That was it?"

Billy nodded. “Yes, sir."

The Principal examined him coldly, holding him frozen to the spot. He fingered his red stamp. “Coach Brumble and Nurse Kraft-Ebbing said you and another student were sent on an errand this afternoon,” he continued.

“Yes sir. We took Petronio to the Nurse Station.” Inside, Billy’s heart sank. Ray must not have escaped. He had risked him and his friend Chris for nothing. Billy hoped Ray hadn’t broken. Or Chris. He resisted the urge to run away.

“Did you by any chance go into the Faculty Lounge?” asked the Principal?

Billy decided to play it very, very innocent. “Huh? Why would we?”

“Maybe to try some Coffee?”

“Ugh,” said Billy. “That’s for grownups.”

“Perhaps to help Ray, then?”

“Help Ray?” said Billy. “Why?”

“A good answer,” said the Principal. “Why would you help anyone? But if that’s how you feel, why did you loan him that sandwich cookie three weeks ago?"

"So he would stop bothering me with his weird stuff," said Billy.

Maybee leaned back a bit, considering this. Billy’s heart raced, as he examined Maybee’s expression. He appeared to accept Billy’s answer, and stood back somewhat satisfied. "That’s good. Because you're a good student, Billy. You've got a fairly clean record. You don't need to get filed with the likes of Ray." Maybee was silent for a moment.

It was important to keep a grownup like Maybee talking, and distracted from giving his full, undivided attention. "What’s wrong with Ray, anyway?" Billy blurted. “Sir," he added.

Maybee considered the question, and then Billy. Damn! He had slipped, and asked the Principal a real question. Had he forgotten he was at school?

"It’s a very interesting problem,” said Maybee. “There were – ah, are a lot of very complicated things going on with Ray. Hmm….yes,” he scratched at the dry, thin skin of his face. His cheek twitched slightly. “Yes, what it all boils down to is, he thinks that he's unique.”

“And he isn’t,” Billy said, eager to seem to agree.

"Yes, of course not. All people are basically the same." The Principal gazed down at Billy, examining him. "You might think you're unique, special. This sort of thinking is a cancer to guard against. It causes unpredictability, unplanned change, disruption. In every way that matters, you are all the same. You are born; we gather you, we plant the Seeds of discipline within you. We raise you up good and strong. And when we’re done, we ship you out, so you can make us a fresh new crop."

"Yes sir," repeated Billy.

"Good boy. You're all just peas in a Pod - remember that, and you'll do just fine."

"I'll remember, sir."

Maybee looked at his watch. "Now get to your bus," he said. Billy saluted, and stepped on the conveyor belt that would take him to his bus. When the belt reached its end, he stepped off and walked the few remaining feet to his transportation home. Without really knowing why, he lingered at the side, letting other students enter the bus before him.

I'll remember what you said, Billy thought. I’ll remember all your lies.

Ahead of Billy, a student was struggling under the weight of her bookbag, as she climbed up the bus’ steep steps. After a short but intense struggle, she reached the top step, and turned the corner to start down the aisle. Her heavily loaded backpack slipped off her shoulder, and bumped into the sleeping bus driver. He awoke with a curse, and lunged at her head like an old and angry bear. She scrambled out of his reach, with millimeters to spare.

More children, too eager to leave school to wait for the driver’s rage to ebb, continued to climb aboard, and blocked the driver from his vengeance. The driver growled in frustration. He eventually sat back in his seat with a thump, and grabbed his whiskey flask instead.

Billy heard a sudden sound to his left. He looked down, and realized it was a penny that had landed near his feet. Where were they coming from?

Billy looked down near the entrance, at the trees just left of the gate.

There, in the trees above the fence, Billy was shocked to see Ray waving back at him.

Ray gave Billy a big thumbs up, and disappeared back into the trees.

Billy smiled. He made sure no other Faculty members were looking, and gave a thumbs’ up in return. Billy then faced towards the bus. He hid his smile, and did not look back at the gate again. He didn’t want there to be any chance that he could give Ray away.

Inside he treasured this moment. Ray had gotten out! And Billy and Chris had helped him.

Where would Ray go? Billy knew that if there was anywhere that Schools or Work did not control, Ray would find it. And he would get bring this free world back to them.

Billy breathed with relief, and stepped onto the bus. He had made it through quite a day.

The bus driver prepared himself with his ritual of deep swigs from a nameless steel flask. When both the bus and the driver were fully loaded, they would set off down the road.

Some late-arriving children quickly scrambled for their seats.

Billy stole a glance at the bus driver as he walked up the steps. Billy couldn’t see any signs of a pod-thing on him. Was he so full of natural bitterness that he didn’t need to be controlled?

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe that had helped the bus driver keep from having the pod - at the cost of keeping him from doing anything else with his life but becoming mad and bitter. That was no way to win either.

Billy sat next to Timmy, and briefly closed his eyes. This had been the hardest day of school Billy’d had in a long, long time.

The bus driver gunned the engine. Some late-arriving children quickly scrambled for their seats. The bus took off, bouncing off another school bus on their way out of the entrance. The other bus driver’s curses faded into the distance, as their bus entered the main road and headed for the student’s homes.

Timmy appeared to be in an unusually fine mood now. "I got in a fight in the hallway," he said joyously. He licked his knuckles as they drove past the guardhouse and through the steel gate.

"Who with?"

"Oh, some punk. That Barlow kid. After that stupid fire drill break we had today…Boy, did I knock him around." Timmy smiled as he ran through the fight in his mind, and mimed kidney punches at the seat before him. Billy heard a faint curse from the front of the bus. It was the bus driver, as they swayed around a corner and almost hit a particularly resourceful pedestrian. The bus driver seemed angry because he’d missed.

Timmy’s smile faded. He began to look troubled. "You know, Billy, I told everyone about that disaster you talked about this morning, and no one else heard about it. Are you sure it happened?"

"Which disaster was that again?" Billy asked effortlessly.

"You know...." Timmy's eyes developed a far-way look. "You know, the one with all the blood and the...." Clearly moved, his eyes began to tear at the recollection of this vision. "...the bodies....babies..." He sighed dreamily.

As Timmy drifted off into blood-swept rainbows, Billy looked ahead at Tracy, in the front..

There she was, head swaying with the rhythms of the bus. He couldn’t see her face. He imagined she was smiling.

Billy never heard what girls said to each other. He wondered what they talked about, and what they thought. The grownups all said girls were strange and inexplicable. They never mentioned how. They just are, both the male and female grownups said. They said there was just a huge wall between boys and girls, that no one would ever scale.

Tracy's stop was coming up. It had been last in the morning, and so was the first one reached as they repeated the circuit home. He looked at her ear, and remembered what he'd seen today.

They had been in the same classes together for a couple of years now. And he still didn’t know anything about her.

The bus slowed to a halt. Tracy was getting off.

He got up and squeezed past Timmy.

"Hey, where ya going? This isn't your stop," said Timmy. “Are you retardant?” Billy gave no response as he shouldered his bookbag and stepped into the aisle.

“I’m talking to you, Billy! Hey!” Billy kept moving. Ahead. Tracy had gathered her books together, and was starting down the steps.

NO! A small voice inside Billy tried to yell. What are you doingggg? Billy was nearing the front of the bus now. They’ll laugh at youuuu! He continued walking forward.

"So, that's it," said Timmy. "Billy loves Tracy! Billy loves Tracy!" The chant spread among the bus like wildfire. "Billy loves Tracy! Billy loves Tracy!" fifty mouths shouted as one.

Tracy turned around, startled. The noise grew louder until the bus was shaking with it. There was now backing out now. Billy stepped past the fuming bus driver and off the bus.

"Shut up!” bellowed the driver. “QUIET!" The voices were lowered slightly, but did not cease. "SHUT UP BEFORE I MURDER ALL YOU LITTLE CREEPS!!!" he screamed. Timmy leaned forward eagerly, as the bus driver wavered on the edge of coming completely unhinged. The bus quieted down and the driver regained control of himself. Timmy sat back, disappointed.

The driver drained the last of his flask, and threw it behind his seat. He then slammed the bus’ door shut, and roared off in an explosion of dust and aging metal. Billy and Tracy were left standing outside her house.

Billy watched the bus disappear in the distance. He was done for. All his careful planning to not be noticed was set aside, in this one brief impulse he didn’t even understand.

He set his shoulders, and faced Tracy. She stood half-turned, with her books under one arm.

"Why did you get out here?" she asked. “Don’t you know they'll make fun of us?”

All the things he had thought about saying to her scattered away and hid. " I had to talk to you," he managed.

"What about?"

"Uh, your ear."

She raised a hand anxiously to the side of her head, and dropped it. "There's nothing wrong with my ear!" She turned around hurriedly, to leave.

"Wait!" he paused. "I have it too."

They faced each other in silence across the driveway.

"Have what?" she asked finally.

"That…thing. That thing that's a part of me, that grows out of stuff I don’t want to think about...that tries to make me hate, tries to take me over. I have it too."

She bit her lip nervously. Her face was pained.

"Well, if you do, why on Earth would you want to talk about it?" She touched her ear, and winced. "And why do you think I would?"

"I didn't want to just talk to you about that," he said, frustrated. "I just-" Why had he stepped off the bus? "I just see you every day, you know, and - you're so beautiful," he blurted.

She stared at him.

"I'm not trying to-” He suddenly had no idea at all what to do with his hands. He put his hands in his pockets. "Uh, anyway, I saw you, and I saw you had this, and I have it too, and I - I just thought I'd like to talk to you. Maybe we could be – like, I dunno, help each other or something. That's all."

This wasn't how he'd planned it all. But he hadn't really planned it. It had just happened. He would never ever do something this stupid again.

And she kept looking at him.

"Look, I'm sorry I bothered you. Please, just forget the whole thing. I guess I'll see you around," he finished miserably. He hefted his bookbag, now as heavy as the world, and turned to go.

Something touched shoulder. He turned around. It was Tracy.

“Would you like some soda?” she asked him.

Billy nodded. Tracy smiled. Together they headed into the house.

Where her hand had touched him, his shoulder was still smiling

￼

Home.

Billy headed up the lane to his parents’ house, in a state of reverie. He was feeling so good, that he wasn’t even feeling the pain of the Pod. It was that same feeling that had helped him in the Faculty Room. He was feeling too good to even wonder what the feeling was.

The words he’d shared with Tracy still rung in his ears. The fear he had overcome was still fresh, the joy and pride too new to separate. He wanted to sit in it, and at the same time not even think about it.

He could feel Murple’s book in his backpack, swinging around with his every step. He realized what the book had meant for a cure: “Connection”. Like he and Tracy had just made, together.

His parents’ house grew larger as it came nearer. He knew he be within it for a while yet. It no longer seemed quite as singular, quite as dominating. He knew some people outside it now. There were some other people, good people, and he was connected to them. It was no longer just him against the compromised nature of his family, his school, and the world at large.

He put the book in a plastic bag, and buried it in the soil in the woods just outside his house.

Billy stepped inside the door . His Mom had just finished setting the table. “Glad you decided to join us, Billy,” his Dad said drily from the living room. His Dad’s Pod rustled with merriment.

“Hi, Dad. Sorry I’m late - I was trying out for the mumble-mumble team.”

“Oh,” said his father, successfully uninterested. As he stood up and folded his newspaper, Billy sighed with relief. Billy would have to remember to seem to like sports this coming week. He went to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“What’s for dinner, honey?” asked Mr. Short, as Billy stepped back in.

His Mom returned from the kitchen with a dinner tray. “Ration packet 789-A, in Worcestershire sauce,” she stated proudly. “I found a new coupon.” Billy and his father followed her into the dining room.

“You’re so frugal, honey.” Mr. Short pecked her mask, and pulled out her chair. They sat down to begin the evening feast.

Billy settled into his place at the foot of the table, and picked up his spork. He looked up suddenly at his Mom.

Once, he realized, she had been a young girl. Maybe even like Tracy.

“How was work today, dear?” Billy’s Mom asked Billy’s Dad. Billy looked at him, too. Had his own Dad once been just like him? Just wanting to live his life and be free?

“Oh, it was great. We got the new account today. The office should double production this week.”

Billy suddenly wanted to ask her. Was his Mom was still alive in there; still young? And his Dad. Had his Dad once been like him? Had his Dad once wondered the same things he did?

They were both children once. Why had they let these awful creatures win, and left their childhood dreams behind them?

Mr. Short’s Pod was restless. It could smell uncomfortable questions hanging in the air, about to be asked aloud. Billy looked back at his plate, and began to shovel in the food. There were great risks to asking grownups real, hard questions. That was School’s first and strongest lesson. Even if they had no Pods or Masks, sometimes it was safer to actually insult grownups than ask them things they didn’t want to think about.

“Oh, honey - your friend Harry called from MegaDrone yesterday. Something about a party,” said Mrs. Short as she ladled out more the meatloaf-substitute.

“Right, right, I keep forgetting. They’re going to have an office party next week.” Philip Short chuckled, and had another sip of fresh-brewed Coffee.

Billy considered that his parents had to have been somewhat like him. Not exactly like him, of course. Just because his parents had lost, didn’t mean he had to. Or Tracy. Or Chris. Or even Timmy, though he honestly seemed like a lost cause. Some day, they could find a way to beat this mess they all were in. With Tracy’s help (he hoped), they could keep going. Maybe they could even wake other kids up, and all keep their heads down and their eyes open, until someone put a winning plan together.

Maybe they could all have a chance.

“So how was school today, dear?” Mom asked Billy suddenly.

“Huh? Oh, it was fine. you know.” Damn! He had to stay alert to his parents, too.

“Did you learn anything new?” asked his Dad.

“Some more ways to work, shop and follow rules.”

“Wonderful,” said Billy’s Dad, and smiled. “That’s what the world needs. You know,” he said, as he paused with a sporkful of substance poised majestically halfway towards his mouth, “When I was a kid, we used to walk uphill in hip-deep snow. Do they still make you do that?”

“Sometimes, when we get volunteered for yard duty.”

“Good for you.” Mr. Short’s Pod rustled in agreement. Billy nodded politely, and sopped up the last of his dinner ration with a corner of whitebread. “May I be excused?” he asked.

“What do you think, honey?” his Dad asked his Mom.

“I don’t see why not. He’s been so nice and quiet this whole dinner, hasn’t he?”

“Okay then, off you go,” said his Dad. “And remember to not be such a baby tomorrow.”

“Yes sir, I will,” said Billy with sudden determination. He pushed in his chair and placed his dishes in the washer. As he walked up to his room, his Mom observed him thoughtfully from behind her mask.

Billy finished his homework, and started putting together a new model car. He had found it calming. His father opened the door and saw him working. Billy was pretty sure that, far beneath the Pod, his father loved him deeply. As long as his father’s Pod’s suspicions weren’t triggered, Billy hoped he would be safe. Despite the other things he and his mother had inside him, they still cared and they still wanted connection.

At that moment, it all came together. That’s what Mr. Murple’s book was saying in that last section. That’s what had helped him get through the day, and help Chris too. That’s what had led him to talk to Tracy, and had helped him step forward. That was even what he had been thinking towards this morning, before the bus’ arrival had knocked this thoughts asunder.

Billy readied for sleep, and his thoughts kept racing.

Ray had escaped. Andy had escaped. Maybe even Mr. Murple had escaped? Because they had connected. They had found people to help, and to help them. Maybe, someday, if Billy found enough people they all made it through the schools, they could all escape to a place that had no Schools and Work. Or at least, no Pods and Masks. Or they could make a place like that. And then, working together, they could all rescue their world.

And I can have a family and friends that can really talk and think and love. And we can dare to be right, and be good to each other, and others, and can dare to do good things. Maybe for everyone.

And that’s just how he fell asleep.

Dreaming…

￼

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This tale is also available in my short story collection Hyperspace Radio. Available in most dimensions where fine stories are told.

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~ j

About the Author

James Beach is a writer, photographer and recovering musician. He was born and raised in New Jersey, and was once told he was a bad Photoshop superimposition on the East Coast. He successfully escaped and now lives in San Francisco, a perfect locale for exploring his emerging super powers.

For more declassified information, visit
jimbeach.net

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