The XP: Chapter 5

The cloth armor shop was owned and managed by a player. They had a wide selection of styles but apparently really enjoyed the color purple. Trart followed Bob around the store as she went through to visualization options to see what he would look like with each item she showed interest in. “Trart If I gave you a pink and white polka dot dress with legendary stats, would you wear it?” She asked him as she browsed.

Trart shrugged his shoulders. “I guess, I mean legendary stats is legendary stats.”

Bob shook her head. “The correct answer is ‘no’. Part of gaming is looking bad ass, and IF you wanna look bad ass you gotta have your own style.”

Trart looked himself over. “I have style.” He protested.

Bob shook her head. “Let me rephrase, I am not running dungeons with a French clown that looks like he drank himself colorblind then got dressed for work.” She handed him a tunic.

Trart took the tunic and added to the pile of clothes she had already given him. “You could’ve just said ‘I don’t like the way you’re dressed.’” Trart pointed out.

Bob stopped searching through armor and looked at Trart. “I did.” She pulled another tunic and handed it to Trart. “Lets go over to pants and boots.”

Trart’s shoulders slumped “You mean we’re not done yet?” He moaned.

Bob shook her head. “We’re just getting started kid.” She smiled, looking through the available pants.

It look almost an hour but Bob finally got Trart into a set of cloth armor that nearly tripled his stats.

Trart looked at his avatar’s set up and had to admit that he liked his current gear a lot more than what he had previously been wearing. “Wow Bob, thank you, I look bad ass!”

Bob shook her head. “Nah, you look decent, which is infinitely better than you looked an hour ago.” She clarified.

Trart looked around. “Where’d Blackout and Stygian go?” He asked as they came through the front door of the shop.

“Perfect timing.” Bob said with a rare smile. “Did you get it?” She asked.

Stygian nodded. “This thing kinda makes me want to start a Rainbringer.” He replied. Pulling a massive chain gun out of his backpack.

Trart’s eyes nearly exploded out of his head. “What the heck is that?” He nearly yelled in excitement.

Blackout waved his hands in front of the weapon as if he were show casing a game show prize. “The Spray and Pray One Thousand. The best Player built Rainbringer weapon without a level requirement. Maximum ammo capacity of one thousand rounds, capable of multi target memory, firing enchanted rounds and increases experience gain by ten percent up to level forty five. Because Rainbringer's are the only class that can hit the S.P.O.T”

Trart was all smiles. “Oh man you guys. I don’t know what to say, thank you so much for all of this.” He accepted the gun from Stygian. And held it almost lovingly.

Bob clapped her hand on Trart’s right shoulder. “You can join us on a trial run of the Hall of Shattered Memories. We’re gonna run it till you pay back the five thousand, seven hundred and twenty four gold you owe us.” She headed for the door.

The smile dropped off Trart’s face. “I should have seen that coming.” He said stashing the gun in his inventory.

Stygian nodded. “Don’t worry it’ll only take fifteen or sixteen runs, and it’s the fastest way to earn that kind of cash. Besides it’ll be good training, by the time you’re running the Halls like a pro you’ll have a good handle on your class and you’ll be ready for some of the harder content in the game.”

“Yeah but I’ll be poor.” Trart said following Stygian and Blackout out of the store.

“Just think of yourself as rich in social capital.” Blackout quipped as the door closed behind Trart.

University of Console Heroics: Chapter 5

By  noon the population of the student union had not changed much. There were different girls at the 1 cUPcake booth, but it was still mobbed by fraternity members and independents alike. Foster looked over the sea of students searching for a place to sit.

Thompson had secured a four person table. He was sitting alone, his lunch untouched on the far side of his book. A student nudged the table, Thompson looked up from his book.

“These seats being used?” the kid asked. Thompson nodded and the kid went on about his way.

Thompson stood to stretch for a moment and spotted Foster wandering union looking for a place. Thompson waved at him and Foster waded through people to reach his table. Foster reached the table and set his lunch tray down on the table then dropped into the chair opposite Thompson.

“So how was breathing practice?” Thompson asked.

“I know right!” Foster almost exploded. “I thought combat studies would be about fighting.” He grumbled.

Thompson nodded. “It is, can’t fight if I you can’t breathe.” He pointed out while chewing on a baby carrot.

Foster took three quick breaths. “See that? I’m a natural so when does the fighting start?” He asked.

Thompson shook his head and suppressed a smile by taking a drink from his water bottle. “Go to the rec center tonight. Run two miles, then try and meditate like you were taught today.” He ordered, putting his bottle back on the table.

Foster completely missed the point. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.

Thompson picked up another baby carrot. “It’s easy to regulate your breathing right now. You’re not tired, you are not beat to hell. Go run yourself down and see just how easy it is to maintain a steady even breathing pattern.” He wedged the carrot between his teeth.

Foster shook his head. Clay dropped in the third seat. He then put his tray on the table. “DO I look like I need a psychology class?” He asked no one in particular.

Thompson nibbled on his new carrot. “not in the least.” He replied.

Clay opened his soda “Can you tell that to the Thug Studies department? Apparently It’s a requirement to graduate.” He took a large drink.

Thompson smiled around the end of his carrot. “Those bastards.”

Clay glared at Thompson and put his soda down. “See, you always do that. It’s always sarcasm with you, how do you expect people to take you seriously?” He ranted.

Thompson shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I don’t, Dr. Freud”

Clay threw a chip at Thompson and turned his attention to Foster. “Hi, I’m Clay, why are you sitting at our table?” He asked.

“Foster, I ran into Thompson earlier today. He invited me.” Foster explained.

Clay gave a quick side glance to Thompson. “Why is Cynthia the only Combat Studies Major that calls people by their first name?” He asked. Both He and Thompson looked at Foster. Foster shrugged his shoulders. “Oh yeah, you’re going to be a useful addition to the group.” Clay looked at his tray. “I forgot napkins, anyone need anything?” He asked before disappearing.

“Don’t mind Clay. He’s, eccentric.” Thompson tried to explain.

Sanders filled the fourth seat and put his own lunch of the table to take the rest of the available space. 

“I would have gone with rude and often offensive. Who’s the noob?” He asked not even looking at Foster.

Thompson shook his head slowly. “Speaking of rude, Sanders this is Johnathan Foster.” Thompson pointed to Foster.

“Is that your first name or last?” Foster asked.

Sanders gave him a sort of stunned glare. “Does it matter?” He asked as a reply.

Clay returned with napkins and everyone dug into their food. “You seem edgy Sanders. Rough first day?” Clay asked.

Sanders rolled his eyes “Yes mom, but I’ll be fine.” He replied. “So, what are you?” He asked Foster.

Foster looked up from his lunch. “What am I?” He repeated the question.

Clay nodded. “Like what are you majoring in?” He clarified.

Foster caught on. “Oh! I’m a Combat Studies major.”

Sanders threw a dryly judgmental glance in Thompson’s direction. “Picking up strays now, are we?” He asked rhetorically.

Thompson shook his head. “He’s not a stray, He’s cool.” Both Clay and Sanders glared at Thompson in disbelief. “It has nothing to do with that!” Thompson declared unconvincingly.

Sanders nodded. “Oh sure it doesn’t. Because you and Cynthia are the best of friends now and 

everything is fine and dandy again.” He rolled his eyes.

Foster was lost again. “What are you guys talking about, how am I a stray?” He asked.

Clay sat back in his chair and grabbed his soda. “ Our dear friend Thompson used to be a Combat Studies major. End of last semester rolls around and he switches to Adventure Studies on a whim and cuts all ties with Cynthia.” Clay leaned over to Foster, held his hand up and pretended to whisper to him “They were, swapping pixels, if you, catch my meaning.” He sat back up right.

Thompson put his fork down. “And everyone lived happily ever after. The end”

There was a few seconds of awkward silence before Sanders broke through. “Anyway, I’m a Targeting and Terrain Management major.” He offered.

Foster was grateful for something to pay attention to other than relationship drama, silence and his less than average lunch.

Thompson nudged Clay’s chair with his foot. “You working tonight?” Thompson asked. Clay nodded with a mouthful of food. “Mind if we drop by and use your employee discount?” He asked and Clay nodded again, taking a drink from his soda.

“Sure no problem” Clay confirmed.

“Where do you work” Foster asked.

“The Supply and Demand across the street from Campus.” Clay replied pointing in the general direction of the store.

Foster was confused. “They have employee discounts? I didn’t even think they had health insurance.”

Clay shook his head in the negative. “I have an employee discount.” He emphasized.

Foster still didn’t catch on. “How much?” He asked honestly.

Clay held up his hand. “five fingers.” He stated bluntly.

Foster raised an eyebrow in confusion. “huh?” he questioned.

Thompson shook his head and pinched the brow of his nose. “He steals stuff. He is a Thug Studies major. It’s kind of his modus operand.” He finished killing the unfunny and overly dead joke.

Foster looked at Thompson “Ok now I’m really lost, his modo what now?”

Clay downed the rest of his drink and stood up. “Get used to that feeling kid, you got a long life ahead of you.” He fist bumped Thompson and cleared his garbage away.

Thompson put his book back in his bag. “Don’t mind Clay, He’s been emo a lot lately. Apparently he’s no ready to quit being a Toys’R’Us Kid.

Sanders stands up and gathers his garbage. “Hey Thompson, I gotta get to the bookstore, but give me a call before you go shopping.” They fist bumped and Sanders disappeared with his stuff.

For a few moments Foster and Thompson sat awkwardly silent in the near deafening noise of the student union. Foster finally cleared his throat. “So uh, Cynthia say’s ‘hi back’” He used air quotes to emphasize the ‘Hi back’.

Thompson swirls whats left of the water in his bottle. “That’s nice.” He replied.

Foster pressed forward. “How come you’re ignoring her?”

Thompson glanced at Foster for a moment. “You aren’t a big fan of subtly are you?” He asked.

Foster shrugged. “Sorry, it just seems like the history between you two has been the theme of the morning.”

“I know right? I’m super popular, I have some paparazzi on back order.” He snarked.

Foster shook his head. Thompson pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote his number on a napkin. 

“Are you Happy Thompson?” Foster asked while Thompson was writing.

Thompson handed the napkin to Foster “I’m positively filled to the brim with glee.” He shouldered his backpack and pushed his chair in. “Call around six for a ride.” He said before taking off, waving to Foster without turning back around.

Foster looked at the number on the napkin and his barely touched lunch. “Nice going” He said to himself. “Lunch alone, what an awesome day.” He poked at his mac and cheese with something nearing disgust.

Shades of Justice: Chapter 9

Warren separated off from the other Shades after breakfast and caught the bus over to the mall. He hadn’t been to QQ PewPew in over a year but now he had no other options. By the end of his rookie year playing Movers and Shakers as a pro he had purchased the laptop that he had lost in the crash. The arcade was as dark as he remembered it. It had moved locations within the mall recently and hadn’t yet accumulated the baked in nerd stink. He checked the M.A.S. twitter feed for updates and saw that they were still on schedule. He found Arthur behind the counter, like always. He owned QQ PewPew and had yet to miss a day in the nearly twenty years it had existed. Arthur looked up from his classic gray Gameboy. When he saw warren he smiled ear to ear.

“Well if it isn’t Uneven Bubbler! How you doing Warren?” Arthur asked, putting his Gameboy down and coming to the front side of the counter. Warren wasn’t used to hearing his gamer tag in person and looked around the room, no one noticed. “So how’s the game?” Arthur asked.

Warren shrank a little. “It’s why I’m here actually. I have a tournament in less than half an hour and I need a place to play.” He asked.

Arthur nodded and made his way to the back of the store. “Of course. Let me set you up in the back” 

Warren followed him to an open computer in the back corner. He pulled out his wallet and Arthur held up his hand to deny. ”Your money is no good here my friend.” He smiled again heading back to the front counter and his Gameboy.

Warren was logged in and ready to play. He had just lost his noise canceling headphones along with his laptop, but the café wasn’t crowded and Arthur had turned the music down. His clock showed one minute to the start of his first game, his opponent and the commentators Id’s appeared in the chat window.

“I want to play a game” a kid asked coming into the store.

“Well we’ve plenty of those kid. What are you interested it?” Arthur asked.

Warren’s game was about to start but he couldn’t help looking up at the front where Arthur was talking to the new kid. What he saw made his blood run cold. It wasn’t a kid at all. It was Hexa Decimal. He didn’t know why Arthur couldn’t see him but he knew his friend was in danger. He ducked his head down low and slid his glasses on. “Step into shade” he whispered to himself. He felt the suit materialize around him and watched as the helmets heads up display lit up in his visor.

Arthur was leading Hexa Decimal around the shop showing him the reclining chairs and giant screen TV’s playing ads for the games that were available.

“Arthur get away from that thing!” Warren’s disguised voice surprised him a little. “Go! Now!” he yelled.

Arthur looked at Hexa Decimal, the illusion shattered and Arthur panicked, ran and dove behind the safety of his counter.

Decimal turned to face off against the Evergreen Shade. “Well if it isn’t a Shade of Justice! Why so blue Evergreen?” Hexa Decimal launched himself at Evergreen and they traded blow after blow in the cramped quarters of the store. Evergreen used the layout of the shop and to maneuver their fight away from Arthur was still hiding behind the counter. Hexa Decimal realized this and made a dash for the counter. He was stopped and dragged to the ground by Evergreen’s vine whips wrapping around his ankles. Hexa’s screen face disappeared and was replaced with a cartoon hypnotic swirl. He turned to face Evergreen. “I can help you, you know.” The hypnotic swirl spun faster as Evergreen sank under Hexa’s control. The vine whips loosened and Hexa Stood up. “I can share your pain with the entire world!” Hexa shouted as Evergreen just wavered back and forth under Hexa’s spell.

Hexa drew a large orange glowing sigil in the air. He scribbled zeros, ones and ancient ruins around the outside of it. When he had completed the spell the sigil increased in brightness until Evergreen was forced to look away from it. He heard the sound of shattering glass and everything went dark.

Warren awoke to Arthur shaking him. The lights in the shop were out. He sat up and Arthur looked out at the rest of the mall. “Whatever that thing was, it knocked out the power and maybe more. I’ve got some flashlights under the counter.” He said feeling his way back to the front counter.

Warren pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried to activate it, but it too had died. “Arthur, I'm sorry man but I gotta go.” He said grabbing his back pack, stumbling over his chair and then feeling his way out of the nearly pitch black hallway.

Arthur stood back from under the counter with the flashlights. “Warren!” Warren stopped at the entrance of the store and turned around. Arthur tossed him a flashlight. “You’ll need this.” Arthur said and tossed him one of the flashlights.

Warren turned it on and took a look down the main mall walkway. “Thanks Arthur, for everything.” 

He made his way out into the hall.

Blood and Profit: Chapter 35

With the arrival of the Baceten, and the ring system shut down, the Pacific Free Zone controlled the shipyard and the launch facilities. Toll watched as the teams in the landing bay secured the cable cargo launcher and engine on the deck. The system was designed to transport cargo or passengers between ships that were unable to dock together. The launcher fired the second half of the cargo cable system at the closest command and control ship. The second command and control ship sidled up to the far side of the first ship and successfully docked.

The second half of the cargo cable system, attached magnetically to the command and control ship. Not three feet away from the cable mount, there was an airlock door. It slid open and twelve crew members in space suits floated over to the cargo cable mouth, floated down the cable to an latch for their secure transport harness hooks and clipped themselves on. With all twelve of them hooked in the primary part of the cargo cable system back on the landing bay dock fired up its engine and cycled the cable bringing its passengers into the docking bay.

Toll drifted next to Sharea’s ship. Toll had been watching the transport process. He looked over and realized that Sharea was staring blankly at her console. “I know it’s gonna be impossible to take this advice.” He started. “But try not to beat yourself up too much. The fact that any of us survived is a miracle.”

“I – I made a bad turn.” She didn’t look up from her console. “Right into an advancing strike team.” She was talking to herself more than Toll. “Preach, He –“

“Peach did what he felt he needed to do.” Toll interrupted. She looked at him from across the gap, and nodded unsteady.

A system wide open channel appeared in Toll’s communications list. “For immediate release.” Conner's voice came across the channel loud and clear. “The Pacific Free Zone and the Baceten are now a United Corporation. All existing contract obligations will be kept. The actions taken today in Mars orbit are claimed by this corporation.” The message ended and the signal went dark.

The last of the crew had finished their trips and the far side fo the cargo cable was detached from the Command and Control ship, pulled back to the landing back and hooked to its primary half.

A smaller Baceten ship approached Toll and Sharea. The ship opened a channel. “Commanders the C&C ships and the Baceten fleet are ready to depart for the PFZ. Commander Toll, you are overdue on the battleship. Commander Sharea, if you would take command of the return fleet, we can get under way.”

Sharea was lost. “I’m not a commander, I’m going with the battleship.” She clarified. Looking in Toll’s direction and seeing him shake his head.

“Sorry kid, Preach made it known that if he didn’t survive this fight. You would be promoted and assume his rank within the Baceten wing of the Co-op. That means you get to stay here, and help keep the peace along with Ophelia, Arthur, and Third. Plus you have an entirely new air force to train.”

Sharea was shell shocked. “Toll I –“

Toll shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. I out rank you no matter what the co-op says and part of your promotion to my second was that I reserved the right to run for both of us.” He smiled. “Stay here and be the legendary hero for both of us.” He moved for the landing bay.

“Toll” Sharea stopped him. He flipped around to gain line of sight on her. “It doesn’t count as running  away if you're following the people you need to protect.” She stated. Toll nodded and spun his ship back around and landed on the crowded deck.

A few minutes later the battleship closed the landing bay and weapon hatches. Then two compartments on either side of the battle ship opened. They were spherical like slip gates but there was a funnel that led into the first gate and a funnel on both sides. The funnel lit up a line of lights that went from the center of the funnel out to the edge. The line of lights began to spin, rotating faster with each cycle. For three seconds the battleship picked up speed until, with a small flash of light it was gone.

Sharea and the rest of the return fleet built up to maximum speeds and prepared for the long journey back to Earth.

Far across the stars, back in orbit around Rusty and Toll’s home planet. A massive caravan of human and alien ships had amassed at the slip steam gate.

The planet behind them was being slowly enveloped by something that was not a shadow but also not a physical mass.

The lead ship in the caravan was a massive cargo hauler. On the Bridge the crew was standing around uselessly while Mew kicked the ancient Ring command system. The captain sat forward in his chair and turned to look at Mew.

“What’s taking so long?” He demanded.

Mew kicked the computer a final time. “It was there! It was revving up but then the entire system went down, it’s like, someone pulled the plug.”

The captain got out of his chair. “What does that mean Mew?” he asked trying to stay calm.

She sat down hard. “It means we’re stuck here until the Galaticseeds can grow their hybrid Startree and get us out of here.”

The Captain returned to his chair. “Helmsman. Open a wide band channel. Let everyone know. We’ve got a tree do defend. We don’t have to win our planet back, we just have to not lose it for another six months.

The cargo hauler turned away from the ring and headed back for the planet. One by one the caravan turned to follow.

Lidarion: Chapter 4

There are two types of wars. The ones you win and the ones you lose. The longer it takes you to figure out which type you’re fighting the more likely it’s the second, and we fought the machine war a long time.

You’ve never been there, but far to the south of Lidarion there is an impossibly long island chain. It is the ancestral home of the gnomes. Each island in the chain was the territory of the clan that had settled it, and each clan was in their own way industrious and experimental. The gnomes love technology, always have. And their obsession with gadgets and contraptions had led them to generations of technological advancement that turned their chain of islands into a never ending parade of mechanical marvels. Each designed to solve a specific problem, while accidentally creating three new ones, requiring more machines and gadgets to solve the new problems which created three more and so on and so on. Looking back on it, we were our own best friends and our own worst enemies. At least, until we discovered the outside world.

Gnomes have photographic memory. And they have no schools or universities. All their knowledge is passed down from master to apprentice and from one familial generation to the next. For all the technical knowledge the gnomes had amassed, nearly none of it was written down, the very nature and workings of their society were a part of their living memory.

Orcs and Humans discovered gnomes roughly around the same time. The gnomes were happy to make agreements with both races and for the first time gnomish technology left the islands. It was not long before the brilliance and ingenuity of the gnomes was turned to ruin and damnation in the hands of the orcs and humans.

With their newly acquired tools long silent borders were awoken with bloody conflict. These skirmishes grew until they exploded into a full-fledged war. Not long after war had broken out, representatives of both races returned to the gnomes to request the creation and delivery of grandiose war machines. The gnomes having seen the plans the other races brought for them, they refused to take part, and at first these denials were accepted.

The lies both sides fed to the Gnomes may have been simplistic but they need not be complicated to fool a race of people who by nature assumed everyone was telling the truth. Lies are the enemy of knowledge, so there was no use for deception in gnomish society. By the end of that first year the gnomes were building death machines piecemeal and shipping them back to their respective owners to be assembled and used on the field of battle.

It wasn’t long before both sides realized the gnomes were an advantage they could not allow their enemies to possess and so Orc’s and humans brought their war to my homeland. They burned my paradise to the ground.

Now, there are no more masters, all the apprentices are gone, very few working machines left to remember them by. We had to abandon the islands we had always known as home, islands we had never thought to count, until after there was nothing left to count.

With the factories destroyed, there were no new machines. The war simmered back down to border skirmishes, the fires of conquest were dying out. The machine war did not end with a cease fire, or proclamation of peace. The machine ended because killing with your bare hands was no longer the coolest way to die.

It was these final desperate battles before boredom set in that Trent’s life would change forever.

The XP: Chapter 4

The door to the trinket and magic shop opened the bell inside ringing as they exited out into the busy street. Bob was actively retelling a story about her favorite player character. “So the Matriarch accepted their challenge and all hell broke loose. No one on her team was allowed to interfere.”

Stygian was wide enough to part the crowds as the group walked in his wake. “And that’s how she earned the ‘Arbiter’ title?” He asked without turning around. “Damn she’s gotten way better.” He muttered.

Yermum was being shoved along by Blackout who was in the back of the group. “What’s the significance of the title?” he asked.

“Twenty five player kill streak.” Blackout answered. Yermum’s eyes got big. “DAMN!” He whistled..

Bob laughed. “The woman is death on wheels!” She shouted to the sky.

The gang turned a corner on to a much less busy side street and stopped in front of an unassuming building. The sign above the door says nothing more than ‘Names’.

Blackout gave Yermum a little shove. “In there.” He stated.

Yermum looked at the sign. “Why?” he asked.

Bob shrugged her shoulders. “You’re changing your name.”

Yermum shoulders dropped. “any particular reason?” He asked in desperation.

Stygian nodded. “Because ‘Your Mom’ is a joke name. You are not a joke. Pick a name you want people to actually say legitimately.”

Yermum looked at Bob. “You legitimately want people to call you ‘Bob’. He joked.

“Change your freaking name!” She exploded.

Yermum threw up his hands in defeat. “All right, all right I’m going already.” He whined as he went inside. A few minutes later he came out with ‘Rokzors’ having replaced ‘Yermum’. Bob snapped her fingers and pointed back at the name building. He turned around and went back inside. Emerging with ‘LayDkella’ Stygian stomped his foot and glared at Yermum who backed himself into the name building with a quick little shuffle. He finally came back with the word ‘Trart’ above his head.

Blackout glared at him. “I’m not finding anything in Urban Dictionary, what’s it mean?” He asked.

Trart shrugged his shoulders “Nothing. Just sounded cool and wasn’t taken by anyone else yet.

Blackout smiled. “Fine by me.” He approved.

Bob got nose to nose with Trart. “If I find out that this is some foreign word for something nasty I will hack your account so hard it will retard your children.”

Trart thought is over for a second. “We talking learning disorder or full on helmet?” He asked while dashing free of Bob’s grip as Stygian held her from chasing Trart. “Kidding! Not funny! My bad!” He bowed several times and Bob relaxed. Trart realized that his three new friends were looking him over from head to toe. “What?” he asked.

Blackout gripped his chin, considering his options. “Well you fixed your name. but now we gotta get this –“ He gestured to the entirety of Trart’s avatar. “Taken care of.”

Trart looked down at his mismatched, off color clothes. “What? What’s wrong with my gear?” He asked, completely clueless.

Stygian pointed to Trart’s feet. “For starters you are wearing two different shoes.”

Bob shook her head. “I didn’t even know that was possible.” She sighed.

Blackout nodded. “There are a few worthless gray items that are single shoes, noobs are supposed to sell them for early cash, not wear them.” Blackout glared at Trart.

Trart shrugged his shoulders. “I needed shoes, I got shoes! What does it matter what they look like?” He asked legitimately confused.

Bob. “Boys, let’s go shopping.” She turned toward the clothing and armor district.

Stygian clapped his armored hands. “I love this part!”

University of Console Heroics: Chapter 4

The Jarvis Hall of 2D studies was an unassuming brick building. Most students never stepped foot in it unless their one history requirement was scheduled in one of its lecture halls. Sanders had already taken the required history class as a freshman but had willingly signed up for History of The Second Dimension. Taught by Professor Bannister, who had been lecturing at the university for longer than Sanders had been alive. Sanders found the lecture hall and took a seat as near to the front as he could find. He set his bag down and pulled a fresh notebook and a pencil before kicking his bag under his chair with the heel of his shoe. The rest of the students were chatting to fill the time before the class started and two hundred students having personal conversations caused the auditorium to be quite loud. But not loud enough to drown out the echoing crash of Professor Banister violent shoving the door open. The entire room went dead silent as He made his way down to the front of the auditorium. The door closed even louder in the now silent auditorium.

“Who is here because they heard that Takahashi is a brutal and unforgiving professor?” He asked setting his shoulder bag on the lectern. He looked at the frozen silent room of students. “Come on now, hands up.” Slowly two thirds of the class raised their hands. Banister turned to the white board and started scribbling on it with a blue dry erase marker. “Everyone with their hand up please write a one page essay, due next class period. Your topic is ‘why the history of the second dimension is important to my chosen major’” he finished the title of the paper on the board and turned to face the hall again. They were still frozen. “Come on, I should be seeing way more of you take notes on this.” He motioned for the class to write the title of the essay down. The room filled with the noise of over a hundred pencils being put to paper with something less than enthusiasm. “For those of you who didn’t raise your hands, I expect a one page paper on why you did or did not research this class.” Sanders stopped writing the title of the first essay in his note book and watched Banister for a moment. Banister turned back to the board and uncapped his blue marker again. “Those of you hoping the book would be option will want to go to the book store after class and pick it up.” He scribbled ‘History of the Second Dimension” on the white board. Capped his marker and began to pace slowly. “It’s not expensive, it’s a rather fascinating topic, and as I do nothing more in this class than answer your questions and elaborate on the topics you choose, you’re going to need it.” A girl in the front row raised her hand. Banister looked down at her. “Did you just figure out the cure for cancer?” He asked. She meekly shook her head in the negative. “Then put your hand down please I’ll answer questions in a moment.” The girl lowered her hand quickly. “Your grade in this class is based on the five papers you will write this semester. As long as you write about something that interests you and you write a complete paper, I will not impose a minimum page length. “The class cheered. And he silenced them almost instantly “Please do not make me impose a page length. I assume we are all adults, do not prove otherwise or this class will become unpleasant for all of us.” He stated with finality. Bannister stopped pacing and faced the class. Pointing to the girl. “Your question?” He asked.

She looked at her friends to her right and left and then found the courage to speak. “Professor, is it true that you were the original Mario?” She asked.

Bannister froze for a second, possibly attempting to keep his cool but his cheeks began to redden. He reached for his shoulder bag on the lectern. He throws it over his shoulder and then turns back to the girl. Clearing his throat as if he had just swallowed something awful. “No, I was not the original Mario. Your introductory papers are now two pages long. I suggest you stop putting so much faith in rumors. Facts will serve you far better in life.” He stated with finality as he stormed out of the auditorium. Stopping at the door long enough to shove the door open “Class dismissed” His voice echoed down the hall. 

Sanders clicked his pencil top in and forced the lead back into the body with his thumb, closed his notebook and reached under his chair for his bag.“It’s gonna being an interesting semester” He said to himself as he deposited his notebook into his bag.