5. Water Hills
Chapter five
Water Hills
Ishouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Boyband’s school was in a Violet District.
Being so comfortable with him among us vagrants–and his undignified behavior–had gotten me used to the idea of a lower-classman like me.
Though he had resided in an Indigo District, he was still the heir of Republic royalty.
Naoma was the same, but her missing past was more costly than any cumbersome debt forced upon a low-income citizen.
Boyband had lost his parents, another incalculable debt.
I hated that they had to suffer such tragedies, but in this, I felt the bridge of affluence close between us.
“Piece of guk,” Boyband scoffed, staring up at the mirror-walled skyscraper with vibrant violet-lit edges.
“I like how it looks,” Kuni said.
“Good.” Boyband patted him on the back. “Keep up the act on the inside. Convince them that you look forward to attending.”
“Was it actually bad or is that a typical Boyband complaint?” Naoma asked.
“If you’re a bot banger you’ll love it here.”
She glared at him and nodded to Kuni.
Boyband sighed with a frustrated smile. “Look, if you want human education, you’re not going to get that here.
I was told the government doesn’t trust human error.
So, as you can expect with these ‘high end’ establishments, the education here is pretty laissez faire as far as humans are concerned.
It’s filled with shacs besides the few SocStans keeping the place in alignment with the ‘school boards’ which I guess we know now is the Correction. ”
“Or the people under the Correction,” I said. “I feel like we’ll have to dig to find who the official educational enforcers are.”
“Oh, for sure,” Boyband said. “Shacs might deliver the education, but you can count on prideful humans to claim ownership. Just don’t plan on any easy leads. The administration had plenty of uplifting quotes and had their faces hung up all over the school, but no one I knew saw them.”
“Do you still know anyone there?”
“Some of the shac teachers might–”
“I mean students.”
“I’m not… wait, there might be a couple of younger students. I dunno. I’m not looking for conversation. Let’s just get to work and find what we need. I’m here to guide. You young parents are the ones who will do the talking.”
“You think we’ll pass?” Naoma asked.
“You had a kid at like twenty… checks out. As long as you keep the lightguise on that Ralia gave you, you should be fine. We don’t need anyone out there spotting the Neon Idol with a husband and child.”
“Does it look real enough?” She faced me.
She looked like a midwestern Arabasian woman of the same age with long black hair and streaks of violet light. Her makeup was tame enough for a businesswoman but had the violent accents of someone who could afford to send her son to a prestigious school. “Looks good enough to me.”
“Good. Yours looks fine, too.”
“Yeah, but it’s a lot easier to make my hair brown and skin a shade darker than to change your entire face.”
“Looks like she added a couple wrinkles,” Boyband said. “You’re both in your late twenties, right?”
We nodded.
“Good. With the touched-up lightguises, you look like you’re in your late thirties, so seeing you as capable parents should be believable.”
“Should we head in, then?” Naoma asked.
We all looked at each other and nodded in silent consensus.
Boyband’s eyes flashed with a brief neurospace check. “We’re a few minutes late. A perfect arrival time for the pretentious shacs we want you to be.”
Boyband led us towards the entrance. Automatic doors opened and a woman in a tight silver pantsuit greeted us.
Her hand had plenty of violet light augmentations that led down her sleeve and up the back of her neck and into her neurospace hub.
Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun, but she was too young for it to be a natural color.
An and stood beside her and up to her waist. Despite its childlike size, it had the features of an adult female with similar clothes to the woman and silver skin.
“Welcome to Water Hills! You must be Mister Eclaine.”
“Indeed,” Boyband said, adjusting his violet-lit tie.
“I was awfully sorry to hear about your parents’ passing after hearing what they contributed to the school’s PTA.”
“Thank you.”
The woman fixed her smile and looked up at us. “And you are the Ershovs?”
Naoma and I nodded, but she was the one to take the lead.
She spoke with a faint Arabasian accent.
Not enough to question her fluency in Amerikese, but enough for our story of recent immigration to play out.
Though the war exacerbated certain hidden prejudices to rise among the Republic radicals, we had to use the story to make Kuni’s obvious Arabasian tendencies and accent believable.
“We are, but you can call me Mei.”
“Alyosha,” I smiled. “And your name?”
“Most of the children know me as Mistress Kamina, but if you insist on remaining casual, my name is Sanna.”
“Whatever you prefer, Mistress,” I said with a jubilant smile.
She returned it, somewhat less enthusiastic after eyeing Boyband another time. She leaned down to Kuni. “And you are?”
“Yuze,” he said with a chin held high.
“Well, Yuze, we look forward to seeing what a great student you can be.”
“If we decide Water Hills is a good fit for him.“ Naoma followed her comment with a condescending smile and giggle.
“Of course,” Sanna replied. She stood and adjusted her suitcoat. “Let us move along with the tour then! Please feel free to ask any questions. You are guests, after all.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” I replied, playing into the lenient husband whose wife had high hopes for her son’s schooling.
We had crafted an entire narrative for our lives on the skyride to the school, but I hoped we would have to use it as little as possible.
Before we had even entered, Boyband had exposed a seam in our fragile tapestry.
I entered my neurospace for a quick message as we proceeded down the hall towards the translucent elevators.
Petya: You think it’s smart throwing your name around with the Gongtide eyes out there?
Boyband: I had to get us in somehow. Didn’t you hear how she thanked me for my parents’ service to the school?
They loved my family here. I always wondered why they wasted their time with that PTA guk, but now that we see their Luxist side, where they were hoping to make changes.
Too small scale if you ask me, but then again, maybe they didn’t know about the whole moon side of the ordeal.
Doesn’t matter. It’ll be an access point for us to begin with.
Petya: But don’t most people think you died in the fire with them?
Boyband: Nah. I’ve been in the public’s eye enough to prove those stories wrong.
You know how the world is. One tragedy after another.
I doubt most people will even remember the SocStan fires, let alone the names associated with them.
The rest of my family is still fighting for my parents’ empire.
Don’t you remember? I don’t care who has it now.
Not my problem. We have bigger baggage than some zegging business.
Petya: Still, it doesn’t hide you from the eyes on us.
Boyband: Why would Nichley care about some school?
Petya: There’s more to Gontide than Nichley. We have no idea who most of the other Beacons are.
Boyband: So you just want to sit in a corner and hide in fear of anyone who might recognize us, Pet? We’re going to be seen. We’re going to be followed. This is a quick stop to get access to the administration. On the surface, nothing out of the ordinary.
Petya: How common is it for some former student and SocStan heir to take an immigrant family on a tour of his alma mater?
Boyband: My parents had quite the altruistic reputation.
They had to keep it up with the corporate hate for the blue-collar SocStans taking power.
I’m merely continuing their legacy by helping out a couple whose love defies their homelands at war.
Doesn’t matter how I know you. We’ll let them get to that part of the story if we really need to.
For now, just go along. Trust me. Can you do that, du?
Petya: I can trust you, but not them.
“Where to first?” Naoma asked.
Sanna pressed the button for the fourth floor. Ads began to play on the wall panels for youth antidepressants, but the overly enthusiastic recording was quiet enough for us to talk over.
“The classroom Yuze would join,” Sanna said, “should you choose Water Hills. I will say, it might be quite different from what he experienced in… where are you from again?”
“Mao,” Naoma said.
“A lovely place, from what I have seen, which part?”
“New Shanghai, Indigo District,” I said. “Have you ever been?”
“No, I have only seen Arabasia in mindshows, though I have been told I need to visit.”
“Not now,” Kuni said. “Too many people dying.”
“Oh.” Sanna cleared her throat. “Of course. I am sorry to hear that. I pray to the Light that it turns out well for your people.”
The elevator stopped and we exited. I could tell Sanna was relieved to leave the awkwardness of the enclosed elevator after such a comment.
I was under no illusion that she actually felt bad.
Unless she was an exception, she was programmed to believe the Republic propaganda that the war was necessary to prevent Arabaian light dominance.
I probably would have believed the same, had I been in her position.
Still, it bothered me. Information was tainted with the invention of the lie and had grown more corrupt with the growth of technology.
Her prayer would avail her nothing. No false God created from corrupt light would hear her words, even if they were just for show.
She waved us forward, down an extensive hallway with classrooms enclosed by glass walls. I started to look into one, but Sanna pulled my attention back to her.
“Yuze’s class is just ahead. Mister Ershov, how did you find yourself in Arabasia?”