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Two children from different planets form an unexpected friendship. WIP... |
As with anything else, it was all about spin; depending on your preferred media source, the coming of the Eraknians was either a blessing or a curse. Many welcomed our new friends with excitement. Until now, the entire span of history, culture, and achievement was available online with the stroke of a fingertip. Earth held no more mysteries for us. But through the veil of space came a vast influx of new ideas and new wisdom. For the first time in thousands of years we had the chance to experience something wholly unexplored by human civilization. To many, it was the outset of a bright future. But it is statistically impossible for every person to see an event in the same light. A substantial part of the population was struck with foreboding by the appearance of an unpredictable and unbidden entity. And to make matters worse, they could see around them their luminaries, their leaders, and even their friends and family welcoming the aliens readily and joyfully. The doors were open and the terrible unknown had arrived without even an instant to react. -N.C. Fleming, "A Chronicle of First Contact" As soon as Nero stepped onto school grounds on that warm August morning, it finally dawned on him just how different life would be at Monte Vista High School. Over the summer, the district had installed several security scanners at every entrance. They were the kind of devices airport security wished they had – capable of capturing and sorting images instantly from beneath a layer of sheet steel, and smart enough to know the difference between a paper clip and a hairclip. Gadgets like these were hard to come by, and even harder to afford. But if there was any doubt of the reason for the new upgrades, Nero had only to look across the street from the school. A throng of protesters had amassed, held at bay by a new squad of security guards. This didn't stop the crowd from chanting, screaming, and waving sign boards with clever slogans like "E.T. Not For Me!" or "Shake Off These Rakes!" Nero had simply shaken his head in disgust and joined the steady river of classmates through the school doors. Inside the gymnasium, though, the tension was almost overpowering. Nero's gaze swept over the hundreds of heads drifting across the gym's basketball court, waiting to filter into the arrays of bleacher seats that lined the walls. The incessant buzz of nervous chatter seemed to electrify the air; Nero could almost hear the crackle of anxiety as it arced from person to person. It was more than the routine commotion that always accompanied the first day of the school year. Every thought in the vast echoing chamber was tuned to the same idea: the Eraknians were coming today. Like Nero, most of the students had never met an alien face to face. Adding to the apprehension were several video operators prowling through the crowd, eager to document such an historic occasion for the global community. A barking laugh broke through the chatter and smashed Nero's musings. He whirled on the spot, eying a cluster of all-too-familiar faces planted firmly in the center of the stands. While most of the unruly group was joking and horsing around as usual, Terry Richards himself was focused on a pretty blonde girl wrapped around his arm like a python. Nero breathed in relief. Even with a million distractions in the air, he didn't feel completely safe until he was sure Terry was occupied and the gang was currently leaderless. All the same, Nero slipped to the opposite side of the gym with a surprising burst of agility. It was a good half-hour before the basketball court was cleared and the seats were packed to capacity. Latecomers still trickled into the gym, settling onto the floor between the bleachers and the court boundaries. When Monte Vista's principal finally appeared, the clamor of voices instantly dropped away to a hushed murmur. Mr. Brooks was hardly an overbearing man. He was the kind of administrator who was on good first-name terms with all of his students, especially the shy ones. Nero often classified him as the "kindly grandfather" type – patient, good-natured, full of wisdom and experience, and not quite as cool as he seemed to think he was. And he couldn't be more starkly contrasted with the vice principal. Nero scanned the edges of the gym. Sure enough, Mr. Bayer was lurking near one of the exits, his keen gray hawk-eyes intently examining the crowded seats. Like Mr. Brooks, Mr. Bayer knew every student by name. Unlike the principal, though, Mr. Bayer paid closer attention to the brazen and the instigators. He was sharp and unyielding – the true teeth behind Mr. Brooks' smile. A muffled thumping sound echoed through the gym as Mr. Brooks tapped on the comm pin clipped to his collar. The lights faded to twilight, save for a pair of spotlights trained on the principal. Nero could make still make out the glint of camera lenses circling like a pack of nocturnal predators beyond the protective bubble of light. "Alright, everyone!" Mr. Brooks' voice boomed. "Welcome to a new year at Monte Vista High!" A raucous cheer erupted from the stands. "It's great to see that everybody's awake today." A wave of appreciative laughter rippled through the crowd. "As always, I'm looking forward to a great year. Last year's student body earned us our seventh consecutive placement on the list of top five high schools in California, and we don't want to break our winning streak now!" The students applauded again. "Before we officially kick off the rally, I have a few quick announcements to plow through. The varsity team is playing the first game of the season Friday at Eagle Heights, so go support your Myrmidons! Let's see, now.... Auditions for the Drama Club start next week. Anyone interested should check in with Mrs. Lowe. Symphonic and jazz orchestra auditions are also under way. See Mr. Bowcliff for more information. "And I think that about does it! Wait, no... I feel like I'm forgetting something important...." Again a synchronized chuckle radiated through the crowd. Nero couldn't help smiling at the energy linking Mr. Brooks and his audience. "So, as you might already know," the principal continued with a wink, "Monte Vista has received a very high honor. We will be the first pre-university school in the country – in the world, even – to participate in a special program from the Interplanetary Affairs Council. As of this year, we're happy to welcome some new students... from another planet!" The stands erupted in cheers. The principal staggered backwards, as if bowled over by the sheer roar. A current of laughter flickered through the applause as Mr. Brooks brushed off his sleeves and straightened his tie. "I look out into each one of your faces today," he continued at last, "and I'm reminded of how hard everyone worked to make Monte Vista the fine institution it is. I see this program as recognition – as validation – of our efforts. I'm sure that we'll rise to the occasion and prove ourselves worthy of such an honor. "And that's enough of that. You don't want to hear me rambling all day, do you?" No! the crowd agreed. "You want to move on to the main event?" Yes! came the reply. "To show their appreciation, our guests have put together a performance for you. So without further delay, I'm happy to present... our friends from Eraknivan!" Mr. Brooks threw up his hands. The lights flashed out and a shudder of nervous whispering rippled through the stands. Nero sat grinning in the darkness. Certainly more theatrical than usual, he thought. I wonder what– The basketball court blazed again. Mr. Brooks was gone. A dozen figures had appeared, shrouded in indigo robes and huddled in a circle with their backs to the bleachers. The gym went deathly silent as all eyes locked onto the unmoving specters. Neither a breath nor a rustle could be heard. A piercing, quavering sound split the stillness. An Eraknian girl rose lightly from the pack with a thin metal flute protruding gracefully from her lips. It was an unearthly, haunting tune that washed over every ear in the room. The notes seemed to fill every inch of Monte Vista's gymnasium, drifting among the rafters and trickling from the paneled walls. Slowly, a second sound emerged from the stillness. Another Eraknian – a boy, this time – broke free of the cloaked figures. His mournful wooden flute wove beneath and around the crystal song of his companion. For ages, it seemed, the two melodies danced. The steady wooden flute would swell and bow as the fluttery metal flute arched and pirouetted. The wood flute stretched upward, but the metal flute leapt even higher out of his grasp. Gently, tentatively, the two flutes joined together to dance in perfect unison. In identical patterns they ascended and diminished, twirled and relented. The huddled indigo-robed figures began to expand and drift outwards from the two flute players, their footsteps masked by a light staccato tattoo like so many dry winter branches in a breeze. They rotated as they walked, tapping long wooden sticks on the gym floor to maintain the suspenseful rhythm. The two flutes seemed to hesitate for a moment as their ballet was interrupted by these circling apparitions. A sudden rumble of thunder shook the air. A single drum large enough to house an entire person materialized at the edge of the spotlights. At every eight beat from the skulking robed figures, yet another Eraknian struck the drum with a blunt baton, sending a deep bass tone resonating through the chamber. And when the eerie tension reached its critical point, the Eraknians exploded into a flurry of motion. The two flute players switched to a frenzied tempo. Every indigo robe was flung aside, revealing a dozen scarlet-clad Eraknians brandishing their wooden sticks like swords. It was chaos, but it was rhythmic. The flame-colored sword-bearers flew at each other, whirling like a swarm of hornets. Strike, parry, strike, dodge... yet the impact of every sword kept in perfect time with beat of the great drum. And with a two last deafening peals of thunder, the battle was over. The entire mass of swords and scarlet cloth dropped to the floor, heads down and faces hidden. All that remained were the two flutes. They traded brief sorrowful refrains before they too faded into silence. For an incalculable moment, the audience sat in rapt stillness. Then, like a freight train coming to speed, the sound of cheers and clapping hands roared throughout the Monte Vista gym. Nero shuddered, as if the loud applause jerked him from a vivid dream. He had been paying eager attention to the Eraknian flute players and the intricacy of the dancers, but his mind had been watching something else. Superimposed over the performance was a clear narrative of two lovers, and ferocious battle, and the resulting bittersweet aftermath. Nero could almost see the story like a movie projected into his brain. He tried to take hold of the vision, but it slipped through his grasp like a wisp of cloud. Shaking his head, Nero joined his classmates in applauding the Eraknian students. The performers bowed politely and seated themselves in a neat array along the edge of the basketball court. Mr. Brooks reemerged from a cluster of teachers, this time accompanied by an Eraknian man in an elegant blue silk jacket. Nero had no problems recognizing this additional face – he'd seen it often enough in news vids. It was unmistakably Yua Wiruha, the chief ambassador from the Eraknian Empire. There was a strange air around him, a mixture of regality and total approachability. And coupled with the sort of feline grace inherent in all Eraknians... well, it came as no surprise to Nero how much of an impression Wiruha left. Raising his hands, Mr. Brooks managed to temper the applause down to a comfortable level. Nero smirked when he noticed the anxious darting glances the principal kept sneaking at the ambassador. It was like watching a nervous child with an acute case of hero-worship. "I think we all agree," the principal said, "that we've never seen anything quite like that!" The audience clearly agreed. The Eraknian students bobbed their heads gratefully as expressions of elation and relief flitted across their faces. "And now it's my great honor to present someone without whom this program would never have happened. He's been instrumental in the first interstellar treaty in the history of the universe. He's worked tirelessly to serve both the planet of Ringu and our own Earth. Please welcome the Eraknian Minister of Diplomacy, Hedoren Yua Wiruha!" Even before the principal's speech ended, another wave of cheers swept through the student body. Everyone could sense just how bizarrely significant it was to be visited by an official alien ambassador – even the students who weren't accustomed to applauding decided to pitch in. Mr. Brooks and Hedoren Wiruha exchanged polite bows. The ambassador's gaze drifted over the crowd, his expression arranged in a light, amused smile. "Zia'kiroga," Wiruha said as the clamor dissipated. "Kiroga to all, thank you for your hospitality." Nero didn’t know what he had expected, but he was surprised by the ambassador’s voice. He had been certain that such an important figure would have a voice to match – perhaps like the rumbling voiceover from a summer action film. But even through the PA system, Wiruha seemed muffled, as if it took a great deal of effort to project himself into such a large space. “Zir-Brooks has said aptly, today will be one important step to the future of the two worlds. The learning of the youthful is crucial to the shaping of tomorrow, as always. On behalf of Erakniv, the Kirhedo House, and the Eraknivna of all, I look forward to our new future from you all.” With that, Wiruha cocked his head respectfully back to Mr. Brooks, who abruptly realized that it was his turn to speak again. “Uh... yes, thank you, zir-Hedoren!” the principal said hastily over a round of awkward clapping from the audience. “And now, in the spirit of welcome, I’m proud to present our very own Varsity Cheer Squad!” As the basketball court filled with Monte Vista students clad in black and crimson, Nero drifted back into his own head. All respect to the cheer squad, of course, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. Instead his mind was full to bursting with images of whirling sticks and red robes, and the last echoes of a melancholy duet. |
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