Mad Science/Pete
From Create Your Own Story
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*[[Mad Science/Pete Dragon | Write down 'dragon'.]] | *[[Mad Science/Pete Dragon | Write down 'dragon'.]] | ||
*[[Mad Science/Pete Kitten | Write down 'kitten'.]] | *[[Mad Science/Pete Kitten | Write down 'kitten'.]] | ||
| - | *[[Mad Science/Pete | + | *[[Mad Science/Pete Allison | Write down 'Allison'.]] |
[[Category: Mad Science Club|Pete]] | [[Category: Mad Science Club|Pete]] | ||
Revision as of 22:23, 22 August 2013
You give yourself the once-over. Amber t-shirt: check. Chestnut brown cargo pants: check. White lab coat: check. John Lennon glasses: in your pocket (you only need them for reading). Unruly brown hair: check. Everything seems to be there and in the right place. You grab your book bag and head out.
You spend the 30-minute bus ride re-reading MacDougall's Treatise on Scientific Relativism. It was released last year and blew the side of the science community wide open. It implied, and in fact demonstrated, that experimental results could be skewed or even changed by what the research was trying to measure. MacDougall's main point was that the current model of 'how science is done' is fundamentally flawed, and that expecting mundane results guaranteed them.
Kimball Regional Secondary School is a 1970's era three-storey field-stone pile reminiscent of a castle. It's a large 5-sided structure with glass "towers" at each corner containing study areas. classrooms are located on the outside walls and administrative areas toward the center. The gym and pool are separate buildings connected by underground walkways. The auditorium is the first basement level; beside that is a maze of breakout rooms, technical workshops and labs. Rumour says there's even a firing range down there, but nobody's seen it recently.
When you get off the bus the place is already fairly crowded. Freshmen, sophomores and seniors were all mixed together as they tried to find their home rooms. Home rooms are a big thing at this school: they form natural cliques and compete in all manner of school events. Yours is Room 107, which you found out from the online registration site; the map told you how to get there with a minimum of fuss. Finding your assigned locker, 107K, is no harder.
You stow your book bag, keeping only a notebook, pen and pencils, and your smartphone, then head into class.
You're followed in almost immediatly by a model for amazon lingerie. She's a good foot taller than even the boys, and busty to boot. She has dark skin and brown oriental eyes capped by a mane of straight white hair that stops in a regimented line at her shoulders. She's straining to stay in a gold turtleneck, brown dress pants, and a lab coat. A small pair of semicirclar glasses rests on the tip of her perfect nose; she is observing the class over them.
She takes out a ruler and slaps the desk, making a sound so loud they can probably hear it in Istanbul.
"SEATS!"
You grab the first chair you see, which happens to be front row right corner, nearest the door. Everyone grabs the closest unoccupied seat. A boy and girl get into a slapfight over who gets one of the back row seats.
"You two! Taylor, you come sit here right in front of me. Barrie, you take that seat. Now!" The girl hastily comes up and sits in the shadow of the two Mounts Fuji.
She frowns across the whole class. Looks like detention on the first day. Then her features soften and she breaks into a smile. Perfect white teeth, of course.
"Hello, class. I'm Miss Willard, but you can call me Allison. Welcome to Room 107. Your home room is an important part of your identity; throughout the semester there will be various competitions, room against room. The winning room gets an offsite Christmas party, courtesy of the principal. I don't know about you, but I want our room to WIN!" She slams her fist down on the desk so hard that both it and Taylor jump about a foot.
"Now, does anyone have any questions before we continue?" A bunch of hands go up. "Fifty-four double D." About half the hands go down. "Yes, it's naturally white, and no I won't comment on any of my other hair." A bunch more hands go down. "Yes, I'm single, but no, I don't date my students." Three more hands go down, one of which is a girl. "Miss Taylor?"
"Are you going to keep hitting the desk like that?"
"Yes dear, I am. But seating is first-come, first-served. If you're hear early you may not be in the rumble seat. Mister Wells?"
"What's the policy on bathroom breaks?"
"Go, but if you miss something you're still responsible for it." He bolts from the room. "Mister Prentice?"
"Do we get to pick a mascot? My brother's class got to pick a mascot."
"Smart lad. Yes, we do. I'm going to hand out slips of paper. Write down your choice of class mascot on the paper and place it face down on your desk. Then I'll gather them up and we'll see what we've got."
