Teach and Spell
By the time Hal got to class the lesson was in full swing. There were two dozen children sitting at folding desks while Teacher sped around the room collecting assignments. Their Teacher was an old-style robot with a red plastic body and short stubby arms. The words 'Teach and Spell' were printed across his chest in large friendly letters, and instead of a face he had a large screen which could display up to a dozen eyes at once. These eyes could move independently: squinting or winking or glaring at several different students all at the same time. They weren't limited to the front either: When Teacher turned to project lessons onto the classroom wall, a stray eye would suddenly appear round the back of his head to check up on the students. There was one particularly busy eye which Hal called 'the follower', because no matter where he sat it always seemed to follow him around the room.
Teacher rolled past Hal on his silent rubber wheels, whisking the paper plane out of his fingers. "Thank you for putting in an appearance, Hal Junior. Please have a seat."
Hal took an empty desk alongside Stinky, while Teacher rolled to the front of the room and turned to face the students. "Today we're going to discuss obsolete communications methods, including semaphore, Morse code and email. But first, I shall mark your homework." He held up the assignments and flipped through them, faster than the eye could see. Then he looked around the class. "Good efforts, everyone. And I see one student handed in something rather special." Teacher held up the paper plane between finger and thumb. "Hal Junior, you really went to town on presentation."
Hal grinned. No more bottom of the class for him!
Teacher unfolded the plane to read Hal's answers, his eyes squinting and flickering as he struggled with the handwriting. When he was done he peered at Hal over the top of the assignment. "Hal Junior, I'm going to read out your replies out so the entire class can marvel at them. Question one: Name three heavy metals. Your answer: Thrash, power and drone."
Hal smiled confidently at the other students, basking in their puzzled looks. He'd spent several minutes researching the answers, and the online encyclopaedia was never wrong. There were pages and pages of information on heavy metal, along with pictures of guitars and drum kits. Hal had even drawn a few in the margins, and he was particularly proud of the big skull with gleaming diamonds for teeth.
"Question two: describe the reaction when you add sodium chloride to water. Your answer: it gets wet."
Hal nodded. The solution was so obvious he hadn't even looked it up. There were a few gasps around him, and Hal realised some of them hadn't been able to answer the question. That was their problem ... maybe in future they'd come to him for help.
"Finally, question three. Name the heaviest element on the periodic table. Your answer, Mr Junior, was 'thickonium'."
The class erupted in laughter, and Hal frowned. What was wrong with them?
Even Teacher's digital lips creased into a grin. "Mr Junior, a few months ago you said your goal was to become a space pilot. With these results, I guarantee the only space you'll navigate is the one between your ears. Unless, of course, your head is packed with thickonium!"
The class laughed even harder at this and Hal slid down in his chair, his face burning. He'd asked his best mate for help, and this is what he got? To his credit Stinky was trying not to laugh, but his face had turned red from the effort.
Right, thought Hal. If this was the praise he got for doing his homework, Teacher could whistle for it in future.
* * *
"Okay class, settle down. I mentioned obsolete communications earlier. Can anyone tell me what obsolete means?"
Every hand reached for the sky, and Hal slowly raised his own to match. He had no idea what the word meant, but he wasn't going to let on.
"Hal Junior, you seem uncertain. Perhaps you could share your definition with the rest of us?"
Oh, great. Why did Teacher have to single him out? Hal lowered his hand, thinking furiously. Then his face cleared as he remembered his parents using the word in a recent conversation. "Obsolete means when you're really fat."
There were hoots of laughter from the rest of the class, and Teacher motioned for silence. "Can anyone correct Mr Junior here?"
All the hands went up again, waving like stalks of sea-grass in the hydroponics lab.
"Natalie?"
"Obsolete means old and no longer useful."
"Just like Teacher," muttered Hal.
The class gasped at the remark, but Teacher pretended not to hear. "And the word Mr Junior defined for us? Can anyone tell me what the correct term is?"
Natalie shook her head, and Hal grinned. Take that, little miss smarty-pants.
"Anyone?" Teacher's electronic eyes darted all over his face as he scanned the class, but this time nobody raised a hand. "Very well. The word Mr Junior described was 'obesity', and you can research the topic for homework."
The class groaned, and several students shot accusing looks at Hal. He returned each one with his patented one-eyed scowl.
"Don't worry, half a page on the subject will be plenty. Now let me spell it for you." Teacher gave them the letters one by one, then looked around the class. "Tell me, does anyone know what a semaphore is?"
This time Hal was ready. Teacher was picking on anyone who looked unsure, so he stuck his hand up before Teacher had finished speaking. Unfortunately, this time around his was the only hand in the air.
"Mr Junior, you're full of surprises today. Please, will you share your knowledge with the class?"
Hal closed his eyes and thought hard. Semaphore sounded like carnivore, and he knew what a carnivore was because they'd studied lions and tigers recently. And the other part of the word? Semi meant half -- he remembered that from a song about bees. So what was something which only ate half the meat? Then it came to him, and his eyes snapped open. "Dieters!"
"I'm sorry?"
"People on a diet are semaphores. They only eat half their food."
Teacher blinked once or twice. He was programmed to handle most situations, but even he had his limits. "We're discussing obsolete communications such as semaphore, Morse code and email, and you think this has something to do with dieting?"
Hal put his hand up. "Would you like me to explain Morse code?"
"Please don't," said Teacher.
Sensing a weakness, Hal decided to try. Morse sounded like ... well, horse. And it started with an M, which meant millions. Easy! "Morse is a very big herd of ponies."
Some of Teacher's eyes started to spin in circles, while others bounced off the top and bottom of his screen as though someone were playing a computer game with his face.
"How about email? I bet I could explain that."
"Please don't. There's no need."
There was no stopping Hal now. Mail was the opposite of female, and E meant energy. "Email is a sportsman."
"No no NO!" All of teacher's eyes stopped at once, some pointing at the ceiling, some at the floor, and only one on Hal. Unfortunately it was the follower, and it didn't look happy. "Hal Junior. Please do not raise your hand again."
"What if I have a question sir?"
"Then you may raise your hand."
Hal immediately put his hand up.
"Y-yes?"
"Sir, what is a semaphore?"
"It's a signalling system involving flags. The sender waves flags in patterns, and the receiver looks up the patterns in a book to decode the message."
Hal's hand shot up.
"What now?"
"How do you send a message if the other guy doesn't have a copy of the book?"
"You don't, which is why Morse code is a superior system." Teacher played several long beeps followed by several short ones. "Did you hear the difference?"
Everyone nodded.
"You can transmit Morse using flashes of light, bursts of sound ... even vibrations. Now, we're almost out of time so I'll cover email in tomorrow's lesson. For homework I want the essay on obesity and I want you to write your own name
s using Morse code. I've uploaded a copy of the alphabet to your workbooks so you can perform a simple letter substitution."
Hal frowned. It might be simple for Teacher but he'd wrestle with it for ages. On the plus side, he could wait until his parents tried to pack him off to bed and then tell them he had urgent homework to do. With a bit of luck they'd finish it off for him. Then it hit him -- Morse was a secret code! He could send messages by tapping on the desk! Flash messages to other sections through the observation window!
Excited, Hal opened his workbook and blew a fine layer of dust off the screen. The device powered up slowly, and a progress bar slid across the screen as several weeks' worth of lessons, assignment questions and updates were installed. When it was finally ready Hal turned to the Morse alphabet. There it was -- dots, dashes and letters -- a secret code just waiting to be used. Hal barely noticed the other kids leaving the classroom, and he only looked up when Teacher rolled to a halt next to his desk.
"Hal Junior, this room is required for spacesuit training. You must leave now."
"Sorry sir. On my way." Hal pushed his chair back and left, almost bumping into a group of scientists filing into the room. They were grumbling about sweaty overalls and people shouting 'faster, faster' in their ears, but Hal didn't stop to listen. He had some learning to do!
Two Suspects
"I'm sorry about that thickonium business," said Stinky. "I thought you realised I was joking."
Hal snorted. "Some friend you are, setting me up like that. Were you trying to get me in trouble?"
"I didn't think you'd write it down!" Stinky shot Hal a sidelong glance. "Anyway, if you'd looked up the answer like you were supposed to ..."
Stinky's voice tailed off as they rounded the corner and almost walked into a maintenance worker. The fair-haired woman was standing near the recycling hatch Hal had climbed into earlier, frowning at a diagnostic screen. Nearby, the cover was off the control panel, exposing the innards.
"Act normal," muttered Hal. "Don't say anything!"
They walked past, pretending to study the opposite wall, the ceiling and the floor -- trying to look anywhere but the exposed control panel -- but it didn't work.
"Hold up, lads. Did you two see anyone around here earlier?"
"N-no Miss, not us. Nobody at all."
The woman glanced at Stinky. "What about you?" she demanded. "Have you seen anyone acting suspiciously?"
Hal prayed his friend would keep his mouth shut, and he was relieved when Stinky studied his shoes and said nothing.
"Meddling with these systems is a very serious matter." The woman handed Hal a card. "If you see anyone poking around in the control box I want you to get in touch immediately."
"Yes Ma'am." Hal studied the card and discovered the woman was Tina Peters, trainee maintenance officer. She didn't look like she was about to throw them both in the nearest cell, but then again she didn't know it was Stinky who'd almost blown the roof off the space station.
Tina closed the control panel and took out a workpad. It was similar to Hal's workbook except for the dark grey colour and the chrome strips down the side. It looked cool, and Hal thought it was typical how schoolkids got the daggy brown ones with fake wood-grain. Tina tapped the screen, then frowned. "This thing's on the blink. Do you have the time by any chance?"
Hal shook his head.
Tina pointed to his watch. "What's that, a ham sandwich?"
"It doesn't work," said Hal, shaking his sleeve until it covered the chunky metal band.
"Want me to take a look at it for you?"
"No, it's fine."
Tina put a hand out. "Come on, I'll have it working in no time."
Unwillingly, Hal removed the watch. Tina inspected it, and then before Hal could stop her she swung it at the wall.
CRACK!
"Hey!" shouted Hal. "What do you think you're doing?"
Tina smiled and held the watch out. To Hal's surprise, the display now showed a jumble of random letters.
"How did you --"
"The battery's on its last legs. If you let me have it for a couple of days I'll replace it for you."
Hal eyed the precious watch. What if he never got it back? "I'd rather keep hold of it, if that's all right."
"Are you sure? It's no good like this." Tina turned the watch over and inspected the face. "Nice piece. Genuine space watch. Did your parents give it to you?"
Hal never lied if he could bend the truth. "Someone left it to me."
"Very generous of them. These things can do everything."
"Like what?"
"It'll talk to your spacesuit and tell you when your air is getting low. It'll tell you whether it's safe to take your helmet off, and it has a built-in homing beacon. Configure it for the space station and it'll always point the way home." Tina laughed. "It'll even tell the time, when it's working properly."
"That's amazing," said Hal.
Tina thought for a moment. "Tell you what, you keep an eye out for whoever is messing around with this control panel and I'll fix your watch. Deal?"
Hal was tempted, but it wouldn't be right. After all, it was his fault Tina was investigating the control panel. "Thanks, but I'll keep it."
"Fine. If you change your mind, let me know." Tina took out her workpad. "What's your name?"
"Hal Junior."
"And your friend?"
"Stin-- I mean, Stephen Binn."
Tina held the workpad to her mouth. "Two suspects identified, aged approximately eleven years. Interview suspended until further notice."
Hal and Stinky stared at Tina in shock. Was she an undercover cop disguised as an ordinary technician? Exactly how much trouble were they in?
The young woman regarded them with a deadly serious face, and Hal was just about to confess everything from the finding of the watch to the episode with the recycling hatch when Tina exploded with laughter. After a moment or two, during which the boys simply stared with their mouths open, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and took a couple of deep breaths. "Sorry lads, just a little joke. You should have seen your faces!"
Tina packed the workpad in her toolbox and went on her way, still shaking her head and laughing to herself.
Hal and Stinky exchanged a glance, both clearly thinking the same thing. If someone as loony as Tina could get a job fixing the space station, the place was about as safe as a cardboard airlock.
Surprise News
Hal touched the access panel outside his family's quarters, and the door opened with a groan. His parents were sitting at the kitchen table, and his mother looked worried. "The gravity in the shaft reversed without warning, and according to Maintenance we were seconds from a major hull breach. It could have wiped out the entire --"
Hal's father shot her a warning glance. "Have a seat, son."
Hal squeezed behind the tiny kitchen table and sat on the narrow bench. There was no wasted space in their quarters -- even the bench had doors in the front so items could be stashed away out of sight. When he was smaller Hal would climb right inside while his parents pretended to look for him inside their coffee cups, under the salt shaker and they even -- shock horror -- opened the recycling hatch and called down the chute for him. Eventually his giggling fits would give him away and his parents would make a show of 'discovering' him.
Now the space was filled with old kitchen junk.
"Your mum and I have some good news."
Hal's eyes narrowed. If it was a new baby ...
"I've been promoted," said his mum, with a twinkle in her eyes. "Old Benton is retiring and moving back to Gyris. They've given me his job."
"Your mother is going to be head of research," said Hal's dad proudly. His own speciality was the atmosphere scrubbers, where he worked long hours to make sure everyone had clean air to breath. He liked to tell everyone he was good with his hands while his wife was good with her brains, making the pair of them a great team.
"Do we get any benefits?" asked Hal.
>
His dad laughed. "Trust you to think of that."
"Well?"
"We'll be moving to bigger quarters in C-section," said his mum. "You'll have a terminal in your room, so you'll be able to do your homework on time every night."
"Wonderful," muttered Hal. Still, new quarters sounded good and the terminal would be very handy once Stinky performed some of his hacker magic on it. "Hang on, what about school?"
"They have a modern teacher, much newer than the one you're used to. Just think, you'll meet some new friends too."
"Have you met the kids from C-section?" scoffed Hal. "They think they're a cut above the rest of us. Anyway, Stinky's the only friend I need."
"Stin-- I mean, Stephen can come and visit whenever you like."
"When are we moving?"
"Benton isn't leaving for a day or so," explained his mum. "I'm going to be very busy getting up to speed. I'm afraid that means working longer hours for a bit."
"You already work long hours."
"This is very important son," said his dad. "Your mum can't give you all the details, but if the research pays off it'll change life for everyone."
"Even mine and Stinky's?"
His father laughed. "Yes, yours too."
* * *
Half an hour later Hal stood at the dishwasher, placing dirty plates and cutlery on the moving belt. As the items emerged from the other end, shiny and clean, he put them away. He'd heard others complaining about 'doing the dishes' but it didn't seem that bad to him. Their machine was old and slow -- what was the word Teacher had used? Obsolete, that was it -- but it sure beat eating dinner off dirty plates.
Ever impatient, Hal added more and more items to the dishwasher, cramming them in until they barely cleared the intake. The machine chugged and groaned with the extra weight, and when it ground to a complete stop Hal turned to the controls. The dial was fixed on Slow, and Hal reckoned his parents left it there to keep him busy after dinner. They’d warned him not to touch it, but surely one little tweak wouldn’t hurt?