measured_words (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
measured_words) wrote2007-08-06 12:33 am
measured_words) wrote2007-08-06 12:33 am
Paradigm Clash
I don't really like this title, but it will do. This is mostly a one off about Victor. I wrote it all in one sitting sometime last yea, and it's taken me a while to make the time to transcribe and tidy it. So credit ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
august_writing again, I suppose!
Paradigm Clash
“I just don’t understand it.” Victor attacked the stubborn sugar cube sitting in his coffee cup viciously, punishing it for not closing fast enough. “All the other kids there practically worship me.” He glanced up, but his companion was as stoic as ever.
“Maybe he just resents you pointing out that programming error.”
“I’m his teacher. That’s my job.”
------
He watched Zachary muttering to himself across the room, cursing as though he thought no one could hear. The students to either side politely ignored his outburst. Zach was days ahead of them in the assignment already, and pretty much guaranteed an ‘A’. Victor stretched and stood, walking through the lab and stopping to make helpful comments as he looked more closely at the students’ projects. Eventually he made it to Zach, who was sitting at the terminal the furthest away from Victor’s desk. The boy glanced up at him briefly – almost a glare. On screen, a clockwork construct marched across the main street of a Wild West town, knocking over rain barrels and sending children running for safety. It blundered noisily into a saloon full of screaming cabaret dancers, busting open the doorframe and leaving debris in its wake. The saloon doors stood miraculously intact. A few quick keystrokes and the image disappeared, replaced by a window of scrolling code. Zach made a few edits, cleaning up work that looked nearly perfect already.
“Having some problems?”
A noncommittal grumble.
“Mind if I take a look?”
Zach sat back in his chair, rolling back slightly from his work station. He crossed his arms and scowled, resentfully resigned. Victor hesitated, then looked back to the screen. It didn’t take long to see the problem – simple, easy to overlook. Everything else looked remarkably smooth for a second year student. “Line 1738. Start there.”
Again, Zach muttered something under his breath.
“What?”
“I said ‘thanks, Mr. Brown.’”
Only he hadn’t.
-----
“’You’re so fake.’”
“You’re taking it too personally. No teacher is universally liked or appreciated.”
“Maybe. There is also this though. Eva Richards confiscated it during drawing class. She thought it was disrespectful.” He pushed the sketch across the table. Daniel turned it around to get a clearer look. It was a cartoon caricature of Victor, leaning against his Cadillac, grinning. A light flash reflected off his perfect smile. A caption read: “Hi! I’m Victor Brown, and I have a sports car instead of a soul!”
Daniel was not very expressive, and notoriously difficult to read. He was working on it – he frowned. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s still just a kid.” And he looked up sharply too – there was no slipping anything past him. “Unless you think he isn’t.”
“No. He’s… I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Not an Adept though.”
“Definitely not. If that were it, I would know. This is probably just my imagination.”
“I can tell this is really bothering you.” Daniel pushed the drawing back across the table. “You’re sensitive about your origins. But unless you think Zachary is a threat, let it go. You have other students.”
“I know.”
“And you don’t believe in souls.”
“I know.” ‘Never had the luxury,’ he added to himself as he slipped the sketch away. “I’ve got to run. Keep in touch.”
-----
And back to school, for two more periods of teaching young artists how to tell their visions to machines. The very best were to be recruited, if possible, to Victor’s latest assignment, ‘The Game.’ He’d shown the students his progress on the first day of class. They’d all been enthralled. It was designed that way. All but Zachary Thomas.
“It’s not a game,” he’d said. “It’s a maze. And it’s boring.” The other students had declared him mad, but he’d been right. It was a maze – or at last a path. The kid was brilliant, but from that moment, Victor knew he’d never get him onboard. That was a professional failure, and that he could handle. The rest was personal.
After classes on Wednesday, the graphics classroom stayed open officially until seven – or later if Victor felt like staying. There were other labs on the small campus that were accessible later, but many students preferred to keep their work at a single more familiar station and used the classroom whenever it was open. Zach was there today, but with a friend – a girl. She was around his age, maybe a little older, and quite pretty. Victor thought she looked frightened. It was strange enough for Zach to be at school this late, never mind with company, and he wasn’t at his usual terminal either. He’d seated himself at one of the side stations where it was difficult for anyone to see what was on the screen unless they were standing directly behind him, where the girl hovered currently. They spoke in hushed whispers, and occasionally he would point things out to her. Victor kept his distance, though he was curious and somewhat concerned.
He closed things down around seven thirty. He’d have stayed later – Zach and his girlfriend were obviously trying to kill time, or even hide from something – but as it was, he only had an hour to make his way home, clean up, and eat before his conference that night. He had a few more names to put forward to the project leaders, at least.
Victor was just crossing campus to the faculty parking lot when he heard the screams. It was instinct, or something very much like it, that helped him pinpoint the location. He ran. It was barely even getting dark. He let his programming take over the moment he came upon the scene. His mind was well conditioned to act without conscious thought. Assess and react.
Zach’s girlfriend screamed again. An eight foot monster – something out of a nightmare, with bulging red eyes and ropey black muscles – had ripped a stone bench from its concrete mooring and was swinging it at the kids. Victor launched himself between the two, knocking them aside just as the creature smashed its makeshift club into the ground where they had been standing. It caught him in the backswing, knocking him hard into the side of a brick building. Zach rolled to his feet, loading a projectile into some sort of slingshot. The monster was already bleeding from a cut above one of its eyes. The second shot seemed to have little effect.
The girl had stopped screaming and was doing….something. She waved her hands and spat, and the monster bellowed and pressed its meaty hands to its eyes. Victor’s pistol was in hand, already firing. Three perfect headshots. It fell backwards, landing with a shuddering thud and morphing quickly into something much less inhuman. It was now just a vagabond who’d been regularly chased off campus by security – a character he’d scarcely taken notice of previously.
Victor turned to the other two, realizing as he did just how he must appear. The impact against the rough brick had shredded both his clothing and skin on his right side, and he probably shouldn’t still be standing. His left hand was bent at an unnatural angle, and his forearm was sparking under the skin that covered his cybernetics. Probably a wire shortage somewhere – it was going to start hurting a lot in another few minutes. He wasn’t even sure how to explain where his gun had come from, and was glad they had both been too preoccupied to notice at the time. Zach kept his slingshot trained on him. A moment of silence passed. Victor tucked his gun arm into the small of his back.
“Why don’t you two… Get out of here. And forget you saw anything.”
The girl, still wide-eyed, nodded first. She put a hand on Zach’s shoulder.
Zach holstered his own weapon with a flourish. “Right,” he said. “Forget it.”
But neither did.
-----
The next day, there was a piece in the Tribune about a shooting on campus. A security officer on patrol had come across an assault, and the perp had attacked. It was self defense. No charges, no names – just a tramp and a girl who wanted to protect her anonymity. In truth, the body had been recovered by an NWO extraction team and taken to a lab for study. Victor didn’t mention the kids in his report.
-----
“So, how are things going with your recalcitrant student?” Daniel changed the subject. Normally Victor was less forgiving of this kind of evasiveness, but at least the other man was showing some interest in the lives of others. Daniel would likely understand, not that there was anyone else he dared tell.
“That was risky,” Daniel replied after he’d listened to the tale. “Has he said anything since?”
“Nothing. He’s still… aloof, I guess. Or wary. But now, now there’s something. Maybe not respect. Definitely not trust. But a connection.” Victor sipped his French roast.
Daniel nodded. “Sometimes that’s the best we can get.”
august_writing again, I suppose!Paradigm Clash
“I just don’t understand it.” Victor attacked the stubborn sugar cube sitting in his coffee cup viciously, punishing it for not closing fast enough. “All the other kids there practically worship me.” He glanced up, but his companion was as stoic as ever.
“Maybe he just resents you pointing out that programming error.”
“I’m his teacher. That’s my job.”
------
He watched Zachary muttering to himself across the room, cursing as though he thought no one could hear. The students to either side politely ignored his outburst. Zach was days ahead of them in the assignment already, and pretty much guaranteed an ‘A’. Victor stretched and stood, walking through the lab and stopping to make helpful comments as he looked more closely at the students’ projects. Eventually he made it to Zach, who was sitting at the terminal the furthest away from Victor’s desk. The boy glanced up at him briefly – almost a glare. On screen, a clockwork construct marched across the main street of a Wild West town, knocking over rain barrels and sending children running for safety. It blundered noisily into a saloon full of screaming cabaret dancers, busting open the doorframe and leaving debris in its wake. The saloon doors stood miraculously intact. A few quick keystrokes and the image disappeared, replaced by a window of scrolling code. Zach made a few edits, cleaning up work that looked nearly perfect already.
“Having some problems?”
A noncommittal grumble.
“Mind if I take a look?”
Zach sat back in his chair, rolling back slightly from his work station. He crossed his arms and scowled, resentfully resigned. Victor hesitated, then looked back to the screen. It didn’t take long to see the problem – simple, easy to overlook. Everything else looked remarkably smooth for a second year student. “Line 1738. Start there.”
Again, Zach muttered something under his breath.
“What?”
“I said ‘thanks, Mr. Brown.’”
Only he hadn’t.
-----
“’You’re so fake.’”
“You’re taking it too personally. No teacher is universally liked or appreciated.”
“Maybe. There is also this though. Eva Richards confiscated it during drawing class. She thought it was disrespectful.” He pushed the sketch across the table. Daniel turned it around to get a clearer look. It was a cartoon caricature of Victor, leaning against his Cadillac, grinning. A light flash reflected off his perfect smile. A caption read: “Hi! I’m Victor Brown, and I have a sports car instead of a soul!”
Daniel was not very expressive, and notoriously difficult to read. He was working on it – he frowned. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s still just a kid.” And he looked up sharply too – there was no slipping anything past him. “Unless you think he isn’t.”
“No. He’s… I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Not an Adept though.”
“Definitely not. If that were it, I would know. This is probably just my imagination.”
“I can tell this is really bothering you.” Daniel pushed the drawing back across the table. “You’re sensitive about your origins. But unless you think Zachary is a threat, let it go. You have other students.”
“I know.”
“And you don’t believe in souls.”
“I know.” ‘Never had the luxury,’ he added to himself as he slipped the sketch away. “I’ve got to run. Keep in touch.”
-----
And back to school, for two more periods of teaching young artists how to tell their visions to machines. The very best were to be recruited, if possible, to Victor’s latest assignment, ‘The Game.’ He’d shown the students his progress on the first day of class. They’d all been enthralled. It was designed that way. All but Zachary Thomas.
“It’s not a game,” he’d said. “It’s a maze. And it’s boring.” The other students had declared him mad, but he’d been right. It was a maze – or at last a path. The kid was brilliant, but from that moment, Victor knew he’d never get him onboard. That was a professional failure, and that he could handle. The rest was personal.
After classes on Wednesday, the graphics classroom stayed open officially until seven – or later if Victor felt like staying. There were other labs on the small campus that were accessible later, but many students preferred to keep their work at a single more familiar station and used the classroom whenever it was open. Zach was there today, but with a friend – a girl. She was around his age, maybe a little older, and quite pretty. Victor thought she looked frightened. It was strange enough for Zach to be at school this late, never mind with company, and he wasn’t at his usual terminal either. He’d seated himself at one of the side stations where it was difficult for anyone to see what was on the screen unless they were standing directly behind him, where the girl hovered currently. They spoke in hushed whispers, and occasionally he would point things out to her. Victor kept his distance, though he was curious and somewhat concerned.
He closed things down around seven thirty. He’d have stayed later – Zach and his girlfriend were obviously trying to kill time, or even hide from something – but as it was, he only had an hour to make his way home, clean up, and eat before his conference that night. He had a few more names to put forward to the project leaders, at least.
Victor was just crossing campus to the faculty parking lot when he heard the screams. It was instinct, or something very much like it, that helped him pinpoint the location. He ran. It was barely even getting dark. He let his programming take over the moment he came upon the scene. His mind was well conditioned to act without conscious thought. Assess and react.
Zach’s girlfriend screamed again. An eight foot monster – something out of a nightmare, with bulging red eyes and ropey black muscles – had ripped a stone bench from its concrete mooring and was swinging it at the kids. Victor launched himself between the two, knocking them aside just as the creature smashed its makeshift club into the ground where they had been standing. It caught him in the backswing, knocking him hard into the side of a brick building. Zach rolled to his feet, loading a projectile into some sort of slingshot. The monster was already bleeding from a cut above one of its eyes. The second shot seemed to have little effect.
The girl had stopped screaming and was doing….something. She waved her hands and spat, and the monster bellowed and pressed its meaty hands to its eyes. Victor’s pistol was in hand, already firing. Three perfect headshots. It fell backwards, landing with a shuddering thud and morphing quickly into something much less inhuman. It was now just a vagabond who’d been regularly chased off campus by security – a character he’d scarcely taken notice of previously.
Victor turned to the other two, realizing as he did just how he must appear. The impact against the rough brick had shredded both his clothing and skin on his right side, and he probably shouldn’t still be standing. His left hand was bent at an unnatural angle, and his forearm was sparking under the skin that covered his cybernetics. Probably a wire shortage somewhere – it was going to start hurting a lot in another few minutes. He wasn’t even sure how to explain where his gun had come from, and was glad they had both been too preoccupied to notice at the time. Zach kept his slingshot trained on him. A moment of silence passed. Victor tucked his gun arm into the small of his back.
“Why don’t you two… Get out of here. And forget you saw anything.”
The girl, still wide-eyed, nodded first. She put a hand on Zach’s shoulder.
Zach holstered his own weapon with a flourish. “Right,” he said. “Forget it.”
But neither did.
-----
The next day, there was a piece in the Tribune about a shooting on campus. A security officer on patrol had come across an assault, and the perp had attacked. It was self defense. No charges, no names – just a tramp and a girl who wanted to protect her anonymity. In truth, the body had been recovered by an NWO extraction team and taken to a lab for study. Victor didn’t mention the kids in his report.
-----
“So, how are things going with your recalcitrant student?” Daniel changed the subject. Normally Victor was less forgiving of this kind of evasiveness, but at least the other man was showing some interest in the lives of others. Daniel would likely understand, not that there was anyone else he dared tell.
“That was risky,” Daniel replied after he’d listened to the tale. “Has he said anything since?”
“Nothing. He’s still… aloof, I guess. Or wary. But now, now there’s something. Maybe not respect. Definitely not trust. But a connection.” Victor sipped his French roast.
Daniel nodded. “Sometimes that’s the best we can get.”