to treat people like peons. And I’m sick of it.”
“Hans’ father is the Prime Minister of New Helsinki, so we owe the family respect. If word gets back to his father that we’re, shall we say, not disciplining those who verbally accost his son, some of our funding will get cut. Would you like to be in classrooms with sixty of your peers, rather than thirty?”
“Like I care. I’m leaving in a few months. Plus, if Dr. Craspo is an android, I want him to know that there are humans who don’t care, or at least, who care. Who think androids deserve equal rights.”
Dr. Anika’s eyes narrowed. “You'd be wise to keep those sentiments to yourself, Retta. For your own safety.”
I just stared at her. She shifted in her seat and I kept my face totally devoid of expression. She cleared her throat again and I relished the fact that she seemed to be squirming under my penetrating gaze. Sometimes silence is your best weapon. She was the one who said it, as though having empathy for androids were a crime. Far as I was concerned, the real crime was hiding behind the notion that androids were somehow inferior to humans.
“Now, you won’t be returning to class today. Go have a seat in the office and wait until the period is over. After that, you’re free to go. You didn’t physically assault Hans, so there’s not much I can do.”
She shooed me away. I went into the front office and sat on one of the hard benches near the door while the minutes ticked away. It was unfair, really. I stood up for the teacher and was being punished. But, at least it wasn’t a worse punishment. At least I wasn’t being tortured in a basement dungeon where they administered some kind of cruel whipping torture or whatnot.
I stared at my fingernails and thought about what Dr. Anika said, how she warned me about keeping my sympathy for androids quiet. Why was it OK to act like that? I shook my head and looked up as someone came into the office.
The blood froze in my veins. It was Hemingway.
He approached the desk where a secretary was playing solitaire on her desk Gate. The woman looked up and blinked rapidly at him.
“Yes?” she asked politely. Did she know he was an android? It was hard to tell. The problem was that Hemingway was so beautiful that prejudices were easy to forget. The main thing was just trying to not swoon when he looked at you with those mind-blowing eyes.
“I’m here to finish a class transfer,” he said quietly.
“Name?” she asked, punching the screen of her Gate.
“Hemingway Koskinen,” he said.
“Righto, Hemingway. You’re moving out of advanced calculus into . . .” She leaned toward her desktop Gate and squinted. “Basic algebra? Is that right? That can’t be right. Can it?” She blinked up at him, a baffled expression on her face.
He nodded, his cheeks flushing.
She shook her head, her huge brown curls bouncing around her face. “If you say so, but I can’t see how a lovely boy like you needs to change classes like that.” The secretary punched in the information. “You have permission from both teachers, I take it?”
Hemingway nodded again, sighing and glancing around—the first time he noticed his surroundings. His eyes fell on me. He stiffened and looked away quickly. Fiery red embarrassment crept into the tips of his ears.
“Ok, that’s done, Hemingway. You’re all set. Attend your new class on Wednesday. You know where it is, right?” She looked up. When he nodded, she went on, “Great, take care now.” She smiled, looking pleased with herself, Hemingway, and the entire universe.
Hemingway thanked her, turned, and paused as he passed me, “Retta I—” he said, then coughed, his eyes darting from the floor to the doorway, to me. “I just—I want—” he stuttered. The bell rang to signal the end of the current period. He shook his head, said, “Never mind,” and pulled the door open and hurried out.
I stood up and watched him go, wishing he’d finished saying
“Hans’ father is the Prime Minister of New Helsinki, so we owe the family respect. If word gets back to his father that we’re, shall we say, not disciplining those who verbally accost his son, some of our funding will get cut. Would you like to be in classrooms with sixty of your peers, rather than thirty?”
“Like I care. I’m leaving in a few months. Plus, if Dr. Craspo is an android, I want him to know that there are humans who don’t care, or at least, who care. Who think androids deserve equal rights.”
Dr. Anika’s eyes narrowed. “You'd be wise to keep those sentiments to yourself, Retta. For your own safety.”
I just stared at her. She shifted in her seat and I kept my face totally devoid of expression. She cleared her throat again and I relished the fact that she seemed to be squirming under my penetrating gaze. Sometimes silence is your best weapon. She was the one who said it, as though having empathy for androids were a crime. Far as I was concerned, the real crime was hiding behind the notion that androids were somehow inferior to humans.
“Now, you won’t be returning to class today. Go have a seat in the office and wait until the period is over. After that, you’re free to go. You didn’t physically assault Hans, so there’s not much I can do.”
She shooed me away. I went into the front office and sat on one of the hard benches near the door while the minutes ticked away. It was unfair, really. I stood up for the teacher and was being punished. But, at least it wasn’t a worse punishment. At least I wasn’t being tortured in a basement dungeon where they administered some kind of cruel whipping torture or whatnot.
I stared at my fingernails and thought about what Dr. Anika said, how she warned me about keeping my sympathy for androids quiet. Why was it OK to act like that? I shook my head and looked up as someone came into the office.
The blood froze in my veins. It was Hemingway.
He approached the desk where a secretary was playing solitaire on her desk Gate. The woman looked up and blinked rapidly at him.
“Yes?” she asked politely. Did she know he was an android? It was hard to tell. The problem was that Hemingway was so beautiful that prejudices were easy to forget. The main thing was just trying to not swoon when he looked at you with those mind-blowing eyes.
“I’m here to finish a class transfer,” he said quietly.
“Name?” she asked, punching the screen of her Gate.
“Hemingway Koskinen,” he said.
“Righto, Hemingway. You’re moving out of advanced calculus into . . .” She leaned toward her desktop Gate and squinted. “Basic algebra? Is that right? That can’t be right. Can it?” She blinked up at him, a baffled expression on her face.
He nodded, his cheeks flushing.
She shook her head, her huge brown curls bouncing around her face. “If you say so, but I can’t see how a lovely boy like you needs to change classes like that.” The secretary punched in the information. “You have permission from both teachers, I take it?”
Hemingway nodded again, sighing and glancing around—the first time he noticed his surroundings. His eyes fell on me. He stiffened and looked away quickly. Fiery red embarrassment crept into the tips of his ears.
“Ok, that’s done, Hemingway. You’re all set. Attend your new class on Wednesday. You know where it is, right?” She looked up. When he nodded, she went on, “Great, take care now.” She smiled, looking pleased with herself, Hemingway, and the entire universe.
Hemingway thanked her, turned, and paused as he passed me, “Retta I—” he said, then coughed, his eyes darting from the floor to the doorway, to me. “I just—I want—” he stuttered. The bell rang to signal the end of the current period. He shook his head, said, “Never mind,” and pulled the door open and hurried out.
I stood up and watched him go, wishing he’d finished saying
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