Second Site
by Grace Bridges
That panicked knocking
by Grace Bridges
That panicked knocking
on the office door! Would he ever get used to it?
The Professor sighed, set down his psychology book, removed his reading glasses and shut them in a case. “Come in!” he called, his voice wheezing to a whisper at the end.
Bam! Iron-like fists threw the door open. Its handle chipped plaster from the wall. Anime-style emo hair hung over the visitor’s all-around sunglasses. His black leather coat swished around his feet.
“Ah, Jono, it’s you.” The Professor squinted up at his problem student. He’d known about this appointment for days now, and trembled at the thought. Not that he was afraid for himself; but the boy might well destroy school property. Chipped plaster was the least of his worries.
Jono stepped woodenly into the room to stand wide-legged before the desk. No use asking him to sit down. He thought he was still in the game. Unless some miracle or modern medicine had gotten to him since their last meeting, his brain still inhabited the Internet even when he left it. What was the name of that site again? No matter. The Professor got a grip on his nerves and met the boy’s shaded stare.
“My mission is to get a certificate from you.” Jono warbled through clenched teeth. “If you thwart me, you shall feel my wrath.” Fists hit hips and his chin jutted out. Being a senator’s son had kept him in school. So far.
The Professor could almost feel those eyes looking down Jono’s nose from behind the dark glasses. He shoved his chair back and staggered to his feet. Jono whipped his arms before his chest in a karate pose.
“Easy, now, lad.” The Professor raised both palms. “Er—I mean you no harm.”
Jono leaned across the desk. “Then give me the certificate.”
The Professor sighed. “Now look, Jono, it is entirely up to yourself whether you pass psychology. You’ve missed three papers! I can’t pass you if you haven’t done the work.”
“I see.” Jono rubbed his chin. “It is to be a trade. I give you the papers you want, and you give me the papers I want.”
“Well...” Was this how things worked on the game site? The Professor shrugged.“I suppose it is.”
Jono flashed a mechanical smile. Then it vanished as if wiped off his face. “Did you hear that?”
The Professor glanced around. “Hear what?”
“You’re my trading partner now. I must protect you.” Jono stepped round the desk and shoved the Professor to his knees behind the desk. The two struggled on the floor. “Stay down!” Jono hissed. “Danger approaches!”
“Are you crazy?” Whoops, wrong question. Jono’s face turned dark and the Professor hurried to rephrase. “I—I mean, how do you know?”
Jono squared his shoulders. “I tell you this only because you are my partner.” He glanced at the door and back again. “I am a seer.”
“Ah.” The Professor had heard of these roles in the online game Jono played. There was nothing else to say.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway. Paused outside the open door. Entered. The Professor peered under the desk at an enormous pair of military-grade boots.
Click.
The Professor’s mind raced. He’d heard that sound so often in the movies. No—no, it couldn’t be!
Jono slid upright and walked out from behind the desk. The Professor wriggled forward against his better judgement, until he could stare upwards at the two figures who were undoubtedly both well able to destroy much more than just his office.
The well-built newcomer raised his gun to Jono’s heart. “Kid, you’re coming with me.” Heavily accented English. Was he Italian?
Jono harrumphed and pushed aside the gun barrel. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
The Professor clapped a hand to his forehead. “Whom! You mean whom!”
The greasy-haired gangster and the gamer kid shot perplexed glances at the man under the desk, then at each other.
Jono reached up and whipped off his sunglasses. He stepped close to the man with the gun and stared him in the eyes. Eerie silence ensued.
“All right, the hidden camera people can come out now!” The Professor crawled out from the desk cavity and got to his feet. He dusted off his knees. “Good show, fellas. You really had me going!”
The two stared at him. He emitted a sound that began as a laugh and ended as a whimper.
Gangster-boy spoke first. “You have cameras in here?”
“No, he doesn’t. He thinks this is a game.” Jono placed his palm on the Italian’s chest and locked eyes once again. He breathed deeply and spoke in a gentler voice. “I see your heart, Rosario. You miss your mother, ever since you were four, when she left you and your father to join that traveling circus with the ringmaster who insisted she was a supernaturally gifted trapeze artist.”
The gangster’s face turned ash-white. “Mamma mia!” The gun clunked to the floor. Tears flowed down his face. “You are a saint, no? Come to turn me from my sins!” He fell to his considerable knees. The floor shook. Jono squatted down beside him and laid an arm round his shoulders.
The Professor felt frozen in place. He could not leave; he wished to be gone with all his heart, but two violent men sobbed all over his carpet, blocking the only exit. Jono spoke on in low tones. The Professor thought he heard him say Jesus.
When the floods dried up, Rosario turned to the Professor. “Sorry for crashing in. I was after the boy.”
“I gathered that.” The Professor understood. The children of politicians were often at particular risk.
“It’s like this.” Rosario wrung his hands. “We needed to force the Senator to work for the Mafia on the inside. Our bosses, they want the Mafia to be the One World Government. And I let myself be convinced.”
“Well, they would certainly be efficient, wouldn’t they!”
Again both men stared at the Professor. A moment of confusion ticked by.
Rosario found his train of thought and got on board. “But this young man here has shown me the error of my ways. Why, he told me everything I ever did!” He stepped to the door, then looked back. “I am going to give myself up to the polizia.”
Professor moved to stop his escape, but was himself seized by Jono.
“He means what he says.” Jono’s piercing pale blue eyes stared into the hallway. “I can see it.” He replaced his sunglasses and made to leave.
“Wait, I have just one question for you.” The Professor clutched at Jono’s sleeve.
Jono faced him again. “Shoot. But hurry up, I have some papers to write for you.”
“Well...” He wanted to phrase this right. “How is it possible that your seer’s abilities carried over from the game into real life?”
“Oh.” Jono flashed his teeth. “Actually, sir, there are no seers in my game. And you really ought to talk to a pastor about your Internet behaviour.”
With that, he whirled away and was gone. The Professor stared after him, then turned to survey his surprisingly undestroyed office. His feet propelled him in a mad rush to the desk.
Where was that telephone directory again?
}
~~~~~ <~
}
Grace Bridges is a sci-fi author (Faith Awakened, 2007, and Legendary Space Pilgrims, 2009) and owner of Splashdown Books, an independent publisher of inspirational sci-fi and fantasy. She's a Kiwi of Irish descent living in beautiful New Zealand, and a chocaholic cat-lovin' Trekkie, Jesus freak, web designer, and all-round DIY gal who also takes care of the Lost Genre Guild blog. Tweets: @gracebridges - or visit www.gracebridges.com for more.
The Professor sighed, set down his psychology book, removed his reading glasses and shut them in a case. “Come in!” he called, his voice wheezing to a whisper at the end.
Bam! Iron-like fists threw the door open. Its handle chipped plaster from the wall. Anime-style emo hair hung over the visitor’s all-around sunglasses. His black leather coat swished around his feet.
“Ah, Jono, it’s you.” The Professor squinted up at his problem student. He’d known about this appointment for days now, and trembled at the thought. Not that he was afraid for himself; but the boy might well destroy school property. Chipped plaster was the least of his worries.
Jono stepped woodenly into the room to stand wide-legged before the desk. No use asking him to sit down. He thought he was still in the game. Unless some miracle or modern medicine had gotten to him since their last meeting, his brain still inhabited the Internet even when he left it. What was the name of that site again? No matter. The Professor got a grip on his nerves and met the boy’s shaded stare.
“My mission is to get a certificate from you.” Jono warbled through clenched teeth. “If you thwart me, you shall feel my wrath.” Fists hit hips and his chin jutted out. Being a senator’s son had kept him in school. So far.
The Professor could almost feel those eyes looking down Jono’s nose from behind the dark glasses. He shoved his chair back and staggered to his feet. Jono whipped his arms before his chest in a karate pose.
“Easy, now, lad.” The Professor raised both palms. “Er—I mean you no harm.”
Jono leaned across the desk. “Then give me the certificate.”
The Professor sighed. “Now look, Jono, it is entirely up to yourself whether you pass psychology. You’ve missed three papers! I can’t pass you if you haven’t done the work.”
“I see.” Jono rubbed his chin. “It is to be a trade. I give you the papers you want, and you give me the papers I want.”
“Well...” Was this how things worked on the game site? The Professor shrugged.“I suppose it is.”
Jono flashed a mechanical smile. Then it vanished as if wiped off his face. “Did you hear that?”
The Professor glanced around. “Hear what?”
“You’re my trading partner now. I must protect you.” Jono stepped round the desk and shoved the Professor to his knees behind the desk. The two struggled on the floor. “Stay down!” Jono hissed. “Danger approaches!”
“Are you crazy?” Whoops, wrong question. Jono’s face turned dark and the Professor hurried to rephrase. “I—I mean, how do you know?”
Jono squared his shoulders. “I tell you this only because you are my partner.” He glanced at the door and back again. “I am a seer.”
“Ah.” The Professor had heard of these roles in the online game Jono played. There was nothing else to say.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway. Paused outside the open door. Entered. The Professor peered under the desk at an enormous pair of military-grade boots.
Click.
The Professor’s mind raced. He’d heard that sound so often in the movies. No—no, it couldn’t be!
Jono slid upright and walked out from behind the desk. The Professor wriggled forward against his better judgement, until he could stare upwards at the two figures who were undoubtedly both well able to destroy much more than just his office.
The well-built newcomer raised his gun to Jono’s heart. “Kid, you’re coming with me.” Heavily accented English. Was he Italian?
Jono harrumphed and pushed aside the gun barrel. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
The Professor clapped a hand to his forehead. “Whom! You mean whom!”
The greasy-haired gangster and the gamer kid shot perplexed glances at the man under the desk, then at each other.
Jono reached up and whipped off his sunglasses. He stepped close to the man with the gun and stared him in the eyes. Eerie silence ensued.
“All right, the hidden camera people can come out now!” The Professor crawled out from the desk cavity and got to his feet. He dusted off his knees. “Good show, fellas. You really had me going!”
The two stared at him. He emitted a sound that began as a laugh and ended as a whimper.
Gangster-boy spoke first. “You have cameras in here?”
“No, he doesn’t. He thinks this is a game.” Jono placed his palm on the Italian’s chest and locked eyes once again. He breathed deeply and spoke in a gentler voice. “I see your heart, Rosario. You miss your mother, ever since you were four, when she left you and your father to join that traveling circus with the ringmaster who insisted she was a supernaturally gifted trapeze artist.”
The gangster’s face turned ash-white. “Mamma mia!” The gun clunked to the floor. Tears flowed down his face. “You are a saint, no? Come to turn me from my sins!” He fell to his considerable knees. The floor shook. Jono squatted down beside him and laid an arm round his shoulders.
The Professor felt frozen in place. He could not leave; he wished to be gone with all his heart, but two violent men sobbed all over his carpet, blocking the only exit. Jono spoke on in low tones. The Professor thought he heard him say Jesus.
When the floods dried up, Rosario turned to the Professor. “Sorry for crashing in. I was after the boy.”
“I gathered that.” The Professor understood. The children of politicians were often at particular risk.
“It’s like this.” Rosario wrung his hands. “We needed to force the Senator to work for the Mafia on the inside. Our bosses, they want the Mafia to be the One World Government. And I let myself be convinced.”
“Well, they would certainly be efficient, wouldn’t they!”
Again both men stared at the Professor. A moment of confusion ticked by.
Rosario found his train of thought and got on board. “But this young man here has shown me the error of my ways. Why, he told me everything I ever did!” He stepped to the door, then looked back. “I am going to give myself up to the polizia.”
Professor moved to stop his escape, but was himself seized by Jono.
“He means what he says.” Jono’s piercing pale blue eyes stared into the hallway. “I can see it.” He replaced his sunglasses and made to leave.
“Wait, I have just one question for you.” The Professor clutched at Jono’s sleeve.
Jono faced him again. “Shoot. But hurry up, I have some papers to write for you.”
“Well...” He wanted to phrase this right. “How is it possible that your seer’s abilities carried over from the game into real life?”
“Oh.” Jono flashed his teeth. “Actually, sir, there are no seers in my game. And you really ought to talk to a pastor about your Internet behaviour.”
With that, he whirled away and was gone. The Professor stared after him, then turned to survey his surprisingly undestroyed office. His feet propelled him in a mad rush to the desk.
Where was that telephone directory again?
}
~~~~~ <~
}
Grace Bridges is a sci-fi author (Faith Awakened, 2007, and Legendary Space Pilgrims, 2009) and owner of Splashdown Books, an independent publisher of inspirational sci-fi and fantasy. She's a Kiwi of Irish descent living in beautiful New Zealand, and a chocaholic cat-lovin' Trekkie, Jesus freak, web designer, and all-round DIY gal who also takes care of the Lost Genre Guild blog. Tweets: @gracebridges - or visit www.gracebridges.com for more.
