Chapters Seven & Eight
VIII.
Lima had developed a strategy to deal with the library.
She hated to ask for help. Here, in the Academy, she didn’t dare set foot on one of these gleaming shelves. So, she jumped, albeit ungracefully. She looked up and down the row of stacks again. No one was around.
Lima jumped again. This time, her finger managed to pop the desired book upward. It rocked back and forth, inching off the shelf.
Jump, tip. Jump.
“What are you doing?”
Lima jumped, collided ungracefully with the shelf, and only saved herself from falling with a grab at a set of atlases. She pushed scattered brown hair out of her face. “I’m… jumping,” she said sharply.
Student Ansel looked from her to the shelf. “I see that.”
“I need a book. For research,” Lima explained. She straightened her blouse and tried to appear dignified.
“I see.”
“I have an essay.”
Ansel looked at the shelf. “This one?” he pointed. From his height, his fingers reached the jacket easily.
“Yes,” Lima said, trying to hide her irritation.
Ansel pulled the red leather volume down and handed it to her. “We have it archived. You could access it on your tablet.”
“I prefer a real book,” Lima said.
“We have staff to fetch them from the stacks for you.”
“I prefer to get it myself.”
“You prefer jumping?” Ansel asked.
“Of course,” Lima said, “Climbing would be undignified.”
“But not jumping.”
“No. Jumping is a legitimate strategy.”
He nodded. “I see.”
Lima was feeling more than a bit foolish, and she turned away. “Thank you for your assistance, Student Ansel.”
He followed her. “You’re researching the peerage of North Uropa?” he asked. “That’s not light reading.”
Lima had no intention of explaining herself, but when she sat down at the table strewn with her materials, he joined her.
“How is she?” he asked bluntly.
Lima blinked, recalling the previous day with a concealed shudder. “I believe… she is still sedated. No one has seen her.”
“Not Co - I meant, my sister,” he amended.
“Oh.” Lima wondered if he knew that his sister was capable of crying. “She… she seems to recover quickly from shock,” she said.
“Did she stare like a statue?” he asked softly.
“Kind of,” Lima answered. “She was whispering.”
He nodded. “I see.”
“And then she just sort of… blinked? And got up as if nothing had happened. She did linear algebra until the lockdown was lifted.” Lima turned the pages of the volume gingerly. The fine paper was cool as silk beneath her hand.
“And you?”
“What about me?” Lima said sharply. Her pulse quickened.
“Are you all right?” Ansel asked.
“I’m using my time wisely,” Lima answered. “I’m researching the Rehnquist family.”
He waited for further explanation. When none came, he asked, “Why?”
“They’ve had considerable influence for several centuries,” Lima said, determined not to talk about what had happened in the hall. She was frightened and confused, and she knew that her peers would not help. The Authority had announced that the ‘regrettable incident’ was a simple matter of security. She swallowed the acrid taste in her mouth. “This library is named after the Rehnquists.”
“I am aware.”
“It’s a great tragedy,” she continued, “the last members of the family. All dead.”
“Yes,” he said, his face clouding over. “It is.”
Lima’s finger traced the index under R. “Did you know him?” she asked.
“Peter? Or David Rehnquist?”
Lima tried to decide, but before she could answer, Ansel looked away out the window. “Yes, I did.”
“What was he—Rehnquist—like?”
Ansel shook his head. “I couldn’t say.”
Lima frowned. “Couldn’t?”
“Shouldn’t.”
“You think it’s indelicate of me to pry?”
“I think there’s more to the story than you’ll find in that book. Or any book, for that matter.”
“I should pick another topic?”
“It would be safer.” The way Ansel said it made Lima frown.
“I appreciate your concern, but I think I can handle a little research.”
“I’m sure you can.”
Lima hoped that silence would drive Ansel away. She pretended to be absorbed in reading. He sat, watching her. The wind off the ocean whistled against the glass window panes.
Her annoyance reached a breaking point. “Are you going to tell me to leave your Academy again? Or are you going to stare at me until I become so uncomfortable that I never complete my research?”
“Neither, I hope,” Ansel said. “I apologize if my presence has interrupted your study. I was taking the opportunity to know my sister’s roommate better.”
“You were trying to determine whether I was good enough,” Lima said hotly. “Are you afraid that a country minister’s daughter will taint the value of your elite education?”
Ansel stiffened. “No,” he said. “Not at all.”
Lima pushed her papers into a pile and shoved them into her satchel. “It’s what you’re all thinking,” she snapped. “All of you at Huang’s precious table. I’m not a Rehnquist or a Meritage. I’m probably the only student whose parents were born merchant class.” Lima bit her tongue, ashamed that her frustration had gotten the better of her. She jammed her stylus into the tablet holder.
“I’m sorry I offended you,” Ansel said. “That was not my intention.”
Lima shoved shaking fingers into her sweater pockets and used her most polite tone as she stood up. “My apologies, Student Ansel. I was unkind.”
He was smiling at her.
Lima fought the spark of indignation. “What are you laughing at?” she demanded.
“Pardon me,” he said through a barely contained smile. “It’s just that… I keep forgetting how short you are.”
Lima noted with outrage that, while he was seated and she was standing, his face was level with hers. She couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t undo her apology, so she spun on her heel and marched away.
♟
Lima paused with the potatoes halfway to her mouth. “Student Schmidt?”
“Good evening.” He pushed his eyeglasses up his nose. “Did you get your tablet sorted out?”
“Mostly.” Lima paused. “No,” she admitted.
Schmidt looked around nervously, assessing the rest of the Dining Hall. He put his tray down in front of hers. “May I join you?” he asked, sitting before she could answer.
“If… you’d like.”
“You aren’t at the Ansel table,” he said, adjusting his fork and knife into parallels to his plate. “Isn’t she your roommate?”
“I prefer to sit here,” Lima said.
“Because Takov humiliated you on your first day.” He said it without mockery, as if he was recalling the weather. Then, he fidgeted with the spoon until it was perpendicular to the table’s edge.
“Oh. You saw.”
“I did.” He laid the napkin across his lap. “Everyone did.”
“I have no issue with the Ansels,” Lima said a little too sharply.
“Do you have an issue with Kjelgaard breaking your nose?” Student Schmidt blinked rapidly. He reminded Lima of a politely startled owl.
She stabbed her potatoes. “Our great Father admonishes us to forgive.”
“Great Father has never met Ansel the Elder.” Student Schmidt hiccupped and exhaled, a sound so awkward that it took Lima a second to recognize it as laughter.
She tried to smile. “Right.”
“Have you taken a side yet?”
“A side?”
“Too early.” He took bite of the lumpy greens. “Maybe you won’t be one of them.” He paused, put his fork down, and gently twisted his plate closer to the edge, muttering to himself.
“One of them?”
“One of the valuable students.” He said the word in such a slow, musical way that Lima thought she had misunderstood.
“Valuable?”
“I’m not. Not very. But I believed McAteer from the beginning.” He leaned forward and his nervous chatter changed into a serious stare. “You’re not a plant, are you?”
Lima stared back, unsure how to answer.
“Blink twice if you are.”
“What are you talking about?” Lima demanded.
“Huh.” Schmidt nodded. “All right. I believe you, but I wish I didn’t. I’ve lost ten credits to McAteer.” He adjusted his plate again.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t be mad.” Schmidt sighed. “I shouldn’t bet against McAteer. She always knows.”
“Knows what?” Lima asked. She tried, “McAteer knows I’m not a spy?”
“Aaaah,” he nodded. “You are paying attention. That’s good.”
“A spy for what, exactly?”
He ignored her, adjusting his water glass and muttering again. This time, Lima caught just a few of the words. “Thirty-two degrees, thirty six… forty five …” He appeared satisfied and sat back in his chair.
Lima moved her glass.
He looked up, alarmed. “What are you doing?”
“Adjusting.” Lima pushed her food into quarters on her plate and settled her glass to the top right. “Forty five degrees from the decorative scroll at the top,” she said, “and the cutlery parallel to the line of the inner edge of the plate.”
Student Schmidt frowned, silent. Then an impulse overcame his embarrassment. “Your glass is too close.” He reached across the table and slid it another half-inch from her plate. “Better.”
“Better?”
“Yes.” He put his napkin in his lap. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Lima realized that he had yet to make eye contact with her. He simply looked past her, or at her chin, or at his own hands.
“I’m not… There’s nothing wrong with me,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose again.
“I didn’t say there was.”
“No, but you thought it. They all think it.” He looked around. “But there’s nothing wrong with me. I just like things where I like them.”
Lima waited.
“People aren’t careful. They don’t notice.” He pointed to her plate. “Are you going to eat those?”
“Oh… uh, no. You can have them.”
“Oh, I don’t eat them either. I just… if I may….”
“Sure.” Lima watched as he took two scoops, exactly half of the purple eggplant mesh, and transferred them to his own plate.
“Now our plates are even,” he mumbled.
“Yes.”
“Who are you studying?” he asked, primly using his napkin to wipe the plate edge. “Your book.”
“Parem.”
“Oh, King’s Mate.” Schmidt nodded. “Are you any good?”
“I don’t know,” Lima answered. “I have only played with my father.”
“Well, let’s see.” He put his tablet between them. A few keystrokes later, the screen showed a checkered board, and a series of images leapt into position. Lima reached out to touch the black king and marveled as the dots of light formed around her finger. “It’s a hologram,” Schmidt said.
“I’ve never played with holograms,” Lima admitted.
“It’s not magic. It’s about creating interference patterns with light and –“
“I didn’t think it was magic.”
Schmidt frowned. “Why do you sound angry? Are you insulted?”
“I know what a hologram is.”
“But you’re from a lower class. Right?”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I believe you. But you’re probably ignorant.” He said every sentence with the same tone and expression. It occurred to Lima that he truly did not mean to insult her. She wondered how he had survived in a class driven by Etiquette.
Lima tried a polite grimace. “I think I can handle it.”
“You can’t even handle the keystrokes,” he said. “Here and here to move, here to start the timer, and here—” he pointed, grinning, “is where you resign.”
So, he had a sense of humor. Not entirely a robot. “After you,” Lima said.
He opened with a standard offense, but the next series was trickier, and Lima forgot the people around them as she settled into real play. The seconds ticked by too quickly as she wrestled with her options. Twice, she forgot where the timer switch was, and Schmidt showed her. The game ended in a draw.
“Again?” Schmidt asked.
Lima glared at the board. “Shouldn’t we be studying?”
He shrugged. “Just one more game.” He spun the tablet around but carefully aligned it to the grooves in the table.
A new game, and new sides. Lima tried to remember the moves her father favored when he played white. She missed the feeling of the solid, marble pieces in her hands. The holograms shifted on command, but it wasn’t the same.
“You’re an Advancement, right?”
The question was so rude, so wholly inappropriate, that Lima didn’t understand it at first. She looked up, horrified. But Schmidt appeared unaware of the offense, and when he saw her expression, he nervously ducked his head. “I’ve said the wrong thing,” he said. He gingerly touched the tablet. “Straight, straight on the grain…”
“Why do you ask?” Lima said softly.
“You… um… you seemed to believe. What you said.” He cleared his throat. “In the Session. The Sister and the Father.”
Lima made a move and hit the timer, careful not to bump the tablet out of place.
“Tricky,” he murmured. “Bait to the Queen, result in fork…”
“Student Schmidt,” Lima said.
His mouth snapped shut.
“You’re speaking out loud,” she said.
“Didn’t mean to offend.”
“You don’t offend me.”
“I don’t know anyone who believes.”
“Oh,” Lima said. “It’s all right.”
“No, I mean—the Family. I don’t know anyone who believes. I’d heard that sometimes the… the lower classes still worshipped. I didn’t think it was possible. You know…” he pushed the ever-sliding glasses up his nose again, “… because you seem smart.”
Lima didn’t answer. She waited until he moved and launched into an attack. Six moves later, she snapped, “Mate.”
Student Schmidt nodded. “That was good.”
Lima offered her hand, shook his, and stood up.
“You’re still angry, Student Coarse.” He said it in a low voice, and he kept his eyes on the table. From where she stood, Lima could only see his hunched shoulders and his mop of spiky yellow hair.
“I’m not angry,” she said. She wasn’t sure she meant it.
“You’re better than I am.” He turned off the tablet. “At King’s Mate. You should play.”
“Play where?”
“On the team.”
“Kjelgaard doesn’t like me.”
“He likes winning. If you can help the team win, he’ll tolerate you.” Student Schmidt shrugged. “But you’re not that good. Not yet. I know who could help you.”
“Who?”
“Your roommate’s brother.”
Lima groaned.