Post by Bethany on Oct 13, 2005 17:32:35 GMT
The observatory of Andromeda High School was at the very top of the thousand-storey tower block. Inside the air-conditioned classroom, the gleaming metal workbenches had been folded into the walls and the students were lying on mats in the middle of the floor, looking up at the stars through the glass of the dome above. The professor was giving them a test. Slowly, he reached over and pushed a button on his wristband. A red ring formed on the glass, circling a group of stars.
“Question eleven,” he said. “Name the constellation.”
The students closed their eyes for a split-second, and each child’s answer appeared on a tablet beside their head.
“Test over,” announced the professor. The tablets, connected wirelessly to the probes on the students’ foreheads, swiftly calculated each person’s score and updated the league table on the screen at the front of the room. The students sat up and nervously glanced at the screen. One of them burst into tears – as always, she was at the very bottom of the class.
“Lisa,” said the professor gently. “Would you like to go outside for a moment and dry your eyes?”
The girl wiped her tears and obeyed. As the doors closed automatically behind her, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, listening to the comforting hum of the fluorescent lights above her head. After a moment, she turned to the window and pressed a button on the windowsill. As the blinds lifted, she gazed down at the domes of the city far below her, glittering in the starlight. One by one, the lights in the houses flickered out and the domes went dark. The day’s last monorail sped along the track and came to a stop at the end of the line. Everything was pitch black, except for the night sky. No hover cars whizzed around the street corners, and no footsteps sounded on the shining white slabs of the pavement. Soon, everyone in the school would be snuggling down into their beds in the ground-floor dormitories.
The sound of unfolding blinds and mats being rolled up came from inside the classroom. Lisa sighed, leaving a mist on the glass, and took one last look out of the window before stepping in front of the doors. There was a whirr as they opened, and a click as they closed behind her. On the window, the mist cleared and the city was visible once more, silhouetted against the towering columns of the spectacular Eagle Nebula.
Copyright © 2005 Bethany Wilson
“Question eleven,” he said. “Name the constellation.”
The students closed their eyes for a split-second, and each child’s answer appeared on a tablet beside their head.
“Test over,” announced the professor. The tablets, connected wirelessly to the probes on the students’ foreheads, swiftly calculated each person’s score and updated the league table on the screen at the front of the room. The students sat up and nervously glanced at the screen. One of them burst into tears – as always, she was at the very bottom of the class.
“Lisa,” said the professor gently. “Would you like to go outside for a moment and dry your eyes?”
The girl wiped her tears and obeyed. As the doors closed automatically behind her, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, listening to the comforting hum of the fluorescent lights above her head. After a moment, she turned to the window and pressed a button on the windowsill. As the blinds lifted, she gazed down at the domes of the city far below her, glittering in the starlight. One by one, the lights in the houses flickered out and the domes went dark. The day’s last monorail sped along the track and came to a stop at the end of the line. Everything was pitch black, except for the night sky. No hover cars whizzed around the street corners, and no footsteps sounded on the shining white slabs of the pavement. Soon, everyone in the school would be snuggling down into their beds in the ground-floor dormitories.
The sound of unfolding blinds and mats being rolled up came from inside the classroom. Lisa sighed, leaving a mist on the glass, and took one last look out of the window before stepping in front of the doors. There was a whirr as they opened, and a click as they closed behind her. On the window, the mist cleared and the city was visible once more, silhouetted against the towering columns of the spectacular Eagle Nebula.
Copyright © 2005 Bethany Wilson
. You know, I might compile a yearbook for the HW Writing Workshop. Or maybe start a magazine if enough people come.