This is part of a NaNoWriMo story: Day 1
Full character list and glossary are in my Profile.
A bright new year.
Lots of lovely new people to meet.
New Jaffys to enslave, corrupt and snuggle.
The hectic drama and booziness of O-Week and the Week 1 promo picnics over with, now was the time to get to know everyone. It wasn't until at least week 2 when you could be sure whether or not Jaffys would come back – after all, there was no goon punch this week, just friends, free food, and Cards Against Humanity: FOULies edition.
Throughout the day secondfloorers begin to arrive at their home-away-from-home, settling down into the rhythm of the new year. At a few minutes to midday the committee arrive with the shopping and drop the plastic bags full of goodies onto the ground in Joe Nap B. This is our cue. People emerge from around secondfloor – sitting at the tables, lying on the couches, standing and chatting, even from within Rowdy where they surely wouldn't be able to see the elevators. We able towards the room, dump our bags and rifle through the shopping to find our favourite snacks – oh good, they bought chocolate mud cake!
We greet our friends from last year. Some of us might even remember the names of a few of the new people. The committee are no longer first years, but they'll always be jaffy slaves to us.
"Oi, jaffy! Bring us the mint slice?"
The president, now a second year, goes to obey. Stops. Has a major internal conflict. Glares at us and refuses. Well, that's disappointing. I guess it's time to find some new jaffy slaves.
We go over and chat to a few of the new jaffys. Have a major debate over our opinions on Salt and Vinegar chips. Explain how to correctly eat a cup cake.
Everyone is ignoring the fact that some of the new members are quite strange, even by our usual standards. Especially the plant, we're definitely not acknowledging the plant.
We continue to mingle, chatting about the Summer and about our subjects and how we already hate our lecturers. One of the jaffys is confused that in their 9am lecture there was less than half the attendance of last week. We have to explain that no, they don't all have clashes or have suddenly dropped the subject, they'd just rather sleep in and maaaaaybe watch it online later, or just wing it and hope for the best come Swotvac. Lectures aren't compulsory, Jaffy.
We notice that everyone seems to have these strange new tattoos on their left wrist, like a watch. Except it's not a watch, it's some kind of count down. It moves. The numbers are ticking down. No one quite recalls getting the tattoos. No one knows what it's counting down to. It's probably fine.
We hear about the struggles of moving out of home, across the country. 17-year-olds from Perth or Queensland now having to cook for themselves and be all grown up. We're already looking to see which of the jaffys is most exploitable, most likely to become the sacrificial president, most likely to hook up with someone on camp, most likely to never come back to secondfloor after camp.
Speaking of jaffys, they're eating our constitutional chocky bikkies! How has no one explained to them the basics of the FOUL constitution yet? We grab a copy of the constitution, in its truncated form for ease of transport, and pass it to them, swiping the remaining Mint Slice and Tim Tams while we're at it. Stupid jaffys, need to learn their place. So many things they're yet to learn about secondfloor. Oh the fun we will have, the games we will play...
Speaking of, someone has remembered that we promised to play Cards Against Humanity, with our custom deck. Most of the jaffys won't get our jokes yet, but seeing which of the fandom, pop culture, and historical references they get is a mini hazing ritual all of its own. We settle down to play, explaining the rules at least three times before everyone's shut up and understood the basics.
"A good fanfiction must contain ... blank"
This should be a good one to start. None of them know how to play to the Card Tsar yet, but they'll learn.
"Okaaaaay, everyone in? Right. A good fanfiction must contain Eye sex between your OTP."
A few people glanced around the room quickly. Interesting...
"A good fanfiction must contain Harry Potter's wand." Several people chuckle.
"Wait, since when? But why?" asks Harry. They laugh some more. No one really wants to explain the innuendo. They continue.
"A good fanfiction must contain The sonic screwdriver 'stuck' on the vibrate setting". A few more people chuckle.
"Good times..." muses Jack.
"A good fanfiction must contain Killing Dumbledore".
"Too soon!" and "Noooo", a few people say. "WHAT?" several people yell, looking upset and confused.
"What do you mean, 'what'? How do you not know that bit? What rock have you been living under?"
A few people leave the game, walking off uncertainly like their whole world view has been shattered in an instant. One keeps glancing at his wrist, as if to reassure himself that those strange numbers are still there, still ticking down slowly, zero still far away, nothing interesting imminently implied by the figures.
"A good fanfiction must contain Stealing a loaf of bread".
One of the new members looks away, suddenly interested in some view out the window. Another mutters something about bread being no laughing matter.
"A good fanfiction must contain ... okay, this one is definitely winning ... Walking in on Captain Jack Harkness screwing your mum, and your dad".
Several of the jaffys laugh awkwardly, this being the first time they've heard that gem of a card. One in particular looks thoughtful...
"Okay, that one wins – whose was it?" One of the jaffys claims the card. No one knows anyone's names. It's really quite frustrating. Some of them look quite interesting. The pres suggests we go around and introduce ourselves. There's a collective groan – no one likes those cheesy getting-to-know-you games.
"Okay, so: name, degree, where you grew up and one thing you'd like everyone to know about you. I'll start. I'm Lauren, the pres. There's two of us, so you can call me Laurencini. I'm studying Arts, second year, I'm from Perth and I don't like Nutella". There are some mock and some genuine gasps from the assembled members.
"I'm Lauren. The ex-president. Third year Bachelor of Science. Don't call me 'other Lauren'. Now, I've got to go write an essay..."
"I'm John. I'm doing Med, just transferred from London, where I grew up. Umm fun fact..."
"He's a soldier" another new member interrupted, walking into the room. "I'm Sherlock, I'm not studying here, I was just very interested in how you've managed to assemble all these people together..."
"Excuse me, I think you're interrupting."
"Did you say your name was Sherlock?"
"Moving on! You, there. Name, degree, where you grew up, one thing you'd like us to know" Laurencini demanded loudly, pointing at the next around the circle from John.
"Oh, who am I? Oh, well, usually people called me Monsieur le maire, so you can call me that, because I was the mayor, you know? I'm French, I also just moved. I'm..."
"You're a criminal." Sherlock interjected. Again.
"This man is an honest citizen, not the criminal" defended another new member. "Please explain why you're judging him so".
"If I must! I can see the tattoo of his prisoner number. 2 – 4 – 6..." Sherlock began.
"Oh that old thing, no, it's just the date of birth of my daughter. She was born in June, you see..." the mayor said, interrupting Sherlock once again.
"246..? Curious..." the defender murmured.
"And who are you?"
"Well, I'm Javert! Do not forget me! Do not forget my name!"
"Yes, Javert. Your degree, you know?"
"Oh, I'm not studying. I work downstairs, I'm just on my lunch break." He gestures to his shirt "I work at Subway, making bread."
"I'm next? I'm Angus. I graduated a while back, but I've got a day off today so here I am! I have a Masters in Physics and I grew up in Melbourne. A thing about me.. I guess I'm really into computer programming, hardware and technology and I really enjoy my job even though it doesn't sound all that interesting, superficially".
"I'm Jamie. I'm studying a Bachelor of Arts, hoping to do some detective stuff. I grew up nearby, and I ... have a little sister?"
"I'm Albus, and this is my little brother Aberforth. I'm doing the JD, while Ab here is just enrolled in first year doing Psychology with a view to doing counselling. There's nothing very interesting about us, I'm afraid." Aberforth seemed unimpressed by his brother taking over his introduction.
A teenage girl floated over and began her introduction. "I'm Myrtle, though everyone calls me Moaning Myrtle, which isn't very nice. You might have noticed that I'm dead. Well, I guess that's my interesting thing, now isn't it!" and she sped away, still floating, crying hysterically.
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. Suddenly there was a series of beeps and whooping noises, emanating from a squat little robot, made from brass and wood.
"That hunk of junk is R2D2. I am C3PO, Human-Cyborg relations. I am primarily a protocol droid." Interpreted a tall humanoid robot, who had cogs and cables where joints usually go, and appeared to be steam powered.
"Protocol? I just like butts" adds the other small robot. "My name's Pintsize".
"How can you like butts? Your programming must be very odd, I am incapable of emotion. My name is Lieutenant Commander Data".
"Incapable of emotion? How can you not be moved by the suffering of the underprivileged? To see the need your country has of you? To feel? To hear the people sing?"
"Name, degree, you know the drill, guys!" said the exasperated president.
"I am Enjolras. I am studying political science, and also grew up in France. You might be surprised to learn that I want to make a difference! To fight the peoples' fight!" the boy said with great emotion.
Was he rallying? On secondfloor? To an android who had just professed his physical incapability of emotion? What a strange boy.
"Um hello? Yes, down here. Good morning. My name is Bilbo Baggins. I'm from New Zealand, and I've come here for a little adventure" said a small man.
A goat bleated from the corner, before resuming eating someone's Calc 1 note book. A young boy with shaggy hair and a 'God's gift to women' attitude ran to rescue his work.
"I am Anakin, and this bloody goat is eating my notebook" he whined. "I need that so I can do my engineering degree! I'm going to become the greatest pilot ever, but I'm doing the degree too so my mum's extra proud of me. Also because building robots and stuff is super awesome and I'm really good at it. Just ask Obiwan!"
"I am Obiwan, and I have the misfortune of teaching young Anakin here, who needs to learn to control his temper!" he ended in a shout, pulling Anakin off the poor goat with the help of Aberforth.
"We are called FOULies chat" said a small train with a loud voice which sounded more like 20 people stage whispering simultaneously than any individual 'voice'.
"We are secondfloor" said the train, which had been running about the room with apparent disregard for gravity.
"We do – do not – sometimes – graduated – study – University of Melbourne" said the train, seemingly disagreeing with itself, whist nearly hitting the floating cat on a particularly wild and jerking lap of the room.
"We like – dislike – love – hate – things" added the voices.
A large animal, which looked not dissimilar to a humanoid carpet roared at the train as it sped past. No one volunteered to translate. Perhaps it was simply a roar, or perhaps no one understands this creature.
Two holograms suddenly appeared in the room.
The cartoonish man introduced himself as "Station", who was currently in orbit above us. The cloaked man said he hailed from the "Death Star" and was approaching our System rapidly. The walking carpet ran out of the room.
"Oyyyyy, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm studying a Bachelor of En—ahhh, something. I'm actually looking for a crew, if anyone's interested?" inquired a dreadlocked hipster.
"Hey, Captain Jack, I'm Captain Jack Harkness. I'm basically immortal." drawled a dashing young man. No one thought to remind him of the introduction structure.
"Hey yourself. Dean Winchester. So am I" retorted another man.
"Well I'm the Boy Who Lived" added green-eyes boy.
"Lived through what?" asked Dean.
"Um, Voldemort? You know who? I'm Harry freakin Potter!"
"and I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy"
"Iwan Jensen. Staff. And while it's been lovely meeting you all, there's n+1 people in this room trying to fit into two boxes, so I'm afraid I have to go"
"Richard Brak. Staff. I believe several of you are supposed to be in my lecture at 1pm? So let's go walk down that osculating lattice path to the lecture theatre, shall we?"
"Oh, I have a class to teach too. I'm a tutor!" called out someone as they ran from the room.
Suddenly out the window a disk-like craft took off, seemingly from South Lawn, and flew out of sight. Now that everyone was looking, it became clear that there was a tiny, adorable dragon perched on the clock tower of Old Arts.
Definitely a stranger FOUL than usual...
A/N:
I should be updating daily, but the first week or so might not be quite on time as I've got exams.. Stay posted!