Chapter 2: The insanity begins

Aly awoke the next morning – at least, she thought it was the next morning – and sat up in bed. That dream was pretty weird last night, she thought, rubbing her eyes. I have got to lay off the energy drinks. No Red Bull for me. Perhaps there was something to what the health nuts said in their anti-energy-drink tirades.

It took her a moment to realize that her room was no longer her room anymore. In fact, it looked rather like an office that someone had transplanted beds into.

Wait, an office? Convinced that she was still dreaming, she shook her head and swung her feet out of the covers. She wasn't one to wear socks to bed, so her feet came directly in contact with the scratchy office-issue carpet. She looked around. It seemed like a normal college dorm room, albeit with four beds, but it also strongly resembled a converted office. The desks even looked more professional than institutional.

"I have got to be dreaming," she muttered, shaking her head again.

"Oh, you're awake," someone said. Aly tried very hard not to jump out of her skin and turned around slowly. She found herself face-to-face with a girl about her own age, maybe a little older, with long, dark hair and olive skin. The girl smiled kindly at her. "No, you're as awake as you're going to get. It's a bit of a shock, I know. You might want to sit down."

Aly's knees gave out and she collapsed back onto the bed. "What…what happened? Where am I?"

The girl's smile turned wry. "You signed the forms, didn't you?" Aly nodded slowly. "Ah, then you should know all about it already. This is the Fanfiction Academic Institute of Langley."

"Fail?" Aly asked weakly.

"Yeah, something like that," the girl said dismissively. Aly noticed that she had a pronounced Boston accent. "I'm Zahira Hakim. Nice to meet you."

"Alyssa Haskell," the bewildered new student heard herself say. "But I prefer Aly."

"Looks like we're roommates," Zahira said, helping Aly to her feet. "I guess it's because our last names are so close together. You're in it for the long haul, like me."

The news hit Aly like a thunderbolt. "My stuff! My clothes! I can't go out in these!" she yelped, gesturing to her pastel-colored pajamas. The light blue tank top had a cartoon cow on it.

The Arabic girl eyed the pajamas critically. "No, I suppose not," she said. "Check the dresser. Your clothes ought to be in it. Mine were. You should also have a couple of suitcases. I'd ask how they knew what to put in them, but I really don't want to think about that. Somehow I don't think that would be Dr. Panov's territory."

"Dr. who?" Aly asked, rifling through her dresser, and realizing only too late that she'd just invoked a British sci-fi series.

Zahira's tone was resigned. "Didn't read the books, did you?"

"No, never got around to it," Aly said, sounding chagrined. "Anyway," she offered by way of reconciliation, "weren't all the important characters in the movies?"

Immediately she could tell she'd said the wrong thing, because Zahira stiffened slightly in the corner of her peripheral vision. "In a manner of speaking," her roommate said in an incredibly stilted voice. "Though they did leave out some pretty important ones."

"Like this Panov guy?" Aly said, immediately sorry. She'd never really had great social skills, but if she was going to be sharing an office-room with this girl and two others for the next God-knew-how-long, it wouldn't hurt to at least make an effort. "I'll get to reading them, then. If, you know, I have time. They're pretty long, aren't they?"

"Yeah." The word was delivered in a monotone. Her roommate had been placated, but not by much.

"Come to think of it, isn't he teaching a course?" Aly wondered aloud as she shrugged a t-shirt on over her pajamas. She was wondering why the name had seemed familiar.

Almost immediately Zahira became animated again. "Yeah, he's teaching a few! I want to sign up for all of them!" She grinned, and Aly got the distinct feeling that she was more than a little mentally unbalanced, and definitely off her medication.

"Right…" Aly decided to navigate out of these dangerous waters and move onto a safer topic. "So, um…who's your favorite character, then?"

"Hard to say," Zahira said cheerfully. "Marie, Conklin, Dr. Panov…but I especially love Jason." She got a faraway look in her eyes. "Matt Damon is preeetty…"

Aly had opened her mouth, about to put in her own thoughts on Conklin, which ran pretty much like this: Conklin? Isn't he that jerk from the first movie who gets totally owned at the end? How could you like him? Her sense of self-preservation kicked in, however, and instead she said, "I totally agree, man. Matt Damon is beyond pretty. He's gorgeous."

"Smoking," Zahira added.

"Definitely." Aly could breathe a sigh of relief. At least they agreed on something. Maybe this place wouldn't be quite so bad after all…

Thanks to the Narrative Laws of Comedy, in conjunction with the Ironic Overpower, at precisely that moment a loud chime of microphone feedback blared through the cunningly concealed loudspeakers in the upper corners of the room. "Attention, students!" an all-too-cheerful voice proclaimed. Aly actually did jump this time. "There will be an orientation assembly in the Bubble in fifteen minutes. Attendance is mandatory. See you all there!" There was a loud click, and the room returned to silence.

Zahira removed her hands from her ears. "Ow," she said delicately.

Aly, who had not been quite so quick, felt as if someone had crashed a pair of cymbals right next to her head several times. "Ow," she agreed.

"Come on," Zahira said, going to the door. "I don't know where the Bubble is, but…it can't be that hard to spot, right?"

"Yeah," Aly said, wobbling in the general direction of the hallway. Once she was out the door, she was able to see that the whole floor seemed to be made of converted offices. Other people, most of them around her own age, were also spilling out of the office-dorms, filing into the hallway and milling around like a pack of confused lemmings. As Aly was trying to follow Zahira, in the chaos she crashed right into someone. Apologizing profusely, she took a step back, then did a double-take. This guy could be her twin brother. There was maybe an inch's difference between their heights, and they had the same ginger-brown hair and blue eyes.

"Uh…hi," she said awkwardly, only just realizing that she'd bolted out of the room half-pajamaed and still barefoot.

"Hi," the boy said, grinning. "You all right, then?"

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine," Aly said.

Zahira came pushing back through the crowd – not an easy feat, because the students were packed like sardines. "Aly? What's keeping you?" Then, to the boy, "Oh...hi."

"I, uh...I bumped into someone," Aly said, sounding incredibly embarrassed again.

"Actually, you nearly knocked me over, but it was so totally ungraceful, I can forgive you for it," the boy told her. He looked at Zahira. "Hi. I'm Ray."

"I'm Zahira, and the ungraceful one is Aly," Zahira said.

"Hey!" She looked at Ray. "I'm really sorry about that."

Ray shrugged. "'S cool. You're not the first. At least we haven't hit stampede mode yet. Then things get really interesting."

"I'd bet," Aly said. "You know where this Bubble thingy is?"

Ray looked at her like she was an idiot. "Uh, like, follow the signs?" He shook his head. "I thought you had to be able to read to get in here. Although maybe the lack of common sense does that to us..."

"In her defense, it's kind of hard to see with all of these people around," Zahira said as the packed hallway began to move. "So...follow the sheep?"

"And hope the leader doesn't inexplicably fall down a totally unfab cliff," Ray said. "That would, like...suck."

"That's lemmings," Aly said. "And anyway, they don't actually do that."

"Yeah, but sheep are dumb," Ray said, indicating the giant group that was slowly moving out onto the grounds in one huge herd. "They'd probably go over if there was a character at the bottom."

"Huh...I guess," Aly replied, not really knowing what he was talking about.

Ray gave her a Look. "Do you even know why you're here?"

"Kind of?"

"She read the forms before she filled them out," Zahira added, jumping back into the conversation. "Anyway, that's why we have orientation."

"Oh, good, someone with sense," Ray said with a grin. "I was beginning to think that all the fangirls were rabid, drooling, screeching, makeup-wielding beasts." He shuddered.

"You have no idea what me being the 'sensible' one implies," Zahira said dryly, walking with the crowd.

Aly gazed around the campus, trying to take in as much as she could. It looked a lot like the exterior shots of the CIA from the movies. "This is so weird," she said, shivering a little.

"You're living in a dorm that's been converted from a CIA look-alike with bad carpeting and hideous interior design in order to learn how to write proper fanfiction," Ray said, closing his eyes in disgust for a moment. "Weird is a bit of an understatement."

Aly shook her head. She could see what she took to be the Bubble up ahead. It was aptly named – the futuristic-looking auditorium did resemble a giant soap bubble in some ways. There was a huge banner stretched across the area above the entrance that read 'FAIL Orientation Week – Yes, We Know What It Spells'. "Well, smack me on the head and call me a wombat."

"I would, but I don't think your hair can withstand the beating," Ray quipped as they approached the auditorium.

Aly glanced quizzically at Zahira. "Should I take that as a compliment?"

"Probably not," the Arabic girl said, trying to hide a smirk.

"Did you even look in a mirror this morning?" Ray complained. "Besides, you could use a cut. The way it is now totally makes your face look square."

Aly threw her hands up into the air. "Heaven help me, I've just crashed into the resident stylist."

"He's cute," Zahira said absently. "Can we keep him?"

Ray flinched as they entered the auditorium. "You're not going to attack me, are you?" In response to the girls' stares, he added, "The last time someone here called me cute, I ended up strapped to a bed with girls trying to fluff me up. They had totally no sense of highlight/shadow use and their restraints were very unstylish."

The girls kept on staring at him as they walked. After a beat, Aly managed to muster up the brainpower to say, "Uh...maybe you could fix up my hair later, if you want?"

Ray beamed. "That'd be totally rad! We should talk about a whole makeover. The pajamas-and-day-clothes thing is kinda grungy, sweetie. Very last year."

Aly scowled. "Trust me. If it were my decision, I would definitely not be wearing this..."

Before they could get into a discussion about the finer points of haute couture, Zahira said, quite lucidly, "Oh, look. We're here, everybody."

Aly immediately looked up at the stage. And stared. An impossible number of people were crammed onto the stage in those metal folding chairs. If she tried to count them all, she knew she would get a headache. In between the two nebulous groups on the stage, there sat five people, but she wasn't interested in them. Why would there be two groups, though? It didn't make any sense to her. What Zahira had said in passing about the books came back to her. But the characters couldn't be that different, could they? Certainly not enough to warrant duplicates...There was one in the group on her left who grabbed her attention and held it at gunpoint, and she couldn't look away, even if she had wanted to.

"Oh my God," she breathed, "is that Matt Damon?"

"Better," Zahira said, matching her reverent tone. "It's Jason Bourne..."

Ray gasped. "Ohmigod, ohmigodohmigodohmigod. That's the Jason Bourne on stage..."

Zahira was looking at the stage with a creepy fixed grin on her face, looking like all of her Christmases had come at once. "Two," she said happily, counting people on the very large stage. "Two Conklins."

Meanwhile, Ray was flailing his hands about like a very happy man. "Oh my God, they're all so gorgeous! I wonder if assets mind being glomped...so pretty...they are so pretty..."

"This is nuts," Aly whispered, convinced that she was dreaming. The same thought seemed to be on Ray's mind.

"Am I dreaming? Really? Can I be awake? Is this real? They're more hott than I ever imagined!" he squealed.

"You just said 'hot' with two Ts," Aly noted. "I heard them." For she had, she had distinctly heard the second T slide into place as he spoke. It was more than a little unnerving. "Is that even possible?"

"It's a feature of FAIL," he said, and grinned like a true fanboy. "Ohmigod, Treadstone assets!" He jumped up and down in place, letting out an 'Eeeee!' sound. Aly got the feeling that he was gayer than James from Pokémon.

"Down, boy," Zahira said, and yanked him down into his seat. One of the black-clad five towards the front of the stage – Staff members, Aly realized suddenly – had gotten out of her seat and walked to the podium. Almost instantly the entire auditorium became silent, and all of the students sat as one. This was someone who nobody wanted to trifle with.

The young woman glared at her audience. Aly tried to shrink back in her seat, frightened despite herself. It was worse than being sent to the principal's office. At least the principal couldn't make your life too much of a living hell...

Either to make sure that she had everyone's attention or just for the purpose of making them wince, the young woman tapped the microphone. All of the students cringed as the loud thumping noise rang out through the auditorium. "Welcome to the Fanfiction Academic Institute of Langley," she said. "Also known, for purposes of expediency, as FAIL." Like the suits, she made sure to pronounce each letter separately. A grim little smile crossed her face. "Be sure that you do not. I am Miss Alex, your course coordinator. You will meet the rest of the staff shortly." That strange little smile again. "First, let me explain the mechanics of the Institute. You are all here because you were writing fanfiction without a license – fanfiction that is, in most cases, completely and utterly atrocious." Aly shrank down in her seat unconsciously again. Her fanfiction hadn't been atrocious...

"Happily, the purpose of the Institute is to remedy this situation before it gets too terribly out of hand," Miss Alex continued. "You will remain here until you pass all of your courses and have suitably demonstrated your knowledge of canon, grammar, and common bloody sense. Then, and only then, will you attain your licenses." She paused. "Of course, you can leave at any time. Without a license, of course. Which means, therefore, that you will be unable to pen further fanfiction for this fandom. And trust me, we have Ways of finding out, and we do not deal well with repeat offenders. If any of you feel that you are not up to the challenge...there's the door."

Not one student moved. Miss Alex nodded. "Right. On to the second topic. Your time here runs sideways to your own world. Should you pass or drop out, you will be returned at the precise moment you left. So there's no need to freak out...about that, at least." Again she smiled in that odd way, which Aly was coming to recognize as a sort of humorless smirk. "As you may have noticed, we have an unusually high number of staff members. The reason for this is that, since the canons of the books and the movies are so divergent, the characters have changed sufficiently to become distinctly separate. Those from the books are on my right - " Some of the bookverse characters and incarnations waved - "and movie characters are on my left." A few of the movie characters smiled at the students, but most of them, Bourne included, looked pretty bloody-minded. Movie-Conklin's smile looked particularly brittle as he gazed out over the sea of students, and it was pretty obvious that he was planning homicide. Aly gulped, having classified him as the Token Jerkface in many of her fanfics. She didn't think he'd forgive an insult like that easily.

"You'll meet each of them in turn, as introducing everyone would take far more time than even I have patience for. With that, I think I'll pass the floor over to Miss Sara, co-coordinator. Sara?" she asked, stepping back from the podium.

Another young woman stood and replaced Alex at the podium. She looked out at the assembled students for a few seconds, and then said, "Thank you. As Miss Alex mentioned before, I am Miss Sara, and you will get to know me very well over the coming months. As the official Arbiter of Sense in FAIL, I'm here to make sure you keep to reality. Too often students of our prestigious academy seem to have a very tenuous grasp on it, resulting in much pain for those who read your work. There are some things that are simply not possible, and you need to learn this. If you have ever read the works of – " And at this she paused, suppressing a shudder and the urge to bash her head against the podium, "– the Abjured, you should have seen some of his inconsistencies with reality. Many of you also seem to have this problem." Some of the canon characters began to mutter ominously, supposedly calling curses down upon this 'Abjured'.

Aly wondered just who – or what – the 'Abjured' was. If he made even the staff shudder...well, she'd rather not find out.

"While attending the academy, you will learn what is possible, and what is not," Miss Sara continued coolly, as though there had never been a lapse of composure to begin with. "There is nothing that irritates me more than pseudo-science, and just because it sounds cool doesn't make it right. The staff is here to enlighten you on this subject. While you are here, it is in your best interest to listen to your teachers and follow the Commandments to the letter, or else a very sticky end awaits you. Do remember, dear students, that the laws here are what we make them, and our staff have read many of your works." She glanced over at the groups to either side of her who were still glaring at the audience. "And let me tell you…they were not very pleased. Nor was I. You keep to the canon or I'll stab you with a spork. That's probably the least painful of the punishments that await misbehavior.

"So, from now on, you will attend classes each day on a wide variety of subjects in order to bring your knowledge of the canon up-to-date and ensure that you stick to a reality that does not involve insane crossovers, fake science, or Mary Sues. You will all meet your teachers when classes begin tomorrow. Schedules will be waiting for you when you return to your dormitories. Please remember to stay within the grounds and keep to curfew, because security has kill-orders for intruders and escapees, and we will not stop them. I will let Miss Christine take over the more finicky details on that very subject."

A third young woman took her place at the podium. Like the others, she was dressed almost entirely in black, with a long coat, oddly immaculate white gloves, and a black hat that had a nick taken out of the wide brim. Aly found herself wondering why the brim was made of fabric, while the part that actually went around the head was made of tawny fur. It made her look rather like a colorblind pimp.

"Hello, students," said the blond instructor with a very manic grin plastered all over her face. Aly was quickly forming the opinion that everyone who worked here was some kind of psychopath. "Many of you don't bother to copy-edit your own work, and misspell characters' names. As a result, you've provided me – and yourselves – with these wonderful little creatures." She raised her hands to her hat and detached the furry part.

And then Aly understood why the headgear had looked so odd. The furry trim wasn't furry trim – it was a small animal, about the size of a largish housecat. It even looked quite a bit like a largish housecat, except upon closer inspection, it was definitely a canine. Not a domesticated dog, but something that belonged out in the wilderness, roaming through low scrub and savannah.

Miss Christine's voice was quiet, and yet carried all throughout the room as she held up the dozy creature. "Mini-Jackals." Then, "They can run faster than you can, and they have no qualms about injuring you, even maiming you a little. Aren't they adorable?"

The mini-Jackal yawned, showing perfect, pointy white teeth to the students, then snapped its jaw shut with a disturbing finality, like it had just dispatched prey. "Granted, it's a bit literal," Miss Christine said, almost apologetically. "We don't have any real monsters in this canon. So we borrowed the epithet of the books' antagonist...Carlos the Jackal." An older man in priest's garb who was sitting on the 'book' side of the stage inclined his head mockingly, his eyes searching the crowd, seeking out anyone who dared laugh. Luckily for the well-being of the student body, nobody made a sound. Everyone was transfixed by the small wild dogs that had begun to file out, as though commanded, from behind the rows of seats on the stage. There was almost a small army of them, and they all sat, facing the students, too-intelligent eyes seeking out their creators.

"And remember," Miss Christine said wickedly, "you have only yourselves to blame for them." A groan arose from the amassed students as they thought back on their spelling mistakes. Aly knew she was responsible for at least two – Vossen and Landry, from a particularly 'atrocious' ship of hers (she didn't care what anyone said, their hostility was sexual tension, dammit) – and really didn't want to think about how her creations would reward her. She was so caught up in her misery and daydreams of being mauled by cute things that she failed to notice Miss Alex taking the microphone again.

"Miss Stephanie...well, you'll find out what she does later," she said with a truly scary grin. "Markoff is in charge of all non-mini security," she said, indicating the only male staff member on stage. "Don't mess with him, because you will find yourself in a worse place than you would had you tangled with the mini-Jackals." The Russian man folded his arms, a smirk on his face. The more impressionable students cowered.

Miss Alex threw up an arm grandly. "And so, once again students, welcome to FAIL. Keep your mind out of the gutters, follow the rules, and don't bother praying. Your gods don't live here. I hope you survive." There was that scary grin again. "Dismissed."

Aly covered her eyes with one hand. Dead, dead, dead, she was so dead. Beside her, if she'd been looking, she would have seen that Zahira was much, much paler than her dark complexion should allow her to be, and the ever-present grin had slid from Ray's face. All of them glanced at each other, the same thought going through their heads.

"Damn, we're screwed," Zahira said finally.

--

Enrolment for FAIL is open until further notice. So what are you waiting for? Get the form from the previous chapter and email it to bourneofu(at)gmail(dot)com for your opportunity to join the...fun.

...yeah, that's it, fun.

Props go to my good friend, beta, and muse Miss Sara for helping me out with this chapter.