Chapter 1
"Why do we wonder?
Why is it that we desire...
Aspire...Try to be something
Be something we can't be
Is there a reason we have school?
Or is it there just to be there?
Like...really...who cares...
Nobody gives a damn if words flow like a river
You don't have to sit there
And think..."Oh IT'S A SIMILE"
We do these things...these pointless things
Things that make no sense
Things people don't give a damn
Sit there and think
Think some more...not like somebody really cares
Fly high like a butterfly...
Oh I'm going to sting like a bee
Really...these words don't mean shit to me.
There's no point in doing this.
I don't care...the hidden meanings
Analogy...simile...all meaningless things thrown at me
Just let things be!
Spiked fences...fog horns...hi-lo...lo-hi
All this stuff...I can say Bye-Bye
Eat a cookie, have some tea...
Would you like it here or there?
In my poem...do you see a hidden meaning anywhere?
No need to look...no need to search...no need to analyze
I'll tell you point blank, unlike these writers who think they write just cause they stuff as many literary elements, motifs and the deathly fated writer's craft.I'll tell you right now...my poem means nothing if your looking too deep.
Don't need to go to sleep.
And think!
!!!!!!!!!!!
Just let things be and let them be what they are.
I don't want you tearing up my poem and think you know what it means.
Cause obviously you don't.
Just let things frickin be.
No need for spark notes or cliff notes...
It's all here...
My poems aimed at all you sleazy mistakes and mishaps
And you deserve every word here that is eating at you
PHD in American Lit. Or English... I am not
And for that...Thank You!"
"Written by the Homeless man who lives on the corner," said Arnott as began to walk back to his seat with the class in utter silence.
"Despicable!!!!!!!!" clamors a man behind a big wooden desk that needs a new paint job. He suddenly gets up to Arnott and screams, "I will not have this sleazy filth of literature in my class. How much have you defiled and vandalized the name of the gods...Dickens...Ellison...Melville...AHHHHH! They will have your head for this one."
"Please Dr. Cornelius. Do not yell at me. I have sensitive ears." calmly says Arnott. "To you, nothing else matters except for these inanimate paintings you declare God. The ones you talk to after all the janitors have left." Everyone looks around, and sees magnificent paintings that almost come to life inside their carved wooden frames. Under each frame is a shiny golden plate with each corresponding so to speak "the best of the best" writer's name engraved.
"DO NOT SPEAK OF THE GODS IN VAIN!" booms Dr. Cornelius. "You present the epitome of everything wrong in this classroom, and now you shall be sent away," now in a more deep, slow and deathly voice. He heads to his obviously age detrimented desk and begins to search in his cabinets. He bends and reaches into one and grabs a sheet of parchment and begins to scribble while whispering..."Butler, Arnott. Despised and showed his hidden belligerence quite animatedly in an outlash at the great language that is, English." He stands up and begins to creep and corner Arnott casting a ghostly shadow on Arnott. "Here, go to Professor Height and present this." He hands Arnott the paper who continues to feel proud after the way he stood against Dr. Cornelius just a few minutes ago.
Arnott wanders the halls that seem endless and lead to everywhere. But Arnott had been at the school awhile, and knew his way around. He went into deep thought at about what he had just done. It was something he had not done since elementary school that he had spoken up at such a violent tone. He couldn't help but question what he had done in there. What had made him do such a thing? Was it that he was going crazy? Could he be wrong about society? "No...I can't be wrong. What I said is just, and it has already occurred. It did not occur for a reason; it just occurred." By now, he had wandered the candle lit halls and went down a hall he had never been down. It was not candle lit, but the light came from some mystical source. Nothing he was aware of. He wondered..."NO. That would be hypocritical. No wondering."
Suddenly out of the glowing shadows came five hooded men, who towered over Arnott. Arnott took a couple of steps back when one of the men stuck his cold, dearth of life hand on Arnott. Arnott had never had such a sensation, something he could not pinpoint. When the hand left, he no longer felt it. "You have entered a place not known to many. A dangerous place with a snake basket full of harm." The man's voice bellowed and echoed in the empty hall except for the gargoyle statues.
A second man, in just the same tone began to chant. "OOO MAHHHH. OOO MAAAAHHHH. MU MAAAHHH." Arnott continued to walk, but immediately he fell. Something had tripped him, but when he looked, nothing was there. The chanter stopped and the five giant men stepped forward and picked up Arnott. When the hands made contact, the same feeling Arnott had felt before returned. Only this time it caused an overwhelming emptiness in him, and in seconds, it appeared as if a miniature tornado had swept the hall bare.
***
"There is nothing we can do. Let us just return him to his world of thought," a familiar voice said. "He probably can do no more than we can do." At that moment Arnott began to stir. He opened his eyes wincing at the multiple sources of light; blinking and looking around at the well-lighted room. He saw books, thick and small located on the bookshelves that seemed to grow upwards and suddenly when he regained sight he focused on five cloaked men sitting around a normal wooden round table. He could not make out their faces but he realized that they could speak. He wondered who they were and why they seemed so familiar. "Ah, the boy stirs," says one of the cloaked men as he descends from the group and begins his journey to Arnott. He looks at Arnott sternly and begins to speak. "I will tell you what you must understand, and then we'll see if you will be disposed of."
Another one of the cloaked men steps up and walks rapidly without making a sound every time he made a step. "Arnott...you came to us because you have the ability to think deeply. And somewhat too deeply. When you were wandering the halls, you became entrenched in the thoughts that have encrypted themselves in your minds. You have approached delicate butterfly wings, beautiful things but fragile. The only way to have gone down that hallway is to have thought deeply about a complex issue. But you are the first to have not touched the lights. That is a mystery." Having perplexed himself, the cloaked man steps away.
"Arnott," another man pipes. "This is a tough subject for us intellectuals as well. Being that you were the first not to touch the lights, we are investigating why. See, those lights are your thoughts and your memories. As my brother said before, your thoughts are fragile things, and are never to be tampered with. Many philosophers and people have entered that hallway, but because they were so entrenched in thought and curiosity, they wandered further. They touched the light and returned to their world only to have a damaged mind. Their mind has been cracked and thoughts have leaked and thus they can no longer keep their sanity. Your people just send them to mental institutions, and there their minds continue to rot away into nothing and when there is nothing left, their light goes out carrying their life with it. People with the ability to think deeply are able to access these hallways of thought and see the light. But many – well, almost all think too deeply and damage their mind. You for some reason have not done so and your case is a magnetic force that binds me and my brothers."
Meanwhile, the three other cloaked men have moved over to the numerous bookshelves looking through the books. Looking dissatisfied after not finding what they were looking for. They disgustingly threw the books that caused their disgruntled look to the ground. Arnott after listening to the cloaked men speaking to him, peeped over and watched books thud on the ground. He walked over and picked a couple of the books up and looked upon them. One said, "The Search for Who We Are" and when he stared at the second, he was surprised. It contained naked baby in her mothers arms smiling. But it's face was hidden by her mother's breast and underneath the picture were gold letters saying, "Whom Will Be Next?" The book then left his hands. He turned and saw all five men, now uncloaked huddled around the book he had just been holding. He walked over and said, "What's the big deal?"
The man who had been speaking to him earlier cried, "Lord, this has been what we have been searching forever since you arrived to us. Arnott, you know what this means?" Obviously Arnott had no idea what this man was talking about. Arnott now had become more transfixed on how the men looked without a guise. They seemed like plain ordinary men with no hair, but they did have one oddity about them. They each had no mouth. Arnott couldn't believe how these men were speaking to him and whatever they were saying had become oblivious to him. "Well Arnott? What do you think?" Arnott got a sudden jolt and realized that he had returned back to the elongated hallways for Dirkenmire School.
He went on to his original destination of Professor Height's office, but on his way he could not stop thinking about what had just transpired and there was no doubting that it was real. Who were these people? And what was the big deal about the book about a baby? How did they talk? Arnott stepped up to Height's door and began to twist the doorknob. But it wouldn't turn. It was locked. Arnott knocked, but no one came so Arnott took a chair outside the room and sat down. It was one of those old Shamelot chairs that they used in waiting rooms. The chair was probably worth a couple of million dollars even thought it wasn't very comfortable, and the hard seat only added to Arnotts frustration.
This was unlike Professor Height not to be in his office at this hour in the afternoon. Height was an intelligent man that had written many books that dissected and recorded our everyday lives. He was the one that through his books invited everyone into his home, mind and the homes of many others. Through his style, he was able to bring people into worlds that they had never known. Arnott was a big fan of his, and had read all of his books. Just being able to study in a school in which Height presided in was privilege enough for Arnott. Arnott reached into his pocket and pulled out the referral slip written by his teacher and read it aloud. "Butler, Arnott. Despised and showed his hidden belligerence quite animatedly in an outlash at the great language that is, English." Professor Height would surely understand his point of view that English meant nothing and that words had no hidden meaning. "Being that he is a writer should mean that he realizes that similes and motifs are implemented in a novel on purpose."
Arnott began to pace, getting up from his chair. He once again began to delve into the event that had occured just a few minutes ago. He felt awkward about the whole situation, but what made him mostly quiver was the sensation he received when the men had touched him. And he then thought about the significance of the book he had picked up and said, "Perhaps Professor Height will have some answers to my questions." And at that point he stopped thinking.
After an hour and with no appearance made by Professor Height, Arnott felt that he had wasted enough time there. But he couldn't do the unthinkable and run off campus, so he decided to vent his anger another way and he threw the priceless chair through the door of Height's office. The chair shattered, hundreds of thousands of dollars being dispersed as chair legs soared through the air like bullets. Arnott had to dodge each individual piece of ricocheting wood before he could enter Professor Height's office. And too his surprise, he found the Professor sitting at his desk, prim and proper, smiling.
Arnott had never been in his office before, and he was amazed at how wonderfully opulent it was and how everything seemed furnished to the fullest extent. All the shelves and furniture had been buffed and waxed, and the lights seem as bright as ever. The desk the Professor was sitting at seemed as if it could seat a family of 8 for dinner. "Have a seat Arnott," said the Professor in a cheerful manner. Oh my god thought Arnott, he knows my name. He took a seat in a much more comfortable chair than the one he had shattered and began to feel relaxed. He handed over the referral slip and continued looking at the spectacle that is Professor Height's office. Another thing that caught his eye was the endless rows of books, almost like the one he had saw in that room he had been in.
"So I see you've been causing trouble in the classroom. This is vandalizing and demoralizing the program of studies that you have chosen to be under. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with you," says Height. He looks around his massive desk, and it seems like he's searching for some paper. He gets up, and methodically begins searching in each one of his desk compartments slamming them closed in an act of disappointment. Arnott began to become curious, and took peeks at what was inside Height's desk.
What he saw was something of the future. Gadgets and gizmos were wizzing around, making noises very unfamiliar to him. Suddenly a golden sphere shot out of a compartment, and immediately begin twirl and fly around Arnott. Arnott could not tell what it was as it was flying at speeds unimaginable to Arnott. Suddenly Height jumped on his desk, crushing pens and papers and knocking over the pictures causing them to shatter his family. Height tripped and fell face first into the Persian Rug laid on the ground. But the ground below was solid rock. The type of rock found only deep in the Earth. "Arnott! Capture that HitroMeter!"
Arnott had no idea what to do, so he paused for a few seconds. While Professor Height was at his feet continuing to urge Arnott to capture it. At this point, Professor Height was pulling at Arnotts sweat pants, almost as if he had been a little kid at a toy store asking for money. Arnott then decided to run after the golden sphere. He ran out the door of Professor Height's room, jumping over the chair that he had thrown. He then disappeared out of sight down the long hallway. Height's expression became enlightened. Almost cynically.
***
"All right class, stop, before you enter that door, of that laboratory store, and take all the equipment out the drawer, just think about the consequences...If you don't where your goggles," raps an old groggily man standing in front of an old fashioned brown chalk board. "Remember everyone, ITS PHYSICS...YAY!"
"Oh yea. Are you listening to this guy Krystin? Can you believe how retarded this guy sounds?" murmurs a girl getting up from her desk. Her defined perfume and flowery outfit could camouflage her in a field of wild flowers so well that even the keenest bees would attempt to drink nectar from her hair. "This guy is a fruit. He doesn't even know what he's talking about." She looks at her friend Krystin, who is wearing a Christmas Sweater that just doesn't fit with the season. It had Rudolph sewed in, but the nose couldn't be seen. Krystin shakes her head and says, "Kimberly, Tsk Tsk."
The two had been going to the same classes and school for many years now. And this year was no different as they both took the same classes. In most cases at High Level School people almost never saw someone familiar in their classes. Somehow the school had done psychological tests that allowed them to trace the relationships between people. But for some odd reason Krystin and Kimberly had always been put in the same classes. And currently they are in Space Chemical Matters. They were heading to the laboratory to do an experiment on the effect of chemical dispersion in level-2 space.
"All right. Goggles on now please," yells the groggly old chemistry teacher. He searches for those who haven't followed his directions, and prepares to say something to them. "Please people. Come on Justin. All who do not have their goggles will have to drink these chemicals. And I bet you don't want to. This will cause you to go through hell for a week, and there is no way to relieve that." Some people are hesitant to put on their goggles, but no one resists since they had all heard rumors that their chemistry teacher had actually done this before in the past. "I will now turn on the simulator, turn off the gravity, and you all will release your chemicals."
The teacher leaves the room, and suddenly the students float to the air. Kimberly is desperately trying to keep her flowery skirt down, as her partner begins to remove the stoppers on the lids of the vials. Suddenly there is an explosion. Something that wasn't expected, but it was something that shocked everyone and in seconds the room was clouded created a 100% opaque environment. Kimberly shrieked, a shrill that was heard by everyone. It pierced through the smoke and almost created a direct beam of light towards a golden sphere hovering in the air that was buzzing and wizzing. "There it is," a voice yells. Arnott appears from the cracked walls, but no one sees his entrance into the simulator. But the streak of clear air created by the shriek gave sight to words in the air. Everyone could see it, and almost everyone was riveted by it except for the groggily chemistry teacher who was still hobbling and limping around trying to figure out where the thick gas came from. The words transcended and tied and prisoned the minds of everyone in that room who looked at the words. The gas was now a mystical aura surrounding the words that read...
"You were never meant to
enter this realm. I am sorry."
"Why do we wonder?
Why is it that we desire...
Aspire...Try to be something
Be something we can't be
Is there a reason we have school?
Or is it there just to be there?
Like...really...who cares...
Nobody gives a damn if words flow like a river
You don't have to sit there
And think..."Oh IT'S A SIMILE"
We do these things...these pointless things
Things that make no sense
Things people don't give a damn
Sit there and think
Think some more...not like somebody really cares
Fly high like a butterfly...
Oh I'm going to sting like a bee
Really...these words don't mean shit to me.
There's no point in doing this.
I don't care...the hidden meanings
Analogy...simile...all meaningless things thrown at me
Just let things be!
Spiked fences...fog horns...hi-lo...lo-hi
All this stuff...I can say Bye-Bye
Eat a cookie, have some tea...
Would you like it here or there?
In my poem...do you see a hidden meaning anywhere?
No need to look...no need to search...no need to analyze
I'll tell you point blank, unlike these writers who think they write just cause they stuff as many literary elements, motifs and the deathly fated writer's craft.I'll tell you right now...my poem means nothing if your looking too deep.
Don't need to go to sleep.
And think!
!!!!!!!!!!!
Just let things be and let them be what they are.
I don't want you tearing up my poem and think you know what it means.
Cause obviously you don't.
Just let things frickin be.
No need for spark notes or cliff notes...
It's all here...
My poems aimed at all you sleazy mistakes and mishaps
And you deserve every word here that is eating at you
PHD in American Lit. Or English... I am not
And for that...Thank You!"
"Written by the Homeless man who lives on the corner," said Arnott as began to walk back to his seat with the class in utter silence.
"Despicable!!!!!!!!" clamors a man behind a big wooden desk that needs a new paint job. He suddenly gets up to Arnott and screams, "I will not have this sleazy filth of literature in my class. How much have you defiled and vandalized the name of the gods...Dickens...Ellison...Melville...AHHHHH! They will have your head for this one."
"Please Dr. Cornelius. Do not yell at me. I have sensitive ears." calmly says Arnott. "To you, nothing else matters except for these inanimate paintings you declare God. The ones you talk to after all the janitors have left." Everyone looks around, and sees magnificent paintings that almost come to life inside their carved wooden frames. Under each frame is a shiny golden plate with each corresponding so to speak "the best of the best" writer's name engraved.
"DO NOT SPEAK OF THE GODS IN VAIN!" booms Dr. Cornelius. "You present the epitome of everything wrong in this classroom, and now you shall be sent away," now in a more deep, slow and deathly voice. He heads to his obviously age detrimented desk and begins to search in his cabinets. He bends and reaches into one and grabs a sheet of parchment and begins to scribble while whispering..."Butler, Arnott. Despised and showed his hidden belligerence quite animatedly in an outlash at the great language that is, English." He stands up and begins to creep and corner Arnott casting a ghostly shadow on Arnott. "Here, go to Professor Height and present this." He hands Arnott the paper who continues to feel proud after the way he stood against Dr. Cornelius just a few minutes ago.
Arnott wanders the halls that seem endless and lead to everywhere. But Arnott had been at the school awhile, and knew his way around. He went into deep thought at about what he had just done. It was something he had not done since elementary school that he had spoken up at such a violent tone. He couldn't help but question what he had done in there. What had made him do such a thing? Was it that he was going crazy? Could he be wrong about society? "No...I can't be wrong. What I said is just, and it has already occurred. It did not occur for a reason; it just occurred." By now, he had wandered the candle lit halls and went down a hall he had never been down. It was not candle lit, but the light came from some mystical source. Nothing he was aware of. He wondered..."NO. That would be hypocritical. No wondering."
Suddenly out of the glowing shadows came five hooded men, who towered over Arnott. Arnott took a couple of steps back when one of the men stuck his cold, dearth of life hand on Arnott. Arnott had never had such a sensation, something he could not pinpoint. When the hand left, he no longer felt it. "You have entered a place not known to many. A dangerous place with a snake basket full of harm." The man's voice bellowed and echoed in the empty hall except for the gargoyle statues.
A second man, in just the same tone began to chant. "OOO MAHHHH. OOO MAAAAHHHH. MU MAAAHHH." Arnott continued to walk, but immediately he fell. Something had tripped him, but when he looked, nothing was there. The chanter stopped and the five giant men stepped forward and picked up Arnott. When the hands made contact, the same feeling Arnott had felt before returned. Only this time it caused an overwhelming emptiness in him, and in seconds, it appeared as if a miniature tornado had swept the hall bare.
***
"There is nothing we can do. Let us just return him to his world of thought," a familiar voice said. "He probably can do no more than we can do." At that moment Arnott began to stir. He opened his eyes wincing at the multiple sources of light; blinking and looking around at the well-lighted room. He saw books, thick and small located on the bookshelves that seemed to grow upwards and suddenly when he regained sight he focused on five cloaked men sitting around a normal wooden round table. He could not make out their faces but he realized that they could speak. He wondered who they were and why they seemed so familiar. "Ah, the boy stirs," says one of the cloaked men as he descends from the group and begins his journey to Arnott. He looks at Arnott sternly and begins to speak. "I will tell you what you must understand, and then we'll see if you will be disposed of."
Another one of the cloaked men steps up and walks rapidly without making a sound every time he made a step. "Arnott...you came to us because you have the ability to think deeply. And somewhat too deeply. When you were wandering the halls, you became entrenched in the thoughts that have encrypted themselves in your minds. You have approached delicate butterfly wings, beautiful things but fragile. The only way to have gone down that hallway is to have thought deeply about a complex issue. But you are the first to have not touched the lights. That is a mystery." Having perplexed himself, the cloaked man steps away.
"Arnott," another man pipes. "This is a tough subject for us intellectuals as well. Being that you were the first not to touch the lights, we are investigating why. See, those lights are your thoughts and your memories. As my brother said before, your thoughts are fragile things, and are never to be tampered with. Many philosophers and people have entered that hallway, but because they were so entrenched in thought and curiosity, they wandered further. They touched the light and returned to their world only to have a damaged mind. Their mind has been cracked and thoughts have leaked and thus they can no longer keep their sanity. Your people just send them to mental institutions, and there their minds continue to rot away into nothing and when there is nothing left, their light goes out carrying their life with it. People with the ability to think deeply are able to access these hallways of thought and see the light. But many – well, almost all think too deeply and damage their mind. You for some reason have not done so and your case is a magnetic force that binds me and my brothers."
Meanwhile, the three other cloaked men have moved over to the numerous bookshelves looking through the books. Looking dissatisfied after not finding what they were looking for. They disgustingly threw the books that caused their disgruntled look to the ground. Arnott after listening to the cloaked men speaking to him, peeped over and watched books thud on the ground. He walked over and picked a couple of the books up and looked upon them. One said, "The Search for Who We Are" and when he stared at the second, he was surprised. It contained naked baby in her mothers arms smiling. But it's face was hidden by her mother's breast and underneath the picture were gold letters saying, "Whom Will Be Next?" The book then left his hands. He turned and saw all five men, now uncloaked huddled around the book he had just been holding. He walked over and said, "What's the big deal?"
The man who had been speaking to him earlier cried, "Lord, this has been what we have been searching forever since you arrived to us. Arnott, you know what this means?" Obviously Arnott had no idea what this man was talking about. Arnott now had become more transfixed on how the men looked without a guise. They seemed like plain ordinary men with no hair, but they did have one oddity about them. They each had no mouth. Arnott couldn't believe how these men were speaking to him and whatever they were saying had become oblivious to him. "Well Arnott? What do you think?" Arnott got a sudden jolt and realized that he had returned back to the elongated hallways for Dirkenmire School.
He went on to his original destination of Professor Height's office, but on his way he could not stop thinking about what had just transpired and there was no doubting that it was real. Who were these people? And what was the big deal about the book about a baby? How did they talk? Arnott stepped up to Height's door and began to twist the doorknob. But it wouldn't turn. It was locked. Arnott knocked, but no one came so Arnott took a chair outside the room and sat down. It was one of those old Shamelot chairs that they used in waiting rooms. The chair was probably worth a couple of million dollars even thought it wasn't very comfortable, and the hard seat only added to Arnotts frustration.
This was unlike Professor Height not to be in his office at this hour in the afternoon. Height was an intelligent man that had written many books that dissected and recorded our everyday lives. He was the one that through his books invited everyone into his home, mind and the homes of many others. Through his style, he was able to bring people into worlds that they had never known. Arnott was a big fan of his, and had read all of his books. Just being able to study in a school in which Height presided in was privilege enough for Arnott. Arnott reached into his pocket and pulled out the referral slip written by his teacher and read it aloud. "Butler, Arnott. Despised and showed his hidden belligerence quite animatedly in an outlash at the great language that is, English." Professor Height would surely understand his point of view that English meant nothing and that words had no hidden meaning. "Being that he is a writer should mean that he realizes that similes and motifs are implemented in a novel on purpose."
Arnott began to pace, getting up from his chair. He once again began to delve into the event that had occured just a few minutes ago. He felt awkward about the whole situation, but what made him mostly quiver was the sensation he received when the men had touched him. And he then thought about the significance of the book he had picked up and said, "Perhaps Professor Height will have some answers to my questions." And at that point he stopped thinking.
After an hour and with no appearance made by Professor Height, Arnott felt that he had wasted enough time there. But he couldn't do the unthinkable and run off campus, so he decided to vent his anger another way and he threw the priceless chair through the door of Height's office. The chair shattered, hundreds of thousands of dollars being dispersed as chair legs soared through the air like bullets. Arnott had to dodge each individual piece of ricocheting wood before he could enter Professor Height's office. And too his surprise, he found the Professor sitting at his desk, prim and proper, smiling.
Arnott had never been in his office before, and he was amazed at how wonderfully opulent it was and how everything seemed furnished to the fullest extent. All the shelves and furniture had been buffed and waxed, and the lights seem as bright as ever. The desk the Professor was sitting at seemed as if it could seat a family of 8 for dinner. "Have a seat Arnott," said the Professor in a cheerful manner. Oh my god thought Arnott, he knows my name. He took a seat in a much more comfortable chair than the one he had shattered and began to feel relaxed. He handed over the referral slip and continued looking at the spectacle that is Professor Height's office. Another thing that caught his eye was the endless rows of books, almost like the one he had saw in that room he had been in.
"So I see you've been causing trouble in the classroom. This is vandalizing and demoralizing the program of studies that you have chosen to be under. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with you," says Height. He looks around his massive desk, and it seems like he's searching for some paper. He gets up, and methodically begins searching in each one of his desk compartments slamming them closed in an act of disappointment. Arnott began to become curious, and took peeks at what was inside Height's desk.
What he saw was something of the future. Gadgets and gizmos were wizzing around, making noises very unfamiliar to him. Suddenly a golden sphere shot out of a compartment, and immediately begin twirl and fly around Arnott. Arnott could not tell what it was as it was flying at speeds unimaginable to Arnott. Suddenly Height jumped on his desk, crushing pens and papers and knocking over the pictures causing them to shatter his family. Height tripped and fell face first into the Persian Rug laid on the ground. But the ground below was solid rock. The type of rock found only deep in the Earth. "Arnott! Capture that HitroMeter!"
Arnott had no idea what to do, so he paused for a few seconds. While Professor Height was at his feet continuing to urge Arnott to capture it. At this point, Professor Height was pulling at Arnotts sweat pants, almost as if he had been a little kid at a toy store asking for money. Arnott then decided to run after the golden sphere. He ran out the door of Professor Height's room, jumping over the chair that he had thrown. He then disappeared out of sight down the long hallway. Height's expression became enlightened. Almost cynically.
***
"All right class, stop, before you enter that door, of that laboratory store, and take all the equipment out the drawer, just think about the consequences...If you don't where your goggles," raps an old groggily man standing in front of an old fashioned brown chalk board. "Remember everyone, ITS PHYSICS...YAY!"
"Oh yea. Are you listening to this guy Krystin? Can you believe how retarded this guy sounds?" murmurs a girl getting up from her desk. Her defined perfume and flowery outfit could camouflage her in a field of wild flowers so well that even the keenest bees would attempt to drink nectar from her hair. "This guy is a fruit. He doesn't even know what he's talking about." She looks at her friend Krystin, who is wearing a Christmas Sweater that just doesn't fit with the season. It had Rudolph sewed in, but the nose couldn't be seen. Krystin shakes her head and says, "Kimberly, Tsk Tsk."
The two had been going to the same classes and school for many years now. And this year was no different as they both took the same classes. In most cases at High Level School people almost never saw someone familiar in their classes. Somehow the school had done psychological tests that allowed them to trace the relationships between people. But for some odd reason Krystin and Kimberly had always been put in the same classes. And currently they are in Space Chemical Matters. They were heading to the laboratory to do an experiment on the effect of chemical dispersion in level-2 space.
"All right. Goggles on now please," yells the groggly old chemistry teacher. He searches for those who haven't followed his directions, and prepares to say something to them. "Please people. Come on Justin. All who do not have their goggles will have to drink these chemicals. And I bet you don't want to. This will cause you to go through hell for a week, and there is no way to relieve that." Some people are hesitant to put on their goggles, but no one resists since they had all heard rumors that their chemistry teacher had actually done this before in the past. "I will now turn on the simulator, turn off the gravity, and you all will release your chemicals."
The teacher leaves the room, and suddenly the students float to the air. Kimberly is desperately trying to keep her flowery skirt down, as her partner begins to remove the stoppers on the lids of the vials. Suddenly there is an explosion. Something that wasn't expected, but it was something that shocked everyone and in seconds the room was clouded created a 100% opaque environment. Kimberly shrieked, a shrill that was heard by everyone. It pierced through the smoke and almost created a direct beam of light towards a golden sphere hovering in the air that was buzzing and wizzing. "There it is," a voice yells. Arnott appears from the cracked walls, but no one sees his entrance into the simulator. But the streak of clear air created by the shriek gave sight to words in the air. Everyone could see it, and almost everyone was riveted by it except for the groggily chemistry teacher who was still hobbling and limping around trying to figure out where the thick gas came from. The words transcended and tied and prisoned the minds of everyone in that room who looked at the words. The gas was now a mystical aura surrounding the words that read...
"You were never meant to
enter this realm. I am sorry."
