"Hell is gone and heaven's here, there's nothing left for you to fear, shake your ass come over here, now scream!"
A man with a painted white face and a large, grinning painted black mouth is screaming these words over and over again into a strange, metallic looking rod with a ball of wire mesh at the top. He repeatedly shakes his head from side to side rapidly with his tongue lolling out, so that saliva and mucus is sprayed everywhere. Sweat is running profusely from his forehead, running down his face and smudging his makeup. His clothes are like nothing ever seen before – he is wearing extremely tight black trousers and no top at all. His short cropped hair is also black, as is the mass of hair on his chest.
The man gets closer and closer, bigger and bigger. Lights suddenly glare in the background, blinding lights, throwing the man's outline into perspective.
A scream can be heard, getting louder and louder with more voices adding to it. Louder and louder, more and more voices, until the noise becomes unbearable.
Seek salvation in the place of living rock …
Gordon Jones jerked awake and sat up quickly. His eyes were so wide that his iris and pupils seemed almost non-existent. His breathing was fast and ragged, as if he had just run a great distance. Sweat drenched his night clothes and sheets. He gulped and ran his fingers through his messy, sweaty hair and tried, if unsuccessfully, to slow and control his breathing down.
He closed his eyes wearily and flopped back down onto the soaking sheets. He was still panting slightly, but not as heavily as he had been a few seconds earlier. He put his hand over his eyes, trying to keep the dream fresh in his mind. He had no difficulty in this – it was all he could think about. It was the third dream that week.
"GORDON!"
He moaned slightly to himself. He was going to be late again, he just knew it. The dreams had been so intense that he'd slept right through the global wake-up call. He knew there was no reason for him to have missed the wake-up call – it was loud enough to wake even the deepest of sleepers – but for some reason his mind completely shut down during each dream. It was a similar feeling to an out-of-body experience.
Sighing, he flung back his sheets and lifted a gangly teenage leg out of bed. He placed both his feet on the floor and hauled himself up with as much effort as he could. As he did so, his mind was vaguely aware of the fact that the area around his groin was slightly damper than the rest of his body, but in his near-comatose state he didn't register this as being an important fact. He trudged to the bathroom, wincing slightly at the brightness of the lights and the pounding headache that was starting to surface. Blinking a couple of times to allow his eyes to adjust to the lights, his mind started to wake up a bit more. With an ominous sense of realisation, he finally looked down at his pyjama pants and saw a very pale yellow patch surrounding his groin.
"Aww, man …"
He hurriedly whipped his pyjamas off in an attempt to get them to the laundry transporter before his mother saw them. Unfortunately, it was still very early in the morning, and so his hand-eye co-ordination was still not functioning properly. He managed to get one leg out, but the second leg got stuck in the pants. In an attempt to dislodge his leg, he tried jumping up and pulling the pants down quickly and violently – but the only effect this had was of his tripping over the pyjamas, falling over and nearly cracking his head open on the keypad by the door.
"God dammit!"
He managed to right himself just as a frantic pounding started on the other side of the door.
"Gordon! You're gonna be really late! Get your ass in gear!"
"I'm coming, mom …"
"And don't forget to pick up your new wristWAP on your way home from Cyberschool, the technician said the old one was broken beyond repair."
"I know, mom! Now get the hell outta here, I gotta shower!"
He heard stomping footsteps moving away from the door and sighed again. He took one look at the shower cubicle, then glanced at the digital clock on the wall before swearing under his breath. He slid into the shower cubicle, punched the code for the 30-second power shower (with built-in all-over body dryer) and stood still while the water pulsed down him, washing away all the sweat and grime.
What he couldn't wash away was the dream. It stayed in his head, moving round and round like a merry-go-round, repeating itself over and over again. The bit that stuck out the most was the last sentence.
The water stopped as suddenly as it had started, and the blow dryers switched on to full power. 5 seconds later, Gordon was out of there and into his bedroom, frantically hurling on clothes and grabbing his schoolbag. He slid down the banister rail of the stairs, grabbed a couple of token credits and ran out of the door to the transporter at the end of the street.
A bunch of GaGa kids were there already, talking amongst themselves. They completely ignored the dishevelled young teenager sprinting down the road towards them. Gordon skidded to a halt in front of them, panting heavily, and hopped onto the transporter. A pleasant, slightly female computerised voice gave the leaving announcement.
"Transporting – nine – people – to – Cyberschool – at – zero – eight – twenty – five – a.m."
As the various sensors processed the data they were being presented with, the voice was slightly detached and broken. Once all the basic information had been inputted to the main computer drive, the voice became much smoother as the programmed response was issued.
"Please keep all limbs inside the transportation unit. Prepare for transportation to take place in five seconds."
Gordon closed his eyes nervously and held his breath. He'd always hated the mass transportation units. As a young child, his mother had told him stories about people who'd accidentally let their arms or hands stray outside the unit just as they were being transported – the result of which involved the limb in question being literally left behind on the unit and the person appearing in the corresponding unit with the limb torn off. Re-attachment surgery was nearly always a complete success, though, so technically Gordon needn't have worried – however, he couldn't help but shuffle to the middle of the unit and wrapping his arms around his body just in case.
"Transportation beginning."
He felt the familiar feeling of pins and needles all over his body as his atoms were painlessly taken apart to be filtered through the transportation unit and sent to the corresponding unit stationed just outside of the Cyberschool. His mind went completely blank, and when he would re-emerge at the other end he would not remember what had happened along the way. This was the only known side-effect of the transportation units, as the atoms in the brain could not function properly when they were pulled apart from each other and whizzing through the units at the speed of sound.
"Transportation complete. Welcome to Cyberschool. The time is – zero – eight – twenty – six – a.m."
Gordon slowly opened one eye, then the other one. He looked down at his body. Everything was where it was supposed to be. He breathed a sigh of relief and wiped his brow. A couple of GaGa kids snickered at him. They all stepped off the unit and ran up the steps into the main building of the Cyberschool. Gordon fell behind a little bit, needing to redo the Velcro on his trainers. As he stood up again, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored pillars outside the school. His hair was dishevelled and still slightly damp, and his face looked gaunt and pale. His t-shirt, he noticed with a look of horror, was on backwards, and he had to struggle to get it on the right way round. Just as he thought he'd made himself look vaguely acceptable, he noticed with a sinking feeling that his flies were undone. He hurriedly zipped them up as he sprinted up the steps and down the corridors to his classroom.
He had nearly reached his classroom when his trainer fell off. Apparently he hadn't done the Velcro up properly. It went flying through the air and landed in front of the classroom door. He skidded on the exposed sock and subsequently tripped over the shoe, landing in a heap outside the classroom door. The motion sensors outside the door detected a warm-bodied movement, and slid open with a slight hiss to reveal his entire class sitting at their consoles and staring at him.
He stood up slowly and disentangled himself from the strap of his schoolbag, all the while turning a deeper shade of red with each passing second. He slipped his trainer back on and redid the Velcro again before sidling into the room with his head lowered. He could feel the eyes of all the other pupils on him as he slid into his customary seat at the back of the room and switched his console on. cringed. Now he was for it. The hard-life hologram of the teacher flickered into view right in front of his console and glared down at him in 'angry' mode. He looked up at the hologram nervously and shuddered inwardly at the angry expression and frowning eyebrows, but only the spinning GlobalSoft logo where the iris and pupil should be.
"That's the third time this week you've been late for school!" the hologram said in a slightly tinny voice. "You need to start prioritising, young man!"
"I overslept," Gordon said sheepishly, and regretted the words as soon as he'd said them.
"Impossible," the hologram scoffed. "You're trying to tell me you slept through the wake-up call?"
"Well …" Gordon said, not wanting to deny the fact but not really wanting to say 'yes' either. "I … I guess I've just been sleeping really badly lately. Maybe by REM cycle is out."
"Whatever the problem is, I suggest you get it sorted," said the hologram, drawing its eyebrows closer together and leaning in towards him. "One more late entry into school and I shall be e-mailing your parents." The hologram straightened up and glided to the front of the classroom silently. It turned round to face the rest of the class and returned to 'cheerful' mode – the eyebrows pulled apart from each other, the corners of the eyes wrinkled slightly and the mouth opened in a smile to display pearly white teeth.
"Good morning, kids!"
"Good morning," the class chanted back in perfect unison. Gordon kept silent. There was nothing good about this morning so far. He sullenly placed his elbows on his desk and rested his chin in his hands. He stared blankly at the spinning GlobalSoft logo on his computer screen without registering the fact that the hologram was, at that moment, going through the daily schedule. There was no point in listening to it, really – he could always go online later and find the schedule. He sighed morosely.
The people around him had started to type rapidly on their keyboards, logging onto their consoles. Gordon idly typed in his username and password while staring out of the window at the surrounding building. He pressed 'enter' and waited for the voice of his avatar to welcome him onto his console and to greet him good morning.
An annoying little trill sounded from his machine. Gordon turned to look at the screen, a puzzled expression on his face.
ERROR. INVALID USERNAME OR PASSWORD. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.
"What the …"
Gordon frowned down at his screen and pressed 'enter' again to bring him back to the login page. His eyes opened in astonishment as he saw what he had typed in the username box.
Seek salvation in the place of living rock
Gordon's jaw dropped. He quickly erased what he had written and concentrated on typing out his correct username and password. He cursed himself inwardly as his avatar appeared in the top right-hand corner of the screen and greeted him in a tinny, computerised version of his own voice. It had always creeped him out slightly to have a tiny little version of himself on his computer, but there was nothing he could do about that. Avatars were an essential part of life.
For the rest of the first period (Software Programming) all Gordon could think about was what he had typed. Seek salvation in the place of living rock. What was up with that? Living rock? Hell, there was no such thing. Yet in the back of his mind, something was stirring. In the back of his mind, something told him that this was important, and that it had great significance.
He quickly dismissed this fact, though. There was nothing significant about him. He was a nobody. A GaGa kid. A Zone Clone. People like him were not meant to stand out from the crowd – they were meant to blend in with the rest of the sheep.
At lunchtime he trudged off to the canteen and ordered himself a plate of fries and a burger. He took his food with him back to his classroom and went to sit with the bunch of Clones he usually hung out with.
"Hey, guys," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "What's up?"
"Nothing much," replied Stuart. "Chris is trying to hack into the school mainframe so he can change his Technical Studies grade."
"Tell me something I don't know," Gordon said, rolling his eyes. "Get any good video games lately?"
"Nah. There aren't any good ones on the market. What you been up to?"
"Nothing." He took a bite of his burger and went to stand behind Chris. "Any luck?"
"Not yet. I'm still trying to crack the password."
"Tell us when you crack it."
"Will do."
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you," Stuart said suddenly. "Why were you late this morning?"
"Like I said, I overslept."
"You've gotta be kidding me, right?"
"I'm telling the truth, dammit! Why won't anyone believe me?"
"Probably because you're the first person to have overslept in about 100 years."
"Thanks. Real supportive."
"Seriously, Gordon. Why were you late?"
"I overslept, that's why. I was sleeping so deeply I didn't hear the wake-up call, nearly missed the transporter and tripped over my own feet on my way into school. Good enough excuse?"
"Hey, calm down," Stuart said, holding his hands up indignantly. "I was just curious."
"Yeah, well …" Gordon finished his burger off and sat down at his console again. He opened up a search engine on his server and entered in several internet searches.
Living Rock
No entries foundThe place of Living Rock
No entries foundSeek salvation in the place of Living Rock
No entries found"Crap," he muttered under his breath. What is this thing I keep dreaming about? Why can't I find any information on it? There's something strange going on here. He left the search engine and ate the last of his fries just as the hologram flickered into life again.
"Good afternoon, kids!" it said in a light, 'happy' voice.
"Good afternoon," the class, including Gordon, chanted back. Gordon snuck a glance over at Chris' console and his spirits lifted considerably when he saw that he had managed to hack into the mainframe. Gordon quickly e-mailed him, telling him to cancel the lessons for the rest of the day and tell all the kids to go home as there was a problem with the Internet connection. That'll fool 'em. Chris looked back at Gordon and grinned widely. Gordon gave him the thumbs up. Chris turned back to his console and started typing at breakneck speed. All of a sudden, a voice rang out on all the main speakers in the building.
"Students of Virtual High, there is a problem with the school's Internet connection. Lessons for the rest of the day are cancelled. Please return to your homes."
Everyone in the room cheered loudly as the hologram ushered them out of the classroom. Gordon, Chris and Stuart slapped each other high fives before running out of the main doors and down the steps. Here, Stuart and Chris separated from Gordon, as they needed to use a different transportation unit to get home. Gordon yelled goodbye at them before stepping onto the unit and closing his eyes again. His day was definitely taking a turn for the better.
He didn't really feel like going online that night. He had other things on his mind. He tried concentrating on his homework, but his mind was elsewhere for the entire evening. Eventually he gave up, opened his laptop, switched it on and opened up a notepad. He didn't feel like writing anything, really. It just gave him something to do. The first thing he wrote was the last sentence of his dream.
Seek salvation in the place of living rock.
Just as he was about to type in what the strange man had been screaming, he found his fingers whizzing over the keyboard of their own accord, typing words he didn't know.
A bright, bright star will lead the way.
Not for the first time that day, Gordon's jaw dropped and his eyes widened.
"Holy crap, I'm losing it," he muttered as he erased the words. He closed his eyes tightly and gave his head a little shake before blinking several times and returning to the screen. He sighed and typed out the rest of the words from his previous dream.
Hell is gone and heaven's here, there's nothing left for you to fear, shake your ass come over here, now scream.
The first section of that reverberated in his head. Hell is gone and heaven's here, there's nothing left for you to fear. The same stirring sensation in the back of his mind reminded him that there was some sort of significance to this. But what? As he frowned down at the screen, the clock on the wall beeped, signalling the hour. He looked up at it, then allowed his eyes to wander around his bedroom. His eyes fell on a couple of t-shirts he'd forgotten to put in the laundry transporter. As he stared at them, and at the GaGa logo emblazoned on them, realisation dawned slowly.
"Hell is gone," he whispered to himself, "and heaven's here … of course! It's the GaGa world!" The guy was trying to tell me how good the GaGa world is compared to whatever life was like before then … and now that we have the GaGa world, there's nothing left to fear. But what was there to fear before?
"This is getting stranger by the second," he muttered. He ran his fingers through his hair and yawned widely. "Thank God it's Saturday tomorrow." He yawned again as he saved his notes and switched his laptop off. Crawling out of his clothes and into clean pyjamas, he couldn't help thinking about his dreams. What confused him (and worried him slightly) was the fact that a small part of him wanted more dreams. He wanted to find out what the significance really was.
He didn't have long to find out – he was so tired that he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the synthetic pillow. Within minutes, he had started to dream again.
All that can be seen is a large patch of a green, plant-like substance with long thin leaves, all over the floor. Suddenly, movement can be seen in the distance. Strange fuzzy brown things come into view, with long thin snouts and each wearing different and strange assortments of garments. They wander around, bumbling around on short, fat brown legs, picking up odd things here and there. They don't appear to have mouths.
They seem friendly enough – they converse quite happily with each other, and they can be heard calling each other names like Uncle Bulgaria. Over the top of all the picking up and talking, a strange song can be heard.
Underground, overground, wombling freeThe Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we
Making good use of the things that we find
Things that the everyday folk leave behind
A few of these strange brown things look up and wave cheerfully. They all wander off into the distance as real people start coming into view. More and more people are arriving by the second – hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, it seems. They are all dressed in the most outrageous clothes, and wearing their hair in unusual styles. They are all cheering and screaming, jumping up and down and waving their arms – generally behaving like lunatics.
The huge collective scream gets louder and louder, but is almost drowned out by a strange screeching noise in the background, accompanied by rhythmic banging and thudding. In front of the people, a large raised stage is seen with people on it. A man is sitting on a chair behind a collection of large cylindrical objects and metal disks, which the man is hitting with long thin sticks that appear to be made of a wood-like substance.
Two other men are standing on the stage, each holding a long object with pieces of wire stretched from one end to the other. One man has six strings on his, the other only has four, but they are slightly thicker. Another man stands at the front of the stage holding the same rod with the ball of wire mesh at the top as the other man had used – however, this time the rod is attached to a much longer, thinner silver rod which the man is holding.
The screaming gets louder and louder, as does the screeching and banging in the background. All of a sudden, the words appear again. They are not said by a voice, nor are they written down. They simply exist as part of the dream.
Seek salvation in the place of living rock. A bright, bright star will lead the way. Go to where the champions played.
The words are repeated over and over again, getting bigger and louder, until nothing else can be seen or heard or felt. They expand quickly, taking over the dream and the mind, reaching out from the murky depths of the brain and reaching down towards the heart …
"GAH!"
Gordon woke up with a scream and sat bolt upright again. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with synthetic cotton wool, and his breathing was fast and ragged again. One hand found its way to his chest and gripped the space above his heart, while the other gripped the bedsheets tightly. He realised he was mumbling incoherently under his breath and tried to stop, but he found he couldn't stop. All he could do was raise his voice in an attempt to hear what he was saying.
"Go to where the champions played, go to where the champions played, go to where the champions played, go to –"
"Gordon?"
"ARGH!" He jumped a foot in the air and spun around to face his bedroom door. His mother was standing in the doorway, looking dishevelled and worried.
"It's two in the morning, Gordon. What's going on in here? Are you alright?"
"I …" he started, before he had decided what he was actually going to say. He gulped nervously. "I don't know, mom. I don't know. I just keep hearing these voices in my sleep. I keep hearing them. There's so many voices. I don't know what's going on." His mother walked in and perched on the edge of his bed. Gordon drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs and put his head down on his knees. He was still shaking like a leaf.
"Honey, what's wrong?"
"I … I th-think I'm going crazy, m-mom."
"Crazy? What do you mean?" His mother looked more concerned than ever as her only son stared blankly ahead and started to rock backwards and forwards gently. Tears started to run down his face. His mother gently put her arm around his shoulder. He twitched slightly at the contact before stopping the rocking back and forth and turning to look at her.
"What's happening to me, mom?" he whispered.
"Hush, Gordon. You're alright. Everything's going to be alright." She pulled her son close as he broke down completely. He started weeping uncontrollably, still sweating and shaking. She rocked him gently and patted his head while making calming noises. She hadn't noticed that tears were running down her face as well. Why was her baby acting like this? He'd never had any trouble like this before. What was happening to him? What was happening to them both?
"The British Precinct?"
Gordon looked incredulously at his mother. It had been a week since his last dream, and he believed that since he'd told his mother they'd gone for good. His mother sighed.
"This place has done something to you," she said gently. "I don't know what it is, but it's done something to your head. Moving to a smaller place might do us both good."
"But I like it here, mom," he protested. "And I haven't had any more dreams. I think they've stopped."
"They may have stopped for now, Gordon, but what happens if they start again? I don't think other people here will appreciate it. We have to move to a place where people don't know us."
"I guess." Gordon looked out of the window of the living room. "So will we ever come back here?"
"I doubt it, hon."
"What happens if … if the dreams keep on happening? What happens then?"
"I don't know." Gordon sighed again and looked back out of the window. Both of them were silent for a while, sitting still. Gordon broke the silence first.
"I wish dad was here."
"I know you do. So do I, sometimes. But we were both by his side when he left us. And you know he went peacefully. The doctors did everything they could for him."
"I know that. I just … I can't help wondering if the same thing is happening to me."
"Don't think like that. It wasn't his fault, it certainly isn't your fault. It was just a tumour that got too advanced for the doctors to treat." She stood up from the table and walked over to kneel in front of her son. They looked at each other for a long time.
"How would you like some pizza for dinner?" Gordon gave a small smile. His mother knew him far too well for her own good.
"Pizza's great, mom. Can we get it from Da Nando's?"
"Whatever you want." His mother grinned widely. She ruffled his hair and gave him a kiss on the cheek before standing up and walking over to the matter transporter. She typed in the code for the pizzas they wanted, and a computerised voice told her to wait 3 minutes for the matter to appear. She nodded to herself and went to sit back with Gordon.
"So tell me," she said, sounding genuinely interested. "How many of these dreams have you actually had?"
"Well, I've had about four or five, but only two of them were different. And they both ended with the same thing. I tried searching the net for information, but nothing came up."
"What did they end with?"
"Words. Really weird words."
"What?"
"Seek salvation in the place of living rock. A bright, bright star will lead the way. Go to –"
"Where the champions played," his mother finished. "Yeah, I heard that part last week. You were muttering it over and over."
"What d'you think it means?"
"It's probably nothing. Maybe it's just stress."
"Is it stress when I start dreaming about Wombles?"
"What? What the hell are Wombles?"
"I don't know, but that's what they were doing. Wombling free. The song said so. I just assumed that's what they were called."
His mother gave him a very odd, searching look. It was as if she wanted to believe him but was afraid to do so for one reason or another. He was her only son, and he meant the world to her – but she was now genuinely starting to feel afraid for the both of them. The sooner they got out of this place the better, in her opinion.
They sat in a slightly awkward silence for another 30 seconds or so before the matter transporter bleeped and announced that the food had arrived. Gordon jumped up and ran over to the transporter eagerly. He licked his lips as a hot, steaming pepperoni pizza emerged, and slid it onto a plate for him and his mother to share. He sat down on a chair opposite her and took a large bite of pizza.
"Sho whe' are we movin'?" he asked with a mouthful of pizza.
"As soon as we can," his mother replied. "And don't talk with your mouth full." Gordon swallowed.
"How long's it going to take for us to get there?"
"Depends on how we travel," she said. "We could use the international transportation units, we could take a plane. I reckon we'll be there within the week, though. Once all the paperwork's sorted, y'know."
Gordon nodded and finished off his slice. He picked up another one and devoured it within seconds. His mother looked on appreciatively. It hadn't been easy on either of them when his dad has passed away, but she'd hoped that Gordon would turn out as normal as possible. Even as a small child, he was always slightly different to the other kids. He tended to prefer his own company.
He was always an inquisitive child as well, always asking questions she couldn't answer. Once, when he'd just turned four years old, he'd come up to her and asked her what GaGa meant. She'd just smiled and replied, "You'll find out when you're older." Even back then, she'd thought it was odd that he wanted to know what it meant. All the other kids just accepted it without question.
But even though he was different to the other kids, she still loved him, and he loved her. Sometimes he worried her, and sometimes he scared her, but he was still her Gordon and nothing could change that. And if he was going to keep on having these dreams, well, it was up to her to make sure that nothing happened as a result of them.
They both finished their pizza at the same time. Gordon cleared away the plates from the table and retreated to his bedroom, where he opened the notes on his laptop again.
Seek salvation in the place of living rock. A bright, bright star will lead the way. Go to where the champions played.
Even as he read the words, they were forever echoing around his head. He couldn't get rid of them. And the annoying thing was that, even though he had a feeling the words had a significance, he had no idea what the hell these words meant. He didn't know what living rock was, he didn't know which star would lead the way, and he certainly didn't know where the place where champions played was. He leaned back in his chair and stretched, staring out of the window absent-mindedly.
As he stared out of the window, something in the back of his mind stirred. The image in his first dream came to the surface of his memory – the man thrown into darkness as the lights behind him blared out. He frowned slightly and bit his lip. Why was that significant?
Without warning, more words starting pounding in his head, louder and louder, faster and faster. His head felt like it would split in half. He winced and hunched forwards, holding his head in his right hand and gripping the arm of his chair with the other. He closed his eyes and tried to slow down the words snaking their way round his brain. Eventually they slowed down enough for him to be able to write them down. He kept his eyes closed as he did so – his fingers knew exactly where to place themselves on the keyboard. They whizzed over the keys, typing the words as they appeared. He didn't bother to use punctuation or press enter – all he did was put spaces inbetween each word.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, his fingers slowed and eventually stopped. He cautiously opened one eye and looked at his screen. He opened the other eye. The look of confusion on his face was etched so deeply it could have stayed there permanently, had it not been replaced quickly by a combined look of horror and astonishment.
i see a little silhouetto of a man scaramouche scaramouche will you do the fandango thunderbolt and lightning very very frightening me galileo galileo galileo galileo galileo figaro magnifico i'm just a poor boy nobody loves me he's just a poor boy from a poor family spare him his life from this monstrosity
"What thehell …?" he breathed. He blinked a couple of times, then quickly saved his notes before he could accidentally erase them. "Jesus …"
As he re-read the words, one small phrase leapt out at him. Galileo Figaro. This was probably the first time he hadn't been scared shitless by his dreams. Sure, it had caught him off-guard by having a daydream rather than a proper dream, but these words weren't scary or frightening – just unusual.
Galileo Figaro, he thought. Galileo. That sounds kinda cool. I like that name. He switched his laptop off, walked over to the bathroom mirror and looked at his reflection.
"Galileo Figaro," he said to the mirror. His reflection smiled at him. "Galileo Figaro. My name is Galileo Figaro." His smile got wider. "Yeah, that's my name. Galileo. Hi, I'm Galileo. What's your name?" He thought about it for a couple more seconds, then grinned widely. Maybe having these dreams wasn't going to be so bad after all.
Over the next few months, Gordon (or Galileo, as he now insisted on calling himself) adjusted to life in the British Precinct pretty easily. His dreams kept on happening two or three times a week. Usually it was the same dream for a week or two, then a different one would come along. He guessed that whatever was making him have these dreams was giving him time to write them down and memorise them.
Occasionally he liked to just read his notes through a couple of times. It helped him relax. And every time he re-read them, it enforced the notion that these words all had meanings, and that he was important in some way. How or why, he couldn't guess, but nevertheless he kept on writing them down.
Maybe one day he'd discover the meaning of these strange words and phrases. Maybe one day he'd find his purpose in the world. Until that day, he had to accept the fact that he was different to the other kids. At first he'd thought that it was because he'd been brought up in a different precinct, but now he wasn't so sure. He'd started looking at the GaGa merchandising with growing looks of distaste on his face. Why was everything so similar? Why did everything have to be the same? When did everything start being the same? All questions he asked himself everyday, and could never answer.
He wasn't happy about this place, for many reasons. He missed his friends back at home. The dreams, although they had not increased in number, had increased in intensity. They became more vivid, more realistic … more frightening. Sometimes he actually became involved in the dreams – it was as though he was there with the characters, doing and seeing the same as them.
None of these British kids liked him. They all thought he was a freak, that he was weird and different. They hated that. He guessed that they were privately jealous of him for daring to be different – maybe that was why they were so bitter towards him. Especially the girls. They bitched endlessly about him – when they weren't talking about pop songs and Zone Clones, that is.
"Oi! You!"
A shrill female voice punctuated the evening air as Galileo sat by himself on the bench on the pavement that was usually reserved for elderly people. He looked up calmly to see a group of about six or seven GaGa girls flouncing towards him. He recognised them as being some of the girls in his class. The ringleader, a girl he knew as Kelly, walked forwards.
"Whatcha doin' out here all by yerself?"
"Thinking."
"Thinking?" she repeated, wrinkling her nose up. "What d'you need to think about?"
"What you're wearing under that skirt," he shot back, slightly annoyed. He knew that would throw her off-course slightly, putting her on a different topic. There was no denying the fact that she was hot – but somehow he didn't really want to be attracted to her. She was too similar to all the other Teen Queens. And all they ever thought about was how to get a boyfriend. He wasn't at all surprised to see that she looked slightly flattered.
"Wouldn't you like to know," she smirked. Her friends erupted into high-pitched giggles.
"Please," he said quietly, not really begging. "Just leave me alone for a while."
"Why?"
"I still haven't found what I'm looking for." Kelly looked as surprised as he felt. How had that last bit slipped out? He cursed himself inwardly. He hadn't meant for it to slip out. It had been something from one of his more recent dreams. The other girls sniggered at him. A couple of them stepped forward slightly. One of them was called Kylie, he knew that, and one of them was called Melanie … but he could never remember which was which. They all looked the same to him.
"Whatcha looking for?" one of them squeaked.
"I … I don't know," he admitted, blushing slightly.
"Then how d'you know you haven't found it?" the other chipped in. They all giggled insanely again, and he closed his eyes. All this giggling was starting to give him a headache.
"Woss your name?" asked Kelly. Galileo opened his eyes, looked her up and down and smiled at her.
"Galileo," he said. "Galileo Figaro." He introduced himself as that on his very first day at his new Cyberschool, but had since learned that most of them hadn't been paying much attention. It didn't really surprise him that no-one in his class knew his name, but at the same time it saddened him. Why could they not be a bit more considerate towards him? No matter how hard he tried, they didn't want to know him. He was forced to be a loner.
"Galileo Figaro?" she repeated dubiously. The look of disgust and distaste on her face increased. She looked back at her friends, who immediately mirrored her expression. She turned back to face Galileo, looked him up and down a couple of times, then threw her head back and laughed. The rest of the gang followed suit straight away.
She didn't giggle. She laughed. And the laughter was vicious, cruel laughter that rang in his ears and stuck in his heart. It hurt him deep inside. All he wanted was to be accepted. He stood up quickly and ran away before the girls could see the tears springing from his eyes.
He ran all the way back home. It was all he could do to stop himself from tripping over his loose shoelaces as the tears clouded his vision. He finally reached his apartment block and violently punched in the entry code. The door slid open with a hiss, but before it had even opened fully Galileo was halfway up the first flight of stairs. He practically flew up the first 5 flights before he stopped outside his door.
He couldn't face going in. Not just yet. Instead, he leaned against the door and slowly slid down it, ending up in a sitting position with his knees under his chin. He didn't sob or weep uncontrollably just yet, but neither did he try and stop the tears. They flowed freely down his cheeks and onto his knees as he sat there for several minutes.
Eventually he took a deep, steadying breath, wiped away his tears and stood up. He opened his front door and walked in quietly to his room. He changed his trousers, as the ones he had been wearing were nearly soaked through with all the tears he'd cried, and had just pulled on a clean pair when he caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror on his wall. He did a slight double take as he saw his reflection, knowing that there was something different and … well … wrong. It took him a few seconds to work out what it was.
He had mis-matching clothes on. The trousers were blue, but his t-shirt was white. It looked so strange and odd, yet somehow vaguely familiar. He drew himself up to his full, gangly height and looked himself up and down. He turned around a couple of times to look at himself properly. He gave a small, slightly lop-sided grin as he realised that he liked being mis-matched.
"Honey, I'm not feeling too good, I'm gonna have an early night," his mother called from the hallway.
"Sure thing, mom. Feel better soon."
"I'll try. You have a good day?"
"Pretty good."
"Can I come in to say good night?" Galileo's eyes widened. He looked down at himself and guessed quickly that his mother would not be best pleased to find him deliberately trying to look different.
"Um … g-gimme a second, mom. I, uh … I-I gotta put my pyjamas on."
"Ok then. Will you come into my room to say goodnight?"
"No problem, mom. I'll, uh … I'll be right there."
Soft footsteps padded away from his closed door, and he breathed a sigh of relief. That had been pretty close. Still, he didn't really see why he should have been embarrassed if his mother had walked in. It wasn't as if he was dressing in women's clothing. But, strangely, having mis-matching clothes on seemed far more taboo than being a transvestite. It just wasn't done. Ever.
Sighing and blushing slightly, he slithered into his pyjamas and cleaned up his room a bit before he went into his mother's bedroom. She was sleeping pretty soundly already. He didn't have the heart to wake her up – she looked so peaceful. Instead, he just walked over to her and bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek.
"Night, mom," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair off her face. "I love you." She shifted slightly in her sleep and mumbled something incomprehensible. He switched off the light by her bed and retreated silently back to his bedroom.
He lay awake in his bed for a while that night. He had too much on his mind to drop off to sleep. Why did the other kids hate him so much? He felt sure the teachers hated him as well. His life was getting him down. The dreams especially. He felt like he had this huge responsibility bestowed upon him, and he didn't know what to do with it. He wished he could close his eyes and make it all go away – wake up in the morning and find that he was normal, like the other kids. Maybe not even wake up in the morning. That'd solve all my problems, wouldn't it? A single tear rolled down his cheek and onto his pillow.
He tossed and turned for several hours before finally drifting off to sleep. It did not take long for a dream to enter the void in his head – and when it did, he was truly surprised.
He finds himself in a room. A white room. The walls are white, the floor is white, the windowframes and curtains are white. Everything is completely spotless. In the corner of the room stands a large white object on three legs. It is as wide as it is long at one end, but the other end narrows off into a curved end slightly to one side. There are many tiny, strange rectangular objects at the wider end – most are also white, but some are black. There is a white stool standing in front of this.
A man and a woman walk into the room. The man is tall and thin, and he has brown hair and round glasses. The woman looks slightly Oriental, with long black hair and dark skin. The woman goes and draws back all the curtains in the room, filling it with bright sunlight. The man goes to sit on the stool, looks up at Galileo and beckons him closer.
He walks slowly over to the strange man, who smiles gently. He pats the space next to him, indicating for Galileo to sit down. The woman comes over and sits on the other side of the man. Galileo sits down and the man puts his arm around his shoulder.
"Imagine there's no countries," the man says to Galileo. Galileo feels confused, and the confusion obviously shows on his face. The man smiles wider. "It isn't hard to do," he says. "Nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too. Imagine all the people living life in peace." He looks at the woman, who appears to be his wife, and they smile at each other. He turns back to face Galileo.
"You may say I'm a dreamer," Galileo finds himself saying. He feels agitated and defensive. "But I'm –"
"Not the only one," the man says, trying to comfort Galileo. The man and woman both smile encouragingly, and Galileo feels calmer.
More people start appearing at random in the room – other figures from his previous dreams. He notices the brown, furry creatures sitting in one corner. A tall man with long, curly black hair waves cheerfully at him. The man with the painted face fixes him with a piercing stare. Five girls dressed in exaggerated make-up and clothes, most of them in large platform shoes, jump up and down and giggle excitedly. Three men in grey suits and odd pudding-bowl haircuts stand behind the man on the stool and grin at Galileo. The man on the stool stands up and walks Galileo round the room to the door.
As Galileo reaches the door, the man stops him and faces him. He shakes his hand formally before putting both his hands on Galileo's shoulders.
"I hope someday you'll join us," the man says, sweeping his arm around to indicate the other people in the room. "And the world will live –"
"As one," finishes Galileo, grinning widely. Everyone smiles and waves at Galileo. He grins wider and turns towards the spotless white door. Everyone behind him cheers as he realises that he has a bigger importance than he had first thought. He opens the door slowly.
Almost at once, he is nearly blinded by the sudden glare of lights that greets him. The familiar noise of screaming and thudding and screeching welcomes him into the space behind the door. Instead of fearing it, he welcomes it, spreading his arms out wide and yelling with them. The screaming redoubles, and he realises they are screaming for him. He punches the air emphatically as the words come back again, stronger and more prominent than ever.
Seek salvation in the place of living rock. A bright, bright star will lead the way. Go to where the champions played.
The people in the room behind him come out as well and cheering for him. There are some old characters as well as some completely new faces here. Galileo feels slightly surprised at this – he did not realise that there would be so many different people.
The men with the pudding-bowl haircuts all come up to him and shake his hand. Others come up behind him and slap him on the back or shoulders, as if to congratulate him, but he doesn't know why. The four men shoo everyone else away for a minute while they try to start conversation with him.
"I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together," one man says. "See how they fly like Lucy in the sky."
"See how they run," another man adds.
"I am the egg-man," the first man says. "They are the egg-men." He gestures to the other men and they all grin widely.
"I am the walrus!" the second man shouts happily.
Galileo does not know whether it would be polite to laugh or not. He notices other people laughing, so he joins in. The strange men grin widely and retreat back to the large white object. Four new people (two men and two women) dressed in white from head to toe come up to him. The women both have very long hair, and the men have long hair and beards. The women smile and start dancing around Galileo, who nervously joins in.
"You are the dancing queen," the blonde woman says to him. "Young and sweet."
"And only seventeen," the brunette adds. They both back off slowly as the five young women he has seen before come bounding up to him excitedly. They have never said anything to him until now. The girl with a mass of curly brown hair and a leopard print outfit laughs loudly.
"I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want," she says to him. The girl with red hair and a minidress taps the first girl on the shoulder. She turns round to face her.
"So tell me what you want, what you really, really want," she says. They both grin and slap each other high fives. The other three join in, although the one with straight black hair, a black dress and strappy black stilettos does so rather unenthusiastically, without raising much of a smile. They all turn to face Galileo and shout loudly.
"I wanna really, really, really wanna Zig-A-Zig-Ah!" They cheer and congratulate each other before allowing other people to get close to Galileo. They jostle him into the middle of the room and surround him. They all start shouting their own things at him, all at once. He tries to hear snatches of sentences.
"Ground control to Major Tom, commencing countdown, engines on."
"People always told me 'Be careful what you do, don't go around breaking young girls' hearts'."
"A wop bom a loo bop, a lop bam boom – I've got a girl named Daisy and she almost drives me crazy, she knows how to love me, yes indeed, boy, you don't know what she's doing to me."
"I'm the real shady, yes I'm the real shady, all you other slim shady's are just imitating, so won't the real slim shady please stand up?"
"Agadoo do do, push pineapple, shake the tree, agadoo do do, push pineapple, grind coffee."
"Like a bat outta hell, I'll be gone when the morning comes."
"Wild thing, you make my heart sing, you make everything groovy."
They start closing in on him, shouting their words over and over, getting faster and louder with each passing second. Galileo feels trapped by all of this – he starts panicking and tries to force his way out of the crowd, but they just keep him confined in the room. The more he panics, the louder they get, until it starts becoming unbearable …
His mother yawned widely as she made her way back to bed. She'd gotten up to get herself a quick drink, and was trudging back along the corridor when she heard a slight moan coming from her son's bedroom. Puzzled and slightly concerned, she opened his door and walked in.
Gordon was fast asleep, as far as she could tell – but he was twitching slightly, and every so often he would jerk his body. He was muttering and mumbling something under his breath, but she couldn't quite make out what he was saying. She guessed he was having one of his dreams again. She could see a few beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, and his hair was falling over his face.
She smiled gently and brushed his hair out of his face. She wiped his brow with a tissue and smoothed his bedsheets protectively. Gordon seemed to respond to this unconsciously – he stopped twitching and relaxed quite obviously. She watched him sleep for a few minutes before getting up and going back to bed.
Just as she was out of the door, she heard a tiny gasp from behind her. She turned around and saw Gordon lying there with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The dream had been so long …
"You OK, sweetie?" she asked quietly, walking back into his room. He didn't reply. He didn't even look at her. "Gordon? What's wrong?" A small smile crept onto his face.
"Gordon," she said, slightly louder. He jumped slightly and sat up to look at her. He grinned happily and there was a sparkle in his eyes that hadn't been there for a long time. It was the first time in weeks that she'd seen him smile.
"I'm not the only one, mom," he said, still grinning. His mother smiled at him.
"That's great, hon!" she said. Then a confused expression filled her face. "Not the only what?"
"The only one that's different," he explained. "There are others. I don't know who or where they are, I don't know if I'll ever find them, but I know they're out there. I'm not the only freak."
"Well, of course you're not," his mother said. She winked at him. "I used to be one too, y'know." He stared incredulously at her.
"You!" he said, nearly bursting out laughing. "Really?"
"Oh, yeah," she said, laughing slightly. "I didn't tell anyone, obviously, but I never enjoyed being a Teen Queen." She leaned in closer to him and lowered her voice. "I even tried on my brother's clothes once. And I tried on clothes that didn't match. I went really wild one day when my parents were away – I got one of last month's tops and slashed the front to bits, just to see what it would look like. Y'know, experimentation. Anyway, mom and dad weren't too bothered about it, it was an old top after all – but my friends all thought I was completely crazy. I had to work really hard to fit back in – I had to fit back in, or else people higher up might have found out. It was tough."
"Is that why you don't mind so much about me being a …a freak?"
"Well, kinda. But mostly it's 'cause you're my boy and I love you."
"I love you too, mom," he said, leaning in and giving her a hug. She hugged him back and smiled. Suddenly he pulled away and looked at her with a slightly fearful expression on his face.
"Mom, what happens if they find out about my dreams?" he asked. "Will … will I be taken away? I mean, I heard a couple of guys talking yesterday, and they said that a couple of kids had been murdered by rebels –"
"You're not going to die, sweetie," she reassured. "And they won't find out about your dreams because we're not going to tell them, right?"
"Right."
"I'll see you in the morning," his mother said, getting up from the bed. "I'll make sure we have marmalade for breakfast."
"Night, mom," he said, wriggling back down into his sheets. "See you in the morning."
"Now, I want you all to make sure your transistors are firmly soldered into the circuit, or else the batteries will short-circuit, which will cause the plasma screens to break." A couple of days before their final graduation, form FM-75-BR were killing the time inbetween the end of the exams and the end of school by going over some circuit constructions in Technical Studies. The teacher, the latest android on the market, walked round the class and giving bits of advice to various students. Galileo, as ever, was seated at the back of the classroom, hunched over his desk. Unusually, however, he was the first to complete his circuit, and was therefore doing something completely different.
In reality, he was hunched over a piece of paper, doodling something. Closer inspection revealed that he was sketching the stringed object he'd seen so many times in his dreams. He suddenly stopped drawing, examined the piece of paper, glanced at the teacher and quietly reached into his bag for his lunchbox. He emptied the contents (some fried chicken and a carton of fries) into a bag he'd brought with him and placed the empty box on the desk. All the other kids were too absorbed in either completing their circuits or talking to each other to notice what Galileo was doing.
On the desk behind him was a roll of string. Looking around the room, he reached out behind him and grabbed it. Unrolling a length of it, he burnt through it with his solderer and proceeded to wrap the string around the empty box so that the string was stretched over the empty space in the box. He secured the ends by melting them to the box and quickly shoved his lunchbox back into his bag. He sighed with relief at not having been caught.
"Class, you have fifteen minutes left to continue."
Fifteen minutes? What am I going to do for fifteen minutes? He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Looking first at the clock on the wall and then at his watch, he sighed and looked around the class as well. He noticed some of the girls not doing any proper work at all. Kelly was using the metal filer to file her nails, while Poppy was re-applying her lipstick using a plasma screen as a makeshift mirror. Kylie and Stacey were gossiping, as usual, and every so often they would stare pointedly at him and giggle shrilly.
Subtle, girls. Real subtle. He rolled his eyes, and they fell on Delilah. She had her long hair down, meticulously straightened, as was the fashion for that week, but he could see a wire leading from her bag up under her hair. He guessed that she had an earphone in her ear. She was absent-mindedly staring out of the window, and as he looked under their desk he noticed that her foot was jiggling in time with the music she was obviously hearing. Galileo frowned slightly, then shrugged and returned to his bag to retrieve his box. He had a good ten minutes left, he hay as well use them.
He carefully positioned the box on his desk and held it firmly. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, to try and make himself feel less nervous about plucking a piece of string. He held his finger poised over one of the pieces of string for a few seconds before he plucked one.
Disappointingly the sound that came from the string was nowhere near the sound reproduced by the objects in his dream. He supposed he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up so high, but nonetheless his heart sank slightly. The only noise this object had made was a dull 'thung'.
The noise was loud enough, however, to attract Kylie and Stacey's attention. They stared at him with open mouths, before Kylie turned to the android and frantically started waving her hand in the air to get its attention. Galileo didn't notice this – he was too busy trying to tighten the string to see what effect it would have. A few seconds later, he felt a cold metal hand on his shoulder. He froze.
"What on Mall do you think you're doing?" the robotic voice said. "Why are you plucking that?"
"I-I don't know," he said. "I-I-I just … I mean, i-it … it kinda happened. I –"
"I don't care," the android said, cutting him off. "I will have to confiscate this right away. I'm also going to have to e-mail your teacher and your parents about this. This cannot go unnoticed." The android grabbed his lunchbox and strode to the front of the classroom with it. The entire class sniggered at him as he blushed a deep red. A few minutes later, the speakers around the school announced that school for that day was over. Galileo hurriedly grabbed his bag and practically flew out of the room and back home.
Life had really been getting him down over the last few months. The pressure of the exams, the endless ridiculing of his classmates – he hated all the other kids with a passion and fury. He hated them for being the same, and he hated them for ridiculing him. Most of all, though, he hated himself. Why was he so different? Why was it him that got these dreams, messages? And what the hell did they mean?
More than once, he'd seriously considered ending the torture of the dreams. They had gotten more and vivid as time went on, and now he was dreaming practically every single night. The cryptic messages had become more frequent, and he still had no idea what any of them meant. He wrote them down, rearranged the words and letters, read them backwards – he did everything he could to try and work out their meanings. Nothing worked.
Ever since he'd had that message that he wasn't alone in his thinking, he'd tried searching for others who were different, like him. He'd searched all over the internet to try and find just one person, but to no avail. Perhaps the message was a lie. He'd practically given up all hope of ever finding anyone else. The only thing that stopped him from taking his own life was his mother. She'd already lost her husband, and he didn't want to put her through any more pain. She was the one thing that mattered to him at the moment.
He finally arrived back home after getting slightly out of breath from running home and deciding to walk instead.
"Mom!" he yelled when he got in. "Mom, I'm home!" His mother emerged from her bedroom with a slight look of surprise.
"You're early," she said. "I wasn't expecting you for another few minutes."
"I got out pretty fast today." He dropped his bag in the hallway and went to his mother's bedroom. "Whatcha doing?"
"Just clearing out a few things," she said. She finished wrapping something in plastic, placed it in a box and put the lid on it. She stood up, dusted herself down and walked over to Galileo with the box under her arm. "I found these," she said, holding the box out to him. "I thought you might like them." Galileo gave her an odd look, but carried them into the kitchen and put them on the table. He removed the lid of the box and unwrapped the plastic, and his confused expression vanished to be replaced with one of awe.
"Wow, mom," he said. He lifted out a black jacket that looked and felt similar to PVC, but was somehow different. He held it up and grinned as he turned to face his mother. She smiled at him.
"It was your father's," she explained. "It was what he was wearing when I first met him. It was at a 20th century themed fancy dress party. I was Queen Elizabeth II." She smiled and blushed slightly at the memory.
"It's great, mom," he said. "I love it." He lifted something blue and slightly rough to the touch, like worn, thick material. He shook them out to reveal a pair of trousers. His grin got wider.
"They're called jeans," his mother chipped in. "They were the fashion back in the 20th century. As were these," she added as she came over and pulled out a pair of scuffed black boots. She handed one to Galileo and inspected another meticulously. She rubbed at the side of the boot for a few seconds before giving a satisfied nod and handing it to Galileo as well. He stared at both boots awefully.
"Call them graduation presents," his mother said, giving him a small hug. "Just think – in a couple of days, you can do whatever you want." Galileo's face lit up and he turned around to face his mother. He grinned widely and gave her a bear-crushing hug.
"Thanks, mom," he said. "Can I wear them on the last day of Cyberschool?"
"Whatever you want, hon. It's your life – whatever happens to you, I'll support you all the way." Galileo grinned and held his mother tightly. He could hardly wait to get out of this life and see what lay in store for him. He could hardly wait to see what he could do to find out what his dreams meant, or where Penny Lane and the strawberry fields were. His life was finally going to begin properly.
"Mom?" he asked, still hugging his mother.
"Mmm?"
"When I graduate, what am I gonna do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I … I don't know what I wanna do with my life. I mean, I know I've gotta do something – these dreams, they've been telling me to do something, I know they have. I just … I don't know what."
His mother drew back from the hug and faced him. He looked at her with a look one might have found on a lost child – it was a longing for answers to questions she didn't even know. She gave a small sigh and squeezed his shoulders slightly.
"Don't worry about that, hon," she said. "You'll find out in time, I'm sure."
"But when? I'm serious, mom, I gotta do something with my life. I can't just stay a nobody forever."
"You won't. I have a good feeling about you. You're gonna be big one day, I can tell."
"Really?" he said, slightly doubtfully.
"Really," she replied, smiling. "Now, let's get you sorted for a top. You can't just wear the jacket."
"Aw, mom," he moaned, "don't make me wear a GaGa top with this stuff, it'll look all … weird."
"How about we take the logo off the tee, then?" His mother into his bedroom and picked a dirty t-shirt off his floor. She shook it out to get rid of most of the creases, then held it up. "I can easily take that logo off for you. It'll need a wash, but I think we can manage it."
"Cool!" Galileo exclaimed. His mother grinned as she went to get a pair of scissors. Scissors these days were no longer made out of metal, as it had emerged that the metal quickly became blunt and useless. Various other materials had been tested before a technique was invented to make scissors out of lasers, which made cutting much faster and safer. The lasers could also be replaced easily if they ever ceased to function properly.
His mother immediately set to work removing the attached logo from the front of the t-shirt. She was extremely adept at this, as she'd had to do it many times. As a single mother, money was usually a bit tight, and she'd often had to remove the logo from some of his old t-shirts to put them on plain new ones, which cost less.
After a few minutes with the t-shirt and scissors, she managed to get the logo off to leave a plain white t-shirt for her son. She took them to his bedroom, where she found him trying the boots on to see if they fit.
"Here you go," she said, holding the t-shirt out. "Go and wash it. And give those trousers a wash while you're at it." He grinned widely and jumped up to grab the t-shirt, but in his rush he accidentally tripped over one of the shoelaces that he hadn't managed to tie up. Once he'd untangled himself, he took the t-shirt from his mother and grabbed the jeans from the kitchen and flung them both in the laundry transporter.
Just as his mother walked in, the transporter bleeped and the clothes disappeared. His mother's eyes widened slightly.
"You did remember to put them in separately, right?" she asked. He looked at the transporter and then sheepishly back at his mother.
"Not really," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "Is that bad?"
"I don't think so," she said. "The tee might be a bit darker, that's all. Nothing to worry about." He gave a sigh of relief as the transporter bleeped again and the clothes reappeared. The jeans were noticeably cleaner, as was the t-shirt – but, as his mother had predicted, the t-shirt came out slightly bluish-grey, as the colour from the jeans had run slightly. His mother held the t-shirt up and inspected it.
"Y'know, I think it looks better like that," she said. Galileo grinned.
"Me too."
Finally, he thought, gazing up at the outside of the Cyberschool building. My last day here. They'll be glad to get rid of me, I bet. He gave a great sigh as he trudged up the steps, along the main corridor and down to his classroom. Naturally he was either ignored or given dirty looks all the way in.
He walked into his classroom with his bag flung over his shoulder, slightly heavier than it would usually have been as it had the presents from his mother inside. He'd made his own plans for that day in his head – as usual, he wouldn't join in for the GlobalSoft© oath that was done on the last day of term. He never did. He found it pointless.
For the whole day, he sat at the back of the room like normal and did nothing except some random net-surfing. Nobody else did any real work either – it was the last day of term, after all. No-one ever did any work on the last day of term – people just weren't interested in it.
Just as the class filed off to the main hall to take the oath with the rest of the school, Galileo excused himself to go to the toilet, where he took off his uniform and got changed into his other clothes. He took as long over it as he could, wanting to miss as much of the oath as he possibly could.
After a few minutes, he judged that enough time had passed for the school to have completed the oath. He swung his bag back over his shoulder and gathered his uniform into his arms as he left the toilet and made his way to the main hall. He entered just as the rest of the school had finished the oath, and snuck in through the back way, stuffing his uniform into his bag as he went.
A teacher stepped forwards with a large smile plastered on her face. She took off her mortarboard and looked around the hall.
"Students of Virtual High," she said, spreading her arms out wide. "School's out!" The whole room (Galileo excluded) grinned widely. "Get out there and have some fun!"
"HURRAH!" the room cried, in perfect synchronisation. Galileo rolled his eyes. "HURRAH!" They all congratulated each other for no apparent reason as they rushed out of the hall. Galileo trudged behind, going slowly in order to miss most of the people. He didn't feel like talking, really. His last ever day at Cyberschool had just finished, and he still had no idea what he was supposed to do.
"Hey, mate!" a teacher shouted happily, walking in front of him to stop him from going out. "Go out and celebrate! School's out!" she said happily. Galileo gave her a disgusted look. So what if school was over? He still had the rest of his life in front of him, although that wasn't really much to look forward to. What else was there in his life?
"Your life has just begun!"
THE END