Page 241 of Light Leech

Boyband sighed with a frustrated smile. “Look, if you want human education, you’re not going to get that here. I was told the government doesn’t trust human error. So, as you can expect with these ‘high end’ establishments, the education here is pretty laissez faire as far as humans are concerned. It’s filled with shacs besides the few SocStans keeping the place in alignment with the ‘school boards’ which I guess we know now is the Correction.”

“Or the people under the Correction,” I said. “I feel like we’ll have to dig to find who the official educational enforcers are.”

“Oh, for sure,” Boyband said. “Shacs might deliver the education, but you can count on prideful humans to claim ownership. Just don’t plan on any easy leads. The administration had plenty of uplifting quotes and had their faces hung up all over the school, but no one I knew saw them.”

“Do you still know anyone there?”

“Some of the shac teachers might–”

“I mean students.”

“I’m not… wait, there might be a couple of younger students. I dunno. I’m not looking for conversation. Let’s just get to work and find what we need. I’m here to guide. You young parents are the ones who will do the talking.”

“You think we’ll pass?” Naoma asked.

“You had a kid at like twenty… checks out. As long as you keep the lightguise on that Ralia gave you, you should be fine. We don’t need anyone out there spotting the Neon Idol with a husband and child.”

“Does it look real enough?” She faced me.

She looked like a midwestern Arabasian woman of the same age with long black hair and streaks of violet light. Her makeup was tame enough for a businesswoman but had the violent accents of someone who could afford to send her son to a prestigious school. “Looks good enough to me.”

“Good. Yours looks fine, too.”

“Yeah, but it’s a lot easier to make my hair brown and skin a shade darker than to change your entire face.”

“Looks like she added a couple wrinkles,” Boyband said. “You’re both in your late twenties, right?”

We nodded.

“Good. With the touched-up lightguises, you look like you’re in your late thirties, so seeing you as capable parents should be believable.”

“Should we head in, then?” Naoma asked.

We all looked at each other and nodded in silent consensus.

Boyband’s eyes flashed with a brief neurospace check. “We’re a few minutes late. A perfect arrival time for the pretentious shacs we want you to be.”

Boyband led us towards the entrance. Automatic doors opened and a woman in a tight silver pantsuit greeted us. Her hand had plenty of violet light augmentations that led down her sleeve and up the back of her neck and into her neurospace hub. Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun, but she was too young for it to be a natural color. An and stood beside her and up to her waist. Despite its childlike size, it had the features of an adult female with similar clothes to the woman and silver skin.

“Welcome to Water Hills! You must be Mister Eclaine.”

“Indeed,” Boyband said, adjusting his violet-lit tie.

“I was awfully sorry to hear about your parents’ passing after hearing what they contributed to the school’s PTA.”

“Thank you.”

The woman fixed her smile and looked up at us. “And you are the Ershovs?”

Naoma and I nodded, but she was the one to take the lead. She spoke with a faint Arabasian accent. Not enough to question her fluency in Amerikese, but enough for our story of recent immigration to play out. Though the war exacerbated certain hidden prejudices to rise among the Republic radicals, we had to use the story to make Kuni’s obvious Arabasian tendencies and accent believable.

“We are, but you can call me Mei.”

“Alyosha,” I smiled. “And your name?”

“Most of the children know me as Mistress Kamina, but if you insist on remaining casual, my name is Sanna.”

“Whatever you prefer, Mistress,” I said with a jubilant smile.