John's New World

  John took a deep breath. New start. New peers. Surely, here, things would be different.

  He turned to the nearest group of students, stepping forward.

  'So, what do you all-'

  They turned their backs to him. One whispered something. The others ughed.

  No. Not so different, as it turned out.

  University Airship-015 glided through the clouds above London, journeying alongside its nineteen sister ships. The vessels were en route to the University of Ottocart, where a new semester was about to begin. The students who had already attended previously were gathered into different friend groups and sat at the various tables scattered around the area, sharing stories and heartily gulping down their drinks. Newer students were a little more nervous, but they were already being encouraged to take part in conversation, the University's policy was one of camaraderie and openness, and the students were happy to follow it.

  John Andrews would have loved to have seen this most enlightened ideal applied to his person, but unfortunately, it seemed that he was the one exception to it. He sat at an otherwise empty table, sighing to himself as he flipped through 'A Guide to Ancient Artifacts', his favorite book by one of his heroes, Professor Evalyn Whittaker. The other students were deep in conversation, their discussions lively and engaging. John could only catch snippets. He was dying to join in—but he knew he wouldn't be welcome.

  He was a new student at the University, a boy of only sixteen years of age, just out of Secondary School. He had never been particurly popur while there, his cssmates found his intellect rather offputting, often compensating by kicking his shins or calling him some admittedly rather imaginative but reductive nicknames. He had hoped that University would be different, being surrounded by people of simir intelligence as himself, but it seemed that once again, he was to be made into 'the other'.

  While the majority of the other students were of high social standing, John had been born into poverty, a fact that everyone there knew, which caused them to turn their noses down at the very sight of him. Until just the year before, it was unheard of for someone like him to have been accepted into such a prestigious institution, but social reforms had changed that. For the first time, people could be accepted purely on merit, and John had been one of the highest-marked students in his school, making him an immediate shoo-in. He was excited to begin expanding his mind, but the ck of acknowledgement, save for the occasional awkward gnce or snide comment from the other students, was quickly eroding his enthusiasm.

  He regretted the pictures he had taken for the University program; he was told that they would do a lot of good for people to know who he was and why he was there, but it just meant that everyone else could recognise him on sight as someone to look down their noses at.

  A boy who he would come to know as Peter passed his table, turning to him with the deepest contempt. "They're letting anyone in these days," he sneered, causing a wave of ughter from his friend group, as he walked over to join them.

  John was upset at being openly mocked, but then, he doubted that they expected him to understand what words meant.

  'Don't worry, John,' he thought to himself, 'just endure the snark and disgust for the next five years of your life, it'll be no problem at all!'

  They approached the University, a great monument to knowledge itself on the outskirts of London. Built a few hundred years beforehand, the beautiful architecture was still intact, the main building being an extraordinary tower which looked like a massive cathedral made up of stone and wood. The buildings surrounding it were comparatively less impressive, smaller structures, but still rather nice on the eyes, consisting of beautiful bricks and wooden patterns and paneling. The whole thing stood on a rge hill overlooking the city, many wondered why it was built in such an impractical position, though the common theory was that it was a representation of the University's superiority.

  A cheer went up from the other students at the sight of it, as they scrambled to the tiny circur windows of the ship to get a good look. John scrambled around clumsily, trying to find a window not in use, until finally, he found one at the corner of the room that no one else had found yet. Peering out of it, he gasped in awe. He had read about the University and seen a few photographs and paintings, but seeing it in person was a whole new experience. He could have savoured it for an eternity, but this possibility was dashed when a rather uncouth student shoved him away from the window, yelling for his friends to come over to look with him. Dejected, John walked back to his table. He could have tried to say something, but he doubted that his prospects would have been great if he had; he was rather outnumbered on this vessel.

  The ship's doors burst open, and the students flooded out, chattering and dragging their rge trunks behind them. John followed at a distance, carrying nothing but a small bag of science books and the clothes on his back.

  He trudged towards his accommodation building, one of the smaller buildings on the campus, still beautifully designed, but it hadn't been kept pristine by any stretch of the imagination. The bricks were scuffed, the windows were dirty, and the interior hallways looked like they were only cleaned once every odd year or so. There were nicer accommodation buildings, of course, but those required a great fee, one which John simply could not afford. He walked through the hallway, just looking forward to being able to lie down. As he opened the door to his room, he was immediately met with the furious stare of Peter, the boy who had been rude to him on the airship. Taken aback, John let out a slight gasp as Peter got up, angrily ranting at him.

  "Of course, of course they've stuck me with you! I knew it! I knew they would!" Peter paced about the room, his arms furiously waving in the air, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he was milking a giant invisible cow. "Clearly, I'm not worthy of the respect that I should be allowed to have someone of my own social standing accompany me this year! Of course, I get to spend time with the little peasant boy!!"

  John put his bag on the floor, frowning at the dispy in front of him. "I'm sorry to be of such an inconvenience to you," he said, "perhaps you could do us both a favor, and get yourself assigned to a different room?"

  Peter ughed mockingly at this, getting in his face. "You think they'd listen? They think I'm on your level. Absurd, but here we are. No, they'd ugh in my face if I went to them! Just as they would if you did."

  "Sorry," said John, his facial expression and tone conveying the deepest contempt, "I don't actually know you, or the full context of all this. Would you care to eborate?"

  "It's none of your concern," said Peter, "just know that I am still your better, whatever you may hear... and know that you are nothing beneath my feet. Stay out of my way if you don't want trouble."

  "That's going to be difficult," John said exasperated, "considering that we're sharing accommodation."

  He scoffed. "I doubt that I'll be here often. I have friends who will allow me to stay with them... they won't want me to be covered in your filth this whole year!"

  And with that, he left, smming the door furiously.

  John clenched his fists and then bit into them, feeling angered and humiliated by the conversation he had just had. How was it that someone who didn't even know him could have such disdain for him?! He took some deep breaths to calm himself down, and began to recite the periodic table in his head to focus his mind once again. It wasn't a complete fix, but it at least helped him enough that he could put his mind towards other things. He sat on his bed and took in his surroundings, a small and tacky accommodation for sure. Broken and cracked walls, a single musty window, and stains on the roof and carpet. Two small beds were id out side by side, they were looking unmade and unchanged for about a year. Sadly, it was still somehow far better than the home he had grown up in.

  He didn't have anything to attend until the following morning, so he decided he would spend the rest of the day exploring the University. He took his books out of his bag and id them on a small table next to his bed. They were the few books he had been able to afford in his life up until that point, and read each of them like they were his bibles. He considered whether he really wanted to leave them there for Peter to potentially swipe, but he reasoned eventually that Peter probably wouldn't even want to touch anything that belonged to him. Leaving the building, he walked through the campus, taking in the fresh air as he strolled towards the main building.

  As he approached, he saw a group of students gazing in wonder at the architecture, one of them (presumably someone studying architecture) was giving a small lecture on its origins. John wanted to stop and listen, but knew that they likely wouldn't want to get too close to him, so kept his distance. He walked into the building and was met with the instant smell of tobacco and old books, he enjoyed the tter but not so much the former. The source of both was easy to discern, as old professors walked up and down the hallways huffing on their pipes and clutching their books like they were the most precious things in the whole world, students, in a bid to emute them, did the same.

  John wandered through the halls, in awe of the sheer amount of research and knowledge that had been contained in the building. Pictures of all the famous scientists who had been to the University were all over the walls, and dispys of their various inventions were held in gss cases. He dreamed of being held in such regard himself one day, even though he was very far from that point as of that moment. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by an angry womanly voice coming from one of the office doors.

  "No, no! That won't do at all!" John heard her shout, "I require your assistance tonight!"

  A meeker voice responded to her, but was far quieter and thus far more muffled. John couldn't make out a thing it was saying, though it sounded like a young boy around his age.

  Whatever he had said, the woman soon replied. "You're not allowed to quit tonight! I told you how important this experiment was going to be!"

  John could have sworn he had heard that voice on the radio before, upper css and English, but with hints of a Scottish origin in the drawl. He stopped himself, curious. Looking over at the lecture room door, he saw the name 'Dr. Evalyn Whittaker', his heart stopped for a second. The Dr. Whittaker?! He had idolised her since he was a child, his favorite book was written by her! The discoveries she had made around the world and the things she invented had made her one of the most famous people in all of Britain. He had no idea that she was teaching at the University, but he had an almost indescribable amount of excitement in him now, it would be a true honour to study under her.

  Then, the door burst open, and a young male student stormed out.

  "I quit, I quit, I QUIT!" he ranted. "You've pushed me too far, you've insulted me, you've put me in danger... well, I've had ENOUGH!"

  "You knew what you were getting into," Whittaker called after him, "you can't say I didn't warn you."

  Whittaker looked out of the doorway, watching her former assistant storm away, when she caught sight of John, who was staring on with perplexity.

  "And what are you doing here, young man? Listening in on my conversations?!"

  John stammered. "U-uh... well..."

  "If you could form a coherent sentence, that would be most appreciated," Whittaker replied.

  "I just wanted to say... I'm a big fan of your work, Professor!" John said awkwardly, trying to salvage the situation.

  Whittaker simply scoffed at this. "Well, if you can admire my work from afar in the future, that would be most appreciated."

  And with that, she stormed back into her office, smming the door.

  John felt a little disappointed. Whittaker was not quite how he envisioned her. Furthermore, it was dawning on him that he hadn't had a single positive interaction with anyone all day long. He began walking away when unexpectedly, Whittaker's door swung open once again as she rushed over to John, her face dispying urgency and desperation.

  "Wait, boy!" She said, "How would you like to do me a big favour?"

  After being yelled at for no reason, John would likely have said 'no' to anyone else, but for Whittaker, he found himself stammering like a nervous child. "Uh.. err... um... I..."

  "Just answer me, yes or no?"

  "Y-y-yes!" John managed.

  "Excellent," said Whittaker. "I need an assistant, and it seems that fate has handed me one," she looked John over appraisingly, "well, for now, anyway."

  John frowned at this, but his excitement overrode his annoyance. Working for Whittaker would be an honour, even if she was going to be hurling abuse the entire time.