Author's Note/Dedication/Forward== This short storie/fan fiction type...collectioin of words that form together to create sentences, which form paragraphs, and so on, is a kind of continuation of Isaac Asimov's The Fun They Had, which, personally, is a fantastic short sci-fi story about futuristic people, and who this one guy finds a book (and, apparently, no one reads books anymore, where all of the words are the same on page 59 [random, but it helps me explain better] the first time, and then when you turn back, they're still there!), and he shares it with his friend, this girl, and she's all, 'Whoaaaa....', and then she's reading the book, and learns how humans were teachers ("But humans couldn't possibly be teachers! They don't know enough!")*, and how people when to buildings all together to learn ("But how could each student learn appropriately? The teacher wouldn't be able to properly fit the needs of every student!"), and they learned the same things, and they went to the same place, the same schoolyard, and it's all so amazing...and then, the girl realizes the fun they must have had.
Also, a lot of these...inventions aren't actually in the book, only the 'teacher' was, so I'm just adding a lot of stuff in to Asimov's idea.
- These aren't exact quotes. I summarized their conversations. :)
Chapter One: Hello, TeacherEdit
I sit in my room, on my bed, waiting. Waiting for Mother to come up to my room and tell me it's time for school and that I must go brush my teeth, eat my breakfast, brush my teeth again, take my shower, choose my clothes. She always rushes me, giving me only ten minutes to do all of that stuff.
"Kate!" I wait. She repetitively calls my name. I'm not sure why I don't send her back a message, and then go brush my teeth. I just don't. I feel very questioning today. Why must we do this? Why don't we do that?
"Katherine Courtney Wright!" yells Mother. I turn and see her glide angrily into my room, and she's stowing her Contro (short for Controller, which means the Controller Remote) in the folds of her dress, so I know she's been tweaking her features. It's a favorite passtime of hers...plus her hair is russet-colored today, and yesterday it was blond.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I mumble, then sit up, and float into the bathroom. With great annoyance, I shove my head into the Fitter, resting my chin against the small pad at the bottom and feeling the cold metal bars that outline my face freeze against my skin. The small chip that's charging on the wall flies out automatically and fits itself into the small box that is attached to the front of the Fitter. The light flicks on, and then the cool disembodied voice fills my mind.
"Good morning, Kate. Please open your mouth. Smile!"
I obey the invisible woman, and soon the tiny blue laser shoots out of the chip and carefully scrapes away any of the dirt or grit that has accumulated in my teeth over night, and leaves them refreshed and minty. Seconds later (it feels like an eternity), I pull my face out of the Fitter, and wave it away. It goes back into the cabinet underneath the marble sink, and the chip returns to charging in its small little cabinet.
On my way out of the bathroom, I quickly type in my mood, and the choices pop up on the screen next to the door. Rolls are perfect for this morning. I've preset that breakfast, as well as eggs with bacon, for my 'Questioning' mood, so whenever I feel like it, it's easy to pick instead of scrolling through the numerous choices and taking up time.
By the time I get downstairs, the plate of rolls are popping out of the pristine table, and a small jar of honey, a tub of butter, a knife, and a fork materialize around it. I begin to slather honey and butter on my rolls, and then stuff my face with the breakfast to get it over with. Sometimes I simply don't feel like eating, but Mother and Father programmed our house to make sure I always eat and go to school. Of course, they're both too busy with work, at least, Father is, but I suppose it also takes its toll on women to be models as well.
I am shot up stairs the moment I step into the wind tunnel, and as soon as I step out of the vertical tunnel I visit the bathroom and brush my teeth again. The shower quickly shoots out water that's pre-mixed with soap, and then in the next few seconds hot air gusts out of the top of the cylinder.
My room has already laid out my school uniform, which I hastily shove on, and then revisit the bathroom to have my hair expertly braided and brushed by the nimble fingers of the Techer (like Tech....and then 'er'), which I have dubbed Molly.
I bring up the mirror on my own Contro, and stare into the holographic, projectional, mirror. A girl with thick blond hair and green-blue eyes stares back at me. Her eyes are too big, her mouth and nose too small. Mother won't let me modify my appearance until I'm thirteen. Two whole years away, it's not fair! Dusty (my sister, her name is short for Modesty-Tessie) got to "disfigure" herself when she was only eleven and a half. She's eighteen now, and married. She's got a tiny baby boy too, that she adopted from Kandar (that's how good she is, Dusty, rescuing a small boy from poverty and famine).
"Hello, Teacher," I mumble.