Schoolpocalypse
Over the past two and next few weeks, I (Jenny Trevino, IVAN Library’s Librarian) have been/will be posting a series of short stories I wrote for my former employer’s Writing Club. The first week, I posted a story in which I had the idea of making Andrew Carnegie answer for his sins. In the remaining stories, I was trying to imagine ways in which the concept of a library might evolve in a future that has moved on from even the non-traditional services that are currently being presented as constituting a library’s post-print portfolio.
The prompt for this story was generated by drawing a slip of paper with a notable public figure’s name on it.
Schoolpocalypse
Micki scouted the parking lot as she pulled into a space. Four Instructional Vehicles idled near the door. Both the Harvard and Apple IVs were there, but she could not identify the other two. She whistled under her breath. Whoever they were, they didn‘t need to advertise, which in itself was a pretty good clue.
As she entered through the staff door, she heard chatter. She turned the corner and found the entire staff in the break room, eating donuts.
“Wow, what’s the occasion?”
Aiden gestured at a card, lying on the table. Congratulations Graduates! was emblazoned across the front.
On the inside was a message from Third Sphere Schools:
The number thirteen is unlucky to some, but not to us, It’s true! Because thirteen is the number of years we’ve had the privilege of of working with you!
“Thirteen years? They haven’t been around thirteen years.”
“Today is the anniversary of thirteenth anniversary of the first floating school license. I guess they’re counting from that.
“That guy? He was on their Board for like five minutes.”
“Somehow that makes his history their history, I guess.”
“Daaaaamn. That’s bold.”
“Yes, but donuts are good.”
Micki laughed. She grabbed a donut and began munching one-handed while she loaded a cart. The cream of the local Third Sphere crop would be here today. That meant the mezzanine would be packed with every Authority in the area, plus half of their thrones and any underemployed or off-duty Archangels. She eyed the remaining donuts.
“Don’t you dare!” Aiden laughed. “Those are our donuts. Let them eat cake. Specifically Little Debbie snack cakes.”
“Okay, Marie,” Micki laughed.
She rode the elevator to the mezzanine and parked her cart at the far end, which overlooked the atrium and the entrance.
She watches as the IVs begin to disgorge their contents. The Harvard bus contained a high school history choir, while the google IV has kindergartners. The remaining two have middle-grade choirs. She goes to the reference desk and checks the system. Only the Harvard choir has registered. The other three choirs would be in the atrium
Micki groans. Gonna be a loud one, she thinks.
She lets everyone in and gets them settled, then heads back toward the mezzanine, noticing that staff are now clustered at the refdesk, whispering excitedly. She follows their gaze toward the observing authorities, then gasps. Her back was turned to Micki, as she was peering over the rail and down into the atrium, but the slight stature, tiny waist, and bounteous blond hair were a dead giveaway.
The rumors were true. Dolly Parton was taking over the local overflow authority-- just as she’d done in New Orleans and Flynt
Five archangels, three thrones, and 2 authorities are gathered at one end of the space-- as far from Dolly as they can get. Several are texting furiously. Incongruously, one of the residents of the shelter across the street was passed out cold in the middle of it all.
Micki noticed a couple of observers glancing impatiently at the door, then at the time, then at the door again. As if on cue, costumed characters begin to arrive, circulating through the atrium, distracting the students, handing out swag.
The clustered staff members burst out laughing.
“Man, Dolly got’em scared!”
“Heck yeah she does. The poor kids just hit the lottery! Watch all the rich parents try to re-file their taxes!”
Micki laughed along with her colleagues, then went to clean the balcony, once the area had mostly cleared. The sleeping homeless man slept on, and Micki tried not to disturb him as she gathered up discarded snack cake wrappers. SHe is down on all fours, struggling to reach then hears a “pssst.” The homeless man is her neighbor. His grandson was with one of the choirs. The parents are being courted by a particular Authority, and he was trying to find out if anyone else is considering him.
“Let me guess-- all they did was complain about Ms. Parton.”
“Yes!”
“Yeah, it’s clear they’re real salty about her being here. I bet they cannot wait for her to run out of money. Do you think she was scouting Noah?”
“I hardly dare to dream. But that would be amazing. Do you think she was?”
“She was either scouting students, talent, IVs, or vendors. But nobody else knows any more than we do. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to let whoever you guys are talking to know she was here at the same time as Noah. That is 100% true.”
“Let me go call my daughter.”
