VIOLENT INCIDENT
AT DATA TERMINAL
~ * ~
Albany Complex, NY (Aug. 31, 2082)—An intruder dressed in pre-Millennium clothes and claiming to be an employee of the
caused minor damage at this station’s mid-Complex terminal earlier today. The man, who identified himself as Nathan Halpern, stated in loud terms that he was a top
“columnist,” demanded a “typewriter” (such devices have not been used at the
since it was computerized over forty years ago), and further demanded to see one Bill Greener, whom he identified as his “editor.”
The lone operator at the terminal at the time of the incident, Rupert Popkin, attempted to calm the intruder down, but as Popkin stated later, the man “went into a wild fit, repeating the names Woodward and Bernstein over and over and claiming he had been kidnapped by a UFO and put into suspended animation.”
According to Popkin, who suffered minor cuts and bruises, the man then became violent and had to be taken into custody by security personnel, but somehow managed to escape while en route to Albany Complex Psychiatric Center. Witnesses at the scene reported that he ran off shaking his fist at the sky and shouting, “I’ll find you if it’s the last thing I do!” As of this time, he remains at large.
Curiously, a check of files shows that an individual named Bill Greener did work at the
in the late twentieth century. However, no record of anyone named Nathan Halpern has been found.
THE NEW KID
By Al Sarrantonio
I
Today was the same as it’s been ever since I moved here. When I got off the bus the line of bullies, sixth graders with a few fifth graders thrown in for spice, were waiting for me. Chunky Fredericks, the biggest one and the leader, smiled his gap-toothed grin and said, “Nice to see you again, loser!” He slapped me on the back, hard enough to make me stumble, and then the rest of them were on me. When they walked away singing, “New kid! New kid!”, I was left on the ground with my books all over the place and my lunch stepped on. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich doesn’t taste so good when it’s flat.
They got me at lunch, too, and then again as I walked to my bus after school.
I hate this. The only good thing that happened today was that I heard a rumor that another new kid was coming to school.
If only that would happen!
Then maybe the bullies would leave me alone!
~ * ~
It’s true!
Today our teacher announced that a new student would be arriving in our class on Monday. That didn’t stop the bullies from beating me up today, but even while they were doing it I could feel the weight lifting from me. Chunky Fredericks even sighed and helped me up after they were finished beating me up at lunch.
“You know, loser, I’ll really miss whomping on you,” he said. “Next week you’ll be one of us.” And then he slapped me on the back—but in a friendly way!
I can’t believe it!
On Monday I’m saved!
~ * ~
My dream has come true!
For the first time since moving here, I walked untouched from the bus to class, and when I walked into my classroom, shielding my face against spitballs and thrown candy, the strangest thing happened:
Nobody hit me, no one shouted, “Get the new kid!”
Slowly, I lowered my hands from my face.
No one was looking at me.
They were all looking at…
The new student was in the front row, right in front of the teacher’s desk. He was kind of weird looking, with a really thin face and skinny arms with long fingers, and kind of pale, almost light green skin.
He was trying real hard not to be noticed, but of course everybody was staring at him.
“Hey, freak!” Chunky Fredericks said, standing up with a wadded-up paper in his hand. He drew his hand back to throw it, and I flinched—but then I realized that he was going to throw it at the new kid and not at me—
At that moment the teacher, Mrs. Adams, came in, and Chunky sat quickly down.
“Later, freak,” Chunky mumbled, as Mrs. Adams started class, and I realized with a sudden feeling of freedom that there was someone in the classroom quaking with fear, and it wasn’t me!
~ * ~
At lunch they got the new kid, of course.
I was real quiet, still not quite believing my good luck, slipping out onto the playground to eat my lunch by myself, but after a while I couldn’t help noticing the group of kids huddled in the spot where they normally beat me up. There were things flying into the air from the center of the group, a paper bag followed by some kind of food and then a jacket and then a shoe, and when the group dispersed a few minutes later, laughing, there was the new kid on the ground, looking dazed the way I had so many times. He gathered his stuff and crawled off, and for a moment then I got scared because Chunky and his friends were heading my way, still laughing.
But they kept walking past me as I hid what was left of my lunch behind my back.
Then, amazingly, Stinky Peters, who was even bigger and uglier than Chunky, and who always brought up the rear of the gang, stopped as he went by and patted me on the head.
“You know, Bud, you’re all right!” he said, smiling, and kept walking, lumbering away to catch up with the rest.
And when I walked to my bus after school, they weren’t there, waiting for me, but were instead in front of the new kid’s bus, in a circle, laughing, as more books and clothing flew up into the air.
As good as I feel about being left alone, I feel sorry for the new kid.
~ * ~
The bullies did to the new kid what they used to do to me, stealing his pants at lunch, Chunky Fredericks and Stinky Peters fighting over who got to turn them into rags. Stinky, being bigger, finally won, and I think he tore the legs off with his teeth because when he ran by as the bell rang ending lunch he tossed the trousers at me and laughed, “Here, Bud, a little present!”
I returned them to the new kid, who was cowering on the ground, trying to cover himself up with pages from a ripped up notebook. I’ve got to say, seeing him close up, that he’s even weirder looking than I first thought—his legs are spindly and his face is long and oval shaped, the eyes too big and shaped like dark almonds.
“Here’s your pants,” I said, giving them to him.
“Thanks,” he said, in a thin, almost whispery voice.
