Chương 42: Hijack

I don't think I could've left that classroom any faster than if my ass was on fire. Trudging out with my metaphorical tail between my legs, I saw Billy parked along the side of the road. He yelled out from the driver window.

"So I thought your next class was like... adjacent to this building. Turns out it was actually a drive away and when I told Tancred I was on the way back he screamed at me for about eight minutes and told me to get back here. Sorry!" Shaking my head, I clambered into the car.

"I had no idea either, I appreciate it. All I know is I'm supposed to be at something called Nau Hall." Billy nodded, driving off.

"Yep. It's one of the main buildings down South. Five minute drive, so you should have time to find your class." Small blessings. The drive was quick and quiet, and I was dropped off in front of a large, also brick, building. It projected out two wings, while the front recessed inwards with a vast array of glass windows. To be honest with you, it looked more like a hospital than a college to me.

Following along with a nearby flood of other students into the building, I had to follow more abstract signage across hallways of mixed masonry. Tile floors, brick walls randomly interspersed with stripes of grey cobblestone. Among the many things I was not prepared for, it was the relentlessly tacky interior designs of these buildings. Maybe it was designed by first year students. The signs were at least relatively helpful, much less of a scramble to find the room, which did manage to surprise me a little.

All the other rooms were relatively small affairs. This one was massive. Easily meant to fit two hundred. Instead of a flat form, it was almost like a bowl, dipping down towards the center. The seats were packed, and I only managed to get one near the exit by sheer luck. If I were a second later the person behind me would've taken it. Towards that dip in the center of a room was a... Was it a window? Windows don't usually bulge out into a bubble like that. But there it was, a little bubble.

Inside the bubble was a desk with a computer, a stack of papers, and some devices pointing towards it. Next to the bubble, on the wall, was a screen that had some plain text on it. PLAP 1010 INTRODUCTION TO AMERICAN POLITICS OR, "HOW I LEARNED TO START WORRYING" Also in the bubble was a little man. Probably about Romi's height, now that I thought about it. He wore a thick brown jacket, a red bowtie, and thick plastic-framed glasses that made it look like his face was three-quarters just eyes.

His hair was neatly kept. He was also imperceptibly old. Thick wrinkles, jowls despite not looking heavy-set. He wasn't too easy to see for one reason, however: Smoke. He was smoking something that was pluming up enough smoke that it almost looked like he was in a snowglobe. After a solid ten seconds of close examination, I realized what was happening was he was smoking two cigarettes at the same time, both crested between the same pair of fingers.

As the initial rustle of new student conversation ended, sound erupted from either side of us. Speakers.

"Alright alright, settle down. I need to introduce myself." Odd voice. Thick accent, but not foreign. New York?

"I am David Schreiber. I am, technically, a professor, but I hate the term because I profess nothing, I rant on end about politics to people who are paying too much money. And if any of you know Yiddish, no commentary on the fact your little Jewish politics teacher's last name is 'Writer.'" There was a small eruption of giggles.

"Yeah yeah, shut up," he dismissed.

"It ain't even my last name, it's my wife's. My original last name was Karlssen. But she's prettier so I took her last name." More laughter.

"I'm not a comedian here, folks! Anyways, I was a lawyer for twenty years, I served on President Carter's administration, and for the following thirty years I made the psychotic decision to get into political scholarship. This decision is what has gotten me into my favorite habit, of smoking. As this has been a non-smoking college for the past four years, I paid out of pocket to have the window extended. Because now I smoke OUTDOORS." The professor gestured to the bubble he was in.

The daylight poured in from behind him.

"I am no hypochondriac. If you see me out and about, you can shake my hand. This bubble is because I love smoking. They say it kills you, but I'm 80 years old and I walk ten miles a day and am just as spry as I was at 40. But it smells bad, so don't copy me." Despite claiming to not be a comedian, he was still getting laughs.

"Right, so let me start with my little introduction for the course itself. You're all allowed to interrupt and ask questions, by the way, because this is a really boring slideshow with just words and pictures." He tapped something on his computer, and the screen moved to a question in plain text. WHAT IS POLITICS?

"What is politics, folks? To quote political scientist and former associate of mine — no bad blood, he's just been dead for almost fifty years — Harold Laswell, 'Politics is who gets what, when, how.' Personally, I define politics by violence. It's the sandbags to block off the flood of violence. Of course, violence is how someone gets what, when, how, but that's besides the point." Another tap on the computer, a picture of some riot. Seemed old. Wondered if he was participating in that.

An amusing age, a little chainsmoking man in a riot.

"In the sphere of American politics, violence was instead used as the hammer to nail politics into the country, with the little piece of toilet paper called the Articles of Confederation, followed by the far more robust Constitution that recognizes my right to call American political doctrine toilet paper. Only useful thing it does, folks." More laughter erupted. His dismissiveness reminded me a bit of Tancred. Now that was a mental image, him trying to give one of these lectures.

He'd have likely already brandished a firearm. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

"The most important thing about it though, is the separation of powers. Using the violence definition of politics, we keep the people a little more safe by making sure the powers of the politicians are balanced by making them all rival sports teams." Separation of powers. That's why Tancred couldn't just order cops around and had to ask for help from the chief. A student's voice broke out.

"Which power handles the superhero jurisdiction? Aren't they vigilantes?" Well. He wasn't wrong. The professor waved dismissively with his smoking hand, causing it to billow about more aggressively.

"We'll get to that. The Chicago Act is what's called a federal statute, basically a very broadly enforced law, and that lets it preempt things like state law. But enforcement is executive, which is a big mess for a lot of reasons. That's a week eight problem, for now we're focusing on what us mere mortals get." Another clack as a new slide comes up. Seems to be a weirdly over-produced image of two people in suits yelling at each other.

"In terms of actual class structure, we're supposed to do discussions, which I have my TAs handle. Not because I don't want to, but because I'd debate you all into the ground. I talked Carter out of invading Canada for peanut pasture." Every other sentence from this man got laughter from the students.

"In terms of actual work, you have three exams which you'll study for with your required textbooks. One of them WILL be on that superhuman regulatory framework, by the way, but we're getting to that after I teach you things about the power branches, judiciaries, interest groups, the like. You gotta learn your times tables before we get to calculus." So that's why I got this class. I would bet money that Tancred suggested it, some way to "teach" me a justification for why everything is the way it is.

That, or he thought this would be an efficient way to torture me. Either were likely.

"And since I was requested I do a grading metric this time because they hate how inscrutable my actual systems are, your discussions with the TAs will be annotated and documented, which I will then grade appropriately based on an internal set of factors like participation and articulation. I may even sit in on some. Those are gonna be the hard ones for you kids. Right, any other questions?" The slideshow moved to a new entry, where it simply said THE END! WELCOME TO POLITICS!

Accompanying the text was a cat hanging from a tree. One student brought a hand up, and Schreiber pointed to them.

"You, sweater-vest."

"Did you have any weird cases when you were a lawyer?" Schreiber waved dismissively.

"No, I was only a case lawyer for two years. I moved into arbitrations and hearings between political lobbies pretty quickly. And before you ask: No, nothing weird there. Unless you think donations from Big Ag are weird. Which they are, but senate finds them normal." Some more laughter, followed by silence.

"... What, nothing from you guys? Usually I get more questions. You know what, I'm gonna take that as you all being smarty-pantses. Don't disappoint me on that. As your reward for being smarty-pantses, class is dismissed early. I'm giving you all a homework assignment for next class, though: Find a government representative. Could be a cop, a mayoral staffer, a town hall clerk, doesn't matter. Ask them about their least favorite form of red tape."

Unfortunately, I had a great sample of a government representative with Tancred. But I bet any red tape he'd be willing to admit to wouldn't be very constructive. The class all stood up and we flooded out of the exit doors, spilling across the halls in different directions. This was another time to wander, learn more of the building. Entrances and exits would be key, both the natural ones and the ones I could just make through brute force.

Wandering those halls without any set destination for quite some time felt almost meditative. I could just keep track of where I was while letting my mind wander. Tancred wouldn't make for a good question for the red tape stuff. Maybe Billy? But he was just a driver, really. Not much he could talk about. Did Eliza count? She was apparently part of some group called SHERPA. They might not count as government, though. Maybe talk to one of the admin staff people? They probably wouldn't have much.

Wasn't really keen on talking to cops. They worked under Tancred's ex-wife, and if she projected her opinions of him onto us, they might make conversation difficult. Then again, they wouldn't be familiar with us out-of-suit. The chief would, but the rest of them wouldn't. Hopefully. That'd be a massive security hole. At this point I was in a part of the building that seemed to have no one in it. This might make for a good hide-out spot in an emergency, similar to that empty area at Piedmont.

Retracing my steps mentally, I figured the basic directions for getting there. Another spot in the catalog for gathering my thoughts at least, and I just had to keep my mouth shut. One sign caught my eye: LIBRARY AUX What did aux mean? Extra? Was it like a French word? Wasn't sure. Curiosity got the better of me as I pushed the door open. Not a large room. Plain, pale yellow concrete walls. A set of bookshelves lined a back wall. There were a few different tables.

Three desks with computers on them, plus a large grey contraption with the top half flipped open, revealing a set of lenses within. Those weren't the interesting part, however. Instead, sitting at one of the tables was... May? Why the Hell-"Why the Hell are you here?" I asked, my voice interrupting my own thoughts. May shot up in shock, her eyes flaring with light as she saw me.

"Oh! Shit, Leo? What are you doing here?"

"I was wandering. I hadn't seen anyone here at all, and just went into this room because I was curious about the sign. Now why are you here?"

"Oh, I'm in an independent study block on my schedule. I just wanted somewhere private, and I just... looked for signs of activity by copying Jairo's electromagnetic sight thing. No one was around, so I knew it'd be quiet."

"That's... convenient," I pointed out. She shrugged.

"Sheer luck. I nearly was in the next room over but it smelled like cat litter. We're not that far out of the way anyway, two halls down is full of people. Finding a really empty area is hard." Trudging over to her, I took a seat at the same table.

"That makes sense, I guess. So what have your classes been?" May clicked her pen before setting it down.

"I'm in a couple of law classes on Mondays, I've got a physics course that focuses on optics and light, and I've gotten a free pass for afternoon drama classes if I want, but I'm not hard-assigned to them. I might go on Wednesdays, I don't know." There was a nod from me.

"I see. I have the acting class here, and I also have an intro to politics class. The professor for that one was... strange."

"How so?"

"Sat in a glass bubble, smoking like a chimney, making jokes constantly. I don't know what I expected, just wasn't that."

"Oh, you got Professor Schreiber. He's pretty popular since he's a great analyst. I wanted to get a class with him but by the time I was first applying he was all booked up." This isn't the conversation I wanted to have. I had to ask about Tyson.

"I see," I conceded, before preparing for a segue.

"Hey, do you-" Buzzing. Not like when I take hard impacts. Not a sound. Just like the air became textured. May noticed it too. I could see her eyes widen. The door clicked as it opened behind us. Turning towards the sound, the buzzing stopped. Instead, what we saw was quite the surprise. Older. Stony face. Blue eyes that bored into you. It was him. The journalist that made Tancred flee. Holden Worth. How did he know we were here?