The DollHouse

Chapter Two

I put thoughts of the Lessers to the back of my mind and head to class. My first class is History, which suits me fine. Mr. Cassidy drones on about dead people who - only occasionally, as far as I'm concerned - do something interesting: build an empire, run it into ruin, fight primitive wars with guns and bombs. Mr. Cassidy doesn't require any level of commitment from you, which is ideal. You can tune in when something piques your interest, or you can stay out of it until exams come up. My kind of teacher.

I haven't been listening closely today, until I realise he is talking about The Dollhouse. But by the time I start to pay attention, he has already moved onto Benjamin Smithill.

"And when young Benjamin Smithill drew up the treaty for the cities," Mr. Cassidy begins, clearing his throat. "He believed it prudent to immortalize therein the knowledge that in a time as recently as our own civilisation, there had been more than five cities rising from the great wilderness of our planet. And that, had we a diligent justice system, we might have kept it that way." I tune out again before he drones on some more about how the Lesser system, holding back 'the filth of society', will mean the great rise of humanity once more, and wonder instead why he was talking about The Dollhouse. Mr Cassidy doesn't usually stray from his classroom topics, unless it is to give a general notice. And those are over so fast you can blink and miss them.

The lesson ends and we move onto P.E. The Lessers crowd in and sweep down the stadium floor, preparing it for us. When the soccer nets come up, everyone cheers. Even I feel like cheering, since it's pretty easy to do nothing in soccer. If you don't want the ball, they're not going to give it to you. Simple.

We take positions and start running. The ball flies away from me halfway down the court, taken over by the other team. I figure I may as well stop running, since there's no real point. Just as I decide to lose all pretense at trying, the soccer ball comes flying at me.

Unfortunately, the problem with giving up is that your reflexes tend to give up as well. The soccer ball knocks me straight in the head.

"I'm fine!" I call out as Mr. Edwards runs over. I wave it off and walk over to the side, but he won't have it.

"Tess," he calls to one of the girls sitting on the side of the court, crutches leaning on the wall next to her. "Can you take Cam to the sick bay?"

Tess drops her head like, "are you an idiot?", but picks up her crutches and starts swinging her way out of the stadium. I follow some distance behind.

Tess drops me at the sick bay and hobbles back without a word, lest she miss any of the boys taking their shirts off. The nurse signs me in and leads me to a spare bed where she gets me to lie down and warns me not to go to sleep. To make sure this doesn't happen, she sends a Lesser in to watch over me, which is a role I haven't seen them do before, since I've never been at risk of a concussion. I find the task particularly creepy.

The Lesser assumes a stance near the bed as the nurse leaves. I frown as I realise it is the Lesser from this morning. He must be assigned to the sick bay after the morning duties. I glare at him. He stares back and I swear he still looks amused.

"Why the hell did you stick a bomb on your teacher's chair?" I ask suddenly.

His eyes widen slightly, before his face slips quickly back into unreadable stoicism.

I've broken an unwritten rule. I didn't give him an order, or ask him a question related to an order. I've communicated with him. He probably thinks it's a trap.

"I mean it," I say. "Why would you do something like that?" I wave my hand, irritated, not even sure why I'm asking this kind of question when the answer is obvious: because I'm a bad person, it said so, right there on the bit of paper that told me I failed the test and would need to be segregated from all manner of privileged society.