Brandon tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. It was a short drive from the Laboratory to Ridgemire High School, which allowed him to beat most of the rush hour traffic. Even so, there was a bit of a traffic jam at the main high school road. He rolled his eyes. Had the engineers who designed this road system never considered traffic was like fluid dynamics? It was almost as if they were trying to bottleneck the traffic in and out of this area. Or they were just too damn lazy to put in a traffic circle.
He scanned the sidewalk filled with students waiting for their parents to pick them up. He smirked as most of them gazed in awe at his car as it passed. It was a rare sight to see on the roads, red with silver highlight streaks and a spoiler on the back to give it a racecar look. He had even installed special tire plates that glowed redder the more the engine revved. It was only one of the many benefits of being a top scientist in the country.
As the line of cars crawled forward, he spotted Evan sitting on a bench at the end of the sidewalk. His brown hair ruffled in the wind as he pulled up the collar on his jacket. He barely looked up when Brandon stopped his car in front of him.
Brandon smiled at Evan as he got in the passenger seat and closed the door. "How's my rock star doing?"
Evan hunched his shoulders and sighed. "Alright."
Brandon raised an eyebrow as he pulled into the middle lane and drove away. "Doesn't sound 'alright' to me, what's going on?"
"Nothing, it's fine," he said, gazing out the passenger side window.
"No, don't avoid it. Tell me what's up."
"I don't wanna talk about it."
Brandon shrugged. "Well, if don't tell me and whatever it is gets worse, then later on you will have to tell me and will be far more unpleasant."
Evan scoffed and hugged his backpack tighter. After a few seconds, he spoke. "I don't think anyone likes me."
Brandon furrowed his eyebrows. "Really? What makes you say that? I've seen you plenty of times walking around with kids after school."
"I do know a lot of students," Evan admitted," but nobody ever seems to want to hang out with just me. It's always with one of their friends as well, and then they mostly talk to each other. Sometimes it's like I'm not even there."
Brandon glanced at his son with concern. "Surely they include you in their conversations."
"Mostly for answers to homework questions. They don't do much else with me."
"And you still stick around with them? Have you tried to find other friends?"
"Yeah, but then when they discover how much I read, they just drift away. They stop calling me Evan and start calling me Norallis again."
"Ah," Brandon said, nodding his head. "I see what's happening."
"What?"
"You're too smart for all of them, and the other kids your age don't like feeling stupid. All they want is to feel 'cool'."
"I'm not sure that's it. I never try to make them feel stupid. Besides, math is cool. Science is cool. Aether crystals are cool." He looked at Brandon, his eyes glossy with tears. "I don't understand."
Brandon put a hand on his son's shoulder and looked at him, while making sure to keep the car from drifting out of the lane. "Hey, don't worry, bud. You'll find your group eventually. The world just isn't ready for someone like you yet. Maybe when you get to college you'll find some people willing to nerd out with you. But until then, you're going to have to grow a thick skin to how people treat you."
Evan stared off into the distance in contemplation.
Brandon was taking him to his after-school job at the local crystal refinery. From a young age, Evan had been inspired to create technology and gadgets using Aether crystals. Brandon and his wife both supported his passion, but they told him that if he wanted to create things on his own, he would need to earn the money to buy all the parts and crystals. Initially, Evan complained that they had more than enough money to buy the things he needed, but they convinced him that he would value his work much more if all the work he did was actually his. That meant making the money in order to make the gadgets, and so Evan had chosen to work at the crystal refinery. Brandon knew the CEO of the mining company that owned the refinery, so it was the least he could do to help his son.
He dropped Evan off at the front gate. "See you tonight, bud."
"Yep," Evan said, leaving his backpack in the car. He had already put on his work boots and hat. He fist-pumped the guard that held the gate open for him.
"Try not to steal so many crystals this time!" Brandon yelled, winking at the guard who smiled and nodded back.
He drove to the University where he taught his night class. He had a couple hours to spare before it started, so he used that time to scan through his emails. The first one that caught his eye was a personal email from the Dean. All it said was "When convenient, meet me in my office". It didn't even have her usual signature. He raised his eyebrows. She rarely communicated so bluntly with him.
The walk across campus to her office was filled with anticipation. He knocked quietly on her door and heard the quiet response. "Come in."
Dean Eleanor Warvick's office was wide with bookshelves bordering the windows. A giant clock hung on the wall behind her, and her wide desk was orderly. She was examining some paperwork as Brandon opened the door. Her gray hair was tied in a bun and hear earrings both had tiny Aether crystals implanted in them, giving her face a soft red glow from both sides. Only her eyes moved to look at him above her reading glasses and that was the moment his heart sank.
His mind flashed back to when Marvain had showed him the stack of complaints from his students. This wasn't going to be pleasant.
He managed a casual tone of voice. "You wanted to see me, Eleanor?"
"Yes, please take a seat," she said, motioning softly to one of the chairs in front of her desk. Brandon sat and bent a leg up, putting his ankle on his other knee. He wanted to start a casual conversation, but the way she set the papers aside and straightened her posture gave him pause.
"I assume you have seen the letters I have forwarded to you from your own students," she started, using her tone as though talking to a naughty toddler. "I hope I do not have to explain what this meeting is about."
"Well..." Brandon pursed his lips, looking away. "I did see the outside of the unopened letters, but I have not had a chance to look at them yet."
"Then, just in case you haven't caught on yet, let me enlighten you. Your students hate the way you teach." She looked at him stoically, waiting for his reaction.
Brandon shrugged. "You can't really please everyone. In all honesty, I do the best I can, and I'm passionate about what I teach."
"I understand," Eleanor said, nodding. "But let me repeat myself. Your students hate the way you teach. Not just a vocal minority, nearly all of them. And I don't need to get letters from them to tell. I can hear the gossip in the hallways, I can see it on their faces, and even in some forums online. Yes, Aetheric Mechanics might be on the forefront of science, and yes, you might be the one leading it, but this type of class shouldn't be leaving students discouraged and deflated when they leave the room. I never thought I'd say this, but Brandon you must realize that not everyone is as smart as you, so stop expecting them to be."
"Ma'am," he said in a more forceful tone. "You are aware that this is the most difficult course we offer—"
"There is a huge difference between a difficult subject and a difficult teacher," she asserted, her gaze boring into his. "The more difficult the subject, the more compassionate and understanding the teacher needs to be. Have you ever wondered why, in your first four years of teaching here, that by the end of the semester the size of your class is nearly half of what it was at the beginning?"
"From what I recall, most of those were due to failing grades."
"You may be technically correct, but it might benefit you to ask yourself why, at such a prestigious college, so many students are struggling. Has it occurred to you that the way you present the information might just as important, or even more important, than the information itself? That maybe something as simple as your tone of voice could affect the learning ability of your students?"
"Are you suggesting I be as condescending as you are right now?"
"I am doing that to illustrate my point. Doesn't feel too great, now does it?" She tilted her head in mock wondering. Then, she took a deep breath and her expression softened. "My point is, your job as a teacher is to not only teach the students the information, but to get them to want to learn the information as well."
She opened her palm up and pointed it towards the ceiling. "You want them to open up. The more open they are, the more information they will naturally absorb and understand, without increasing the number of study hours on their part. But when students become afraid of being hurt emotionally from the way you deliver the information..." She slowly closed her hand until her fingertips touched her thumb. "They close down and absorb way less of it. The passion that they do have lessens, and some lose their passion altogether."
Brandon had his chin resting in the palm of his hand. "I don't know, I always thought some of my passion always rubbed off on them."
"I have listened to a few of your lectures over the years," Eleanor said, "and there has always been one constant: your apparent frustration as soon as someone shows that they don't immediately grasp what you are saying. You said Aetheric Mechanics is the most difficult course we offer, and that is my point. I'm not asking you to curve your exams even more than you already do, but you are going to have to get used to repeating yourself multiple times each class. Work on your tone, be more understanding, maybe just smile more often. Just change something, Brandon, because if you stay this way, we will be forced to find someone else to take your position. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, nodding. The smile he gave almost physically hurt. "Smile more often, got it."
She smiled back gently. "That's a good start. Let it be the foundation for the other two."
He sighed, his gaze wandering around the room. He drummed his fingers on his kneecap. "Yep."
"Fantastic." Eleanor gathered the papers she was reading earlier and tapped them on the desk to straighten them out. "Your torture session has concluded. You are free to leave. Enjoy your evening, Brandon."
He shot up from the chair. "You too, ma'am."
He speed-walked back to his office, hoping that his face wasn't so red that other people noticed.
Back in his office, he slumped into his chair. He blinked for a few seconds, wondering if what he had experienced had actually happened. He shook his head and decided combing through his emails would help him get his mind off things.
The latest email was from just a few minutes ago. It was from a cryptic-looking email address made up of random letters. How had it not been flagged by the spam filter? The title was "The Crystals". Curious, he opened it up. He wasn't too afraid of a potential virus, and he knew not to click on suspicious links anyway. The entire body of the email was just one line.
"Where are the crystals?" Brandon read aloud. He scratched his chin. Did the sender mean the crystals he had just reported on? As far as he knew, they were being kept in a safe at the Lab until further notice, but that was highly classified information.
Smirking, he typed a single line in response: "Up your ass."
He clicked send.
The next hour was spent surfing the news websites. Most of it was bad news of course. A good portion of it was political drama and a smaller portion was sports drama. He read some mildly interesting stories, then he came upon an article about a recent police report from the other side of Ridgemire. The investigation concerned the sudden disappearance of a local scientist, Mike Ginger, who was also doing research on Aether crystals. The investigation had gone on for the last year, and the only piece of evidence they had was mysterious intersection camera footage. One camera showed his car making a right-hand turn, while another camera that looked at the same corner from a different angle showed no cars present at the intersection. The footages were compared dozens of times using different times throughout the day, and they all showed exactly the same events except that one.
The conclusion of the article that the local police department was probably going to declare the case cold soon, as they have not found any new leads since after the first month of investigation.
Well, that is going to change soon. He thought. If the Aether crystal his lab had examined had something to do with this missing scientist, the police were probably on their way to making that connection. It could be a coincidence, of course.
He shook the thought from his head. In no way would he want to get any more involved with the police than he already was. All he wanted was to do science and teach science. Any more than that, no thanks.
Today's class started at sunset and would last the usual two hours. Since it was at the beginning of the semester, Brandon was still covering the basics of how Aether crystals can be used to power machinery. During the second half of the class, he announced their first project of the semester. It was to be a crystal-powered simple motor that had adjustable speed.
When he asked if there were any questions, a student near the back of the room raised his hand and Brandon called on him. "Yes, Jase?"
"Can we work with a partner?"
Brandon leaned his hip against the desk at the front of the room. "Well, I did just say it was an individual project. However, you are allowed to give each other tips and pointers if you get stuck. Don't be afraid to ask your peers for help. Just for clarification, each one of you will be turning in your own motor that you created." Just then, he remembered his earlier lecture from Eleanor. He hadn't done anything she said yet.
"And if you're still stuck, you can always ask me," he added, trying to not make his smile too awkward.
His wrist monitor beeped its normal ringtone. He glanced down and saw Evan was calling him. Putting a finger up to the rest of the class, he transferred the call to his earpiece so the conversation was more private.
"Hey, bud. What's going on? You know I'm still teaching class, right?"
There was panicked breathing coming from the other side. Evan's voice was weak. "Dad... I'm gonna die..."
"What!" Brandon shouted, making several of his students jump in surprise. "Evan, what happened? Are you still at the refinery?"
Evan took a few hyperventilated breaths. "S-Someone just s-stabbed me. Hurts so m-much."
"Shit!" Brandon's mind raced as adrenaline coursed through his body. Why was this happening, and why now? "Okay, I'm coming Evan. Just stay with me, I'm calling the paramedics."
His legs had automatically taken him toward the classroom exit. At the last moment, he glanced back at the class. "We're done early today. You're free to go!"
He sprinted down the hallway.