Chapter One
Socrates Jones
Cameron's Academy class was scheduled to be the last two periods of the school day. However, high school classes wouldn't start for another week, so he would attend his first five Academy classes from his bedroom. The problem was his football practice had already begun two-a-day drills — one practice in the morning and one in the afternoon. While the schedule would be fine when he was able to attend class at his high school, it meant, until then, he had to rush off to practice the second the IHT class was over.
Cameron opened the IDO box, removed his IHT, and placed it in his pocket. He then sat down at his desk and studied the instruction sheet he had printed out. "Power," he said as his attention shifted from the instructions to the class roll.
Cameron's class consisted of eight students. He, Rosa, and Becky were the Americans in the group. (Malik lived in the Eastern Time Zone, so he was assigned to another homeroom.) Two of the four Canadian students,Andre Martin and Ian McKierny, were on the list as were both Mexican students, Consuela Martinez and Raul Garza. Eduardo Casteneda from Costa Rica rounded out the class.
"It is almost time, Cameron," said Sam. "I am looking forward to the class."
Cameron was only half listening to Sam because he was checking the time on his pocket watch IHT. "Thank you, Sam," he said before he grasped the meaning of Sam's words. "Wait a minute! What do you mean you're looking forward to the class?"
"Cameron, didn't you read the entire syllabus? All student IHTs are to attend the first day of class."
"I wonder what that means?"
"No need to waste time on conjecture, Cameron. We shall find out in a few minutes."
Cameron's impatience got the best of him. He held the face of the pocket watch up to the screen for Sam to see. "Do you think it's too early to go?"
"Someone has to be first," said Sam.
"Okay Sam, please initiate log-in RUSH-678-WEST."
"Voice authorization verified. Command code accepted."
Cameron's room faded away. When the Academy classroom took shape, Cameron was very disappointed. He was sitting in an ordinary school desk in a normal-looking classroom. A row of windows was to his left, and the class door was located towards the front of the room, in the wall to his right. Chalkboards covered the front wall behind the teacher's desk, which was located near the windows. A small lectern stood a few feet to the right of the desk.
"Not what I expected," someone said from behind. There was something familiar about the voice. Cameron turned to see a kindly, older man seated in the desk directly behind him. He was just a tad overweight and balding. The man was dressed very prim and proper in a suit with a vest. He looked like a butler or servant of some sort. Cameron squinted, trying to place the face.
The man raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the surroundings. "I was expecting something more modern — something eye-catching. Weren't you?"
"Sam?" Cameron was bemused by his AI's physical appearance.
The man turned to Cameron and regarded him with kind eyes. "Yes, Cameron?"
"Is that really you?"
"Why, of course." Sam's voice was a much more human version of his real-world voice. "Is something the matter?"
Just then, two new people faded in, then two more. Giggles from the back of the room announced Becky's arrival. The others followed her quickly.
Rosa was sitting in the front row, next to the windows. She craned her neck, taking in the entire room. She smiled when her eyes met Cameron's. She continued around the room until she came to the blond girl seated directly behind her. The girl looked like she had stepped out of a movie from the 1950s. She was wearing a fuzzy white sweater and a pink skirt. She had a ribbon in her hair and was chewing anxiously on a wad of gum. Rosa's hand rose to her mouth, covering a laugh. "Vee!"
Cameron took his turn examining the room, paying particular attention to the seats that were apparently assigned to the multiCom AIs. He noticed Becky's AI could have been a twin sister. While the AIs ranged in appearance from paternal, to sibling, to perhaps "best friend," Sam was quite unique. He looked like an English manservant. Weird, thought Cameron.
A bell rang and a thin, wiry man with longish, graying hair entered through the door. Wire-rimmed, half-moon shaped glasses w ere perched low on his slender, pointy nose. He set some notes on the podium, turned, picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote on the board in big letters:
"I am your homeroom teacher, Mr. Socrates Jones," said the man. He was dressed in well-worn brown slacks with a tweed jacket pulled over a turtleneck sweater. "Welcome to the IHT Academy. Your homeroom number is 678-West." Mr. Jones scrawled the number on the board then clasped his hands behind his back as he proceeded to walk among the students' desks. He came to a stop next to Cameron. "Mr. Rush, do you have any idea as to the significance of your homeroom number?"
Cameron froze. "Uh?"
"Incorrect, Mr. Rush!" The teacher moved on to another desk. "Miss Weingold?" Young Becky could only answer with nervous giggles. "How about you, Mr. Casteneda? What is the significance of your homeroom number?" The boy from Costa Rica fared no better than Cameron. "Well, this is a rather slow start, isn't it?" asked Socrates Jones. "And you, Miss Martinez?"
"Could the 'West' refer to the Western Hemisphere?" Her voice cracked as she spoke.
"Very good, Miss Martinez," said Mr. Jones. "Very good, but incorrect. Mr. McKeirny, why was Miss Martinez's answer good while being incorrect?"
"Well, because… I mean…"
Socrates Jones put his hand on Ian's shoulder. "You mean because she set out a rational supposition based on the facts she had. Don't you, Mr. McKeirny?"
"Uh, sure… I guess."
"That's what I thought." Mr. Jones patted the boy's shoulder as he spoke, then he returned to Consuela Martinez. "Why did you think 'west' referred to the Western Hemisphere, Miss Martinez?"
"Well… Um… This is an international academy, is it not?"
"Go on," said Socrates.
"There are students from many time zones around the world…" Consuela's eyes grew large with realization. "That's the key isn't it?"
Socrates Jones smiled at the girl and held out a finger, motioning her to be quiet. "Mr. Martin, what is the key that Consuela has discovered?"
"She realized that west wasn't a geographical description," said Andre, "at least not in the sense of a world hemisphere."
"Mr. Garza," the teacher was walking to the podium at the front of the room, "continue the thought, please."
"Then it has to do with the time zones?" asked the student from Mexico, his voice rising in pitch at the end of his sentence.
"Is that a question or a statement, Mr. Garza?" Mr. Jones peered over his glasses at the boy who sat directly in front of the lectern.
"It has to do with the time zones, sir," said Raul as confidently as he could.
"And how can the word 'west' describe a time zone, Miss Costas?"
"The international date line?" Rosa was filled with anxiety. "I mean, the international date line!" She could feel the sweat bead up on her brow.
"Mr. Casteneda…" Socrates Jones started to move on.
"No, not the international dateline." Rosa was desperate not to lose her opportunity. "That doesn't fit. We're located east of the dateline. It refers to Greenwich Mean Time!"
"Okay, Mr. Casteneda, now, if Miss Costas is finished, it is your turn again. What is Greenwich Mean Time?"
"It has to do with latitude… er… longitude… I… uh… I don't remember…" Eduardo fell silent and looked down at his hands clasped on his desk in front of him. "If I had my multiCom…" he muttered under his breath.
"I am right here, behind you, Eduardo," said the boy's multiCom AI. Eduardo's AI looked and acted like an older brother.
"Manuel," said Eduardo, twisting in his seat, "I forgot you were you."
"Exactly!" said Socrates Jones. The teacher lifted something from the lectern. It was a small, handheld device of some sort. He tapped it with a finger. The room morphed into a vast meadow. The students sat next to their personal AIs on wooden benches arranged in a close circle. Socrates Jones stood in the center of the circle. He was now attired in jeans and a sweatshirt with the words JUST ASK emblazoned on the front. Socrates slid the device into his pants pocket as he took a deep breath of fresh air scented with the aroma of wild flowers. "This is more like it! Now, where were we? Ah, yes? If only you had your multiCom, Mr. Casteneda. Anyone have a theory as to why Mr. Casteneda made that comment, even though his multiCom AI was sitting right behind him?"
The students looked at each other, hoping someone else had the answer. Becky Weingold's AI timidly raised her hand. "Is it okay for us to speak?"
"Whenever you are a member of this class, you are welcome to participate."
"Could it be…" She looked to Socrates for direction, "Can I ask questions, or do I have to make statements?"
Socrates pointed to the words on his shirt.
"Could it be," Becky's AI proposed, "because our users don't see us for who we are? Could it be because they see us simply as tools?"
– End Chapter One –
