The Misadventures of Samantha and Malcolm/Chapter 2 1st Day of School

(Disclaimer: This story features… you know what, I am not in the mood for something that needs a disclaimer, this is just a light little chapter without any controversial elements to it. I’ll get to the edgy stuff in the next chapter. I’m just gonna have some fun with this.) “That’s very good Anthony… and such neat printing too. Your momma must have helped you practice!” complimented the aptly named Ms. Fessee.

“Yes, Ms. Fessee… My momma helps me a lot…!” said Paco…tah, that is, Anthony. Ms Fesse continued to wander the desks of her pupils, stealing an occasional glance at a page, the first day and last days of school were when students would be most likely to slip up. On the first day the children are all getting accustomed to new regulations, and on the last day they are about to be released from those regulations. She already had to distribute two red files to two of the first timers. She resolved to check on the other newbies. The teacher stepped beside Malcolm and eyed his page, then a look of confusion crossed her face.

“Malcolm,” she said.

“Yes ma’am?” asked Malcolm as he put down his pencil and made eye contact with his teacher

“I assigned you pages one through three,” she stated.

“Oh, I finished those,” assured Malcolm, turning the pages to confirm.

“What are you doing on page six?” asked Ms. Fessee.

“Well,” said Malcolm, “once I finished those I got bored and I just kept on going.” Ms. Fessee checked his work, finding no errors at all.

“Well Malcolm,” suggested Ms. Fessee, “Why don’t you work on the home work I assigned this morning.”

“Oh, I finished that at recess!” said Malcom.



“I see my momma,” said Paco.

“I see my mommy too,” said Jaydee. “We’re in for it now.”

Directly ahead of Jadee, Malcolm and Samantha Martin saw their own mommy. Releasing the multi-color rings of the walking rope, they rushed into her open arms.

“So, how was school?” Alison smiled.

“It was easy!” proclaimed Malcolm.

“All my friends were there!” proclaimed Samantha.

“And Jaydee and Anthony got in trouble!” said Malcolm

“And Principal Perskova came to class and…”

Malcolm and Samantha traded disjointed parts of the story back and forth on the entire walk back home. By the time the children wiped their feet on the mat, Alison was still rather in the dark. She set them down at the table and presented them both with a snack of yogurt.

“I was partially expecting a red file from at least one of you,” she said. “Samantha got one her first day last cycle, and you Malcolm are a first timer. But here I am, pleasantly disappointed.”

“Watching Jaydee and Anthony step out of line from the get go left an impression,” said Malcolm.

“And Principal Perskova left an impression on them,” said Samantha. “Twelve of her best impressions.”

“Each,” said Malcolm.

“I guess students are more casual around teachers on their planet,” said Alison.

“Wait…wait, WHAT!?” exclaimed Malcolm as Alison inhaled through her teeth. “Those were the extra planetary pennies?!” he was livid.

“You told me not to tell him, and then you just open up!” said Samantha.

“Oh, boy,” said Alison. It was too late. Malcolm was going through a litany of technical questions he was going to ask Jaydee and company. After failing to understand anything he said for some twenty seconds, she proclaimed “ORDER IN COURT!” and slapped her hand on the table. The resounding whap brought Malcolm to silence (and more pain to her hand than she thought).



Jet hung his coat on one of the pegs outside the garage, and entered the family room hearing the pitter patter of tiny bare feet.

“Daddy!” exclaimed Malcolm and Samantha as they each took hold of one of his legs.

“Whoa,” said Jet. “Suddenly my legs feel heavier!” he took several steps before he looked down and feigned surprise. “Heavens! My legs have turned into children,” he said. He scooped them both up in his arms. And started walking to the kitchen. “My keen senses of deduction tell me that you both enjoyed school today.” He got the same broken storytelling that Alison received.

“Your mother wagered me that one of you would be coming home with a red file.

“Jaydee and Anthony got red files,” said Samantha.

“What did they do to deserve such treatment?” asked their father.

“They called Ms. Fesse a bad name,” said Malcolm.

“They did!” exclaimed Jet.

“They called her a battle-ax,” elaborated Samantha

“Oh,” said Jet. “Still one should always show respect to one’s superiors.”

“If you have any,” said Malcolm. Jet stopped walking. Samatha mouth was in an open smile wordlessly saying ‘you’re gonna get it.’

“That was a quote from Mark Twain!” said Malcolm trying to smooth it over.

“Oh, so you only meant it as a classical reference,” mused Jet.

“Yes, sir.”

“And not an affront to my authority.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you know who your superiors are.”

“Yes, sir”

“Good, then you should have no problem making a complete list of your superiors before you go to bed tonight,” said Jet.

“Yes, sir,” said a dejected Malcolm.



Jet poked his head into the family room. Samantha was working on her homework while Malcolm was working on the list. Both Malcolm and Samantha were members of the “younger” generation.

The generation gap took on a new meaning on Paradisio. On this planet the gap existed between the generation that had survived the plague, and the children that were born after the fact. Amongst the upper generation, it was impossible to swing a stick without hitting someone who lost someone to the disease, or the emergency disposal of the infected bodies. Children watching their parents wither away, babies' bodies incinerated in their own homes, you never really get over something like that. Jet had lost his best friend and Alison had lost her first husband. The planetary quarantine completely isolated them from the rest of the galaxy.

At first the public outcry was against the government. But once the test results were in and the facts were known, the revelation that the vaccine was a fraud turned the public against the rest of the international community. The government extended the planetary quarantine to a policy of complete isolationism. In order to stay afloat, the ship building industry moved from transport to other fields of technology, and their advancements were significant: quantum sensors, ablative armor, wide dispersal neutralization devices, all made because the of the demand for keeping the planet safe from “the corrupt outside.”

But the younger generation did not have the same fear of the outside. You can’t tell a bunch of children that there is a big fascinating universe out there, that the means to explore it is within their grasp, and then tell them they will never see it.

Other nations on old Earth had attempted isolation, the Tokugawa shogunate of Japan, the USSR, both had closed their borders to keep their problems out. But in the end, both governments were brought down not by exterior attacks, but by revolutions from within.

So how long will it be? Thought Jet. How long until our children outnumber and override us?

“Um, dad?” asked Malcolm, interrupting his musing.

“Yes?” said Jet.

“I think I’ve finished my list,” said Malcolm. Jet took the datapad from his hand and started scrolling.

“Malcolm, this list has over a hundred entries,” said Jet.

“Well, Samantha suggested that I widen the parameters for the sake of being thorough,” said Malcolm.

“Myself, your mother, Samantha with an asterisk (rank directly dependant upon relative morality or naughtiness of the day, I’ll accept that), you listed every teacher in the school, the rest of the faculty, the judge at your trial…whoever puts cheese in the crust?”

“Whoever it is I love them,” said Malcolm.

“Yeah, me too,” said Jet with increasing humor. He skimmed the names on the list: “so and so and so, The RPG development house “Skyslam,” every soft time penny and up, every hard time penny over the age of 7…the ghost of Thomas Edison…”

“If you see him let me know,” said Malcolm. Jet continued.

“Every police officer…your old physics professor…the next door neighbors…the across the street neighbors…and the ghost of Hamlet’s father.” He was in a full chuckle.

“Daddy?” said Samantha.

“Yes,” said Jet.

“If Malcolm is done, could he please help me with my homework?” she asked.

“Yes, he may,“ said Jet, setting the pad on the desk and exiting, considering the matter of his son’s ‘somewhat’ disobedience closed.

“You were right!” wrote Malcolm on his notebook.

“Thanks!” she wrote back. “Now seriously, this problem never comes out right.”

“Let me see,” said Malcolm aloud. “Did you mean to subtract or divide here?” Samantha looked down at the page, and then slapped herself in the head. “Come on, we can do this together.”



…the next day

“Your first homework assignments have been graded. Let’s see how you did,” said Ms. Fesse. The numbers flashed upon the screen. Both Malcolm and Samantha’s hearts leapt. Both their names were colored the coveted clover green, they both scored 100! Their grades were the highest in the class! They were barely even aware of the four other children doomed to the foreground of the class. This was a good omen of things to come.