Fletcher knew Caston well enough to know that the man wouldn’t be anywhere within the field. The man hated Unhumans even more than the average Human, and it was a mystery as to how he was chosen for a job that involved them. After five total summers working at the Alcett Academy for Unhuman Education, Fletcher was used to dealing with Caston’s unpleasant nature.

  The first thing he did was jog back to the faculty apartments and put on something more presentable. It would be hard to avoid talking about the incident if he was still in the sopping wet clothing from it—even if it was partially from joining the dunktank fun. Changing with superhuman speed, Fletcher dressed in his best black slacks and a gray button down he liked to claim was lucky. He always wore it for tests or other big events, and he could use all the help he could get for what came next.

  With the addition of a black tie and his dress shoes, Fletcher was ready. His blond hair was still damp so he combed his fingers through it a couple of times in front of a mirror to get it into some kind of presentable fashion. It definitely wasn’t his best look, but given the situation, he didn’t think it was half-bad.

  In a flash, Fletcher was speed walking through the school corridors towards Caston’s office, but he was surprised to find it empty. As he was about to step out of the small, cramped room, his eyes crossed across the large calendar on the wall.

  “Crap,” Fletcher said, checking his electronic watch. According to Caston’s calendar, the school board meeting had started half an hour ago, before the awards ceremony, not after as the principal had told Fletcher.

  He shouldn’t be surprised about that kind of dirty trick. In fact, he should have expected it. It was his fault for not confirming the time with an outside source, and now he was going to pay dearly for it.

  Sprinting through the corridor, he slowed to a stop to catch his breath as he arrived at the mid-sized auditorium where angry voices echoed through the hallways. It appeared civility was already failing, which was only going to make his job harder.

  The only good news about this mixup was that it meant Caston definitely wouldn’t have the most recent [Skill] fight to weaponize against taking the program full time. But the other problem was that Fletcher was about to face a room with a whole variety of Unhumans, and there was always a small chance one of them might be able to discern that he wasn’t completely Human. Not to mention the Humans in the room didn’t sound particularly happy either.

  “If you can persuade a bunch of teenagers to like math, you can persuade a group of reasonable adults that education is important for everyone, regardless of species,” he murmured to himself as he straightened his tie. There was no need to overthink things and worry about something like Hexing right now.

  Taking a deep breath in, Fletcher pushed the door open and walked into chaos.

  The auditorium was designed to fit five hundred or so, and about a third of the seats were taken. Humans—bussed in from Alcett—and Unhumans—brought in from various border cities—had been very exact in dividing down the middle so the right reflected Fletcher’s species and the left was composed of a mixture of the other various species to be found across the merged planet. There were guards from both sides at the aisles, and they all looked ready to jump into a fight.

  On the stage sat a table with four chairs. Principal Caston was at the far end, looking almost pleased with the disarray. The one next to him held the head of Alcett’s education program, Secretary Jones. She did nothing to hide her obvious glee in the argument ensuing below.

  At the other end of the table was Madam Sunlight, a [Jinn] who oversaw the Unhuman Education Program within the colony. She had the same general form as a Human but with yellow hair, skin, and eyes, and her body had a translucent feel to it. She wore typical business clothes associated with Humans given she worked among them.

  An empty chair, likely reserved for him, separated the two Humans from their Unhuman counterpart.

  “Mr. Anders. Glad you could make it,” Secretary Jones greeted him with a malicious grin as he walked onto the stage. It was no secret that she would rather Alcett cut all ties to Unhuman education, something that seemed to be growing in popularity among the citizens of the colony.

  “Fletcher. Finally,” Sunlight sighed as he took his spot next to her. “Whatever happened to you? You might be the only one who can save the summer program at this point.”

  “I thought this was about a full-time program,” Fletcher whispered back as Principal Caston stood to draw the crowd in from their yelling.

  “It was. But Jones and Caston managed to convince the Humans that having any kind of program for the Unhumans is damaging their kids’ education,” Sunlight explained in a breath.

  “Of course they did.” Fletcher bit his lip, but he wasn’t about to back down. Everyone deserved a chance at education, Human or not.

  “And now, our chief Human proponent for creating a full-time Unhuman education program, Mr. Fletcher Anders,” Caston called out.

  Fletcher stood with a smile to accept the microphone from him.

  “Slides?” the principal asked with a knowing look.

  “Don’t need them,” Fletcher replied.

  A lie.

  His already prepared presentation with data and figures to back up his points would have been a huge help in trying to convince a bunch of already rowdy Humans that educating other people’s kids was important too, but in his haste to make it to the meeting he was already late to, he’d forgotten his laptop.

  Fletcher cleared his throat and faced the only partially complacent crowd.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, trying to not let his discomfort show as the sound system amplified his voice out into a half empty auditorium. “I’m sorry I’m late. There was a mixup with the start time, but I am pleased to be with you all today to discuss a topic that I care very much about. Given that you all are here, I think I can safely assume you also care about education, which makes you friends in my book.”

  Angry stares met this statement, and Fletcher internally cringed. This was already off to a bad start. He’d always struggled at public speaking growing up, but through a lot of effort during college, he’d overcome it. Nowadays, he often presented on the topic of Unhuman education to other teachers in the colony in hopes of drumming up more volunteers for the summer program, but he hadn’t spoken to an audience this large in years.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “I understand I’ve missed some of the discussion, including whatever points the opposition laid out as to why opening the Academy full-time is a mistake, but I would like to assure you all that whatever barriers seem to stand in the way of that goal, they are slight when compared with the monumental difference a full program can make in the lives of the students here,” he continued.

  Not knowing what he was even debating made it really hard to come up with any kind of persuasive argument, so he was going to focus on drawing some kind of emotion out and reminding people what education had done for them in their own lives. He cursed himself for not grabbing his laptop. Those slides would have been really nice at the moment.

  “Speaking to the Humans in the room for a moment.” Fletcher turned his eyes to focus on the right half of people. “Who here has at least one positive memory from high school?”

  Every hand went up.

  “And how many of you would say high school was in some way formative to your upbringing?”

  Most hands remained up.

  “And how many of you have kids who are currently in or previously attended high school?”

  A few more hands went down, but more went up to replace them.

  “And what would you do if today I told you that your kids would never get to attend school again, of any kind? That regardless of whether or not your child wants to go or if you want them to go, they would be barred from receiving any more education.” Fletcher looked around, hoping his point was obvious.

  “I think we can all safely say that wouldn’t be fair. Education is a right, something every single person deserves access to. Think about the history of Humans before the Merger, when centuries ago we would keep people from school for something as petty as race or gender. Now we look back and wonder why our ancestors would be so cruel, and we tell ourselves that we would do better. I’m here to say that this is your chance to prove that statement. Choose to support a full-time education program for the Unhumans. We’re not talking about politics. We’re talking about kids who just want a chance to learn.”

  Fletcher glanced around to include the Unhumans now. “Last I checked, we were taught all men were created equal, and we are all deserving of an education, regardless of species. Thank you.”

  Short, sweet, and to the point. Honestly, far from his best work, but given the circumstances, he was going to have to accept it.

  He was met with mixed applause, most of it coming from the Unhumans. The Humans were obviously not sold, but Fletcher was only hoping that it was enough to keep the summer program going if what Sunlight had said was true.

  Principal Caston came to take the microphone from him.

  “Any questions for Mr. Anders after that… rousing speech?”

  At least a dozen hands went up. Unsurprisingly, Caston called on one of the Humans, a woman with short gray hair.

  “Mr. Anders, you speak of providing an education for all, but where are we supposed to get the money for this kind of thing? Why should Alcett fund education for Unhumans?” she asked pointedly.

  Fletcher shook his head, already prepared for this question. “I’m not a bureaucrat in charge of budgets or negotiations. I trust our officials and the Unhuman officials can work that part out.”

  Principal Caston chose the next questioner from the Human side again.

  “And what about the dangers posed to teachers? We’re asking people to put their lives on the line for something as simple as teaching, and that doesn’t seem like a fair ask,” the man said.

  “Speaking as someone who has been out here for three summers in a row as a full-teacher and two summers as an intern during college, I can assure you, it is perfectly safe. The kids we teach are no more dangerous than any of my students back in Alcett.”

  “What about the radiation?” He followed up. “We’re putting good citizens at high risk of being Hexed.”

  “Once again, five summers, and not once have we even had the threat of a Cloud, much less a touchdown. I spent my childhood in Loketa, so I know a thing or two about dealing with radiation, and I feel safer at this school than I did there,” Fletcher said.

  Caston was moving to take another question from the Humans when Fletcher stepped in to call on one of the Unhumans.

  “How about someone on the other side,” he said as he pointed to a [Goblin] with his hand raised.

  “My concern is that there aren’t enough unbiased teachers to fill the school full-time. You are only one man, Mr. Anders, and you can’t teach everything,” he said.

  “Mr. Anders actually won’t be joining the staff if the Academy goes full-time,” Principal Caston responded before Fletcher.

  Several surprised exclamations rose from the crowd, and Fletcher frowned. He hadn’t made any official decision yet, but obviously Dean and Rosa were telling stories, a story Caston was willing to use to sow greater conflict amongst everyone.

  “What Principal Caston means is that I haven’t officially accepted the position yet. I figured there was no point in doing so until it’d been determined if the program even was going all year or not,” Fletcher corrected him.

  “So if the plan goes through, you’ll stay on?” the [Goblin] confirmed.

  “Of course,” he answered with a smile.

  Sorry, Dad, he added to himself. His father would freak out when he found out, but that was a problem for later.

  “But I believe Madam Sunlight wanted the chance to say something about the program.” He held the mic out to her as she rose from the table, a grateful smile on her golden face.

  “Thank you, Mr. Anders,” she started, ducking her head to him as he walked back to the table. “It will be hard to top his fine words about the importance of an education, so I will instead address some of the logistical issues. First off—”

  “Get that freak off the stage!” someone shouted from the Human side of the room. Fletcher glanced around from where he stood behind his chair, just about to sit down.

  Sunlight stammered for a minute, caught off guard by the slur, but she was fast to resume her smile and clear her throat.

  “As I was saying…”

  “I won’t listen to some monster!” the same voice said.

  Caston and Jones both remained in their seats, uncaring about the use of such harsh language against their colleague.

  A disgusted Fletcher walked to the front of the stage to stand before the Humans. “That is unacceptable language, and it will not be tolerated here.”

  A man stood up right near the outer aisle so Fletcher could get a good look at him. He was well into his forties, but his shirt bulged against his large, muscular form. “And who’s going to enforce that, freak-lover? I’m just calling it as I see it.”

  “I will,” Fletcher said flatly. “Now shut up and sit down, or leave. Either way, it is Madam Sunlight’s turn to speak.”

  “If you think I’m going to sit here while some savage freak tries to lecture me about taxes…” The man strode to the front of the stage, pulling himself up on to it to stand equal with Fletcher, loathing in his eyes. Several other Humans were moving through the seats to join him. “Well, why don’t I just show you what I do to freaks and freak-lovers alike?”

  Fletcher looked over to the Human guards who remained totally complacent. Thanks to the Treaty, the Unhumans couldn’t do anything, so that left Fletcher as Sunlight’s only defense.

  “Bigotry will not be tolerated,” Fletcher said, trying to sound more forceful than he felt. He didn’t want to fight. Violence was never the answer, a lesson both sides still didn’t seem to understand, even after two horrific, bitter wars.

  “Wrong answer, freak-lover,” the man snarled as his fist lashed out, punching Fletcher right in the nose.

  Angry shouts started up again. Through blurry vision, Fletcher watched as Sunlight ran towards him only to be intercepted by the other Humans on stage, but as soon as they put their hands on her, the Unhuman side of the auditorium rose up in a roar.

  The bigot grabbed Fletcher’s shirt and swung for another punch, but Fletcher dove downwards, taking him and his opponent off the stage and to the floor.

  The next thing he knew, a full-out brawl began between everyone in the auditorium.