Free Angry Young Spaceman by Jim Munroe Page A

“Why?”

    “Ah,” he started. “Me, Mr. Und.” He counted the pins. “One two three four five. Five very good! He, Mr. Plon. One. One not good.” He laughed.

    Yeah yeah, I thought. Rank-proud fuck. “No, I mean...” I pointed to the snakes on the police crest on his chest.

    He laughed again. “I see! I see!”

    His eyes narrowed with the effort. “Before,” he finally said, waving a tentacle over his shoulder. “Snakesfor... help Octavia.”

    I couldn’t be bothered pressing for details. “I see,” I said, forcing a satisfied smile. Then I stuck out my hand and said “Glad to meet you. Good-bye.”

    It was pretty much as easy as that, although he made me promise we would go drink ujos, the local poison. When I walked outta there I instantly felt better — I wasn’t gonna have to call up Mr. Zik to get me out of jail, at least, and I knew it would make a good story for you.

    Anyway, Plangyo — ah Plangyo. Known primarily for having the best cucumbers (not the double-barrelled one I was buying, but a grey-skinned sister) and very little else. Unless you count me, the only resident offworlder, the right to whom they won in a lottery. They actually won the right for three years of teachers, of which I am the second — Plangyo’s the testing ground for the Octavian English program, which has progressed to the point where every kid is capable of yelling hello.

    I had been led to believe that the planet was had been pretty much levelled during the I.G.W. but it turns out that the west side of the planet and the major cities got the brunt of it. Farm towns like these still have a lot of the traditional coral houses, although Mr. Zik says that most people prefer the rounded apartment blocks.

    Evidently, one of my predecessors complained about the rounded floors — the Octavian’s suckered tentacles allow them to use a bit of the wall space, as far as gravity will allow — and so I live in the only “flat” building in town. Pretty boring, although it’s about three times the size of your place. Sorry, downtown girl, had to rub that in — no more crouch showers for Sammy-boy!

    I’d kill to live in one of the traditional ones. Mushroom shaped, beautifully coloured, and growing right into the ground. Mr. Zik says that poor people live there, because anyone who’s anyone wants to live in the modern and convenient apartment buildings. Phooey.

    There’s so much space here, it’s unbelievable. It takes me a solid fifteen minutes to walk from my apartment to the school, and there’s a total of seven houses and one small apartment block on the way. Most of the houses are on huge plots of land, not because they’re shamelessly rich but because they grow food there. It’s wonderful, getting to walk so much — there’s something about walking that lets me think, just like my jetpack flights did on Earth. Must be the movement.

    Actually, I think I’ll go for a walk right now. Night isn’t too bad for walking around, because it never really gets pitch black. The mushroom houses look amazing against the deep purple twilight.

    Seeya,

Sam

    ***

    “It is Octavian cookie,” said one of the teachers, proffering a bowl of chunky green diamonds. I took one.

    “You are handsomebloy,” she said.

    “Thank you,” I said. I put away my pad. I had pretty much been writing letters all morning — after I was formally introduced, I was shown to my desk and left alone. Not ignored, in fact people watched me constantly and smiled when I caught them, but no one had talked to me until now.

    “What do you teach?” I asked slowly, biting into the cracker. It was very salty, and I had been expecting sweet, so I had to contain a wince.

    “Me? I teach... science. Science teacher.” She smiled. “Yes.” She said something to the teacher sitting beside me that got a laugh.

    “Your English is very good,” I said. I took another cracker. They weren’t bad now that I knew what to expect.

    “Sank