Nova waited patiently in the Portland Building with a bunch of other hopefuls

  for the only item on the day’s official itinerary she deemed worthy of her time — an

  introduction to Solar Soc, the university’s Solarversia Society.

  She’d already had the exclusive ‘Burner Tour’ of campus, which had introduced

  her to all the stairwells, alleyways and student bars where he and Jono had got

  drunk, smoked blunts, and been indecent with dodgy-looking second years. And

  though she hadn’t seen any of the lecture theatres, facilities or halls of residence,

  she’d fallen in love with the place, and was already wondering how on earth she

  would get the grades she needed in order to be accepted onto a course there.

  Next to her, Burner was waxing lyrical about university life to some of the

  other attendees. Three spotty youths from Manchester hung on his every word.

  She enjoyed the way he could work a crowd, but had heard the stories about Jono,

  smoking weed, and the gliding club a hundred times. Usually stories that combined

  all three.

  She turned away from the group to have a look around the room. Thick carpets and

  finely upholstered sofas complemented the old masters on the walls. Leaflets provided

  details about the augmented reality tour she could take, one that would bring the old

  masters to life, giving their history and place in the university. Across the room, a row

  of gilt-backed chairs were lined up against the wall. She was eying them hungrily when

  a student appeared at the top of the landing and addressed the room.

  “Excuse me, folks, could I have your attention please? There’ll be an introduction

  to the Sustainable Development Society in room C203 in approximately five

  minutes. We’re a friendly bunch and we’d love to meet you.”

  Clutching a ring-bound folder to his chest, leather satchel hanging at his side,

  he looked nothing like the meek freshers surrounding her. He was at home: at the

  university, and in himself. She kept looking at him. Since when did she go for blond

  surfer locks, strong jawlines and knitted cardigans with stonewashed denim jeans?

  Since now. As half the room headed to the landing, he turned and looked at her

  with the most incredible blue eyes she’d ever seen.

  She discovered that she was incapable of looking away. A huge grin accompanied

  the flushing in her cheeks. She gulped, looked down at her feet, brushed her hair

  behind her ears and chanced another look. This time she was rewarded with a

  smile. Her heart fluttered. Another look, another exchanged smile, this one more

  intimate. His raised eyebrows willed her to join him. Her heart pounded and her

  cheeks warmed further.

  “You alright, mate? You don’t look too good.” Burner seemed genuinely worried.

  Where had he appeared from? She’d almost forgotten he existed.

  “I feel a bit dizzy actually. Just gonna—”

  She motioned in the general direction of the washrooms before joining the herd

  of people heading for the landing.

  ***

  Nova wasn’t able to explain how she’d ended up sitting in the middle of the

  semicircle of chairs in room C203. She’d been drawn there, inexplicably, like an

  iron filing to a magnet. Either side of her were people wearing some combination

  of bell-bottomed jeans and wooden beads. One guy even sported a tie-dye T-shirt.

  She couldn’t remember feeling so out of place and had a sudden impulse to flee —

  and would have done, had the guy with the incredible eyes not joined them that

  second. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  “Hey, guys, welcome to the Sustainable Development Society. I’m Charlie. I

  took a year out after school to travel the world, and did some work in London for

  an NGO that specialised in microfinance to Third World entrepreneurs. It would

  be great to hear how each of you became interested in the topic of sustainable

  development, so let’s go round the circle before I tell you about what we get up to

  here at Nottingham.”

  As they went round the group, the experience people had seemed to get more

  varied and impressive: expeditions through Costa Rica, volunteer projects in Tanzania,

  community building in Mongolia. As the girl next to her started talking, Nova’s mind

  raced, desperately wanting to know how she had got herself into this situation.

  “Hi, guys, I’m Ayesha. Like you, Charlie, I’ve been on a gap year since school. My

  main area of interest is renewable energy — I spent the last six months travelling

  through Africa, educating villagers about solar power and helping them to install

  arrays, principally for hospitals and libraries.”

  Charlie scribbled some notes on his tablet. “Great, thanks for sharing, Ayesha,

  that was really interesting.”

  The group turned to face Nova. She froze in her seat — what on earth was she

  going to say? That she had zero experience in sustainable development? That she

  wasn’t too sure what it even meant? Her heart beat ever faster. People her age

  couldn’t have heart attacks, could they?

  “Hi, there. My name’s Nova Negrahnu, and I’m interested in sustainable

  development. I built mud huts in …”

  She paused and looked round the group, trying to think of a country that hadn’t

  been said yet.

  “In Mozambique. I built mud huts in Mozambique and I carried some bricks.”

  Everybody stared at her. Had she really said that? I carried some fucking bricks?

  What next, nobody puts Nova in the corner? The guy next to her started talking,

  something about India and yoga and transcendental something-or-other. Her words

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  replayed in her head. She looked at Charlie to find that he was staring at her. When

  he smiled at her, she couldn’t help but smile back. And nothing else mattered.

  ***

  The flying carpet swept into the Magisterial Chamber and came to a fluttering

  halt in the northwest corner of the room beside an easel. Seated in the lotus

  position upon it was a woman. In place of a head, her neck was a thick stem that

  supported a blue and yellow flower reminiscent of an orchid. From her throat and

  down the length of her belly ran an inch-wide flap of skin, into which flew some of

  the millions of insects that had previously formed the carpet.

  Nova checked the datafeed. Spee-Akka Dey Bollarkoo was an artist from Nakkoo,

  Emperor Mandelbrot’s home planet. She’d been commissioned to paint a

  monthly portrait depicting events that occurred within Solarversia throughout the

  year. These paintings would adorn the walls and ceiling of the chamber in a series

  of triptychs.

  The insects, referred to in the feed as zapier s, emitted a low-pitched droning

  sound that reminded Nova of being on a plane. They buzzed around the easel for a

  while, seemingly taking in their new surroundings, and then swarmed into Spee-

  Akka’s chest through the skin flap. Nova grinned. It was certainly an original way

  to store your transport.

  The other new arrival in the Magisterial Chamber was less graceful but no

  less intriguing. His body was arched backward, so that his view of the world was

  upside-down. It looked like his feet had been nailed to the ground before a strong

  wind had taken him by surprise, blowing his body backward until his hands met

  the ground behind him. His movements were crab-like. Scuttling sideways, he’d

  come to a stop for a few suspenseful seconds, take in his surroundings, and then

  scuttle off again.

  Except for the haphazard stitches that ran down the centre of his body, he was

  entirely naked. The stitches ran from the top of his skull, over his flat mandible —

  for he had no mouth — down his torso, past his crotch and back up his spine to the

  top of his skull. On his right side, the skin was pure white, but covered in bruises.

  On the left, his skin was jet-black and disfigured with blisters and ugly welts. He

  came to rest in the southeast corner by a machine covered in spinning wheels,

  switches and buttons, and a plethora of other components.

  Nova flipped back to the datafeed. The black and white man was Ludi Bioski.

  His machine, the Orbitini, was described as a ‘biomechanical random event

  generator’. According to the feed, he was here to ‘spice things up’ for players. Nova

  zoomed in to the Orbitini and watched as Ludi righted himself to stand over the

  machine and began to interact with it, flicking switches, pressing buttons and

  whirling wheels. Mesmerised, she tried to figure out what effect his actions would

  have on the Gameworld.

  “What exactly are you looking at there, Miss Negrahnu?”

  Nova volleyed an eye back to the classroom and looked up to see her English

  teacher’s stern face bearing down on her. Shit. Old Mophead.

  “Mrs Woodward! I was looking at … I was just about to—”

  “You were playing that infantile game, no doubt, rather than reading act three

  of King Lear like everyone else in the room. Headset, please — you can have it back

  at the end of the day. Along with a week of detentions.”

  Nova clutched her Booners tight to her chest. It was ridiculous that she should

  have to hand them over. What could be more Shakespearean than a random

  event generator? Ludi Bioski could have come straight out of King Lear, if only

  Shakespeare had been down with virtual reality. Mrs Woodward’s glare hardened.

  Nova wiped the Booners lovingly with the sleeve of her jumper and slowly placed

  them in her teacher’s outstretched hand. She was unable to stifle the huge yawn

  that emanated from deep within her.

  “You’re exhausted. Which is exactly why these dreadful games have been banned.”

  “Oh, get a life, you mean old cow.”

  The room fell silent. Nova was as surprised as anyone that she’d said it out

  loud. Mophead’s nostrils flared to twice their usual size, even larger than the time

  Burner had set fire to the wastepaper basket in the middle of morning register. She

  looked terrifying.

  Nova’s lip trembled. “I’m so sorry, miss, I don’t know what—”

  “Headmaster’s office. Now. You can save your sorries for him.”

  As Nova went to close the classroom door behind her, Mrs Woodward called

  after her, “And Nova, I think we’ll make that a month of detentions.”

  ****************************************************

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  Chapter 10 coming soon!