Cyberwitch Academy: Learn or Burn

Chapter 5

As I follow him, I'm struck by how much of the tech here simply isn't working. This school must have been state of the art like fifty years ago. But nothing's been updated since.

"Look Ty, can we not walk right through the centre? I'm kind trying to keep a low profile. Plus, I feel weird."

So he walks me round the edge real slow in a big loop, subtly pointing out tables and groups in the soul space for my education.

Behold the glorious HyperFems, Ty whispers.

They've taken over a table in the centre of the space under the mezzanine by the canteen. Their faces a showcase, a masterclass of makeup techniques showing hundreds of hours of practice. Expensive designer labels on their oversized handbags.

"They keep selfies drones hidden in their socks. Banned here now. Some of them are big streamers, that one has 20K fans."

Their movements are controlled; they don't speak loudly because you know that they're talking about the people around them. Their secretive smiles a blend of spite and mirth. Boys hovering around them, trying to catch a giggle thrown from their table by fooling around. Bringing them choice morsels of gossip as offerings.

Up there, that's the Aspie, NeuroSpicy HQ. I look up at the higher walkway, a group of kids mill around a door with ASPIE over the top. One of them wears ear defenders. Another has a book, like a real live paper book. I envy them their sanctuary away from the throng. Free from the status war being played out down here.

"Check out the emos."

Goths. British style. A lot more understated than their cousins in NYC. All these people in uniform, somehow managing to express an identity. It's ingenious really. All about bags, hoodies and makeup.

And then there are the geeks. Uniforms festooned with glittering badges. Violently exaggerated styles taken from old high school movies, a parody and a reclamation of the geek identity. Artful. I like it. And they're all talking about things I love, code, math, obscure animated series and retro video games. But Ty pulls me away when I try to make eye contact.

"No Ursula, they're all snakes. Come on, lets rattle the monkey cage."

The Soccer Boys, the ones who aren't sucking up to the hyperFems, are rucking like young stags. They seem mostly interested in touching each other.

Those are the road men.

A mixed group, but they seem mostly interested in displaying enormous designer coats that make them look twice their original size. It's a style I've seen in NYC, ghetto chic, hood rich. But their faces betray a lack of varied nutrition and a tendency to suck on tricked out hyperVapes. They have their own subEnglish I can't parse. And they have chrome, too. Visible and expensive implants designed for street fighting. Who buys their kids that kinda stuff?

Then the most desolate and isolated group of all. School uniforms too big or too small. Patched up and mended. Off brand trainers with soles peeling away. Huddled by the canteen queuing up for a free slice of toast and cup of synth chocolate. They're fully jaundiced, even the black kids look yellow. Everyone acts like they are ghosts. Not even there.

Two of the girls catch my eye in particular. They wear wooden rosary beads around their necks, strange bonnets on their heads. Look like 17th century peasants.

"River kids. Grew up in the river bank slums up town. School calls them LACS. Looked after children. They all have the yellow fever. But everyone says you can't catch it. Must be in their food down there or something. They say the witches made it, to clear London out for themselves."

And there they are...the Witches.

They have a zone around them like a force field no one dare step into. They're silent but appear to be deep in communication. Their hair styles are pure retro futurist cyberpunk, it's difficult to tell where their jewellery ends and their implants begin. One of them is spreading tarot cards across the lunch table. Their bags are festooned with a mix of arcane sigils and strings of text and symbols only a coder would understand.

"CyberWitches. Of course, they say they're not. And the school says they're not. But everyone knows they are. They've all had implants, cybertech. God knows what. Probably streaming everything they see with cybereyes. But the school has this policy. Nobody left out. Unlike a lot of schools, they won't turn away kids with implants. A lot of implants are legal with a license anyway."

"I thought that the cyberWitch thing was just like a subculture, like punks or something."

"Yeah maybe, but there are gangs in London, big gangs, the Weavers and the Sirens. Everyone calls them witches. Maybe they are. Gangs recruit school kids, use them for all kinds of jobs. That's how the road men get their money. Not their fault. All had ECTs. Early childhood traumas."

I'm trying to digest all this, I guess it must have been true in the five boroughs too, I'm only just beginning to realise how sheltered my life in Manhattan was. Then I see the girl who flipped over Ty's art work earlier. A bright thing among dark. She reads like a major note in a minor melody.

"Who is that?"

That's Sienna. She was in a car crash. Lost her mum. But her dad is minted.

My face scrunches up in confusion.

"Sorry, I mean he's well rich. Got her rebuilt."

I can see the leg from the knee down. It's high-tech. Not quite money enough for organic skin, it's visible but it's meant to be. Stylish design.

"So, she hangs out with the cyberwitches cause she like gets it how they're oppressed now. Some kids, some parents treat her like she's dangerous. It's just a robotic leg. Not like some freaky brain implant. But some of the parents here are like cavemen. They were on the other side in the war."

I wish I'd paid more attention in history; I make a mental note to read some background on the civil war. London has only been a Republic since the 30s.

"Yeah. I saw some of them out front."

And I remember something. An argument mom and dad had. I wasn't really paying attention but it was about working with kids in London, working with vulnerable girls. Was mom coming to London to research girls like them?

"Hello."

I swing round. Standing there, a little too close to my face, is Sienna, mean girl boss. She shows me all her gleaming teeth, a good impression of a genuine smile.

###THIS NOVEL IS IN OPEN BETA###

Join the beta reader team at cyberwitchacademy.com

I'm here for your feedback. Thanks for reading!