The Pole Shift

Jimmy Falls

Jimmy reached for the fallen razor, it was kicked away as the circle of bulldogs closed around him. Prophet buzzed in his ear but it was telling him that he should find his feet immediately but he couldn't, he hung his head, couldn't he get proper help from the thing called Prophet? Jimmy felt he didn't match the AI's expectations, he went very still, like a hunted animal does when it gives up the fight.

                There came a tremendous teenage shriek, and his would-be killers turned to look, there was movement and distraction  in the circle and Profit urged him to get on his feet, break free! Jimmy got up but an electric streak rode across his arm just above the elbow. He thought he had been burned, but then his hand reddened and blood dripped from his fingers like a collection of small leaking taps. The razor flashed again, and he jumped backwards, attempting to shield with his good arm. The hand that held the razor was old, he followed the arm up to its owner and Mr. Knowles glared down at him, the old teacher said:

                "Sorry Jimmy, life can be shit and even old men can change their minds.  May your friends strike me down if it isn't so!" Mr Knowles looked up at the sky briefly, then flailed at Jimmy's face, missing by the width of a cigarette paper. He flicked back handed, in the way Jimmy had cut George, but was jostled, Jimmy raised his hand in anticipation of the next cut, but Mr. Knowles's wrist was grabbed. Miss Write said:

                "No Harry, lets just get to the pods." The old teacher looked at her for a moment, then down at the boy he had until this morning championed as the future.  He  looked pained, but grimly he nodded. He said:

                "This is how it is going to be, there will be no kindness, no fairness in people for a very long time." He dropped the razor, and began to jostle at the heaving students. The teachers formed a scrum and budged their way towards the school hall, maiming as they went. They were not without their own losses. Mr Leech lay limp on his side, and the old Music teacher had fled the fight. The students they had caught in the game of British Bulldogs fought with them as they realised it was now a race to the life pods. Jimmy watched them slog out of the tennis courts. A voice behind him said:

                "You cut me you cunt." It was George, he spoke with a lisp, tryign nto to move his upper lip where the cut ended.  The large boy's face and neck was painted with blood. The wound wasn't deep and had started to congeal, yet still it seeped. Jimmy couldn't read intent on George's face, it seemed the boy just wanted Jimmy to know, to feel bad for his actions and Jimmy said:

                "Sorry." George looked on without response, his eyes held emotional pain, he was battling internaly. He was a boy that he been bullied all his life. George sighed, revenge not a trait he possesed. He said:

                "It hurts." George sat down next to Jimmy, across the court raced Helen and Tanya, and the four looked across at the rampaging teachers and class mates.  Some of the survivors of the game had noticed the four of them. Daniel, bloody and revelling in the violence detached himself and joined them. Michael, George's friend soon followed. Jimmy said:

                "Looks like there won't be room for us. Who'd want to be with that lot anyway?" There was silence, then Prophet spoke in Jimmy's ear:

                 "Follow my instructions"