Wilburstein
Or
The Modern, Modern, Prometheus
My eyes open, out of a dream, first thought “snowday?” I blindly search for my laptop on the ground beside my bed, groping around like a blind man. My hand feels the lid; I unclasp it and open it with one hand – an action that is the product of far too much computer use. Once bathed with the soft, inviting glow of the liquid crystal display I forget about my purpose and start a search for new science and technology information. “Slashdot.org” I type. “Chandrayaan-1 Successfully Reaches 100km Lunar Orbit” – “Mars Rover "Spirit" In Danger” – “Google Can Predict the Flu” the headlines read. I remember my purpose, “schoolbusmonitor.com” I type. Having never properly learned to type I use a clumsy two-fingered technique, but I challenge you to find a better UNIX programmer who uses home-row. Success, snow day! Few words exist in a youth’s language that matter as much as those two. I close my computer and turn back over, only sleep is more important than reading those headlines. I feel a shock in my heart. My scientific mind decides that the shock must have been somewhere in my superior vena cava, I open my eyes and see the whiteboard I use to organise my life. Under “TUESDAY” I see “Godspell – 2:45” nothing special, but under this I see the horrifying part “SCHOOL DAY OR SNOW DAY”. No use in only going in for the end of the day, might as well go in and see of what use I can be. There is always some sort of job for me at the school; lighting, construction, sound, science, whatever anyone needs help with. I figure I might as well go in to school and see whom I can help.
The science teachers get to me first, they need some help with something in the labs and since there is virtually no one at school today, it seems like the perfect day to get a little prep work out of the way. They give me 10 minutes to drop off my things at the stage. There I see the art students. They came in today for much the same reason I did,...