James guided us through a vast network of laminate floored corridors and stone staircases, listening all the way as we listed every fandom we belonged to and what fandom classes we were hoping to take, to add to our already enormous stack of regular, curriculum subjects. Apparently there was even a support group to help people cope with emotions aroused by their favourite works of literature, television and film. The uniform was so cool, too. We would be getting cloaks with hoods, one each of thin and thick material. They were each emblazoned with the flag of our country of origin - which was optional as sometimes race issues came into play, though most racists normally got expelled - as well as the logo of our Major Fandom. Mine is and always will be Nerdfighteria. It's an internet community based on two Youtubing brothers, one of which wrote the acclaimed 'The Fault In Our Stars', the other writes songs about Harry Potter and anglerfish. I connect with their values of having pride in what you love, who you love and the message that you can express that love as much as you want because it's your love. Their emblem is two crossed over hands doing the 'Live Long And Prosper' hand sign that Spock does in Star Trek, which reminded me that if James had a Major Fandom, it would most likely be Star Trek.
"James?" I turned to my left to face him.
"Aye, what's up?" he responded, with a calming smile.
"Do the teachers belong to fandoms?"
"Probably depends what counts as fandoms. For me, would you mean X-men or Star Trek?"
"Star Trek, I think."
"Then I guess we do but we organise ourselves by the productions we've been involved in."
"Well, Patrick Stewart could be both!" Isaac exclaimed.
"Yeah, I guess he could," James agreed, "Anyway, we're here!"
'Here' was a fairly disappointing set of wooden double doors that was almost identical to the sets of doors in my old school. There were three small square windows that lined up vertically and a metal handle that was about the height of one of them. I must have sagged a little or sighed because James patted me reassuringly on the back.
"Don't worry. It's just a perception filter," he smiled, "It'll be taken off after orientation."
He guided us inside and took his place next to Michael Fassbender in a long line of teachers. Annisa, Isaac and I shuffled forwards into a row of bright green plastic seats, again rather unimpressed at the normality of the place. Isaac was furthest into the row and began chatting to a young Mediterranean girl on his right about Sherlock. I'd have joined in, but I didn't want to alienate Annisa. Instead, I focussed the conversation on James.
"That was the coolest few minutes of my life," I squeaked.
"Yeah, me too. And he was so nice not to get freaked out by us," Annisa agreed.
"Do you think he teaches all our classes?" I wondered.
"I don't know but I think that man on the steps is about to start a speech." Annisa pointed to the large steps that led to the upper section of the hall. Standing on the top one, with his hands folded in front of him... was Steven Moffat.
"Hello there ladies and gentlemen, fanboys and fangirls," Moffat began, "I hope you've all been exploding with 'feels' and girls, what is it you all say about ovaries? Anyway, don't be alarmed. I'm not going to feed you to the weeping angels. I'm just here to welcome you all, me being the headmaster and all.
"The first thing that's going to happen today is your assignment to a Teacher. Your Teacher will take most of your classes, the ones they don't teach being either English, Music or Drama, depending on whether you have an Actor Teacher, a Musician Teacher or a Writer Teacher. Your class will mostly be people who have either the same Favourite Actor, Favourite Musician, Favourite Writer, or Major Fandom as you and I think that's all I have to say except, Professor Cox, if you would turn off the filters?"
I twisted around a spotted Brian Cox to my left with a black remote control in his hand, tapping at a few buttons. As soon as he lifted his hand away, the most extraordinary thing I've ever seen happened. The entire banality of the hall, all its plastic, all its wooden tiles began to merge together and swirl away in great smudges of jagged brown rock. The ceiling no longer had tiles, it had stalactites and the floor was dotted with round-topped stalagmites. We were in a cave! I squinted and spotted a few fluorescent lightbulbs lining the upper parts of the walls so I knew there was still electricity. Phew.
Annisa and I glanced towards James, who winked and grinned. It was as if he was actually trying to melt our insides. He motioned with his head back to the front and we returned our attention to Steven Moffat. He held a stack of paper and was reading lists of names from it.
"... Amalie Gateaufort, Isaac Rashid, Lucian Poreto, you're all with James McAvoy," Moffat read.
"Did he say us?" Annisa asked Isaac, "Me and Joanne, I mean."
"Yeah," Isaac murmured, "Come on."
We slid out of what were now stone chairs and jogged up towards James. He beckoned for the trickle of people to follow him out of the massive stone doors of the cavern. Once outside we were in an ornate stone-floored corridor with mahogany walls, which every few yards were interrupted by bright screens the size of a bank machine screen with flashing logos welcoming us to the school. A couple of the screens were still blinking with words I was walking too fast to read but they were all in bright fonts and looked incredibly joyous. I was a few people away from James but I used the top of his head as a beacon to guide me wherever we were actually going.
"James?" I turned to my left to face him.
"Aye, what's up?" he responded, with a calming smile.
"Do the teachers belong to fandoms?"
"Probably depends what counts as fandoms. For me, would you mean X-men or Star Trek?"
"Star Trek, I think."
"Then I guess we do but we organise ourselves by the productions we've been involved in."
"Well, Patrick Stewart could be both!" Isaac exclaimed.
"Yeah, I guess he could," James agreed, "Anyway, we're here!"
'Here' was a fairly disappointing set of wooden double doors that was almost identical to the sets of doors in my old school. There were three small square windows that lined up vertically and a metal handle that was about the height of one of them. I must have sagged a little or sighed because James patted me reassuringly on the back.
"Don't worry. It's just a perception filter," he smiled, "It'll be taken off after orientation."
He guided us inside and took his place next to Michael Fassbender in a long line of teachers. Annisa, Isaac and I shuffled forwards into a row of bright green plastic seats, again rather unimpressed at the normality of the place. Isaac was furthest into the row and began chatting to a young Mediterranean girl on his right about Sherlock. I'd have joined in, but I didn't want to alienate Annisa. Instead, I focussed the conversation on James.
"That was the coolest few minutes of my life," I squeaked.
"Yeah, me too. And he was so nice not to get freaked out by us," Annisa agreed.
"Do you think he teaches all our classes?" I wondered.
"I don't know but I think that man on the steps is about to start a speech." Annisa pointed to the large steps that led to the upper section of the hall. Standing on the top one, with his hands folded in front of him... was Steven Moffat.
"Hello there ladies and gentlemen, fanboys and fangirls," Moffat began, "I hope you've all been exploding with 'feels' and girls, what is it you all say about ovaries? Anyway, don't be alarmed. I'm not going to feed you to the weeping angels. I'm just here to welcome you all, me being the headmaster and all.
"The first thing that's going to happen today is your assignment to a Teacher. Your Teacher will take most of your classes, the ones they don't teach being either English, Music or Drama, depending on whether you have an Actor Teacher, a Musician Teacher or a Writer Teacher. Your class will mostly be people who have either the same Favourite Actor, Favourite Musician, Favourite Writer, or Major Fandom as you and I think that's all I have to say except, Professor Cox, if you would turn off the filters?"
I twisted around a spotted Brian Cox to my left with a black remote control in his hand, tapping at a few buttons. As soon as he lifted his hand away, the most extraordinary thing I've ever seen happened. The entire banality of the hall, all its plastic, all its wooden tiles began to merge together and swirl away in great smudges of jagged brown rock. The ceiling no longer had tiles, it had stalactites and the floor was dotted with round-topped stalagmites. We were in a cave! I squinted and spotted a few fluorescent lightbulbs lining the upper parts of the walls so I knew there was still electricity. Phew.
Annisa and I glanced towards James, who winked and grinned. It was as if he was actually trying to melt our insides. He motioned with his head back to the front and we returned our attention to Steven Moffat. He held a stack of paper and was reading lists of names from it.
"... Amalie Gateaufort, Isaac Rashid, Lucian Poreto, you're all with James McAvoy," Moffat read.
"Did he say us?" Annisa asked Isaac, "Me and Joanne, I mean."
"Yeah," Isaac murmured, "Come on."
We slid out of what were now stone chairs and jogged up towards James. He beckoned for the trickle of people to follow him out of the massive stone doors of the cavern. Once outside we were in an ornate stone-floored corridor with mahogany walls, which every few yards were interrupted by bright screens the size of a bank machine screen with flashing logos welcoming us to the school. A couple of the screens were still blinking with words I was walking too fast to read but they were all in bright fonts and looked incredibly joyous. I was a few people away from James but I used the top of his head as a beacon to guide me wherever we were actually going.
After a few minutes of excited walking and talking to Annisa about everything except James because we were pretty sure he'd be able to hear us, we halted suddenly at a large round door like a port-hole. Painted onto it were two symbols: The Scottish flag and a Star Trek insignia.
"This must be James's office or something," whispered Annisa.
"I'd have thought so," I agreed.
James raised his voice so that all thirty pupils could hear him. "Okay, this is my class's common room. My class is you, ergo this is your common room. Yes, I know that this door looks like the kind that leads into a hobbit-hole and to be honest what's beyond kind of looks like a hobbit-hole but we call it a common room because it ties into the Harry Potter fandom. Anyway, in you all go."
We drifted into the room with gleeful anticipation, with no idea what to expect. As Annisa and I crossed the threshold, with Isaac talking our ears off about Jean-Luc Picard, we could see James smile smugly. It had to be good, whatever was in there, or else James was just being mean, which made no sense at all.
The entryway was a short dark space, with circular walls and a large step at both ends. It served well to highlight the bright, happy, exciting room we stepped into next. It was decorated in wallpaper of comic strips and the screens I'd seen in the corridor were dispersed around the room. There were leather couches of dark colours and armchairs of a soft, suede-like material dotted around the vast room and tables scattered everywhere. There were towering cupboards in each of the room's four corners, although the room was circular, so you could hardly call them corners.
The boy who'd asked the bus driver about how much left of the drive there had been turned to James. "Hi, I'm Daniel. What's in the cupboards, sir?"
"I'll tell you later and there is no need to call me 'sir'. In this school there are some teachers who actually are 'sirs' so it can get kind of confusing. I'm James. Or, if I'm hyper, The Professor." James's eyes glazed over and he smiled. I wondered mischief he got into when he was hyper.
"As in Professor X?" Annisa asked.
"Ah, no, but good point." James smiled. "Anyway, let's get to know each other."
He vaulted over the back of a couch and beckoned us round to the other side of it. We stood in an awkward clump in front of his couch as he sipped from a bottle of water. He eyed us over the top of the bottle, as if he was surveying us. It felt alien, so un-Jamesy. Or maybe he was just pretending, in which case it was classic James McAvoy, or so I'd deduced from what I'd seen in interviews.
"So ..." he began, "there are thirty of you. That's a lot of names to learn. I'm doing well so far this year. I know four already, that's Daniel, Annisa, Joanne and Isaac. Why don't you four start us off. Basically, what I did last year was each of the pupils created a character through the year. The first thing we did was name them. Joanne, you go first."
I faltered. "Um... I - uh - am I supposed to take on the persona of a character or am I just creating a person?"
"Just make a person. Shouldn't be too hard, I'd have thought. I, uh, read that you were a writer?" James nodded towards me with his head.
"Yes, um, I guess I am. Okay, um, who shall I choose? Does it have to be somebody like me?" I was really just playing for time.
"This must be James's office or something," whispered Annisa.
"I'd have thought so," I agreed.
James raised his voice so that all thirty pupils could hear him. "Okay, this is my class's common room. My class is you, ergo this is your common room. Yes, I know that this door looks like the kind that leads into a hobbit-hole and to be honest what's beyond kind of looks like a hobbit-hole but we call it a common room because it ties into the Harry Potter fandom. Anyway, in you all go."
We drifted into the room with gleeful anticipation, with no idea what to expect. As Annisa and I crossed the threshold, with Isaac talking our ears off about Jean-Luc Picard, we could see James smile smugly. It had to be good, whatever was in there, or else James was just being mean, which made no sense at all.
The entryway was a short dark space, with circular walls and a large step at both ends. It served well to highlight the bright, happy, exciting room we stepped into next. It was decorated in wallpaper of comic strips and the screens I'd seen in the corridor were dispersed around the room. There were leather couches of dark colours and armchairs of a soft, suede-like material dotted around the vast room and tables scattered everywhere. There were towering cupboards in each of the room's four corners, although the room was circular, so you could hardly call them corners.
The boy who'd asked the bus driver about how much left of the drive there had been turned to James. "Hi, I'm Daniel. What's in the cupboards, sir?"
"I'll tell you later and there is no need to call me 'sir'. In this school there are some teachers who actually are 'sirs' so it can get kind of confusing. I'm James. Or, if I'm hyper, The Professor." James's eyes glazed over and he smiled. I wondered mischief he got into when he was hyper.
"As in Professor X?" Annisa asked.
"Ah, no, but good point." James smiled. "Anyway, let's get to know each other."
He vaulted over the back of a couch and beckoned us round to the other side of it. We stood in an awkward clump in front of his couch as he sipped from a bottle of water. He eyed us over the top of the bottle, as if he was surveying us. It felt alien, so un-Jamesy. Or maybe he was just pretending, in which case it was classic James McAvoy, or so I'd deduced from what I'd seen in interviews.
"So ..." he began, "there are thirty of you. That's a lot of names to learn. I'm doing well so far this year. I know four already, that's Daniel, Annisa, Joanne and Isaac. Why don't you four start us off. Basically, what I did last year was each of the pupils created a character through the year. The first thing we did was name them. Joanne, you go first."
I faltered. "Um... I - uh - am I supposed to take on the persona of a character or am I just creating a person?"
"Just make a person. Shouldn't be too hard, I'd have thought. I, uh, read that you were a writer?" James nodded towards me with his head.
"Yes, um, I guess I am. Okay, um, who shall I choose? Does it have to be somebody like me?" I was really just playing for time.
"Actually, no. Preferably someone not like you at all." James ruffled his hair, only distracting me further.
"Okay, then. Martha McClellan. I've been toying with get for a while and I'd like to get her straightened out in my head."
"Great." James nodded. "How about you, Annisa?"
"Er, Pierre Antoine."
"And who's he, then?"
"Maybe he's in Napoleon's army or something?"
"Sure," James agreed.
And so we went around the room like that. Thirty character names from thirty pupils, thirty-one if you included James's character of Karim Gecko, a young jester in the court of King Henry VIII and on into the short reign of Edward II. Karim, who normally went by Gecko, has witnessed the sneakiest acts of trickery of the Tudor dynasty, and that is saying something.
"So that's the end of orientation," James announced, "Now, who would like to play 'Lord of the Rings Monopoly'?"
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