File: 113/42/00/fgh
Source: LinkData\LinkDiary\Peter_Vincent\Personal
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I know that I have been talking about it for weeks, but today I actually went ahead and did it.
I signed up for Professor King’s class.
Next semester I’m going to be studying English literature. I’ve even got a reading list to prove it.
Which gives me maybe a month or so to pluck up the courage to tell my father.
Perry came along to offer me moral support. He started grinning when I used my filaments to sign up to the class’s register, and he’s been grinning at me ever since. His mouth is so unused to any kind of smile that it’s not a pretty sight.
‘Peter, Peter, Peter,’ he said. ‘I know you’re going through a mid-teen crisis, but what do you think your dad’s going to say about this, eh?’
I shrugged. ‘He’ll call a medic,’ I said. ‘His only son is going to be reading books that – for once – don’t try to explain the secrets of life, the universe and everything. He’ll probably blame it on a virus.’
‘You know, literature can be seen as an attempt to explain those same secrets,’ Perry said. He pretty much has a clever answer for every occasion.
‘Yeah, right,’ I replied. ‘What’s that I can hear?’ I cupped my ear with my hand. ‘Oh, it must be my father’s laughter ringing around the house when I try that line on him.’
Perry spent a couple of seconds thinking.
The effort made his face scrunch up.
‘Well,’ he said, finally, ‘I guess the last line of defence is that it is an extra class …’
‘Oh Perry,’ I said. ‘My wonderful, water-brained friend. That’s not going to make him feel any better about it, is it? Not only am I taking a soft subject, but I’m also wasting the time I could be using for extra science studies to do it.’
Perry grinned again. Wider, if that was possible.
‘Oh well,’ he said, ‘You’re doomed.’
‘I know.’ I matched his grin. ‘Fun, isn’t it?’
Perry slapped me on the shoulder way too hard.
In truth it had been his enthusiasm for Professor King’s classes that made me want to sign up in the first place.
Perry Knight is one of those people who rarely displays any kind of emotion, managing to keep cool at all times. And he has a terribly serious face that makes him look like he’s picking up constant bad news from the Link.
Hearing him enthusing about the books that Professor King was getting him to read — and watching his face light up with sheer excitement when telling me about it — well, it made me want to see what in the world it was that had got him so animated.
Plus — and I know my dad wouldn’t like this, but it’s true — I’m getting a bit sick of science textbooks.
Actually:
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In fact:
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The student lounge was usually a buzzing mass of students, but today Perry and I had the place to ourselves. It was supposed to be a free period, but the college had suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, raised the learning quota a couple of days ago and the empty room was evidence that everyone else was playing catch-up; desperately trying to earn more edu-credits before the big Student Audit next week.
Perry and I were already way above its threshold.
That’s why we could afford to be sitting around while everyone else panicked.
I’m not as crazy bright as Perry, but I reckon I’m not far off. We breezed through pre-prep, prep and then school together, and ended up at the same college in New Cambridge because it was the best. And so were we.
It might sound like bragging, but it’s true.
When you’re the son of someone like David Vincent, it’s the very least that’s expected of you.
Of course, Perry’s father works for my father, so we’ve been friends since we were old enough to, like, have friends. We’re as close as brothers would have been in the old days, before the population explosion led to the One Child Limit on family sizes.
We are both supposed to follow in our fathers’ footsteps and end up in the very same labs where they work.
Supposed to.
If we don’t let Professor King’s Literature class knock us from the path our fathers have so carefully built for us.
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