“Jude.” I acknowledged his raised hand.
“About the cussin’ jar. At the end of the year, what will you do with all the money?” He said it in a snarky way, implying I would keep the funds for myself.
“Well, Jude, the class, as a whole, will decide which charity or charities to donate the money to.”
Nate turned around and said to Jude, “And I’m sure that will meet with your standards and approval.” He then turned back around with a smirk on his face. Others in the class smiled and nodded. Jude sat silently with his famous “weaned on a pickle” look.
I broke the momentary silence. “So, I gather all of you don’t have one single challenge with this T-chip device?”
Thad, our journalist/astronomer spoke up. “Doc, Claudia is correct. The basic RFID prototypes on this came out well over ten years ago. Initially, they were implanted in pets, grandma, or even young children. The government supported the sale and distribution of these things for personal security reasons.”
“And yourself, Thad?”
“I’ve declined for the present to have one implanted in me. Not for any religious reasons … just some apprehension.”
“Would you mind explaining that to the class, if it’s not too personal,” I requested politely.
“Sure, Doc. It’s really simple. I just don’t trust the government. And with every passing day in this class, and accompanied by my research for the Matrix Exposed columns I’ve been writing, let’s just say I’ve come to trust the government less and less. And besides—”
“The government,” Jude boorishly interrupted, “has been kind enough to work out the arrangements with cell phone companies and credit card bankers to provide a deal for the people that’s too good to be true. And all you can do is criticize and bad mouth their Herculean efforts?”
Nate pivoted in his seat again. “God, you sound just like Chris Matthews. Listen to your liberal self, for once.”
Jude, not to be besmirched, leaned over in Nate’s direction. “Ooh, Nate you took God’s name in vain. Didn’t you?”
Nate abruptly stood up and stomped toward the front, mumbling under his breath, “Guy’s a pain in the …” he caught himself as he stuffed a buck into the jar and stomped back to his seat.
“Okay, then,” I commented, “switching over from the T-chip and onto our trip. We will be leaving next Monday morning at 7 AM sharp from the student parking lot. I’ve arranged with Brother Francis to do the driving for us on one of our ICC buses.”
Moans came from around the room. “Seven! My eyes don’t even open until 8,” spouted Matt.
“Well, you can get your beauty sleep on the bus then,” I replied. “Oh, and by the way, Fred and his wife, Cindy, will be accompanying us.”
“Chaperones?” Tom injected with a caustic tone. “We’re adults, not little kids.”
“And that’s exactly why you need chaperones. If you were little kids, I’d bring along babysitters.” Several around the room laughed, including Maria and Maggie. From Tom’s expression, I gathered he did not find it funny.
“Cindy will be bunking with the girls, and Fred, myself, and Brother Francis will each be assigned to one of the guys’ rooms.”
“With the T-chip and announcements behind us, I guess we should start today’s lesson, late as it may be. I’ve titled it, Smoke and Mirrors.”