The Magnetic Stones, Chapter One

The Mini-Flashes had a test that morning, and nothing was more important than being top of the class. Mini-Flash Phytolith turned his paper over.

QUESTION 1: In the future, when you are grown, is there going to be a war which will determine the fate of the galaxy?

Easy one to start on. At once Mini-Flash Phytolith wrote underneath:

No.

QUESTION 2: Explain your answer.

We are already at war.

There wasn’t enough space to go into the enemy’s self-deluding propaganda which attempted to claim otherwise, so Mini-Flash Phytolith guessed that would come up later. If it didn’t he’d go back and use small handwriting, because anything good for a bonus mark ought to be squeezed in somewhere.

QUESTION 3: Describe in brief why we will win the war. Word-limit 200.

Actually this might be the place meant for it. Which would in fact be a help, if he had to hit two hundred. Mini-Flash Phytolith gnawed his pencil. He didn’t like essay-questions. “We have got information they haven’t” was what first sprang to mind, but he well remembered how Miss Jade had made much of his clumsy constructions last time. The laughter in which she’d led the whole form, while reading these aloud one by one, still stung. And if he didn’t show some improvement today, chances were he’d be in for something that’d sting a good deal more.

Was it Mini-Flash Phytolith’s fault he didn’t have the knack for bringing words to life? Mini-Flash Semiprecious had stolen the show when they covered this in class, with her grand orotundities on what strong leadership had wrested at the Arch of Titus. Envy ate away at Mini-Flash Phytolith. That coveted spot at the top of the form was slipping out of reach beneath smug second gender skirts yet again.

He glared across the classroom at Semiprecious’s beige hair-ribbons, her head already bent busily over question three. She looked like she was making sure even her penmanship was perfect. No use his trying to recycle the eloquence that had won her such acclaim, because Miss Jade would only know he’d copied, and that would end with a sting if anything ever did. Besides, the tone was wrong and would only sound daft coming from him. Mini-Flash Semiprecious had earned a bonus mark for making it sound as if the political and military secrets she was talking about were secrets of an altogether saucier kind. Phytolith remembered that part best of all, or rather the inside of his pants did.

He hated the second gender.

Then his gaze wandered to Mini-Flash Moon, likewise hard at work. This made Mini-Flash Phytolith reluctantly acknowledge he didn’t hate them all.

Even though you were supposed to.

In a way, it was the opposite of hate. Mini-Flash Moon made Mini-Flash Phytolith hate himself. She was an indelible line drawn under his own physical repulsiveness.

Like him, and like every Mini-Flash, she was white as putty with a head of tawny hair. Two little black nostrils sat in the middle of her face, below absolutely huge eyes of pomegranate red. Her pinkish lips seemed always twitching on the verge of a funny scared smile. Mini-Flash Phytolith couldn’t look at her without shrivelling inside. The round stupid disc that bore his own features! A blubbery over-fleshed mouth, and his pair of gaping portals…!

It was lunchtime. The school buildings were grey blocks bulking before a sky of starless dark. Mini-Flash Phytolith and Mini-Flash Moon ate their nutrition supplements together by the statue, which was a replica of the one crafted eons ago in the deepest catacombs of Eshcaton. Not that any of the Mini-Flashes had ever been. In fact they’d never been out of the compound. There’d be plenty of time for field-trips once the war was won.

“I bet you did better at the test than you think,” said Mini-Flash Moon. She had a pretty sing-song voice unlike that of anybody else.

Mini-Flash Phytolith didn’t reply. He seldom could, around her. Not that it wasn’t nice of her to try and cheer him up. For the second time that day, he marvelled at how different she was to Semiprecious and the rest.

There were in fact many reasons to cheer up. The test, at any rate, was over. He was having lunch with Mini-Flash Moon. And then, on top of that –

“Are you looking forward to tonight?” she asked him.

Mini-Flash Moon had taken the words right out of the mouth he so loathed. Of course, her question was rhetorical. Every Mini-Flash looked forward to those rare evenings they were allowed out after curfew. At this very moment however, when Mini-Flash Phytolith thought on how he was going to see Mini-Flash Moon again and possibly even sit near her in the cinema, he doubted the universe at large had any idea just how much he was looking forward to it.

“Exciting,” affirmed Mini-Flash Moon, conspiratorially.

And when Mini-Flash Phytolith caught her kind glistening ruby gaze, suddenly not even his own abhorrent lips could stand in the way of returning her smile.

END OF CHAPTER ONE