Learning difficulty

Ilrica sat tensely in her seat, absentmindedly running her claws back and forth along her desk, cutting into the material, her eyes lost in thought.

Ms. Stubbs rubbed her lucky tarnac's claw as she walked up to the front of the class, chanting a good fortune mantra to herself. "I can't tell you what a pleasant week it has been. Not one mishap, not one animal attack, not one mysterious illness..."

She reached down into the collar of her uniform and pulled out three more charms and began rubbing them. "...Unfortunately, everything has an end. Ahem. We would like to welcome Mr. Dyson back from his trip..."

"That's not Geri!" Zurra complained, her neck stretching out like a giraffe so she could see over everyone.

The class turned and saw a plump lady with over styled hair sitting in Gerald's desk. Only Cha'Rolette seemed unfazed. Ilrica was relieved and dropped her chin into the palms of her hands.

"May I ask who you are, ma'am?"

"Oh, my. Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Mr. Dyson's personal secretary. I will be taking notes for him from today's lecture."

Ms. Stubbs perked up. "Oh, that's... wonderful actually." Relieved, she smoothed her hair out. Some of the color seemed to come back to her cheeks.

Trahzi stood up. "Teacher, we must object. Academy rules specifically prohibit the use of a proxy, digital or organic."

Ms. Stubbs grabbed a fistful of charms. "Yes, that is true, Trahzi. However, rules were made to be flexible."

"No, they're not. That's why they are called rules."

"I say, good riddance," Cleylselle shouted. "I feel like I have a target painted on my back whenever he is around." He looked at Trahzi sidelong, to make sure she had caught the slight.

"Yeah, we don't want him here anyway," Kamanie added.

"I want him here!" Zurra whined, waving her hands around like taffy. "He's the only reason I even came to this stupid school!" She took a deep breath and held it in, her face turning red in a fit.

"What are you, six?"

Most of the students joined in, adding their approval of Gerald's absence. Cha'Rolette was strangely silent. She just sat there, a wry little smile on her face.

Zurra noticed it and glared at her, her head deflating. "What did you do?"

* * *

"It is ten hundred hours, Master Dyson," Enri announced, tapping a button on the window before him. "Time for dance instruction."

"It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." A tall, lithe woman said with a formal bow. "I am Mistress Qeeshol, and I have been contracted by the Ssykes family to familiarize you with traditional and contemporary Alliance formal dances."

Gerald scratched the back of his neck. "I really don't see how this has anything to do with my new job."

"As a regional manager you will be attending many elite social gatherings, both to report and to raise funds. It is essential that you be prepared."

"I guess that makes sense."

"We will begin with the basic Imperial Bolero." She snapped her fingers and the hardwood floor beneath them became a cushioned hexagonal grid. Rhythmic music began to play, causing Cadbury to sway back and forth happily.

"This is a couple's dance. You turn right twice, left once, while rotating a half turn clockwise during the chorus. It has a fast pace, but we'll learn it slow before speeding up."

He raised an eyebrow. "A couple's dance?"

"Oh, anyone making a donation to your cause is going to expect at least one dance."

Gerald reluctantly stepped forward and took her hand, stepping roundly on her toe.

"Ouch!" she squeaked in pain."

"Sorry."

* * *

"Eleven hundred hours, music instruction."

"This is a Zadra flute," Mr. Nurmeen said as he held up the silver instrument. It kind of looked like a pan flute, with multiple tubes running parallel, except that they all fused at the top into a single mouthpiece. Blue wisps of energy ran along the tubes, snaking in and out of the plugs like living things.

"A subtle Issaguardian instrument, in the hands of a master it is considered to produce the most romantic melodies in the galaxy."

"It is?" Gerald asked warily as he looked it over.

"Oh yes, a marriage serenade must be played on a zadra or not at all. Why, when I serenaded my third wife, it only took four notes before she grabbed my..."

"Marriage serenade?" Gerald interrupted. "Now, wait just a minute..."

Enri stepped forward and raised his hand. "Master Dyson, tomorrow afternoon the new Soeckian mission will be opening, will it not?"

"Yes."

"You will be attending many such events as part of your duties, and music is traditionally a part of them. Learning an instrument is essential to the performance of your job."

Gerald sat back down. "Uh huh," he said doubtfully.

* * *

The students had never seen Ms. Stubbs in such a good mood. After finishing her lectures early, she gave everyone some free-study time and sat at her desk, a stupid little grin on her face. "Nothing's broken... nothing's broken..." she sang happily to herself.

Tulda lazily scrolled through a window of gossip magazines. "You know, I don't really get it. Why are you doing all of this for him?"

Cha'Rolette finished up the practice test she was working on and prepared to begin another. "He's a representative of Ssykes Industries, and so he needs to reflect our values and image." She leaned forward, her eyes becoming dreamy, a faint smile on her lips, "We'll have him polished up and fit for proper display in no time."

Kamanie twirled her hair with a finger. "Yeah, but I thought your whole goal was to destroy him?"

Cha'Rolette blushed, "It... it is. Nothing has changed," she said, twiddling with her fingers.

"So, I don't get it. How does doing all of these things for him further that goal?"

"Wow, that was surprisingly sober thinking for you Kamanie," Tulda praised.

"Thank you," she beamed, smacking her gum.

"Look, I don't expect you two to understand the subtlety of what I am doing," said Cha'Rolette.

Tulda shrugged. "All I know is that I've never seen you do so much for any guy before."

"I've never seen her do anything for anyone before."

"Just shut up and chew your gum," she ordered, her ta'atu flashing.

"Okay," they agreed happily, returning to their magazines.

* * *

"Twelve hundred hours, personal grooming and appearance."

Haute couture designer Gwof Wonthreen threw a cube on the ground that unfolded itself over and over again, until half the room was filled with a portable tailoring station, mirrored display, and dozens of racks filled with the most stylish and fashionable outfits of the day.

"Oh, this is just going to be a joy," he gushed, dozens of little robots flying from the housing in his back and taking Gerald's measurements. "I've never designed clothing for a human before. I haven't been this excited since I married my second wife. Now, strip down out of that ghastly little robe and let's cover you in elegance."

One of the little robots pulled out a roll of expensive looking fabric and Gwof rubbed his cheek against it. "Have you ever tried Turresian silk? It's amazing. Light as a feather. Thickens in the cold, thins in the heat. Stores warmth during the day then slowly releases it at night. Self-cleaning. Ohh, I would marry this stuff if the Emperor would allow it."

"One of my dancers has a dress made of that," Mistress Qeeshol praised as she bandaged up her foot. "It's incredible."

Gwof grabbed Gerald's hand and made him touch it.

"It's very nice, but my cassock is part of my religion."

Gwof clapped his hands. "Ah, religious habits. Well, I can work with that too."

"Don't take too long, K'Ritlama warned as she setup her portable salon station. "I have at least a dozen hair styles The Duchess wanted me to try out on him so she can pick her favorite." She worked up a lather of purple and pink bubbles in a basin. Cadbury poked her head out and squawked, releasing a trail of bubbles.

Gerald held up his hands. "Look, guys..."

There was a knock at the door. When Enri opened it, Trahzi was standing there, holding her puppy. She gave off the most pleasant little smile and tilted her head adorably.

"Oh wow, Trahzi," Gerald praised. "You look happy."

"You told us we should smile more often."

Gerald looked at her warmly as she held the puppy gently in her arms. It looked up and licked her chin.

"I'm here too," Zurra yelled, jumping in front of Trahzi and bouncing around like a rubber ball. "Wow, there's like a dozen people in there."

"Apparently I have a staff now," Gerald said, motioning to his collection of tutors and specialists.

"May I help you ladies?" Enri asked.

"We are here to walk with Gerald," Trahzi said. She looked down at Zurra harshly. "Just us two."

Zurra pouted. "I don't need permission from the Kool Aid Man's slutty daughter in order to spend time with my wife."

"I'm afraid some of Mr. Dyson's appointments have gone on longer than expected."

"Yes," Doctor Ssandr said, prodding Gerald in the butt with her shock stick. "I'll tear up my diploma before I leave here with nothing higher than a twelve percent for the first day!"

Trahzi's smile disappeared.

Enri opened up a window and scrolled through it. "Perhaps I can squeeze you in next week, we have a five minute gap between elocution and debate theory."

Trahzi snarled and the entire room filled with fire. When it was gone, everyone except Gerald and Trahzi had disappeared.

Gerald looked around at the now empty room. "What happened?"

"They were an obstacle, so we removed them."

He became worried. "Did you kill them?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, I think so."

Trahzi petted the puppy. "No, we did not end their lives, we simply put them somewhere where they cannot bother us. You and I are now free to take our walk."

"But... where did they go?"

"Is that really important?"

"Look, Trahzi, I don't like this either, but these people are just doing their job, you can't just banish them somewhere."

Trahzi sighed and stroked the puppy's head. "Very well."

There was another flash of fire and everyone reappeared. They were all writhing around on the ground, screaming and moaning, their hands and feet up in the air as if they had been defending themselves from some frightful thing.

Doctor Ssandr covered her face and began sobbing in terror. Mr. Nurmeen put his chin on his knees and began rocking back and forth, his face white as snow.

Enri stood up, his eyes shaking.

"Now, apologize to the nice man," Gerald bade.

Trahzi pursed her black lips. "We... apologize for that. We would like to go on our walk with Gerald now," she said as politely as she could.

Gerald lifted his hand, urging her to say more.

She rolled her eyes. "...please."

Enri nodded slowly. "That's okay... the next item on his agenda was protocol and etiquette... he can do that while you walk. The rest of us will just lay down here and cry for a while."

Enri dropped to his knees and lay down, his eyes fixed on some distant terror.