“I know!” Renee is practically giddy. “I think it could really help with things around here. But...not all of the teachers are happy, and the principal definitely isn’t.”
“Why?”
“There’s some concern about being replaced eventually,” Renee admits. “You should’ve seen the outrage in the email thread. It was pretty explosive. Nobody wants to touch it.”
Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me, though I’m a little disappointed. St. Morgan may be small in comparison to places like Chicago and New Carnegie, but I’m beginning to suspect change comes much slower than I hoped. My brother was right. I really have stepped back in time.
It bodes well for me that Renee seems to enjoy gossip. Rule of thumb at any new job? Always make friends with the busybody—just make sure you never tell them anything.
If the android is causing waves among the other teachers, maybe that’s a place to start. I take a deep breath and rise from my chair, then tentatively cross the office while Renee watches me wide-eyed. I square my shoulders and rap my knuckles on the principal’s office door, peering into the small rectangular window at the woman who is effectively my boss.
She glances up from her computer and frowns, looking me right in the eyes. “Come in.”
“Principal Carlisle?” I enter her office and gently shut the door behind me before stepping forward and offering my hand. “I’m Lucy Warren, the new World History teacher.”
The principal doesn’t get up and doesn’t make any motion to even try to take my hand. “Sit down,” she instructs.
I’m not sure if I should be offended or impressed by how businesslike she seems. When I think of school staff, especially in a small district like this, I imagine warmth, a close-knit community where everybody knows everyone and is willing to help out, go the extra mile. Apparently, that’s not the case here.
I lower myself into a chair. Her desk is tidy, not a pen out of place. Her entire office is pristine without a single trace of clutter.
But one thing I quickly notice is that everything is outdated. The computer on her desk is at least a decade old, if not older. It’s not even built into the desk, like most models these days. My personal laptop is state of the art in comparison, and it’s hardly the best on the market. I’m beginning to worry the rest of the school is going to be limited in that way too.
Refocusing on the here and now, I leave such thoughts behind me. A holo-plaque shines the name “Principal Judith Carlisle” in elegant blue letters. I stare at it a moment as I listen to her fingers clattering away furiously upon her keyboard.
Finally, she stops and turns to me. “Remind me, how many years did you teach in New Carnegie?”
“Closing in on nine years at Oakridge Middle School.”
“Is that in the city or . . .”
“It’s uptown,” I reply.
“I imagine it’s harder to get your foot in the door when schools actuallyhavefunding and can be a bit more picky about who they bring on.”
Oh boy, a back-handed compliment within the first five minutes. I’ve got my work cut out for me. I smile, ignoring it. “I wouldn’t know. I never applied to them.”
Judith Carlisle levels her stern gaze at me and leans forward on her desk. “You are absolutely perfect on paper, Lucy Warren. Flawless record, high scores on your career assessments, professional references who couldn’t stop gushing about you. And while I don’t blame you for moving away from that abysmal city in the slightest, what with all those robots walking about, everything plastered in neon. I want to know—what’s the catch?”
Blinking, I stare back at her, trying to process the fact she’s blatantly insulting my hometown to my face. “Catch?”
“Naivety doesn’t suit you.” Carlisle sniffs. “But if you’d prefer me to treat you as if you’re dense, I’ll rephrase my question.”
I shake myself out of my stupor and lean forward. “There’s no catch, Principal Carlisle.” My face heats. “The cost of living in New Carnegie is getting more expensive, and my annual raises, if any, weren’t cutting it. I could’ve relocated to a suburb, sure, but I wanted to move out of state for better wages. I researched St. Morgan, and it made good economic sense to come here.”
She stares me down as though she’s a detective in a serial cop show, and I stare right back at her. If I flinch now, I doubt she’ll ever believe a word I say. As it stands, I didn’t lie—itwasone of my reasons for relocating. One of a few.
“I see.” I can’t tell if she believes me or not, but at least she’s moving past it. “Well, I don’t have time to give you the grand tour myself. That duty will have to fall to Renee while I try to sort out this android problem.”
My curiosity gets the best of me. “Android problem?”
“Yes. BioNex chose our school out of god knows how many, and there’s now an android out for delivery today.” She pinches her nose and rubs the corners of her eyes behind her glasses.
I don’t have firsthand experience with androids, but I have seen them. BioNex opened their first store in my hometown, which grew to about five stores citywide, last I checked. Androids on the street, walking with their owners, on public transportation, even in grocery stores is something I’m accustomed to.
“The students must be so excited.”
“Time will tell.” Carlisle doesn’t appear thrilled by the prospect. “At present, I don’t have a single teacher who wants an android assisting in their classroom. This is a fifty-thousand-dollar piece of equipment, and at this point it’s only going to be taking up space in the supply closet.”
