Elizabeth Bear - Future Visions - Original Science Fiction Inspired by Microsoft

“The students aren’t giving you any problems, are they?”

“No, sir. I guess I’m just not equipped to be a teacher.”

Delhorn nodded. “I think you may be selling yourself a little bit short.”

“I wish that were true, but I think I have it right.”

“Walter, if you leave, we’ll be replacing you with a retired history teacher who has stepped in before for physics. But he knows about as much about physics as I do. We’d like you to stay on. Give yourself some time.”

“I’d like to, James. But I just don’t have what I need to make it work.”

“You’ve only been here a week. It’s never easy for a new teacher.”

“I’m sure you’d be able to manage if I leave. And I think it’s best for both of us—”

“Walter, you understand this isn’t really about you. We were relieved when you came on board right after we heard McLaughlin wasn’t coming back. Physics teachers are especially hard to find on short notice. We want you to stay. I understand it’s hard on you. But the students need you. I heard enough down there today to know that you have a handle on your field. The rest of it, connecting with the kids, getting the technique down, that’s all just a matter of time. It’ll come. You’ve got the important part, the background. Just give yourself a chance.”

He struggled through the next couple of days without noticeable change, other than that the signs of disaffection in the classroom were increasing, more kids rolling their eyes and shaking their heads. He told himself to relax. He was in charge. But his voice was acquiring an edge. He was losing patience with his students. He’d always loved his physics classes. How could these kids be so distant?

On Wednesday afternoon Diana called him while he was on his way home. That was a surprise. They were still in the very early stages of whatever relationship they were having. She should be maintaining a distance, letting him take up the pursuit. “How’s my favorite physics teacher doing?”

There was something in her tone that told him she knew. “Okay,” he said. “You write any commercials lately?”

“A couple. I’m beginning to think it’s what my life will be about.”

A long pause followed. Finally: “Nothing much has changed, Diana. Have you been hearing things?”

“My sister’s a senior at the Academy.”

“Oh.”

“She says she’s hearing you don’t seem comfortable in the classroom.”

“She’s got that right.”

“What are you doing this evening?”

“Not much. Trying to figure out what I’ll need to survive tomorrow.”

“Maybe a night off would help. You probably need to relax.”

“I guess I don’t have anything to lose. What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe a movie?”

“That’s not going to work, Diana.”

She shrugged. “I’m just talking about taking a night off.”

“Okay. How about The Big Lebowski ?”

“I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a comedy. You mentioned once that you’d enjoy seeing yourself play John Wayne. How about we watch Rio Bravo ?”

He took a bottle of Merlot over with him. Diana surprised him with a kiss. It wasn’t their first, but she hadn’t previously initiated the action. “You ready to play the Duke?” she asked.

He lowered his voice by about three octaves: “Ready as I’ll ever be, schweetheart.”

She grinned and backed away from the door, inviting him inside. “That sounded more like Bogart.”

He caught the aroma of pizza. And popcorn was on the coffee table. “This is exactly what I needed. A complete break.”

“That’s my guess too. Just relax and enjoy raising hell with the bad guys.” She brought the pizza out of the kitchen, set it on the table, and began dividing it.

Walter opened the wine and poured two glasses. He raised one in her direction. “For the loveliest woman in the West.”

She lifted hers, they touched glasses, and drank. Walter was feeling good for the first time in two weeks.

They finished off the pizza and started on the popcorn. “You going to play Feathers?” he asked. The role had originally been Angie Dickinson’s.

“No,” she said. “I thought I’d be Nathan Burdette.”

“He’s the head villain, isn’t he? That would certainly change the tone of the action.”

She was wearing a wide smile. “I suspect it would.”

“Well, let’s get it started, schweetheart.” Bogart again.

“You have to get your characters straight, Walter.”

They had another laugh, and Diana picked up the remote.

Walter had seen it twice before. He’d expected that watching it with himself in Wayne’s role as Sheriff John Chance would be different. Probably funny. Possibly absurd. But it wasn’t like that at all, at least not in any way that mattered. The software manipulated him, deepened his voice, mimicked Wayne’s stalwart responses, and somehow managed to retain the power of the film. Walter strode through the bar that was the center of so much of the action and performed in an utterly believable manner. He had to struggle to remind himself that it was a film. No lives were at stake. He was sitting beside Diana, downing popcorn and occasionally trading hugs. Neither of them ever laughed at his performance.

When it was over, and the siege at the jail had been lifted, and the credits were rolling, he simply sat back and stared at the screen. There was no confusion in his mind, no sense that, in some way, he had been John Wayne.

Still, Diana hugged him. “You played the part beautifully,” she said.

Before the night ended, he’d begun to suspect it had been a setup. That Diana had hoped to use the technology to persuade him that he possessed the charisma and presence of the Hollywood giant. He was tempted to say something. Sheriff Chance would have done that, would have had it out with her. But in the end, he was still only Walter Peacock.

The only aftereffect he noticed arrived the following morning: In the classroom, he felt a bit less nervous. It wouldn’t have been correct to say he was at ease, but he was able to deliver his presentations and to respond to occasional student questions without having his stomach tighten. He’d watched himself the previous night performing at a level he’d never have believed possible. And he was beginning to believe he shared the same sensitivity and humanity that Wayne had portrayed so well.

He called Diana that evening. “It’s odd,” he said. “I didn’t feel this way after I’d watched myself do the comedy sketches.”

“You’re probably not a comedian by nature, Walter.”

“I don’t think I’d qualify as a John Wayne sheriff either.”

“It’s a different set of qualifications. You’re talking about courage and charisma. Most of us have a fair supply of both. We just don’t know it, so it doesn’t show up. Had you ever spoken before a group prior to starting at Brackenwood?”

“During my Boy Scout days. We used to tell stories around the campfire.”

“Walter, do you know that, if you start looking around for what people are most afraid of, death is not first on the list?”