Charles Sheffield: Higher Education

It took forever to fill. Rick put in as much water as he dared, until he was sure that the thin skin would burst under the weight. At last he tied off the end. The bloated condom had become amazingly heavy. He cradled it in his arms and headed back to the classroom.

The most difficult part still remained. Somehow he had to balance the monstrous condom right above the door, so that it would burst as the door swung open. And he had to get out, himself, after the trap was set.

It sounded impossible. Rick puzzled over it, increasingly sure that he was running out of time, until at last he realized that he was trying to solve the wrong problem. He didn’t have to leave the room at all. There was going to be total confusion after the door was opened. He could hide behind the desks at the back of the room, and leave when the excitement was over.

He spent ten nervous minutes arranging a harness of tape around the condom, then placed thumb tacks through the ends of the tape. Finally he dragged a chair over to the door and lifted the condom into position. He pushed the pins into the wall and made delicate adjustments. When the door was opened, its rough top had to just scrape the bottom of the condom enough to break it. But the condom felt so distended and tight, he was almost afraid to move it now.

At last he realized that he was doing more harm than good. The changes he was making were loosening both the pins and the tape. He returned the chair to its original position and forced himself to retreat to the back of the room. He found a place which allowed him a narrow view of the door, with a very small chance of his being seen.

And then he waited. And waited.

What could be going on in the hall? There was no way to know how long Congresswoman Pearl would decide to speak. Certainly, Principal Rigden would not dare to interrupt a visitor who was a member of the Board of Education. Suppose that she went on right until lunch time, and the class did not return to this room?

Rick’s legs were stiff and his knees sore from crouching on the hard floor when at last he heard the sound of footsteps clattering along the corridor. He tensed. He had not been able to lock the door, as he had originally intended. Maybe Preebane would notice that.

Apparently not. The metal handle on the inside was turning. The door opened its first inch and Rick heard Preebane’s voice saying, “After you, Aunt Delia. I am weally glad that my clath will have you—”

The door swung open. Rick had one glimpse of Willis Preebane, ushering a large, green-clad figure ahead of him into the room. Then the giant condom, scraped by the top of the door, burst with a soft, subdued plop. Water deluged down.

Rick, peering through the narrow slit, had the sudden feeling that the flood had decapitated Congresswoman Pearl. He could see her red hair, sodden with water, lying on the floor.

Then he heard her scream. She clutched at her head. The hair beneath the wig was revealed as short-cropped and grey.

Behind the congresswoman and Preebane, crowding now into the doorway, came Rick’s whole class. They were buzzing with excitement and delight. Delia Pearl’s secret would be all over the school by lunch-time. Rick saw Screw near the front, standing open-mouthed with astonished glee.

He felt a huge satisfaction. He had promised; and he had certainly delivered.

Rick also believed that he was safe from discovery. In the melee that followed, the classroom had been total confusion. No one noticed when he joined the rest—even Hoss and Screw didn’t realize that he had been in the room, and they had no idea how he had managed the trick until he explained.

It was a total shock to Rick when he was called out of class right after lunch and taken to Principal Rigden’s office.

The principal was there. So was Congresswoman Pearl, the three assistant principals, Willis Preebane, and two other people whom Rick did not recognize.

The congresswoman had managed to dry her wig, and she was wearing it. That was a mistake. After its soaking it looked like a strip of cheap coconut matting wedged down onto her head. Beneath it, her blue eyes glared at Rick with undisguised hatred.

“This is the one?”

“We believe so.” Principal Rigden wasted no time on formalities. She turned to Rick. “Ricardo Luban, do you know of the outrage that was perpetrated on Congresswoman Pearl this morning?”

“Yes.” Rick felt uneasy, but he could not see how anything could be pinned on him.

“Will you admit that you were responsible for it?”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Were you in Mr. Preebane’s class, before the assembly to greet the congresswoman?”

“Yes.”

“And you were the last to leave that class?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Mr. Preebane?” The principal turned her head.

“He was the last. Definitely. He held the door for me.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“And you locked the door after you, as you were supposed to?”

“Sure.”

Rick felt easier in his mind. They were going to try to prove that he hadn’t locked the door. He didn’t think they could. And even if they did, that was a long way from proving that he had set the booby trap. But the principal didn’t pursue that line. She merely nodded, and asked, “Mr. Preebane tells us that you then went on ahead of him, toward the hall. Is that right?”

“Yes.” Rick was uneasy again.

“And you attended the general assembly?”

“Yes.”

“And remained there throughout?”

“Yes.” If they were going to ask him what happened in the hall, he was on solid ground. Hoss and Screw Savage had briefed him pretty thoroughly over lunch. Danny Rackett’s headset hadn’t worked right. He had tried to read his speech of welcome from printed sheets, stumbled over every word longer than one syllable, and made an ass of himself until Principal Rigden finally cut him off. She had then made a short speech herself, explaining what a wonderful person the visiting congresswoman was. And finally Congresswoman Pearl had offered her own contribution, telling the audience how pleased she was that her own nephew, Willis Preebane, had decided to teach here, how talented he was, and how lucky the school was to have him. She hoped he would be really happy with his choice.

She had said it all twice, to make sure that the principal and the other teachers got the message, added that she was looking forward to seeing an actual class being taught, and at last sat down.

If Principal Rigden wanted anything more detailed than that, Rick would plead ignorance—and be sure that half the school remembered no more than he had been told.

“So where did you sit during the assembly?”

The question was totally unexpected. It left Rick floundering.

“I dunno.”

“That’s silly, of course you remember. Now, where?”

“I guess maybe I was near the back. Near the side door.”

“Very good.” The principal turned to the screen that covered one wall of her office. “Right here, in fact.” She touched the wall. “This is you, is it not?”

The screen showed a videocamera still. The resolution was not good. Rick sitting way at the back of the hall was barely recognizable.

“Yes, that’s me.”

Mistake. Should have said maybe, not sure. He thought of changing his story, but it was too late. The picture had flashed off, to be replaced by another, and Principal Rigden was saying, “The first image I showed was taken at the beginning of the assembly. This one was taken close to the end of it. The seat where you were sitting originally is now empty. Where are you sitting now, Ricardo Luban?”

“I moved.” Rick spoke automatically, but he knew he was doomed. If they had been able to locate him on the video image . . .