Survival Of The Fittest

[William Crawford: Start]

An usual morning in everyday's school life for William.

Calculus class is by far one of the most important math classes a student should take to get into serious problems of advanced Mathematics and Physics, but, what happens when somebody already knows what he's going to study in the course?

William is not a math genius, although he seems very good at it, and thanks to his father job as a physics professor at the university, he's not so distant from the mathematical world.
Not that he studied math on his own everyday, but many times, in his spare time, he had enjoyed teaching himself how to work with the main instruments of Calculus.

Also, Mr. Teitel's boring voice really didn't help William to follow the class, and this is why, at least for the first half of the lesson, he worked on mathematical concepts and problems on his own.

As the lesson started, Mr. Teitel was about to introduce the topic of that morning class.

"Today, we are going to talk about Differentiation of functions with a single variable..."

"Differentiation...uhm...I'll better do things on my own for now." It was the only thing William could think at that moment.

He took out of his bag a book named "Introduction to Advanced Calculus". Probably a book that many students won't even open, but William's curiosity, paired with that boring lecture, won't have stopped him.

He jumped from page to page, until he found a particular topic: "Generalization of Calculus theorems from Real field to Metric Spaces and Normed Vector Spaces".

"Interesting..."

A hard reading, but he wasn't going to seriously study that. He just wanted to take a look.

After few minutes, Mr. Teitel was explaining the linear approximation of a generic function. Meanwhile William was completely taken off the lecture by the Convergence of Cauchy's sequences.

Time passed really fast, and only 5 minutes left until the second part of the class, consisting of group work, which was what William really liked of Mr. Teitel's teachings.

Ben should've taken another class.

He didn't need calculus to graduate. He'd already done Statistics last year, after all, and that had actually been interesting. And useful. So far in calculus, all they'd done was learn about limits. That stuff had been blindingly obvious. Of course approaching a number gets you that number. What else would it give you, infinity?

At least, this class would have been more interesting if Mrs. Havok were teaching. Ben preferred the way she taught: everything was to the point and more importantly, applicable. Mrs. Havok also didn't give a shit if people didn't have their homework done; people just got babied too much with Teitel. How the fuck were they supposed to handle the real world? There wasn't room for stupid excuses like "I was studying for Physics" when the work actually mattered.

But as much as Ben would love to keep complaining about the class, he still needed to keep up his grades. So as Teitel droned on, Ben's pencil kept up, scratching down notes and figures. As the lecture subsided for a moment, Ben took the opportunity to look around at the rest of the class. Some people looked as confused as if they had just seen a shark fly through the window and land on somebody. Dumb fucks. Ben at least had an idea of what derivatives were, and a few hours of study would fix the rest later.

The kid next to him didn't even seem to notice the lull in the lecture. Instead, he seemed to be busy just reading his textbook. Except it didn't even look like their calculus textbook. One of the graphs even had a spiral shape. How the hell did a function do that? Did this kid even understand a thing in that book, or was he just trying to show off? What a cocky bastard.

Ben glared at the kid. Crawford, that was his name. And wasn't he that kid who would spout some of that communism bullshit? Ben had overheard some of that crap this guy had said a few weeks ago. Probably should've shut him up then. Well, as long as Crawford didn't run his mouth around Ben again, then there wouldn't need to be trouble.

Then again, given Teitel's regular class schedule, the chance of that happening was probably slim to none. Only a few minutes before the class descended into the chaotic mess called "groupwork". It was just one more reason for Ben to hate this class. If somebody couldn't finish their homework, they shouldn't be wasting class time to do it; Teitel instead encouraged exactly that. If Mrs. Havok were teaching, they'd be way ahead of this subject by now. But with any luck, Ben wouldn't have to group up with Crawford, even though they were sitting next to each other. Ben continued to glare at the other boy, even as the teacher started the last section of his lecture.

Ben didn't feel very lucky today.

"Now I'm going to make some groups, so you can work together on Derivatives..."

These were the last words of the first part of the lecture before he proceeded with some names.

"...and finally, Crawford, pair up with Ward."

Benjamin Ward was the guy next to him, and even though William didn't know him, he already saw Ben many times around the school.

"Hey...I'm William"

Good manners first of all, introducing himself, in these situations, was the first thing he was taught to do by his parents.

"So, do you know how to do those?"

He asked smiling, while pointing at the board where Mr. Teitel wrote some exercises about differentiation in Real Field.
William already knew how to do all the homeworks, but he was ready to help Ben if he had any kind of problems.

So he put back his Advanced Calculus textbook into his bag and planted his desk near Ben.
Pen on the right hand, he started copying the first exercise from the board, just to wait the other guy doing that too.

"Uhm, I already saw you around, are you in the football team right?"

A bit of conversation, just to start knowing each other, might have improved their teamwork.

After he copied the first function to differentiate, William stopped and waited for Ben's signal to start.

(Travis Webster: Start)

Travis had barely entered the classroom before starting to feel drowsy. Another late night of weed and gaming had left him wanton for sleep, a wish that his parents had thoroughly ignored when they knocked on his door earlier that morning.

"Fucking piece of shit math class..." he grumbled to a friend who was already sitting down.

"Good to see you too, Webster", said a voice behind him, dripping with sarcasm. With dread, Travis turned around.

"Mr. Teitel. I didn't see you there."

He swore to himself. Just his luck to be swearing about class just as the teacher approached him.

What next, huh Travis, you stupid asshole? Should you start insulting the way Teitel dresses as well? Maybe make fun of his children? Wait, does Teitel even HAVE children?

With a forced smile and a polite nod towards the total drone that was his math teacher, he threw himself down onto his chair and immediately put his head on the table with a groan.

Ugh, this place. This boring, tedious, fucking place.

Travis hated school. Ever since he was a child, the things he was told to do had been boring and underwhelming, and he had problems keeping up because of his lack of motivation. Not because of lack of intellect, mind you. No, no! Travis was one of the brighter students in the class, once you got past his uninterested exterior. However, his inability to complete homework on time, or read up on sections in the book had left him far behind most others in the class, and he rarely got good grades, often settling for mediocre or even barely passable ones. This class, the calculus class, was no exception. It was rather a shining example of WHY he disliked school so much. Math was his least favorite subject, after all. And Mr. Teitel just made it worse. Hours upon hours had been spent in this classroom, listening to his monotone, sleep-inducing voice, blabbering about this and that. Not even Marijuana could make Teitel's classes fun.

His line of thought got interrupted after that though, as Teitel began to speak.

"Today, we are going to talk about Differentiation of functions with a single variable..."

Time for another fucking monologue, Travis thought to himself, and sighed. Same old routine, same old monotone voice. If there was a single word he could use to describe his everyday life, it would be.... BOREDOM. No, wait... maybe, APATHY? .... Or maybe..?

"Mr. Webster, might I recommend that you take out your book and at least PRETEND that you are following along?"

Snapping back to reality at the sound of his name echoing across the classroom, he looked around confused for a second, before apologizing and taking out his book from his extremely heavy bag. He never really used his locker, preferring to carry all his books around on his person. It was more convenient that way, not having to go visit his locker after every class, and he was strong enough to not have any problems carrying it around. He looked down on the book in his hand. GOD, even the title made him drowsy. God this class was terrible.

After a few minutes of what felt to Travis like sheer TORTURE, Mr. Teitel was explaining something called "linear approximation of a generic function". Just saying the words made his head hurt. Math was all so bland and boring and... well... so tied down to rules. There was no way to get creative in math. Two plus two was always two, and that was how it had always been, and always would be. And this BORED him out of his mind.

As Teitel kept droning on about this and that, he looked around the classroom. Most of the kids looked either dumbstruck or bored. Only two people really stood out to him. There was one kid reading a... What the hell, "Introduction to Advanced Calculus"!?

Are you shitting me, that kid was already doing ADVANCED calculus, and he had barely even mastered the absolute basics of the subject. What kind of kid was this? Did he actually understand what he was reading? What was his name? Crawford? One of those revolutionary types, wasn't he? Why was HIM of all people reading Advanced Calculus!?

He thought that Crawford was the name. He had no clue, to be honest. He didn't even bother trying to remember the first name. I mean, he was social and all, but keeping track of EVERYONE was near impossible. Guess he could ask when Teitel would let the class do group work. That was the only reprieve from his god awful teaching style. Travis was at least grateful for the consistency in the schedule, as it allowed him to count down the minutes until he could stop listening and just relax. He tried to remember the name again. He'd heard it before. Will, maybe? Bah, he couldn't be bothered. Then there was that insufferable know-it-all Ben Ward, constantly writing notes and studying like a crazy person, making Travis look bad. The worst part was that Ward had no problems flaunting his superiority in class either. This made him have a strong dislike for the not-so-modest boy. He slumped down his head between his arms, yawned, and fell into a deep sleep.

(Continued on in Whistle Stop)

(Continued from Whistle Stop)

Travis sighed. The dream had felt so real, so close.

Durr, you idiot. That's because it was real.
That's before mom and dad started working so much. When we were still one big happy family.


"Now, if Mr. Webster is finished NAPPING..."

Travis bit his lip. Guess that was ANOTHER thing that would appear on his report card. His parents would not be surprised. Not that they would be happy about it, but surprised?

I think I stopped surprising them a long time ago, he thought to himself solemnly.

.... I'm going to make some groups, so you can work together on Derivatives..."

As he assigned everyone into pairs, Travis barely even listened to what Teitel said, still being caught up in his dream.

"Webster, you're with-..."

He yawned, and shrugged. Who cared about that stupid dream anyway? It was a long time ago. This was now. Math was such a drag. But maybe his partner would know what to do?

"...and finally, Crawford, pair up with Ward."

That, at least, made him chuckle.
You place the high and mighty student council member working with the radical communist? It'd be like putting one of the Anarchist kids with one of the Republicans. That's quite the pairing you got there, Mr. Teitel. Maybe you do actually have a sense of humor after all?
He watched the two boys sit down and start chatting with one another, before turning to his own partner.

"Err, hey. Yeah. I didn't really listen. Y'know how to do any of this? At all?"

Who knew, maybe this time his partner might be able to actually help?

((Milo Richter))

Milo Richter was, for one of the first times in his life, seriously questioning the applicability of what he was learning.

Usually he jumped into his work with vigor, vim, vitality, and all that jazz. It never mattered whether it was a class on physics or PE. Whenever he was given a task and expected to do well in it, do well he did. Well, except for PE, but they gave grades for effort in that class, not ability, so it didn't much matter. Milo Richter was the unstoppable force of academia, bulldozing any abstract concept that dared stand in his way.

The only thing that was ever going to stop Milo from succeeding was himself.

It had recently occurred to Milo, after so many years of advanced classes, to ask his dad what kind of math he did at work.

"Well, Milo, not all that much."

"Really?"

"Yes. You see, when you are in my line of work, you can get computers or other people to crunch the numbers for you. The most math I need to do can be done on this calculator."

Sascha Richter had swiveled around from his computer and notebook, and his thin hand held up a simple Casio scientific calculator. There was a graphing calculator next to it on the desk, but Sasha hadn't picked that one up because he was trying to make a point. Milo stood to the side of the desk, his incredulous face illuminated by a modern desk lamp.

"But don't you ever use calculus? They always have word problems and applications in calculus."

"No, don't think I ever have."

"...OK, thanks."

And now here Milo was in calculus, absorbing the lesson as raptly as ever but questioning the exact utility of what he was learning. Well, in any case, he'd need it in college. Managers only hired people who were well-rounded these days, and that meant majoring in something besides business.

"Now, if Mr. Webster is finished NAPPING..."

Ugh, why am I even here? Milo didn't mean that, of course - there were several good reasons to be here, college prep and love of learning among them - but seeing somebody fall asleep, somebody demonstrating so little respect for the teachers and for education itself, really made Milo question what good the system was doing. He could probably go on the internet and look up all the calculus principles in the world and teach himself if he really wanted to, but math class was here for those who needed the instruction, and if you weren't even going to take them up on the offer? Screw you.

Milo snapped back from his internal rant to pay attention when Mr. Teitel said who was pairing up with who.

"Webster, you're with Richter."

Milo really wondered at Mr. Teitel's insistence on last names. You'd expect a guy wearing Hawaiian shirts and khaki pants to call people "dude" by accident or something, not using last names like a- wait, who did he just say?!

Webster.

The guy who just fell asleep in class.

Well this is going to be fun.

It wasn't like he didn't have experience dealing with people who weren't here to learn. He tutored, and that took a lot of patience, especially when they were being sent there by parents or teachers instead of taking their own initiative. But he was never in the mood to do that during actual class hours. He was here to get his day's worth of education and life experience and get out. So the prospect of teaching Travis Webster what he should have just learned was far from thrilling.

Milo turned his desk over towards his drowsy fellow classmate and pushed his desk flush up against his, forming a large enough workspace for them to use. Well, for him to use, because a statement like "Err, hey. Yeah. I didn't really listen. Y'know how to do any of this? At all?" effectively ruled out any possibility of Travis doing anything with it. Milo slipped into tutor mode, his eagerness to finish the problem set as quickly as possible morphing into a facsimile of enthusiasm and concern.

"Yeah, I do. So let's start on, let's see, what was it..." He looked at the board to confirm which problems were being assigned. "Problem 5." Of course it was the odd numbered ones, you wouldn't want to not be able to check your answers, would you?

Milo flipped open to the page and found the problem set. Problem 5 was a simple chain rule problem. It was, as Milo thought without realizing the awful pun, no problem.

"Alright. So how would you go about solving this one?"

Ben turned around and scowled at Webster. It was bad enough that there were idiots in the who couldn't keep up: Teitel just slowed down the material for them. To some degree, Ben could sympathize since he was a lot worse at math than most other subjects. What Ben couldn't sympathize with, was when those idiots wasted their time in class sleeping; that just made Teitel interrupt the fucking class just to wake people up. Waste of time. Waste of space. Waste of air.

Webster didn't seem to notice Ben, instead just staring off into space like the retard he likely was. Ben held his gaze for a few moments, until Teitel started setting up the groups for classwork. It wasn't much of a surprise that Ben was to pair up with Crawford. He'd more or less already predicted this. It didn't make the situation any better. If Crawford so much as started to talk down to him about how goddamn easy he thought calculus was, then Ben couldn't really be blamed after putting the kid in his place.

Of course, the first words out of his mouth were already making Ben think that would be a perfect idea. It wasn't like this was the first time Crawford had ever seen Ben around; they'd been going to Aurora for four years now. Not to mention that they'd been in this class together since September. But maybe Crawford, or William as he'd so nicely introduced himself as, had just spent too much of his classtime burying his attention to his special calculus textbook instead of remembering who was in his class.

"I know who you are. And you know who I am. You get dropped on your head over winter break?" Ben only spared a glance at Crawford before turning his gaze back to the board to read the practice problems Teitel had left up. He'd barely started reading before Crawford interrupted again with another pointless piece of conversation. Ben just swiveled in his seat to glare at Crawford again. "If I knew how to do this shit, I wouldn't need to be here," he growled at the other boy, "but I can figure this out on my own. I don't need your help." The equations on the board seemed pretty simple enough, but he still needed to work through it all from the top.

Evidently, Ben had been right about Crawford having been dropped on his head sometime, because he couldn't take a fucking clue. The screeching sound of a desk being moved right next to his was all Ben needed to hear right now. He just tried his best to ignore it as he copied down the problems on the board. Elsewhere around the class, other pairs were discussing quietly, probably about how absurdly useless this class was. Ben couldn't remember who'd suggested this class to him. Probably the academic advisor, whatever his name was. Or maybe it was an idea his dad had planted. Didn't matter now.

What did matter was the absolutely inane stuff Crawford spouted. How was football even remotely relevant to calculus? Ben didn't even waste his breath on any larger a response than an affirmative grunt. He started working on the first problem and scratched out a line of work before he realized that Crawford's pencil had barely moved. For some reason, staring at Ben was something that seemed to fascinate Crawford far more than calculus. What was wrong with this kid?

He slammed his pencil down on his desk and glared up at Crawford. "What the fuck man?" Ben said, his voice kept low to avoid drawing Teitel's attention, "You think you don't need to do the work? You think you're too smart for this class?"

Three simple words. Three wonderfully simple words, and all of his troubles in this particular math class had been dealt with.

"Yeah, I do."

Travis smiled. The pudgy boy in front of him, wearing those thick-framed glasses, looked like the kind of person who would know these things. He looked like one of those kids who'd never done anything wrong in their entire life. He didn't remember the boy's name, though. It didn't surprise him. He'd seen the kid around in the hallways before and he seemed like a real goody two-shoes, and Travis was NOT the kind of guy to get along with them. Amoral behavior, that was his kind of thing, and he seriously doubted he had much in common with the person in front of him.
Wasn't he even on the Math Team? Jesus christ.

"So let's start on, let's see, what was it..."

The boy turned around and looked at the board.

"Problem 5."

Travis couldn't be sure, of course. But if this kid really was on the Math Team, he would no doubt be more than familiar with the subject at hand. This meant less work for Travis, and that could only be a good thing. He grinned to himself and thought:
"Now to let Mathy McMathgenius here take care of the assigned problems and then-..."

"Alright. So how would you go about solving this one?"

Oh, son of a bitch. Of course he couldn't just GIVE the answers to Travis. He had to go all "mentor" and shit. Why did he have to complicate things so much? Travis sighed. So much for an easy class. Well, maybe he could delay the inevitable math monologue from his fellow student by some idle conversation, right?

"Err, which one? Number 5?"

He looked at the board, then flipped to the assigned page in his (still unopened) math book. Maybe he could do this. MAYBE he could show Teitel and that know-it-all Ben Ward what he was truly made of! YES! He was Travis fuckin' Webster. He could make friends with anyone, and he was one of the brightest kids at school, once he put some effort into it! NOW WAS THE TIME. The time to show them all that he-..... What the fuck was this shit? Math was supposed to have numbers and stuff. Maybe a few subtractions and additions, a bit of multiplication and division. Maybe some graphs if they were doing statistics, which was the only kind of math he liked. But... But this... This was just... letters! HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO MATH WITH LETTERS!?

He sighed.
Yeah. Today isn't the day either. What happened to the days when he had skimmed through a book and instantly known everything he needed? Gone, along with the days when he was still actually close to his parents, most likely.
Well, if there was one thing he was still good at, it was talking.
Time to break out the old charm.

"By the way, I don't think we ever really talked before. Let's change that!

He smiled a wide smile, suggesting warmth and friendliness. "Please let the guy fall for it.", he thought.

"Well, I'm Travis. Last name's Webster, as our dear Mr. Teitel always likes to remind us all about."

He smiled and looked over at Mr. Teitel, who'd looked up at the mention of his name. Travis gave him a mocking wave and a silly smile, which Teitel responded to by rolling his eyes, shaking his head before going back to his books with a slight smile on his lips. Travis knew Teitel was actually a pretty decent guy. Hell, if it hadn't been for these horrific calculus classes they shared, they might even have become friends. He was good at making friends with others, and Teitel seemed to be the kind of guy he might actually be able to get along with. But alas, any teacher who ended up teaching classes with Travis instantly became an enemy. He looked back from Mr. Teitel and smirked at the other boy. Maybe that little show had amused him?

"So, What's your name?"

Travis just hoped the kid would be more than happy to start blabbering. The more they talked, the less of this fucking math they'd have to do together. And with that, he leaned back in the chair and yawned.

"Err, which one? Number 5?"

Oh great, he isn't even listening to me, much less the teacher. This kid was a hopeless case. He'd seen it so many times before in his tutoring sessions. Some kid would be sent in because their math teacher was going to be really embarrassed if they had another kid fail, and then the following would happen: Milo would ask them what they were having trouble with. The other guy would say, "All of it." He'd try to work through the steps one by one, asking his student if he got the concept each time. They would usually answer yes to every step. Then he'd ask them to follow the steps on their own, using the exact same problem with the numbers changed around. Then cue several seconds of staring at the problem instead of trying, followed by this sentence:

"I really don't get this. I don't want to be here, I'd rather be out [playing basketball/hanging out with my friends/shopping/insert activity of choice here]."

God that was infuriating. Not only did they not try, they flat out told him to his face that they didn't even want to try. At this point, he would either try some more coaxing, breaking the problem down again, putting it in different terms, or gently reminding them that they can't leave yet but that they can go play basketball or whatever once they finish these problems. But they would just casually, callously, lay their contempt out for all to see, and Travis was little better. He hadn't said anything, but the trademark disinterest was clearly in his eyes, in his sigh, and in his lame attempt at an introduction.

"By the way, I don't think we ever really talked before. Let's change that! Well, I'm Travis. Last name's Webster, as our dear Mr. Teitel always likes to remind us all about. So, what's your name?"

"I'm Milo. Richter, as you can tell." He actually probably couldn't tell, given how little he paid attention, but he hoped that maybe the name had floated into his brain somewhere in his school daze. He was tempted to continue doing math like nothing had happened, but then he remembered. Just because this guy has nothing in common with you doesn't mean you can't talk to him. In order to make connections with people you have to be able to focus on what you have in common and treat differences as good things, as resources to draw on. Yeah, resources. Kid probably didn't know squat.

Milo stuck his hand out for a handshake anyway.

"So, what do you like to do?"

"I'm Milo. Richter, as you can tell."

Jackpot. Perfect! He got him to start talking. Now he just needed to find something they shared. Some passion. A band, a place, a girl, a show on TV.

Milo Richter. Yeah, that did sound familiar. Was he a member of Math Club? Was it worth the risk to ask?
I mean, on one hand it might get the guy to open up, on the other, it might make them do math again. Decisions, decisions.

Milo stretched out a hand, which Travis duly shook with a smile on his lips.
This was something he was comfortable with. Social situations. Travis had no issues applying for a job or asking a girl out. He had no problems striking up conversations with complete strangers.
"As long as it isn't bloody math", he thought.

"So, what do you like to do?"

Oh shit. Alright. You can't make a wrong move now. Do not brag about the girls you've slept with, do not talk about partying hard, AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, AVOID THE POT AT ALL COSTS. The way this kid looked like, he (even in the best case scenario) would choke up and start sputtering about laws and authorities at the mere mention of marijuana. Worst case, Travis might find some dogs sniffing around his locker the next day.
No, mentioning that was a bad idea.
... But what else was there?

"Well, there are many things I like to do, my man. Some of these things include playing video games, or just generally being on the world wide web, otherwise I like hanging with friends, and playing on my guitar. Now, I wish I could say I do extreme sports, but alas..."

This wasn't the time to be a "bro", or "dude". He had to surprise this boy if he wanted to get out of the encroaching Calculus steadily marching on him over by the horizon. He'd done it before during his English Literature presentations to score some extra surprise points from the teacher. Granted, this was before he began smoking weed and staying up late every night, but he remembered the general jest of it. Just use big words, Travis! BIG WORDS!

"... I was always, like, too cowardly to do it. One of my life's regrets, I suppose. And finally, except for that other... eeh... stuff... I like complaining about the stupid shit that politicians get up to nowadays. Seriously, this country has turned into a real clusterfuck, ain't it?"

Oh goddamnit, Trav. Really? Those are your "big words"?  Maybe this "stupid pothead" thing ain't just an act, YOU FUCKING... Ugh.
No, no. He was still his usual self. He was just tired, that was all. He was sure of it.
Whatever. He had to act before he lost the guy completely.
It was time to make a bet. Get this right, and the kid might even grow to like him.

He took a deep breath, focused his thoughts, and said:
"What about yourself, Mr. Richter? You're in the Math Club, aren't you?"

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. That was better.

The kid in front of Milo reciprocated the handshake. Milo maintained a firm grip with his. He'd heard numerous things about how handshakes are what people really judge you on when they first meet you. They were never supposed to be limp or clammy. Milo had no idea how to control the second one, and he overcompensated for the first. Not that he thought he was.

As for Travis, he was just glad he bothered to shake at all.

Milo sat back (well, actually sat up straight, but that was as far back as he went) and listened as Travis delineated his interests. Internet, video games, guitar... all typical high school pursuits. If Milo had heard about the sex/partying/weed, he honestly wouldn't have even believed it. Milo didn't know enough kids who did stuff like that for him to think that it actually happened. Sure, maybe teenagers screwed somewhere in the country, maybe even at Aurora. But sex, drugs, and rock and roll simply didn't happen to Milo or anyone he knew. That was for other people.

Travis also wanted to do extreme sports, but couldn't get up the nerve. Milo could see where he was coming from on that one; what Travis had called cowardice, Milo referred to as common sense. He had always wondered how people landed stunts that would get them killed if done incorrectly; as far as he could infer, there was no way to practice them at all without dying, and he could not understand anyone who would do that anyway.who who in their right mind would try?

Travis then mentioned politics. Milo celebrated to himself, at least as much as one could while remaining immobile. They had some common ground after all! Milo had no illusions about how far that ground extended, though; Travis's politics likely went no deeper than "screw the system," especially with the kind of language he was using, but he could maybe pretend that this derivation was necessary to figure out the rate at which Romney's poll numbers were tanking and get back on track.

He then asked, "What about yourself, Mr. Richter? You're in the Math Club, aren't you?"

So this kid did know something about him! He had no idea how; Math Team was not the most high-profile of extracurriculars at school, and it's not like they won anything worthy of a full-school assembly. But that wasn't worth questioning, or at least not worth as much as answering the question given.

"Yes! I'm also in Quiz Bowl and Debate Team, and I contribute to a political blog too. If you have something to say, I could get you in on it. You said you were interested in politics, right? What's your take on the Republican primary?"

If this kid says anything other than "they suck, man," I might actually tell him what the name of the site is.

The look of surprise appearing on Milo's face was priceless. The boy had obviously not expected to be recognized, let alone for something like Math Club. How Travis had known, he wasn't even sure himself. Maybe he'd heard it mentioned somewhere, at some time. His social circle was wide, and included all kinds of people, so it wasn't inconceivable that one of his friends or acquaintances had mentioned... No, that wouldn't explain how he'd recognized the person in front of him as a Math Club member before introductions...
Maybe it was just a total fluke?

The boy in front of him excitedly answered:


"Yes! I'm also in Quiz Bowl and Debate Team, and I contribute to a political blog too. If you have something to say, I could get you in on it."

Quiz bowl and debate team. Gee wiz. He was right about the goody two-shoes bit, wasn't he?
But what was this? A political blog? This actually interested him a little bit. Granted, his opinion of politicians was generally very negative, but it wasn't all without proof or reason.

"You said you were interested in politics, right? What's your take on the Republican primary?"

A topic he could talk about forever. Travis smiled.

He had rarely followed elections (let alone primaries) as much as he had this time around. The almost staggering stupidity of the Republican candidates had been of constant amusement, and also contributed to a lot of the angsty teenage punk he had written this semester.

It would be an overstatement to say Travis was interested in politics. But the fact remained, you couldn't logically have a "screw the system" attitude if you had no idea what the system stood for. Mindless obedience, even if it was to the cause of fighting mindless obedience, was still mindless and blind obedience.
He had never understood those people. Maybe it was the reason and logic his parents had taught him to always use at an early age, but Travis didn't feel comfortable fighting something that he didn't fully understand already, so because of this, he kept himself well informed of current events in the political sector through various internet websites and blogs.
He began his little rant.

"Bachmann is a total nutjob. I mean, the woman was batshit insane. She was literally a worse version of Sarah Palin. Do you know what she said? She said that she "pities the homosexuals, because of their tragic disease". To think THAT woman had even a minor shot at the gold is totally fuckin' terrifying."

He paused and thought about the other candidates.

"Then, there is Perry and his "war on religion", which is a joke. I'm an atheist myself, but fuck me, that was such bullshit he was spewing. He wasn't as big of a joke as Gingrich and his Moon Base, though. I mean, HOW LOW have you sunk when one of your campaign promises is "MOOOOON BAAAASSSEEEE"!?"

He paused again, and took a breath. Let's see, who was left?

"Then, there is Santorum and Romney, both homophobic assholes, who are both going to completely fuckin' wreck this country if they manage to get power. I mean, the only candidate I can even remotely support is Ron Paul."

He thought he at least demonstrated sufficient knowledge to impress the boy in front of him. I mean, he knew all (or at least what he thought was all) of the candidates, which was more than most people his age could say.

He leaned forward with a grin.

"What about you, Milo? What emotions has the primaries stirred up inside you, then?"

He leaned back and smiled.
His plan had been a success. There would be no more math this class anyway.

Huh. So this kid does know what he's talking about...

...kinda.

Travis was putting his arguments in rather... uncouth terms, but then again, dealing with the utter stupidity that is the American election system can drive men to such extremes. And he was right to dismiss Bachmann as crazy and Gingrich as unrealistic, but he was going about them the wrong way. And that was the kind of shit up with which he would not put.

"Alright, I see where you're coming from, and I agree, mostly. But let's take a look at what really makes these people unelectable. Bachmann? Yeah, she's nuts, she thinks gay people have a disease, but that's... well, it's not something I could let slide, but it's not really the reason to dismiss her. The real reason is that she's done nothing. Absolutely not one thing. She's won every office she's ever held by using personality and looks instead of ideas, and she's never done anything in office except provoke culture wars. In a serious democracy, that's unforgivable." He was unsatisfied by his use of terms like "nuts," but it wasn't like this guy was a skilled debater like he was - they were just shooting the breeze.

"Now Perry. Yeah, any time a Christian says they're being persecuted I call bullshit. Religion runs this country more than any other first-world country that matters, and it's hurting us big time, but if you're already atheist, you know why. Gingrich though: I just want to make a point. Yeah, he focuses on everything but what matters - the Republicans haven't had a fresh idea about the economy since their beloved Reagan, and we all know how that worked out." Cue eye roll.

"But the moon base is actually not such a bad idea. Or is it? Dammit, I haven't researched this issue too much. It was always just something to laugh at. Sure, it's not going to fix the economy, but think about it. If we send, well maybe we don't send people... Yeah." Woah, could have left a gaping hole in my argument there. "If we just send robots or something, it could work. Like, there's probably still research to be done there." Wait, what else could be learned from going to the Moon? Yep, Milo, should have done your research before you started talking. No use quitting now, though. "It really doesn't make sense to send people, because they need resources, but if we start up some kind of Space Race 2.0, we could..."

Could do what? Jump start America's science departments? In this economy, we don't need more overeducated people milling about unemployed, we need good-paying, low-skilled, secure jobs, however that's supposed to work. Would it jump start the economy? No, you can't say that, you just said it wouldn't fix the economy, you can't double back on what you just said. And a space race? A race implies it's being done against someone else. There's no more Soviet Union. Who do we race against? And what the hell is the goal if you just excluded putting people there? GodDAMMIT Milo, think before you start talking next time! You just made yourself look like a total idiot in front of this punk who can't even put issues in perspective like you were just trying to prove, and you did it by not putting things in perspective! GOD!

Milo cut his train of thought off right there before he slung any more bile at himself. Not because he didn't want to, but because he needed to save face, and fast.

"Never mind. What I wanted to say was that rebooting the space program would not be nearly as detrimental to the economy as continued tax breaks for the rich and all the other things Republicans agree on." That's better. Dumbass.

"And Santorum is the same as Bachmann but with a "Google problem" instead of a pretty face, and Romney has no principles.  Ron Paul, though... that guy is nuts too. He's got so many crazy ideas that I just can't see him as president." Never thought I'd see McAllister doing what he is as president either. "I do support him for the Republican nomination, though. He has differences of opinion on issues that actually matter, and if he gets the nomination, the debates will finally be about American imperialism and abuse of power instead of culture wars."

Now to see what he says in response...

The kid seemed a bit surprised at what he had said.

Milo had probably, like so many others, just expected him to be a fuckup. Hell, maybe Milo were right to expect just that. However He did know what he was talking about.
Then the boy went off on a LONG rant about the elections. Travis didn't mind, of course. He liked talking politics. It was a hell of a lot better than math.
"Bachmann? Yeah, she's nuts..."

Oh hey, Milo wasn't completely blind to how the world worked.

"... but it's not really the reason to dismiss her. The real reason is that she's done nothing."
Milo then continued on explaining why she had done nothing in office, and didn't deserve the job and how her behavior was unforgivable. Travis couldn't argue. The kid had the right idea about her, that much was obvious. Then he went onto Perry.

"Religion runs this country more than any other first-world country that matters, and it's hurting us big time, but if you're already atheist, you know why."

Oh hey, this kid was actually becoming quite likable. Anyone who was opposed to Religion and hated on Bachmann was a cool guy in Travis book.

"Gingrich though: I just want to make a point. Yeah, he focuses on everything but what matters - the Republicans haven't had a fresh idea about the economy since their beloved Reagan, and we all know how that worked out."
Then the boy rolled his eyes.

Travis let out a slight laugh and nodded. The guy was just killing right now! If Milo wasn't already on the debate team, he should join it ASAP. He was absolutely right in this analysis. Travis was neither Republican or Democrat, but if he was forced into a corner, he'd rather be tortured with red hot pokers than say he was a republican.

But then, Milo started stumbling over his words, rambling about moon bases and robots and space race v.2. It was obvious he was outside his comfort zone, and this made Travis happy. Anytime the high and mighty fell, he liked being there to mock them, no matter what situation they were in. Hell, he liked it the most when they were humiliated. Some schadenfreude was just natural when people acting arrogant, right?

He shook away those thoughts. "Woah, Travis, old boy! You need to go toke up, dude. seriously.", he thought to himself.

Milo carried on and began making sense again.

"Never mind. What I wanted to say was that rebooting the space program would not be nearly as detrimental to the economy as continued tax breaks for the rich and all the other things Republicans agree on."

Travis nodded. This was his biggest problem with the republicans. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer.
Then Milo compared Santorum to Bachmann, and said Romney was without principles. He carried on saying that while Ron Paul was also nuts, he was the best candidate, in Milo's opinion. He also put forth some common complaints about McAllister.

Then Milo went quiet.

Oh shit, he's expecting a reply.
What was there to be said that Milo hadn't already put forward?
He sat there quietly for a second as well, looking at the young boy, and suddenly a slight smirk fell on his lips as he figured out what to say.

"First of all, very nicely put. Are you on the debate team, by any chance? If not, you should be."

Wide, friendly smile, await dramatic pause.

"Second of all, you've summed up most of my opinions on the candidates. Like, dude, seriously. We think the exact same things! We're the same!"

He wanted to laugh, but he kept himself from doing just that. How would the well-groomed boy react to the idea that him and Travis, the residential class slacker, pothead, and otherwise master of mischief, were the same?
Granted, Travis didn't dress like a total slob, so he didn't look too horrible. Unlike some other kids in the school, he still had some class.

"Well, except on the topic of the Moonbase thing-y-stuff. I mean, sure, a Space Race v.2 might boost the economy a little bit, but still.... Fuck me, you know you're in trouble when one of your main candidates makes campaign-promises that are like.... You know...."

He took a deep breath and made a loud statement:
"MOOOOOOOONBAAAAASSSEEEEEEEEE"

The loud shout caused several kids around him to stop working for a bit for a bit and look at him funny. Teitel looked up at him, chuckled and shook his head. Travis smiled. He looked back at Milo.

"Err... Sorry about that. Still, to make a promisestatement like that in the middle of a fucking recession is, with all the problems we're facing with the economy and debt and... and.... well.... quite frankly, I'm flabbergasted. Hell, I'm so flabbergasted I'm using the word flabbergasted!"
He made a few overly shocked facial expressions.

He smiled a bit. Hopefully Milo wouldn't mind his theatrics and shenanigans. The boy actually seemed to have some potential as a future acquaintance he could talk politics with. Maybe a bit too proper, but Travis had always had a talent for "corrupting the innocent", as one of his many ex girlfriends had said.

"Anyway, I agree on the McAllister-topic as well. The guy was a total bust. He seemed sooooo promising. But then he failed. However, it went beyond being a lameduck president, he even put some legislations through that he said he would never dare touch."

He let out a dramatic sigh.

"Fucking ridiculous, is what it is."

He yawned and scratched the back of his head and looked at the clock. Not much further. He couldn't wait to get out of class to smoke a joint or two. Hmmmm, who would he do it with today? Maybe Joe would be up for it later? Yeah, ever since Travis had introduced the "Blessing of Ganja" onto Joe, they had been loyal toking buddies together. That'd probably work out.
"Not much time left of class."
He smiled. This conversation was nice. Much better than he'd expected. Only a few more minutes now, then he was finished for today.

Hi, handlers!

Just a quick reminder not to GM other people's characters without permission. In this case, stating that an outburst causes other people's characters to go silent and look is not an appropriate action unless you have permission (in which case it should be noted), as that may not be what is in character for Solomir's of Caporacolo's characters, or what they want their characters to do.

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