Juncture 1.5

It was completely silent for several seconds. The man at the front of the class looked around, and repeated:

“Marc Antony?”

I slowly raised my hand. He caught it as he scanned the room, nodded, and put a check next to my name in his book.

“That’s quite an interesting name, Mr. Antony. Are you named after the Marc Antony?”

I was simultaneously relieved that I wasn’t in trouble for anything, and dumbfounded as to what he was referring to. “Which Marc Antony are you talking about?”

“Marc Antony, the Roman general? Surely your name isn’t simply coincidence?”

“Nope,” I shook my head, “I don’t know where my name came from. I never knew my parents”

Some people in the class began to squirm and fidget, as if the fact that I was a foster child made them uncomfortable, which I found ridiculous. If I could talk about it, and I was living it, then they shouldn’t have an issue with it.

“Ah,” the substitute said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine.”

“Anyway, your name carries a lot of weight behind it young man. Marcus Antonius was the general who some consider to have single-handedly brought about the Roman Empire. You’ve heard of Julius Caesar, have you not?” I nodded my assurance.

“Yes, good. Well, Marcus Antonius, or as he is known dialectically in English, Marc Antony, was one of the three people who avenged Caesar and helped Caesar’s son Octavian ascent to the throne. Octavian, now going by the title Augustus, changed Rome from a republic government to an Empire.”

I was severely underwhelmed. I thought, no I knew that something was going to happen. The deviation from what I was remembering was so out of sync with everything else that I didn’t really know how to react to it. Nothing I had ever experienced in my life was anything like what was happening. Or rather, what was happening before, but had stopped as soon as this stranger walked into the classroom.

I still didn’t know what was happening. Since the feeling of doubleness had gone, everything seemed to make less sense than it had while I was in its grasp. Even though it was almost definitely just me going insane, I was able to grasp the slim, irrational hope that I had suddenly gained psychic abilities, or some other shit like that. How cool would that have been?

Of course, I didn’t actually believe that. It was clearly just insanity. But a guy can dream, can’t he?

The man at the front of the classroom finished calling names, and he wordlessly put the book back in his briefcase. He pulled out a small moleskin journal, opened it to a page I couldn’t see, and put it on the desk. Finally, he spoke again:

“Good morning class. Mr. Hodgkins is not here today, therefore I will be your substitute. My name is Mr. Fetter. Unfortunately, I do not have access to the syllabus for today’s class, so I am unaware of any work you were assigned.”

Simon, sitting in the front row, started to raise his hand before the person sitting next to him grabbed it firmly and brought it down. Half of the students gave Simon a death stare in unison, and he shrunk back in his seat, squirming uncomfortably. Mr. Fetter looked in his direction, and then quite obviously looked away. With that, he had gained appreciation from at least half of the class.

”Mr. Antony, please tell me why you would choose to ignore the assignment?” I heard Mr. Hodgkins’ reedy voice play in my head. The memories were still there, even if the sensations weren’t. In them, I was about to get into a huge argument with Mr. Hodgkins in front of the class and get kicked out again. Twice within two periods, a new personal worst.

But I didn’t hear Mr. Hodgkin’s voice, since he wasn’t actually present. Mr. Fetter had continued talking.

“…don’t have any assignments due today, I will have to come up with an alternative plan of what we shall do during this period,” At this he paused, and looked contemplatively up at the ceiling. He raised a finger and continued to speak, “However, before we do that, I must insist on an activity, in order to allow me to learn your names, and to help you all get comfortable. Everyone, please come up to the front of the classroom.”

Everyone in the room began to haphazardly shuffle their way up toward the front of the classroom. I stayed toward the back of the pack, since I had already received enough individual attention from Mr. Fetter during roll-call. I was fine staying inconspicuous for the rest of the class.

"Out of my classroom Mr. Antony! I will not deal with your belligerence anymore! Don’t bother coming back next class either, I will not allow you to enter!”

I ignored the ghostly sounds happening in the forefront of my memory. As long as they would stay there, I could pretend I wasn’t crazy to everyone else, so it wouldn’t matter whether or not I actually was.

The gaggle of students formed a loose oblong shape, with Mr. Fetter standing in the center. There was enough room to stand comfortably with your arms by your sides, but you couldn’t really move without bumping into somebody else.

“As my experience has taught me, students work far better together if they are banded against an authority figure,” Mr. Fetter said, “To that end, we will be playing a game I like to call Contagion. I will be taking upon myself the role of a doctor, and you are all my quarantined patients. I will exit the room for a minute, and you come up with the symptoms of your disease. It could be forming each sentence alphabetically, it could be moving whenever you are asked a question. My only caveat is that you introduce yourself by name when I speak directly to you until I can remember.”

He started walking toward the door, and as he was opening it, he turned back, and said, “Don’t worry if your criteria seem too difficult; I’m smarter than you may think.”



He turned and left the room.