Life Soundtrack, Period 3 - Thursday

[captainskullpoopl]

Hey, there was music playing for class when they showed up again. Because why ruin a good thing?

"This past weekend, trauma, blah blah blah, we're all very sad about things. But the important question really is: who the hell actually goes to their high school reunions?" A beat. "Me. I would go just to win that motherfucker with my smoking hot, amazing girlfriend and these only slightly horrific superpowers. If I'd actually graduated. Awkward coming from the teacher. Anywhoooo. Today is all about music for fight scenes."

If the DMX wasn't enough of a hint.

"We already bought the rights for this song for the soundtrack so." He gave the class a thumbs up. "You could pick something edgy and so early two thousand with techno, or maybe you're more into some dissonance with a cheerful song. Oh, oh! Or maybe you want to be edgy and pick something classical and sad all John Woo style with doves constantly flying through the scene. Seriously, who thought doves were a good choice? They're just prettier pigeons. Which, in turn, makes them the kind of rats with wings that would be in a beauty pageant."

That took a strange turn.

"Kinda did. But pageants are run by people like Trump. Yep, I'm gettin' political despite not even being an American citizen. Canada won with our dreamy, hockey elbowing PM. Deal with it."

Yeah, he was already on his phone to pull up a new song. This had gone off the rails a bit. But that was followed by, "Yikes, I overestimated how patriotic I am." And it was cut off again. Thank god.

"Fight song. Do it. And so help me, if any of you pick Reba McEntire, I will fail you. That TV show was an abomination."

Practical Philosophy, Thursday

[endsthegame]

"Every once in a while, the island likes to remind us that our futures are not as empty and expansive as they might seem," Ender said. "Or perhaps, the lesson you can take from these weekends is that the possibilities are endless - that your future might not be what you think it will be. Sometimes it's good to remember that whatever we see, whether it be this particular quirk of weirdness, or the appearance of our future children, or some other twist of Fandom, is a snapshot."

He smiled faintly.

"These weekends were terrifying to me when I was younger," he said. "The island chose to show me what I'd become if I remained on a certain course, and it was not what I expected it to be. It wasn't enough to make me change my trajectory, though I thought it was - I just wanted to change it for the worse. But it gave me a small push, a small taste, of my own failures, my own weaknesses, and what they could do to the people around me."

He picked up a bottle of water. "Of course, maybe that's not what happened to you," he said. "Maybe your vision was happy; my later ones were, as if they were reflective of my new, better choices. But that doesn't have to mean anything. Nor do terrible visions have to mean anything, either. I suspect it's different for all of us. Still, if this happened to you: how likely do you think it is that your future will come to pass? Does it mean anything? It's not an unavoidable fate - my own experiences can tell you that much. But do you think there is anything relevant about what you saw? Did you see portents, warnings in your future? Something you should do or change? Or do you believe we can't change what happens next, and so these visions can't really matter one way or another?"

He took a sip.

"Those are good questions even if you didn't have a weird weekend, actually," he said. "In traditional philosophy, determinism is the firm philosophical belief that our lives are unchangeable, and everything is predetermined. Our free will is meaningless, an illusion. A weaker version is the idea that some things are just meant to happen, and while we can affect smaller things, the big things happen as they should." He tilted his head. "What do you think?"

Fun with Magic | Friday, period 2

[nuclear_snide]

Class was back on the lawn this week, and Bob was waiting with a large cardboard box in front of him, courtesy of Mabel. Inside were a number of odd-shaped lumps in various bright colours. Once the students were there, Bob grinned at them.

"This week, we're going to play a game. Everybody steps up and gets one bat. You have until the end of class to use it. Every hit you get on someone else scores you a point. Every point they get on you loses you one. And there won't be any cheating; the bats keep their own scores."

His grin widened. Was everybody frightened yet? "That's not the only thing they do, though. You see, these bats are all enchanted. Every hit will impart a minor enchantment to your target - it might turn their skin bright blue, or make their ears ring, or cause them to only speak in rhymes. It might make them extremely clumsy. It also might make them just a bit faster than normal, or nearly invisible. It might make them extremely coordinated."

He sobered for a minute. "Nothing will last longer than a few minutes, and none of it is truly harmful. Those of you with experience with melee weapons," he gave the armored folks a stern look, "please keep it that way. It's a spar, not a fight."

That said, he continued. "Those of you with magic are free to use your own as well, but it may behave...unpredictably, with these around. It's your risk to take. As for the rest - work for yourselves, form teams," as much as you could, "run, hide - whatever you like. The entire lawn is fair game."

He clapped his hands together and beamed. "Any questions?"