Fandom High School

The class had been ever-so-handwavily asked to gather in an all-purpose room for the day, and when they got there they'd find collapsed tables, collapsed folding chairs, and other moddable science fair supplies, as well as thick binders containing notes from all the semester's experiments.

"Hey," Tyler greeted. "So this is the deal, since I believe in giving you choices. You can either spend class today helping me set up for the science fair or setting up your own experiment, or you can go over the class notes from the term to study for the final next week. Which, by the way, will be a real test. Or you can combine things -- work with me and ask me questions about the final. Or you can just sign in, take off, and find something better to do."

He waved a hand at the students. "Whatever you're doing, go for it."

The circles under Tyler's eyes were dark as kohl, and he held himself stiffly as he plopped Smoochy's head on his desk, then turned to face the class.

"Gunpowder," he announced, changing the class topic because he knew he couldn't do nitroglycerin if he was less than at his best. "We're making it. We aren't in the Danger Shop today, so put your lab coats, goggles and gloves on, and, ladies, pull your hair back." He waited for his instructions to be followed before talking again.

"What you're going to do is combine sulfur, saltpeter and carbon. You're going to grind them all up, then mix them, four parts saltpeter to one of carbon -- your carbon is in charcoal briquettes -- and one of sulfur." He turned to scrawl 2 KNO3 + S + 3 C → K2S + N2 + 3 CO2 on the board. "That is the reaction behind it," he said, going on to explain the equation. "Once you've got the powder fine enough, show me and, if it looks okay, we can go outside and set off model rockets with it."

"This is the real stuff. People get hurt doing this. Any questions, comments, anything looks funny, please talk to me before you blow your hand off."

There was a large TV in the front of the lab this week, and students who guessed it was movie week were correct.

"Hey," Tyler greeted the class as it assembled. "We were supposed to make aspirin this week, but we're out of salicylic acid. You get a movie instead. It's a biography of the scientist who discovered radium, so I'm actually giving you academic value this time. After the film, write a one-page paper about Madame Curie or radium itself."

"I'm around if you need help with this incredibly challenging assignment."

Tyler seemed impatient as the students filed in today. No, not impatient; wary and watchful. Like he was waiting for something.

"Morning," he told the students as they gathered. "I know you're all anxious to either see or find a hiding place way away from your assorted parental figures, so I'll keep my lecture on the short side today.

"I trust you all put together your midterm experiments and are rarin' to present them. You have 15 minutes to set up, then I'll walk around and ask you questions. The exhibits will stay up for the weekend if you want to show them off, and I'll be in my office" -- as much as he could get away with -- "this afternoon and Saturday."

He gave a tiny smile. "If any of you don't want me to talk to your visitors, I accept bribes if they're good enough."

Tyler watched the students filing in, arms crossed before him and a covered Styrofoam chest with a slight curl of steam rising from it resting on the lab table at the front of the class. When it seemed like everyone who was going to come was there, he started to talk.

"Morning. Today, we get the joy of dealing with housekeeping before my lecture. First, midterms are due in three weeks, so think about them, okay? You need to design and carry out an experiment, either during or before class on the 24th, then write a report on what you found. If you need ideas, there are books on the table with a slew of them. Or talk to me. I'm still in my office every Monday and I can only spend so much time online arguing about Supers. Group work is fine, but I'll expect it to be more complex than what one person could do, no signing your name to your buddy's work."

"Also, five of the 12 of you, I won't say who because you know who you are, skipped class last week. I assume you all have good stories. Talk to me after class if you want to get the handouts from last week, and I can do a makeup lab Monday if anyone's interested. And if you're gonna cut, don't do it the same week half the class does, it makes me feel unloved. Blah blah blah too many unexcused absences equal detention blah blah blah, and consider this your warning."

He drew a deep breath, lifting the loose-fitting lid off the chest and watching the steam rise. "All right. Now. Fun part. Dry ice. This is frozen carbon dioxide -- the same stuff that makes soda fizzy. Cool thing about dry ice, it doesn't really want to freeze on this planet, so if you force it to, it's continuously evaporating and turning into a gas." With gloved hands, he reached into the chest and brought out a kernel of the ice, then dropped it into a black plastic film can. A few seconds later, the lid of the canister flew off, narrowly missing the first row of chairs. Tyler smirked, then continued his lecture about the properties and uses of dry ice and the science behind it.

"For your lab segment today, I'm just going to let you play with this stuff." He started handing out one-pound chunks in small trays, placing them in front of each student alongside some other supplies they might want to use to test the ice. A light fog from the ice's evaporation filled the room. "Wear lab gloves unless a cold burn sounds like fun to you. Here is a handout with some ideas to get you started. I like the comet myself."

Once everyone had some ice, he waited at the back of the classroom. "Go to it. I'm around."

The first unusual thing chemistry students would notice this morning was a scrawled sign on their classroom door, ordering them to the Danger Shop.

When they got to the Danger Shop, they'd see it had been made to look like their classroom, but with more and shinier containers of chemicals and better safety equipment. They also, seemingly, had two teachers, if the man standing beside Professor Durden was anything to go by.

The new teacher was a flashier dresser and seemed to be the spokesman; Professor Durden stood back, looking vaguely ashamed.

"Hey," Tyler, the real Tyler no matter what anyone said, greeted with a flash of his smile. "Welcome to chemistry. I'm an old pal of your professor, here, in town with the rest of your new neighboring island." Professor Durden glared at him. "We're very close," Tyler continued, undaunted.

"I see you were supposed to do something with" -- he glanced at the lecture notes, then at his other half, in mingled confusion and amusement -- "cabbage juice, seriously?"

Professor Durden muttered something about it being educational. Tyler rolled his eyes. "Right. Educational cabbage juice. Next week, maybe it'll be Brussels sprouts. But it doesn't matter, because that's not what we're doing." He pulled out copies of a thick book and started passing them out. "That's the Anarchist's Cookbook. It's a bible. Your assignment for the day is to pick something from that book and do it in class. We're in the Danger Shop, because your teacher is a wuss and won't let you guys even try to blow yourselves up. Have fun; we'll answer questions if you have them."

Professor Durden finally spoke, there. "Don't be stupid."

[OOC: Everything is OK to broadcast.]