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Stella NovaDreamSpace OneGremlinsby Jacqui Smith |
"I'm sorry I didn't get my reports handed in on time," apologized the Maths teacher. "I'd collated all the marks and all that, but then I had to do something about next year's timetable. The computer wasn't behaving itself, and the office staff were complaining."
"What do you mean?" asked the Science teacher. "Don't tell me it was eating up next year's students."
The other teachers, seated around the low staff-room table supping coffee, grinned in commiseration. They were all thinking how glad they were that the timetable wasn't their problem.
"Not exactly," said the Maths teacher, whose problem it most definitely was. "It isn't deleting them, it's replacing them - with garbage. Mathematical symbols, odd letters, even bits of Greek. I didn't even know the computer could make some of characters it's coming up with. It doesn't make any sense."
"It really has got the gremlins, hasn't it?"
"One of those things, I guess. My personal theory is that it had decided to open a worm-hole to a parallel universe, and was busily importing data from an alternate dimension."
Laughter rippled around the table.
"Anyhow," the Maths teacher continued. "One of those fourth form computer whizz-kids discovered that if you pressed the ESCAPE and F5 keys the garbage deleted and you could retype the original data. So, problem solved. Bit of a nuisance, though."
The teachers nodded sympathetically.
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As always the holidays seemed somehow two weeks shorter than they were last summer. On the first day back the Maths teacher strode into the Admin wing, whistling happily to himself. The timetable was done, and it looked like there would be no more than the usual number of complaints and last minute changes. He was interrupted by the Guidance Counsellor. She seemed rather agitated, though he couldn't imagine why.
"I think you'd better come with me," she said, in a no-nonsense sort of tone. "We have a group of students who think they belong in our third form, but they aren't on the roll."
"What do you mean?" he asked her retreating back. She didn't answer, but motioned him down the corridor to the school hall. They entered. His jaw dropped. On one side of the hall he saw the usual gaggle of nervous third form boys and girls in their pristine school uniforms, clutching their brand-new school bags. On the other side were...
"Gremlins," the word escaped his lips. Had to be. Escaped from that Spielberg movie. They stared at him, in response to his wondering gaze, with their bright shiny round eyes. Button noses. Large pointed ears. Shorter than the usual run of third formers, but not quite dwarfish. They certainly were colourful, the Maths teacher thought. No school uniform would ever bring uniformity to that lot. He walked over to the group.
"Good morning, Sir," said the nearest, in passable, faintly accented English. "My name is M=a$ϵ H@Ây°s. We are exchange students from Earth Parallel Zeta Prime."
The Maths teacher went pale. He turned to the guidance counsellor. "Oh, no," he moaned. "The timetable. I'm going to have to put all those Gremlins back."
THE END