← Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
The Transfer Student V3 - Part 16 🛸
00:25:26
A bedtime story for kids about an alien from Mars
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Hello friends. Before we begin, there's a quick ad and then we'll get right to the story. It's the carefree days of summer, but we know it doesn't always feel that way for parents. You've scheduled the camps, booked the vacation, but what about all those other hours in the day? Meet Next Playground, the active game system where your body controls the play. Kid safe gaming means no ads in app purchases or mature content, and no online chats or friends you don't really know. Playground comes with five experiences ready to play, add play, pass, and unlock over 50 games, many with characters your kids already know and love. They even have an the Last Airbender game centered around the Earth Rumble Tournament Practice rock bending while dinner bubbles in the crock pot to fill those long summer days with active play. Check out nextplayground.com that's nexplayground.com to learn more. Hello friends, and welcome to sleept Stories. Blue and Red don't understand. They know. Leave now. What does that mean, Red, Blue, and their mob talk about what this could mean for them and for Yava. Their mother tells them what she thinks it means and they make plans for what they are going to do next. It is a school day, so Red and Blue go to school for the longest day ever. The Transfer Student Volume 3, Part 16. Nobody moved for a moment. They know, blue said quietly. Leave now. Their mother tapped the screen, then tapped it again. Mom, what's going on? Red said. Their mother set the tablet down on the table so she could type more easily. She selected the same channel, and her finger started typing quickly across the screen. The message was in Martian, but it was all too fast for Red to read before her mother pressed send. They all waited, but the screen stayed the same. No response. Their mother tried again. This time the screen did something Red hadn't seen before. A small, inconspicuous icon in the top corner, a thin circle, slowly turning, blinked once and then disappeared completely. Their mother's eyes widened slightly in surprise as she stared at the screen. What does that mean? Blue asked. Why did the circle icon thingy go away? The channel's closed, she said. Closed? Like Soren closed it? Red asked. Or closed like someone else closed it? She didn't answer right away. She picked her tea back up, even though it had probably gone cold by now, and held it without drinking it. Kind of like the habit you might have if you were trying to warm your hands with something warm in winter. I don't know, she said finally. If Yava closed it, that's her protecting us and herself if someone else closed it. She didn't finish that part. Blue's fork full of honey cake stopped before it could reach his mouth. But the message sort of sounds like. I mean, doesn't that sound like Soren's in trouble? Or that we are in trouble or something? It could mean a number of things, their mother said. Like what things? Their mother was quiet for a moment, choosing her words the careful way she always did, except this time it seemed slower. Java might be telling us the channel itself was discovered, that someone found out it still existed, found out we'd been using it. Leave now could simply mean leave this channel. Don't use it anymore because it's not safe to use. It sounds like maybe we are in trouble, blue said. Possibly, but not likely, their mother admitted. Red looked at the inactive screen. Those four words could mean a dozen different things, and their mother had picked the version that put the danger farthest away from yava. Red wasn't sure if that was because it was true or or because it was the version a mother told her kids at the breakfast table. Your father? Their mother said suddenly, like she just thought of something. She didn't finish the sentence right away. What about dad? Red asked. His work with the aid. He has access to things, channels, information that I don't. She turned her mug slowly on the table. If anyone would know whether something like this is serious or whether it's just an old system finally being noticed and shut down for ordinary reasons, it would be him. Can you ask him? Blue said. Not today, their mother said. It takes time to reach out to him. It's not like on Mars, where we could communicate freely, which makes these messages from Soren all the more different. She didn't explain more about how it was different or go into detail, and something in the way she said it told Red not to ask. For now, their mother said, straightening up a bit, as if choosing to be calm. The channel is closed. We don't know exactly what that means yet, but it doesn't seem like anyone is in immediate danger. Doesn't seem like it, blue said. It felt like she was trying to convince herself as much as them. For a moment nobody said anything else. Then their mother stood up from the table and started clearing the plates. Blue stabbed a final piece of honey cake, though he didn't look like he really wanted to eat it. No one seemed hungry. Red certainly didn't. Clearing the table was the kind of thing their mother did when she needed to be doing something with her hands. While she thought Blue was often the same, except he tried to solve math problems. Red would simply read. Okay, she said, mostly to herself. It's all okay. Blue and Red exchanged a look. What's all okay? Blue asked. Their mother set the plates down by the sink but didn't turn on the water. She stood there for a moment, then turned around. The channel being closed changes things, she said. If someone found it, then whatever I might do next, they could be watching for it too. Which means waiting isn't necessarily safer than acting. It might be the opposite. So we're doing the facility thing right? Blue said. It wasn't really a question. You said Yesterday you were 80% sure. I'm still 80% sure. Their mother nodded slowly. Then we need that independent data today if possible. Not next week. Not after we've thought about it more. Usually I wouldn't suggest this kind of approach, especially when it involves you two. Today is a school day, red pointed out. Because someone had to. Yes, it is. And you're both going to school just like any other day, their mother agreed. And then what? Blue asked. And then Blue works on the facility this afternoon while we are all here together. Red thought about this. Why does that matter? Why do we all have to be together? Their mother looked at her for a moment, and something passed across her face that Red couldn't quite read. Because whatever we find, she said, I don't want either of you finding it out alone. Nobody said anything to that, nor did Blue look like he understood it any more than Red did. You better quickly get ready for the bus. I don't think the bus driver will wait. And you don't want to be late for school, their mother said in the voice that meant the conversation part of the morning was over. U2 Blue will talk more after school. Blue slid off his chair and headed for the stairs. Red stayed a moment longer, watching their mother finally turn on the tap and and start rinsing plates that didn't really need rinsing. They had a dishwasher anyway. Mom, red said. Her mother didn't turn around. We're going to be okay, right? I mean, you know, red said. She wasn't sure if it was a question or not. The reply seemed to take a long time to come, and all Red could hear was the water running and what might have been the sound of her heart. Yes, their mother said. Don't worry. We'll be just fine. She said it like she meant it. Red decided to believe her. The ride on the yellow monstrosity was uneventful. Charlie almost looked like a normal kid for once. Matching socks, shirt on properly, which Red noted and then promptly forgot about because school turned out to be exactly as boring as her mother had wanted it to be. Mr. McCaskill handed back English tests. Red got a mark she would normally have been pleased about and barely registered it. Kurt talked about practice. Charlie's hair was doing something dramatic that he clearly thought looked cool, and Red didn't have the energy to tell him otherwise. At lunch, Charlie slid into the seat across from her with the particular expression he got when he had an idea. So he said, I've been thinking we solved the teacher gift thing pretty fast, right? Like really fast. Which means we're basically due for something bigger. Charlie, I'm not saying we go looking for trouble. I'm saying trouble has a way of finding us, and when it does, we should be ready, mentally prepared as a unit. Or maybe we could reconvene with Mr. McCaskill. He always has something. Charlie, I don't think, like maybe there's something weird going on at the rec center. Have you noticed the new vending machine? It takes your money and doesn't always give you anything back that's suspicious. I think that's just a broken vending machine. That's what they want you to think. Normally Red would have laughed at this. Normally she might have even played along, suggested the vending machine was being run by a shadowy snack based conspiracy. Kept it going until Alexa rolled her eyes and Kurt asked if anyone was going to eat their leftover sandwich today. She just looked at her lunch. Maybe not right now, she said. I've got a lot going on. Charlie's expression changed slightly. Everything okay? Yeah. Nothing serious. Blue just being a pain. Just family stuff. Family stuff was apparently enough of an answer because Charlie didn't push, though he gave her a look that suggested he was filing this away for later. The way Blue filed things away. The rest of the day passed the way days did when you were waiting for something, slowly and also somehow all at once. The afternoon felt longer than any afternoon Red could remember. Usually she had methods to look engaged while she thought about math or science problems that were more challenging. This time she just couldn't do it and had to face the same topics she had learned as a kid. She said ugh to herself more in two hours than she did the whole past three months. By the time they got home, their mother had already placed Blue's laptop on the kitchen table. Blue dropped his backpack by the door and went straight to it. He didn't even take off his shoes, which under normal circumstances would have earned a comment from their mother. Today. She said nothing. Okay, blue said, sitting down. Okay. Okay. Okay. He cracked his knuckles, which was supposed to indicate that he was now getting serious. He had seen it in some movie. Red thought it was disgusting. Before you do anything, talk us through it, their mother said, standing behind Blue, watching the screen. So the facility has its own systems, right? Old ones from before everything. And normally those systems would only talk to other old systems, and these don't exist anymore. Except Blue's fingers were already moving across the keyboard. Except the systems don't actually know that. They're still waiting for something or someone to check in. Like an answering machine. Nobody's called in years, red said. But it's still plugged in exactly like that. Blue sounded pleased, the way he often did when someone understood something, the way he meant it. So if I can make my laptop appear like one of the old systems, not be one, just appear like one. Enough for the facility to say hello back then it might let you in. Their mother finished. Yeah. Red watched the screen, which mostly showed lines of text scrolling past too fast to read, occasional pauses, Blue muttering things under his breath that weren't really words. He could type really fast, which Red thought was odd. When did he find time to learn? This is the part where it usually says no, blue said. Usually I tried something kind of like this last year with the facility entrance system. It took a while before it would let me in. Their mother's arms tightened slightly across her chest. The screen paused. Then a new line appeared. Then another. Blue, Red said. It said hello, blue said quietly. His fingers started moving again, faster now. Okay, okay. It's old. This is going to take a minute. The connection is really slow. Like really slow. More lines, more waiting. Red looked over at her mother, who had gone very still, arms wrapped around herself instead of crossed. There. I found it, blue said. A new window had opened. Numbers. Columns of numbers, more than Red could process at once, timestamps stretching back further than she expected. Is that. Red started. Atmospheric data, blue said. From the facility's own monitors. Completely separate from anything official. He scrolled and scrolled and stopped. Blue, their mother said. He turned the laptop slightly so she could see properly. It matches Soren's numbers, he said. Like almost exactly. Their mother read it over carefully. Almost, she said slowly. Not exactly. Yeah, blue said. Not exactly. He scrolled down further, to a section that hadn't been in Soren's readings at all. A second set of numbers. A different system entirely. What's that one? Red asked. Blue looked at it for a long moment. I don't know, he said. But it's getting worse. A lot faster than the other one. Their mother pulled out a chair and sat down close to Blue. What's that second column? Can you find an identifier? A label, anything? Lou scrolled around, zoomed in on something. A short string of Martian characters sat at the top of the column. Huh? Their mother said. What? Give me a second. She read it again. Ok, that's the suppression layer. The what? Blue and Red said it at almost the same time. Right. Okay. Their mother rubbed her forehead. Every habitat has the atmospheric processors. That's what Soren's data was about. The air pressure, all that. And then underneath there's this other system. Older, it almost never does anything, which is why most people don't even know it's there. Does anything like what, though? Blue said. If the processors start drifting like in Soren's numbers, the suppression layer slows it down. Buys time. Not a fix. Just. She stopped, started again. Okay, you know how a car has brakes and then it also has a parking brake? And you never think about the parking brake because you never need it. Until you need it, Red said. Until you need it. Red looked at the screen again. The second column was definitely moving faster than the first one. Quite a bit faster, actually. So the parking brake's not working either? Red said. Looks that way. Blue had gone quiet, which he didn't do very often. So it's not five years, he said. Nobody answered that for a second. Probably not, their mother said. No. Red thought she should feel something more than she did, but it was less like fear and more like when a heavy box finally gets put down somewhere. You knew it was heavy the whole time. Now you could actually feel how heavy. Okay, but this data. Their mother was sitting up straighter now, and something about her voice had changed, gone faster. Nobody touched it. It's not from Soren's channel. It's not from anywhere official. Which means whoever shut down that other channel doesn't even know this exists. So? Lou said, so it's clean. I can actually use it. Use it how? The facility. It still has some kind of transmission system, right? The thing that let you connect in the first place. Blue blinked. You want me to send stuff back out through it? Not to Yava. Somewhere else. Their mother was talking faster now, the way she did when she'd finally landed on something. There's a Council scientific oversight. It's barely used anymore. Almost nobody remembers it exists. It doesn't report to the Habitat Authority doesn't report to the aid, either. It was set up so science wouldn't have to answer to politics. And it still exists? Red asked. Technically. Which might be the only reason it's still safe. She was quiet for a second, looking at the screen at Blue. You found this in one afternoon, she said. I've been trying for three months. Blue shrugged, but he looked pleased. If I can get this to the council, their mother said, then it's not just me. Other people. People who can actually do something would know, too. Would it help, though? Blue asked. Sector Seven, I mean. I don't know. She reached for the laptop. But let's send it anyway. And that is the end of this part. Good night. Sleep tight, Sa.