The Magic Factory

“What the…” Oliver muttered.

He looked over at Ralph, who was busy selecting dishes, licking his lips greedily. He already had three plates; a sausage roll with marble pastry, curly alphabet fries, and veggies shaped like dinosaurs. Oliver quickly grabbed the next dish that came his way. He was pleasantly relieved to see it was a standard slice of pepperoni pizza. He took a greedy bite. It was excellent.

As the initial burst of intensity subsided, Oliver got a chance to look at the others sitting at the table with him for the first time; a girl with two neat braids coiled on her head, the color of butterscotch, a dark-skinned boy with a short curly Afro, and a very pale boy with wide-set blue eyes and hair so fair it was nearly silver.

“You’re new,” the girl said when their eyes met. Hers were gray, turned a little down at the edges in a way that made her look slightly mournful.

“How can you tell?” Oliver asked.

“You look startled,” she teased. “That’s how everyone looks when they first see the dining hall. Plus, you’ve only selected one thing.”

Oliver looked at her own choices: blue mashed potatoes, red peas, and a huge sausage in the shape of an airplane. Her drink looked like an Oreo milkshake. Oliver licked his lips.

“That’s Hazel,” Ralph said, gesturing to the girl. “This is Oliver, the boy Professor Amethyst sent me to collect.”

Hazel slid her milkshake across to him. “Here. I saw you looking. You’ve got to be fast sometimes in order to get what you want.”

“Thanks,” Oliver replied. “I’m not used to so much choice.” He blushed as he remembered his meager past and the poverty he’d come from. “We didn’t have food like this at home.”

“I’d be more surprised if you did,” Hazel said with a kind chuckle.

Just then the dark-skinned boy beside her leaned over and took a forkful of her potatoes. He grinned devilishly as he shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

“Walter!” Ralph scolded from the other side. He folded his arms. “Get your own.”

Walter didn’t look fazed by his admonishment. He just kept on grinning. Oliver got the distinct impression that, as the oldest, Ralph sometimes took on a teacherly role. Perhaps it was more of a parent role, since none of the kids here had access to their families. Oliver wondered if they were ever lonely. He himself didn’t like his family and was relieved not to have to interact with them anymore. But a lot of kids got on well with their parents and siblings. It must be harder for them being here alone. They must get homesick.

“So, new kid?” Walter, the boy with an Afro and a mouthful of Hazel’s stolen mashed potato said to Oliver. “How are you coping?”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Oliver confessed, thinking back to his conversation with Ralph in the library. “It’s very different from what I’m used to.”

“When are you from?” Walter asked.

When, Oliver noted. Not where. He wasn’t even sure how best to describe it.

“The third millennium?” he tried.

“Not too distant then,” Walter replied. “I’m from 1982. Hazel’s from the fourth millennium—3032.”

Oliver’s eyes widened as he snapped his head up to face her. Hazel blushed.

“I know,” she said. “It’s sooo cringe.”

Oliver had no idea why such a thing would be cringey. All he could think about was how utterly wild this all was. Hazel was from the future!

“Is there anyone here from the past?” Oliver asked.

Ralph looked up then and chuckled. “It depends when your reference point is. Walter’s from the past for you. You’re from the past for me.”

“When are you from then?” Oliver asked him. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Ralph might be from a completely different point in time than him.

“I was born in 4040,” Ralph said. “Fifth millennium.” He grinned, like this was something to be very proud of. He looked at the pale boy beside him. “When are you from, Simon? I always forget.”

“1890,” the boy said in a very plummy British accent.

Oliver could hardly believe what he was hearing. A school suspended in time, filled with kids from all different eras. His mind spun.

“Have you met any teachers yet?” Hazel asked, changing the subject. She helped herself to a bowl of popcorn.

Oliver shook his head. “I haven’t seen a single adult since I got here.”

Hazel giggled. “It takes a little getting used to. The adults trust us to behave, to follow our schedules and do our work. We get a lot of freedom.”

“As long as we follow the rules,” Ralph added.

“The only grown-ups you’ll see here are your teachers,” Hazel added, chewing on her popcorn. “Oh, and the occasional hologram chat check-in with your guide.”

At the mention of his guide, Oliver dropped his eyes to his plate. That pit of pain that always accompanied his thoughts about Armando opened up again.

Ralph shot Hazel a warning look across the table.

“Did I say something wrong?” Hazel asked with a concerned yet quizzical air.

Oliver shook his head. “No. It’s just that my guide passed away.”

All the kids around the table exchanged glances.

“I’m so sorry,” Hazel said gently.

“Terrible luck, chum,” Simon said, shaking his head sadly.

“Totally bogus,” Walter added.

Oliver paused. He tried to swallow the hard lump in his throat.

Ralph came to the rescue. “Oliver’s guide died before he could tell him what he really is or why he was supposed to come here. We have to be extra sensitive, okay? Try not to overwhelm him. We don’t want his head to explode.”

Oliver felt grateful to have Ralph looking out for him, even if the closest his head had come to exploding since he’d gotten here had been because of Ralph’s explanation of time.

Hazel reached over and patted his hand. “Losing your guide must have been very hard. But you’re going to have a lot of fun here, I promise you. You couldn’t be in a better place.”

Walter grinned then. “You’ve seen the S hall, right? Isn’t it amazing?”

“Sure,” Oliver said, shrugging morosely.

“We should play a game of switchit after we’ve eaten,” Walter suggested.

“It’s such a vulgar game,” Simon scoffed. “I much prefer cricket. It’s far more refined.”