Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,
Sythyry
sythyry

Hating Kismirth, part 2

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Over the year after his uncle’s retirement, it was also suggested that Chiver himself retire. The uncle, being a dignified old Cani of about a hundred years [70-ish of your bloated Earth years -bb], had some reason to retire. Chiver, being a relatively young pup of fifty, saw no reason to give up his position as a Tutor of Mathematics and Classical Languages at the Doiverdikk Academy for the Education and Correction of the Lesser Scions of the Nobility. He was as apolitical as it is possible for a Cani to be, and never quarreled with anybody. Nonetheless, the principal of Doiverdikk, appointed two years ago, hinted to Chiver that he might wish to retire sooner rather than later, perhaps to take up a second career as the teacher of a nice safe Herethroy village, or some equally removed school.

Chiver carefully neglected to notice these hints at first, but they became broader and broader. Finally, on the third of Nivvem, 4393, the principal called him in to her office. “Really, Chiver, I’m speaking entirely for the benefit of you. You must resign.”

“Really, M’lady Principal, there’s no ‘must’ about it. I am one of your popular and effective teachers, well-liked by students and faculty both, and even by custodians and secretaries and — perhaps most importantly of all — by parents. And if there is anything the least bit questionable or troublesome about my private life, that hardly interferes with the teaching of algebra or third-form declensions!”

The principal frowned. “That has nothing to do with the matter, Chiver. Yes, you exert some crude and wicked attraction to our students. I suspect that it is verging on the sexual and improper.” (“It’s not,” protested Chiver, and barring such unacknowledged and unrequited crushes as are inevitable under the circumstances, it was not.) “In any case, you are a glate, and we cannot have you teaching optimes.”

“I am not conversant with Vepri technical terms,” said Chiver.

“You are a person whose first incarnation was of a recent generation; a Generation LATEs, or, for short, a glate. I suspect you are in fact a fround — that this is your first time around, that you have never been incarnated before. This makes you as non-primordeal as possible.”

“With all due respect, m’lady principal, you can’t possibly have any actual information about that. It requires great magic to determine — great magic indeed! — and I would have noticed if anyone had done such a thing to me. In any case, there’s been a wee bit of actual scientific research on it, and nobody of any intellectual reputation believes there’s any correlation between one’s number of incarnations and, well, anything about their personality.”

The principal stood up and slammed a fist on her desk. “That research was performed by glates — by scluds! The results are pure lies. Vepri scientists have done those experiments a thousand times more accurately, and found conclusively that one’s first generation of birth is a perfect predictor of one’s moral character and value to society!”

“That research has a thousand taints and flaws!” proclaimed Chiver, whose uncle had pointed out each one of those taints and flaws.

“Nothing of the sorts! It is quite accurate! Observe, as a case in point, your own behavior — aside from that Rassimel you defile yourself with, you have the temerity to argue with me about the matter!” snapped the principal.

“You don’t even know what generation I come from! I don’t even know what generation I come from! Where is the wizard who has investigated this?”

The principal glowered at him. “We do not need a wizard. There are simpler, non-magical means, described in Verification of Primes with perfect accuracy.”

“I haven’t taken your silly little tests, either,” snapped Chiver.

“Your actions have been watched, observed, recorded, quantified, measured!” crowed the principal. “You are a glate; you are surely a fround. You act like a sclud. This is not to be tolerated in Doiverdikk! And it will not be! You should resign immediately!”

Chiver shrugged. “If you want me out, you may attempt to expel me. The Academy laws give a procedure for doing so. You simply need to get three-quarters of the faculty and more than half the students to petition for my removal. Given that I am tolerably well-liked by both, you may find this difficult to do, but the procedure is simple enough.”

The principal glared. “I give you one chance to reconsider this ridiculous and scluddish position. Resign now, and you will keep a portion of your pension and whatever respectability you might have given who your uncle is and who your lover is. Attempt to stay, and your situation will become wailingly worse.”

Chiver glared back. “The faculty and students are not nearly so infested with this Vepri nonsense as you are. They know a good teacher and a good colleague when they see one. If you petition for my removal, I will petition for yours, and we will see who is actually a good teacher and a good colleague.” And, so saying, he strode out of the principal’s office.

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