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“Afrotheria is an empire of diverse peoples, flourishing at the horn of the Afro Continent. Our economy has grown quickly, partly because of our relentless quest to rid the empire of the ghost hound menace, and partly due to our abundant natural resources and the fierce dedication of the Science and Technology Class. Now, can anyone tell me why our people are divided into classes?”
Zev sat at a desk in the back of the classroom, half listening to Miss Leya as he fiddled with his drawing tablet. He scowled at the screen, which refused to render his schematics the way he wanted and realized with a deepening sigh that a visit to the Upgrade Center was inevitable.
A sudden pinch on his right thigh made him hiss under his breath. His best friend, Waweru—whom everyone called Weru—arched an eyebrow in warning. Zev ignored him, still mentally tallying the shillings in his wallet. He had two thousand left after his last job at the Village Center, but he had promised his little sister five hundred for her upcoming Conservation Center trip and her beloved plant purchases. That left him with only fifteen hundred, and a tablet upgrade cost four thousand. Another part-time job was in his immediate future.
“Zev Mablevi!”
He jolted upright, looking up from the tablet to find his classmates staring at him with various degrees of amusement.
“I pinched you,” Weru whispered. “You wouldn’t listen.”
Zev exhaled, set his tablet on the desk, and stood. He tried for a disarming smile when he saw Miss Leya’s disapproving look.
“Miss Leya,” he said, clearing his throat.
Miss Leya, their History and Civics teacher, was known for her passionate approach. She expected her students to care about the subject as deeply as she did, a feeling Zev could never quite muster. He found the class dull, though he grudgingly accepted its necessity for his tech certification. It was a true tragedy that his technology training included History and Civics.
It was a true tragedy that his technology training included History and Civics
Zev Mablevi, Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage
“Zev,” Miss Leya said, folding her arms, “what are you doing in my class?”
She rocked on her heels, her braids swaying in a ponytail perched neatly on top of her head. Zev bit his bottom lip, suspecting there was no answer that would satisfy her.
“I suspect you’ve been more interested in the tablet on your desk than in my lesson,” Miss Leya said, her frown deepening. “You might be the top student here, but that doesn’t give you license to ignore my lecture. Please answer my question.”
Zev glanced at Weru for help, but his friend only shrugged. Zev stifled a groan. The last he remembered, she was talking about Afrotheria’s Classes.
“Um, Afrotheria has nine classes,” he said, plunging in. “They’re Science and Tech, Social Welfare, Medicine, Education, Conservation and Agriculture, Justice, Protector Class, Construction and Works, and the Registarion.”
Laughter broke out. Zev saw Miss Leya’s frown deepen further.
“That’s thorough,” she said, “but it tells me you haven’t been listening. Read the question on the overhead, Mablevi.”
Zev scratched his head, then looked at the glass panel on the front wall. It displayed an image of the Registarion Building in the capital city, Kirit.
“Why does the Empire of Afrotheria vote in a new Sable Council to work with the head of the Registarion every four years?” Miss Leya asked.
Zev grimaced at Weru, who swallowed a laugh. Resigning himself to Miss Leya’s interrogation, Zev cleared his throat and focused on the prompt.
“We, the people of Afrotheria, vote in a new Sable Council every four years to encourage growth and development,” he said. “Our greatest hope is to finally rid ourselves of the ghost hound scourge.”
“Who is the head of the Registarion?” Miss Leya prompted.
“That would be the Elderon1, who has a second in command called the Chancellor,” Zev answered. “He leads the Sable Council and manages the Registarion2 for the people.”
“And what is the Registarion’s main role?”
“They assist the eight representatives on the Sable Council3,” Zev said. “They make sure the different classes have the resources they need. The Elderon also casts the deciding vote when the Sable Council is at a stalemate.”
“Where are those eight representatives selected from?”
“They’re each voted in from the nine classes,” Zev said. “They tend to be the top minds in their respective fields. For instance, the technology representative is Vin Saha, the inventor of the helmet used by the Protector Class in its fight against the ghost wraiths.”
“And why is the Sable Council so important that it sometimes needs that deciding vote from the Elderon?” Miss Leya asked.
Zev paused, wondering how to answer this question. The Sable Council was important, but it was also filled with politics and power fights. He could never quite fathom why their energy wasn’t wholly spent on helping the people—and dealing with the ghost wraiths.
“Well,” he said carefully, “the Sable Council is supposed to be the collective voice of each class, working to allocate funding and manage crises, especially keeping villages safe from ghost wraiths. When they can’t agree, the Elderon’s vote breaks the tie.”
Seemingly satisfied, Miss Leya changed the overhead image to a familiar “Vote Now” sticker.
“You know your Civics, Zev,” she said, “even if you’d rather play with that tablet than pay attention. We have four weeks together before you move on to your beloved Tech Courses. One day, perhaps you’ll see the importance of these lessons. Now, are you going to vote tomorrow? You’re seventeen, aren’t you?”
Zev shook his head. “No, Miss Leya.”
Her eyes widened as though he’d confessed a great sin. “And why not? It is your civic duty to vote, Zev Mablevi. Don’t you want progress for your village?”
“I’m actually working at the Village Center tomorrow,” Zev explained. “I’ll be assisting with the voting process, so I’m not eligible to cast a ballot myself.”
Miss Leya brightened. “Well, that’s admirable. What an experience you’ll have. Very good, Mablevi. Sit down.”
Zev sank back into his seat, exchanging a sheepish grin with Weru.
“Pay attention,” Miss Leya warned. “I’d hate to penalize our top student for fussing with a tablet.”
Sliding his tablet into his bag, Zev pulled out a notebook and sat up straighter. Miss Leya continued.
“Zev has already given most of the answers I’d planned to ask about our governing system. I’ll only add that the Elderon and Chancellor are a pair. Both earn their positions through the people’s vote. Thus, when there’s a stalemate, the Elderon’s vote ultimately reflects the empire’s majority opinion, but not necessarily the entire empire’s. Which leads to an important question: what about those who did not vote for the current Elderon or Chancellor? Weru, care to tell us?”
Weru stood, clearly reluctant. “They have the minority leader?” he ventured.
“Exactly,” Miss Leya said. “The minority leader forms a sort of ‘silent branch’ called the Opposition. His role is to monitor the Sable Council and raise concerns on behalf of those who did not vote for the Elderon or Chancellor. This ensures accountability. It’s not a perfect system, but it keeps Afrotheria relatively stable. Some of you will one day work in the Registarion. I hope you’ll fight for progress, both in government and in our ongoing struggle against the ghost wraiths. We all must face that darkness together to protect our homeland. I’m sure you’ll surprise us all with changes and improvements in the future.”
She picked up a stack of forms from her desk and held them up. “We’ve reached the end of class. Before I dismiss you, pay attention to this.”
Miss Leya stepped between the rows, handing each student a form. “You’re all at the end of your semester here in our small village academy, eighteen years old, or for some close to eighteen, and just three weeks from senior high graduation. You should know your grades by now.”
The classroom filled with chatter and a few groans. Zev glanced at Weru, knowing his friend had middling grades but plenty of potential. The main pressure on Weru came from his father, who desperately wanted him to enroll in Kistech, the prestigious Kirit Institute of Science and Technology. Kistech researchers worked closely with the Protector Class, helping develop tech to defeat ghost wraiths.
Weru wasn’t so sure he wanted that life. Teru Province, quiet and peaceful, offered its own kind of security, a world away from the bustle of Kirit.
Miss Leya cleared her throat. “This form is critical. It’s an application to change the class you selected at sixteen. After graduation, shifting classes will be incredibly difficult. I encourage you to think hard before committing to a future you might not enjoy. The Science and Technology Class is elite but mentally consuming and demanding. If you don’t genuinely love research, design, and coding, you could end up maintaining basic tech for companies, households, stuck doing grunt work in labs. I’m not trying to frighten you,” she added, her voice softer, “only to prepare you.”
I encourage you to think hard before committing to a future you might not enjoy
Miss Leya, Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage
Reaching Zev’s row, she handed Weru a form and turned to Zev with a teasing grin. “Of course, we expect top students like Zev to stay in Science and Tech. Who knows, he might invent the ultimate ghost hound–banishing weapon.”
Laughter and whistles rippled through the room. Zev grinned. He did love tech, though not necessarily the high-powered pressure of Kistech. He hoped to work at the local lab with his parents and remain close to home.
Laughter and whistles rippled through the room. Zev grinned. He did love tech, though not necessarily the high-powered pressure of Kistech. He hoped to work at the local lab with his parents and remain close to home.
Miss Leya finished distributing the forms and returned to the front. “You don’t have to submit this form immediately. We have two days off for the vote and all the related activities. I want each of you to really think about what you want for your future. If you realize you’re in the wrong place, talk to me and I’ll do what I can to help. All right?”
Murmurs ran through the class. Zev slipped his form into his backpack. He nudged Weru.
“You could fill this out and switch classes,” he whispered.
Weru shuddered. “My dad would kill me.”
“You’re eighteen,” Zev reminded him. “You should be free to do what makes you happy.”
“I can just imagine me telling Baba I want to move to the Construction and Works Class. He’ll have a heart attack,” Weru said with a sigh.
“Try asking your mom for help,” Zev said.
Waweru gripped his own tablet tight and shrugged. “I’ll think about it,” he said, folding the form from Miss Leya, and slipping it into his shirt pocket.
At the front of the room, Miss Leya rapped a knuckle against her desk to get their attention.
“The credit belongs—” she began.
“—to the man in the arena whose face is marred by dust, sweat, and blood, again and again,” Zev and his classmates chorused, finishing her favorite quote.
This credit belongs to the man in the arena whose face is marred by dust, sweat, and blood, again and again.
Theodore Roosevelt, 1910
“Now,” Miss Leya continued, “review the last two chapters in your history texts. We’ll have a quiz when you return. Zev, I’ll expect a full account of your time assisting at the Village Center. Class dismissed. Waweru, please come see me.”
Zev patted Weru’s shoulder. Slinging his backpack over his right shoulder, he said, “Meet me in the Luna VR at nine tonight. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Sure. I’ll message you before I log in,” Weru said, gathering his books as he trudged toward Miss Leya’s desk.
Outside the classroom, Zev found his little sister, Amare, waiting for him with a clear ziplock bag of sugarcane strips. She grinned, handing him the sugarcane bag, and he took her schoolbag and slung it over his shoulder with his.
“Are you working tomorrow?” she asked as they headed to the school’s front gate.
“Yes,” Zev said.
“Oh,” Amare said. “I was hoping you could help babysit our brothers.”
“I need money for my tablet upgrade,” Zev said, biting into a piece of sugarcane. “Don’t forget. You’re going to the Conservation Garden, remember? I promised you five hundred shillings for the berry plants you’ve been eyeing.”
“Zev, you don’t have to give me your money,” Amare protested. “I was going to earn a little cash by braiding Mom Ava’s hair.”
“You hate doing hair,” Zev teased. “Don’t force yourself.”
Amare chuckled. “Fine. But if you insist on covering my costs, then I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow. The brothers and I can hang back until Mom and Dad finish at the lab, and we’ll all head home together.”
Zev’s eyes lit up. “Fried potatoes and beef stew?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not taking orders.”
“Or chapos and beef stew,” Zev persisted. “Or maybe pilau and beef stew. Actually, all three with beef stew would be perfect.”
They shared a laugh. Walking side by side down the quiet village road, they basked in the midday sun and the easy companionship of home. The ghost wraiths might threaten distant provinces, but here in Teru—at least for the moment—life was sweet and calm.
And as Zev knew all too well, moments of peace could be fleeting. Everyone in Afrotheria, even here in sleepy Teru, would eventually need to stand together against the darkness for the greater good.
They walked on, as they always did after school.
*****
<<Previous | TOC | Next>>
- Elderon – The head of the Sable Council, leader of the Empire of Afrotheria. Voted in by the people with his Chancellor. ↩︎
- Registarion – the place where the Elderon works, sort of like Parliament, or an Emperor’s court. ↩︎
- Sable Council – A council that represents the nine classes of the Empire of Afrotheria. These classes are divided according to skill. They are: Science and Tech, Social Welfare, Medicine, Education, Conservation and Agriculture, Justice, Protector Class, Construction and Works, and the Registarion. ↩︎
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