Daria 2097 1.2

 

Part 1.2

1111 Glen Oaks Lane, 6:00 PM

The Morgendorffers were having dinner. It was quiet. The way all four family members liked it. However, to say that there was no communication going on would be false. There was a lot of information passing to and fro between the family members.

 

Quinn: Sends transcript of Pep Squad recruitment meeting, and her refusal. Additionally her acceptance of Sandi's invitation into the Fashion Club.

 

Helen (Barksdale-Morgendorffer): As along as you can join the pep squad later, if you want. You never know how much we can handle until we try.

 

Jake: Daria, how was your first day?

 

Daria: My history teacher hates me because I know all the answers, but there are some interesting idiots in my class.

 

Jake: That's Great!

 

Helen: Physically glares at Jake.

 

Jake: Um...

 

Helen: Daria, your father's trying to tell you not to judge people until you know them. You're in a brand-new school in a brand-new town. You don't want it to be Highland all over again.

 

Daria: Not much chance of that happening... unless there's toxic material in the drinking water, here too.

 

Helen: I'm talking about you making a friend or two. Don't be so critical. Give people the benefit of the doubt.

 

Daria: It all boils down to trust.

 

House AI ('Glenny'): Unspecific request for communication with a family member incoming.

 

Quinn: Expresses hope that it's not Lawndale High's Booster Society again.

 

Helen: I'll take it, Glenny.

 

 

Helen stood up and took a handset unit from the kitchen base station. Quickly she determined that the person on the other end wanted verbal contact. She brought it up to her ear. “Hello?” A pause. “Uh, yes, she's my daughter.” Another pause. “I see. Listen, will this require any parent-teacher conferences or anything, and if so, is this the sort of thing my assistant or an AI can handle?” Another pause. “Okay, great. Bye!” The 'call' ended. She sat down and turned to her daughters.

 

 

Helen: You took a psychological test at school today?

 

Quinn: Looks annoyed at Daria.

Quinn: The way you answered may not have been what she was looking for.

 

Helen: Daria, they want you to take a special class for a few weeks, then they'll test you again.

 

Quinn: Quiet sigh.

 

Helen: It seems she has low self-esteem.

 

Jake: spits out some pasta. What? That really stinks, Daria!

 

Helen: Easy, Jake, Focus! Looks at Daria. We tell you over and over again that you're wonderful and you just... don't... get it!

Helen: Hit's table with Fist

Helen: What's wrong with you.

 

Daria: It's a mistake. I don't have low self-esteem! (annoyed emoticons!)

 

Jake: I'll say.

 

Daria: I have low esteem for everyone else.

 

 

Tuesday, September 17, 2097

There were many students in Daria's self-esteem class. All of them were doing anything other than listening to the teacher droning on.

 

One thing hadn't changed in the course of the 21^st century. The presence of ineffective teaching methods in the curriculum. The self-esteem class was one of many examples.

 

The teacher was droning on, not understanding the words “Esteem... a teen. They don't really rhyme, do they? The sounds don't quite mesh. And that, in fact, is often the case when it comes to a teen and esteem. The two just don't seem to go together. But we are here to begin realizing your actuality... “

Daria was sure that those last three words didn't belong in that order. The last one she was sure wasn't used at all. She raised her hand. “Excuse me. I have a question.”

 

“Sorry, question and answer time is later,” Mr. Timothy O'Niell said.

 

“I want to know what "realizing your actuality" means.”

 

“It means... look, just let me get through this part, okay? Then there'll be a video!”

 

The teacher went back to his gibberish. Daria than heard someone speak behind her. “He doesn't know what it means. He's got the speech memorized. Just enjoy the nice man's soothing voice.”

 

Daria turned to the girl. She wore a black shirt with a red coat, and three earrings in each ear. Her hair was short and spiky. “How am I supposed to follow him if I don't know what he's talking about?”

 

“I can fill you in later. I've taken this course six times.”

 

 

Later, Daria and Jane were walking through Lawndale to Jane's house. “So, then, after the role-playing, next class they put the girls and the guys in separate rooms and a female counselor talks to us about body image,” Jane said.

 

“What do they talk to the boys about?” Daria asked.

 

“A classroom full of guys and a male teacher?”

 

Both girls stopped walking. “Nocturnal emissions.”

 

They resumed walking. “I don't get it, Jane. You've got the entire course memorized. How come you can't pass the test to get out?”

 

“I could pass the test, but I like having low self-esteem. It makes me feel special.”

 

 

Soon they were at Jane's house. Jane glanced at her tablet as they walked on the Lawn. “Unlocked! Trent! I've told you to check that the locks have engaged!”

 

“Trent?”

 

“My brother. He runs a local music site, and a member of a band. I use that last word loosely, you understand.”

 

“They play terrible music?” Daria asked as they entered the house.

 

“That's an understatement,” Jane said.

 

“Hi, Lane house,” Daria said.

 

“Oh, there's no AI. My parents have never bothered putting one in. Or was it, grandparents. All the computers come from the fifties or earlier.”

 

“Jane, that's crazy.”

 

“That's the hardware. The security software is up to date,” Jane said.

 

Daria breathed a sigh of relief.

 

 

“And my room...” Jane said opening the door to her room.

 

“Is that an easal?” Daria asked.

 

“Yes, I prefer the traditional art methods, although I do use digital.” Then an alarm sounded, and Jane looked at her tablet. “Uh, oh!”

 

“What?”

 

Jane showed Daria the image on the tablet. “Foreclosure drones!”

 

“Foreclosure drones? What have I gotten myself into?”

 

“My parents must have let the autopayments lapse.”

 

“How can I help?” Daria asked.

 

“You want to help?” Jane asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

 

Down in the Lane's basement, Jane opened an old closet. “Here, it is our server. Apparently from the fourties, though the OS is later than that,” she said.

 

“I don't think you'll be able to get in.”

 

“Oh really?” Jane placed her palm on the reading surface. “Authenticate!”

 

“Jane Lane Authenticated.”

 

“Now where have you stored the account details,” Jane said, once her account was signed in.

 

“OK, then.”

 

 

Five minutes later, Jane still hadn't found the account details. “Come on! Those foreclosure drones are getting antsy!”

 

“Maybe it's hidden in a virtual drive or something?” Daria pondered.

 

“Of course!” Jane said. “Activate all virtual environments!”

 

“Is there enough RAM for that?”

 

“I hope so!”

 

 

There was enough RAM in the server, and Jane was able to find the details in a file. “Done!” She picked up the tablet, which was showing the foreclosure drones leaving. “And they won't be back!”

 

 

After that crisis aversion, Daria went home.