1

It starts with a crash. A very loud and protracted crash.

To be technical, it begins with a rather serious crunch. Then it moves on to a series of “ow”s and bangs, then a surprised “ack!” and another crunch combined with some plastic tinkling, then the sound of a large metal can being toppled over and rolling over bumpy stone pavement. That stops, and then there is another “ooh!” and “ack!”, and then the large metal can gives a deep “tonk”.

And then there is a sucking in of breath, shortly followed by a stream of “fuck”s.

Four stories above, Ray looks up from his problem set, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Ah, fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” The cursing bounces up the dorm walls surrounding Fountain Court and into Ray’s window.

“Jesus Christ, Lightning, I’m sorry…”

“Fucking hell, Bear, you bowled me completely fucking over. I skinned my goddamned elbow, you dick. What the hell are you doing with that fucking can of liquid nitrogen, anyway? You can’t see around it to watch where the hell you’re going. Get a fucking cart next time! My parts are fucking ruined now, smashed all over the goddamned cobblestones –” Ray hears the sound of a sneaker being scuffed across stone, with some skittering plastic thrown in for fun.

“I said I’m sorry –”

“Do you even know how much these parts cost me? Look at this shit, you clumsy asshole –”

Ray looks out his window. Lightning is still laying into the frosh, kicking or crushing a piece of circuit-laden plastic every few seconds to punctuate his swearing. The much bigger boy is holding the metal can in front of his head, ready to block blows. White Lightning got his nickname not only for his prematurely white jewfro, but for striking hard and fast once his electrons were excited. Still, Bear most likely had nothing to worry about from the hyperactive junior. Even if the frosh wasn’t a well-known practiser of aikido, his bulk alone would give him the advantage in a fistfight.

“Lightning!” Ray shouts, leaning out his window.

The raving boy can’t hear Ray over his own voice.

Ray tries again, louder. “Joshua Graham Bell Rasjiemucek!”

This time Lightning stops. He turns sharply to the wall of windows, grinding a PCI card under his heel in the process. He searches the wall of windows for the source of the shout, and when he finds it, scowls before his face can light up with glee. “Fuck you, Ray! Only my grandma calls me that!”

Ray leans further out the window, enjoying himself. “Fuck your grandma, Lightning! You only got the nickname because nobody but me could pronounce your last name and there were two other Josh R.’s in our year! I’ll call you whatever the hell I please!”

Josh has to keep his lips in a tight line to prevent himself from smiling. “You panda-loving cunt!” He shouts. Ray grins. “What the fuck do you want?!”

“Leave off verbally abusing the frosh, Josh.”

“Dammit, Janet! He owes me a new fucking computer!” Lightning pulls at his hair. He has so much of it that he probably doesn’t miss the frizzy chunks he rips out. “And some pizza for the goddamned inconvenience!”

With Josh’s attention drawn away, Bear has casually put the can down near the fountain and taken a seat on it. “I’m not buying you any pizza,” he says.

Josh stomps on a power supply in response.

Ray crosses his arms on the windowsill, leaning on them. He sighs. Anything to get Lightning’s notorious temper to calm down.

“Josh…” he says. “I’ll build you a new computer. Just let Bear go do… whatever it was he needs liquid nitrogen for.”

Lightning and Ray both look at the first-year.

“Dudes, I was sworn to secrecy.” Bear is wearing an innocent expression on his darkly bearded face.

Josh grunts and turns back to the fourth-story window. “It had better be a fucking good one. No crap parts.”

Ray deflates a bit. Partially out of relief, but he feels dread seeping in. “I’ll scavenge all the best for you, my fuzzy fiend. Now bid your playmate good-day.” Ray starts to turn back from the window.

“And it should order pizza for me!” Josh demands.

Ray sticks his head back out the window, gazing at Lightning to see if he’s kidding. Unfortunately for Ray, he isn’t.

There is silence in the courtyard for a few rare moments while Ray considers.

“That it shall do,” he pronounces.

Lightning is shocked. “Seriously? Fucking sweet!” He pumps his fists in the air, then brings them down to do a tap step on the pieces of his former machine.

Ray turns back into his room and shuts the window behind him. “Fucking sweet indeed,” he mutters, sitting down on a black swivel chair. He reopens the graphics set he was working on. Thanks to the altercation just now, he was an additional five minutes late turning it in on top of the thirty-three already accumulated. He grumbles as he thumbs through the pages. He shouldn’t have promised the new computer, but — for everything except turning in assignments — his word was gold. He would have to do it now, crazy course load or not.

“Fucking–” page flick– “sweet–” page flick– “my ass.”