Ender's Game (Ender's Saga, #1) - Orson Scott Card Page 0,14

put him in the worst place, he was inviting later bullying. Yet he couldn’t very well oust someone else.

So he smiled broadly. “Hey, thanks,” he said. Not sarcastically at all. He said it as sincerely as if they had reserved for him the best position. “I thought I was going to have to ask for low bunk by the door.”

He sat down and looked in the locker that stood open at the foot of the bunk. There was a paper taped to the inside of the door.

PLACE YOUR HAND ON THE SCANNER

AT THE HEAD OF YOUR BUNK

AND SPEAK YOUR NAME TWICE.

Ender found the scanner, a sheet of opaque plastic. He put his left hand on it and said, “Ender Wiggin. Ender Wiggin.”

The scanner glowed green for a moment. Ender closed his locker and tried to reopen it. He couldn’t. Then he put his hand on the scanner and said, “Ender Wiggin.” The locker popped open. So did three other compartments.

One of them contained four jumpsuits like the one he was wearing, and one white one. Another compartment contained a small desk, just like the ones at school. So they weren’t through with studies yet.

It was the largest compartment that contained the prize. It looked like a spacesuit at first glance, complete with helmet and gloves. But it wasn’t. There was no airtight seal. Still, it would effectively cover the whole body. It was thickly padded. It was also a little stiff.

And there was a pistol within. A lasergun, it looked like, since the end was solid, clear glass. But surely they wouldn’t let children have lethal weapons—

“Not a laser,” said a man. Ender looked up. It was one he hadn’t seen before. A young and kind-looking man. “But it has a tight enough beam. Well-focused. You can aim it and make a three-inch circle of light on a wall a hundred meters off.”

“What’s it for?” Ender asked.

“One of the games we play during recreation. Does anyone else have his locker open?” The man looked around. “I mean, have you followed directions and coded in your voices and hands? You can’t get into the lockers until you do. This room is your home for the first year or so here at the Battle School, so get the bunk you want and stay with it. Ordinarily, we let you elect your chief officer and install him in the lower bunk by the door, but apparently that position has been taken. Can’t recode the lockers now. So think about whom you want to choose. Dinner in seven minutes. Follow the lighted dots on the floor. Your color code is red yellow yellow—whenever you’re assigned a path to follow, it will be red yellow yellow, three dots side by side—go where those lights indicate. What’s your color code, boys?”

“Red, yellow, yellow.”

“Very good. My name is Dap. I’m your mom for the next few months.”

The boys laughed.

“Laugh all you like, but keep it in mind. If you get lost in the school, which is quite possible, don’t go opening doors. Some of them lead outside.” More laughter. “Instead just tell someone that your mom is Dap, and they’ll call me. Or tell them your color, and they’ll light up a path for you to get home. If you have a problem, come talk to me. Remember, I’m the only person here who’s paid to be nice to you. But not too nice. Give me any lip and I’ll break your face. OK?”

They laughed again. Dap had a room full of friends. Frightened children are so easy to win.

“Which way is down, anybody tell me?”

They told him.

“OK, that’s true. But that direction is toward the outside. The ship is spinning, and that’s what makes it feel like that is down. The floor actually curves around in that direction. Keep going long enough that way, and you come back to where you started. Except don’t try it. Because up that way is teachers’ quarters, and up that way is the bigger kids. And the bigger kids don’t like Launchies butting in. You might get pushed around. In fact, you will get pushed around. And when you do, don’t come crying to me. Got it? This is Battle School, not nursery school.”

“What are we supposed to do, then?” asked a boy, a really small black kid who had a top bunk near Ender’s.

“If you don’t like getting pushed around, figure out for yourself what to do about it. But I warn you—murder is strictly against the rules. So