Chapter 1

 

I am a teacher in an exclusive girl's school in Brisbane, Queensland. The experiences I am about to describe are way-out, far-fetched and in fact are downright unbelievable. And yet they happened.

It was on the first day back after the long summer holidays. I 'lived in' at the school, my accommodations being situated in a wing of the Administration Building and comprising a small bed-sitter and a bathroom-come-laundry. There was no kitchen as we ate in the school refectory. There were ten of these tiny flats for those of us who were required to assist with the boarders.

Oh, my name is James Sinclair and I am twenty-nine years old, a graduate of Queensland University in Science and Education.

I had returned to the school a couple of days before the beginning of school to help sort out the new year, allocation of students to houses, timetables - you can imagine the sort of thing...

Until the first day of the new term, everything had been perfectly normal, the students and teachers just as they had been at the end of last year. But then, on the first morning of term, I awoke to see the door to my little apartment opening and Ellen Symonds, a girl now in her second last year of school, entering carrying a tray on which stood a teapot and cup and a plate with a slice of toast come in.

That was startling enough since we had no such valet service for the staff. But it was what she was wearing that shocked me even more. She was wearing a brief, halter-like top that only just covered her scarcely-formed breasts, her gym-slip, and socks and runners.

There was nothing else! Oh, I suppose she had on a pair of panties but the rest of the attire covered very little and showed off her lithe young body in all its near-naked glory. I say that for the halter covered very little and the skirt sat low on her hips and high up her thighs.

I pulled the sheets right up to my neck for under them I was naked. I had no idea what she was doing in my room but I well knew that if I was caught with her there, especially dressed as briefly as she was, I would be for the chop no matter what excuses I might offer.

She smiled down at me and now I could see there was something very wrong. I knew this girl. She had been my student for three years but this Ellen Symonds was different from the girl I knew. She had been slightly tubby, frowned a lot and tended to be cheeky. This girl was the epitome of youthful athleticism, said 'good morning' brightly to me and smiled almost continuously.

As she bent over to place the tray's legs either side of mine over the bed sheets and blankets, I caught sight of her breasts. Oh God, I thought. This girl was absolutely stunning.

But there was something else. I now noticed she had droplets of perspiration running down her forehead, neck and the upper part of her chest and on her exposed belly. She had obviously been engaged in some strenuous exercise. I glanced at my bedside clock. Hell, it was still only seven in the morning. What the devil had she been up to at that hour that had brought on this sweat?

But I didn't say anything. I was terrified someone else would come in and my job would be on the line. She didn't stay, however. After observing that she would see me in my class, she stood up, turned and was gone from the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

I sat up and shook my head. Was it real? But there was the tea and toast on the tray before me and as I sipped the tea and munched the toast, buttered and spread with my favourite - Vegemite, I thought over the facts. I looked around me. Yes, all seemed to be in order, but no, things were different. Not much, but enough for me to know that while I was in the same place, there were some glaring differences. The wall colour was slightly different and so were my clothes. What the hell was going on?

I got up, showered and shaved and as I looked at myself in the mirror as I dressed, I was pleased with my body. I had loved athletics at school and had thought about being a physical education teacher but my first love was science and so I went down that path, (although as part of my duties, I assisted the sports mistress in the gymnasium and on the athletics field). I still worked hard in the school gym myself for at least an hour a day and I was careful what I ate and drank. The results showed in the definition of my muscles and I hoped I would always be as caring of my body as I was right then.

I often used to mourn that people in Australia had mostly let their bodies go to seed and in many families it was endemic, the whole family group, including the children, being obese. I knew it was all going to come home to roost eventually with increased heart disease, diabetes and all the rest of the fat-related illnesses that were already starting to cost the nation dearly.

For some reason, I put on a crisp white shirt and tie and proper trousers instead of the sports shirt and jeans that I normally used. I didn't know why, not then ... it just seemed right to do so. And then, at quarter to eight, I left my flat and strolled out onto the quadrangle to move over to the Great Hall building, to which was attached the school refectory.

As I reached the quad, however, one of my questions was answered: I had wondered how Ellen Symonds, far from being the tubby girl I knew, had become a paragon of youthful athleticism. Well now I knew why for out there on the gravel of the quad, every girl in the school was now exercising hard under the guidance of our Phys. Ed. teacher, Jane Evans. And when I say hard, I mean really hard.

Every single girl was dressed as Ellen had been and each was sweating heavily. I stopped and stared for I could now see that every single one of them was slim. Not a single fatty to be seen! I couldn't believe it but by then I knew something was very, very wrong. I seemed to be at my school and on my world but the little differences were too marked for it to be right.

As I stood there, I could see the school clock on the tower facing the quad and it bonged out the quarter to eight chime. At that, Jane blew her whistle and the lines turned left and began to move in an orderly trot to the various houses wherein the girls lived. I gulped. It was seven-forty-five. Breakfast was at eight. How on Earth could the hundreds of girls here possibly shower, dress and groom themselves in fifteen minutes?

But they did! As they moved off to their houses, Jane moved over to me, grinned and said, "Good morning, James."

I smiled back at her - we were an item and so I felt I could test the water. "Quite an effort, how long have they been at that?"

She didn't seem fazed by my question. "Since six-thirty. By the way, did Ellen bring you your tea and toast on time this morning?"

I felt a wash of relief pass over me. So it was normal! "Yes, thank you. Spot on..."

"Anyway, must dash. See to the girls in my house, you know..."

I didn't, but I said nothing. I had no idea where I was or how, except that this wasn't my Fullbright College and these were not my girls - although Jane looked exactly the same as my Jane.

Anyway, after she left, I continued my leisurely stroll across the quad but then stopped - in shock all over again. This couldn't be! Some of the girls were already coming out of the houses and moving, quietly and demurely across the quad to the great hall. I looked at my watch. It had only been five minutes since Jane had left me and ten since the girls had filed into their houses. And yet here they were, now immaculately dressed in their school uniforms! I had never heard of such a thing.

What was going on? But still it didn't hit me, even though I was a keen SF buff (that's Science Fiction to the uninitiated). SF is just that - Fiction and I didn't for one second even consider the possibility. Not then, anyway.

At breakfast, the girls all sat up straight and after Grace, at which all bowed their heads appropriately while the school chaplain said the office, they sat and chatted quietly. Quite different from my experiences where the noise was deafening and bad table manners abounded - yes, it was an exclusive school but that's the way of it these days.

Here I should expound for just a moment on my thoughts on modern discipline - or rather the lack of it. I believe one only learns self-discipline when it is imposed from above and then from a very early age.

In this modern era at the beginning of the new millennium, good manners, elegant behaviour and courtesy have all gone out the window in the name of 'letting the child find his or her feet in his own way and his own time'. It's a lot of garbage, but the do-gooders, the civil libertarians have had their way for far too long and as a result, children are unmanageable and street crime (and worse) are rampant.

But woe-betide the parent or teacher who attempts to discipline an unruly child. Lay one finger on a youngster and you are in serious trouble. Even speak in admonishing tones and it is considered an assault on the child's rights! What about our rights as adults? Or those of elderly folk who don't dare to go out on the streets for fear they will be pushed over by a gang of louts of both sexes!

I had spoken my mind in the staffroom but of course I am bound, as is every other teacher and parent, by the new rules that make bringing up or teaching a modern child a real nightmare.

Why did I take up the profession then? Because I thought I might be able to make a difference. After six years on the job I am somewhat disillusioned, but I stick at it. This mad policy can't go on, I keep thinking - and saying...

Breakfast was over at eight-thirty and I stared in wonder as the duty monitors cleaned up the tables in record time, efficiently, quietly and without fuss.

As we left the head table, the headmistress waited for me. "Good morning, James," she twinkled. I liked Dr Blount. She was my kind of teacher although of course she was as constrained as we all were by the new laws.

"I wonder if you would accompany me to my study ... there's something I want to discuss with you."

"Of course, Headmistress," I said, wondering what she wanted with me. Dumb of me? Of course, but my mind was in so much of a whirl by then that I wasn't thinking clearly.

She led the way but stepped aside to let me open the door for her. That was unusual, too. In my experience, modern ladies didn't usually bother with the old courtesies, but I stepped up quickly, opened it, stood aside to let her enter and then followed her into the room.

"Sit down, James," she said. I did, looking around me and noting some more little differences. "You see things that aren't quite right, eh James?"

"Some things are, many are not, Headmistress."

"No, well I will try to explain. You are a science graduate and, I believe, are interested in SF?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, puzzled at the question.

"Right, and I think you may have seen a program called Sliders?"

Now the penny dropped. "You don't mean I have been brought to another planet...?"

"Yes ... and no. But let me tell it in my own way. Some time ago, I was given the opportunity to slide to your planet. I did it in a corporeal sense, that is my whole body and mind went there. I was appalled. I met your headmistress and she, under guidance from the man on your planet who brought me there, was finally persuaded she was not mad and that there really are thousands, perhaps millions of similar universes that exist in the same time and space as each other, but in a different dimension altogether.

"I don't profess to understand the technology but I spent the summer holidays with her and then asked if she had any teachers who didn't go along with the system prevailing on your planet. She mentioned you immediately. Now, you are not here in your own body. Instead, your mind and that of my James Sinclair have swapped bodies. He has access to your memories and you to his. Some of these will function automatically; others you may call on when you need them.

"You will find it is not difficult to assimilate into our world, James, especially once you learn to call on his memories whenever in doubt."

"But why have I been brought here?"

"Because the man who spirited me to your planet believes it is going to be necessary for quite a number of like-minded people from your world to see how ours works and perhaps to begin speaking out against the chaos that world governments have wreaked upon your unfortunate peoples."

"But I'm not a political activist."

"I know, but I think you may find that when you return, the views you are already known to hold may be strengthened tenfold by what you learn here over the next twelve months, or at least for the school year."

"And my alter ego? How is he going to cope with the chaos, as you so rightly put it, on my world?"

"He is well geared to cope, James. You may have no fears that when you each return to your own bodies, things will be just as you left them. Here, every staff member (although not the girls) knows of your switch, yes, your Jane, too - by the way, when are you two going to tie the knot...?"

She paused, smiled and then apologised, saying it was none of her business but I assured her those were my thoughts as well and that I hoped Jane Evans would soon become Mrs James Sinclair. I reflected then on my girlfriend's wonderful body. We both delighted in bushwalking - of a very special kind. We liked to do it nude and knew of some really out of the way places where we could indulge this fantasy without too much fear of being caught out. We shared a pup-tent of course and our lovemaking was wondrous. I just hoped that was still the same since it now appeared I was going to be there all year.

"It's probably time we went to your class, James."

I started and looked at my watch. Good Heavens! It was ten minutes past nine. I was ten minutes late for my class!

She soothed me. "Don't worry, young man. Your students will have opened their books and started without you, but it is time we moved. I want to demonstrate to you an exercise you are to perform at the beginning of each day. Every mistress and master here must go through this little ritual. It is part of our discipline and I would hate to have to remind you of it..."

As we entered the classroom, I noted that every girl was indeed reading the textbook but as we entered, each turned them over and stood, if not at rigid attention, then something very close to it.

"Girls, I have decided to conduct the morning examination myself..."

"Yes, Dr Blount," they chorused dutifully and then, at her gesture, all sat down in perfect unison. I was astonished - and most gratified at everything I had seen there so far. But then she went on: "Very well, does any girl have a matter she wishes to get off her chest?"

One girl, whom I knew to be Alice Caldwell and who, like Ellen, had been more than slightly tubby on my world (but was here a most attractive slim blonde), raised her hand and then rose.

"Dr Blount, I have to report that I have soiled my school blouse," and she pointed to a stain on the right side of her white upper garment.

The headmistress looked quite sad at the news but then asked the girl what an appropriate punishment might be. I guessed this was more for my benefit than hers but I had already tried searching my host's memories and had discovered she was to be caned.

Caned! Truly! And for such a trivial offence?

"Ten strokes of the cane, Headmistress," she said quietly.

"But weren't you punished three weeks ago for a similar offence, girl?"

"Yes, Headmistress."

"Then don't you think the appropriate penalty should be fifteen strokes?"

"Yes, Headmistress," the girl said quietly but there was a distinct air of desperation in her voice.

I was appalled - at first, until I again searched his memories and found this was all part of the rigid discipline that applied throughout this world. The girl had been punished for carelessness three weeks ago and had failed to learn her lesson. Now it was going to be applied again, but more so!

"Very well, come out to the front of the class and prepare yourself."