//------------------------------// // 193 // Story: School Days // by Dai Kirai //------------------------------// Stormy made it to the eighth floor without incident. Chevonne’s room was the first one to the left of the elevator. There was a white board sign next to the door with her name written in black marker. Above that was some sort of picture emblazoned with the words “The Wizard of Oz.” Stormy knocked on the door which rung as his hoofe made contact with the metal. From inside came a shuffling noise, something closing and a harried Chevonne issuing muted curses. “Who is it?” Chevonne called through the door. “Stormy Skies.” The pony called back as images of him going to the wrong door or being way too early flashed through his head. “I’m here for the-“ The door opened to reveal his NSA in a plain rose colored top and denim pants. “Come in. I wasn’t expecting anyone this early.” She held it open long enough for the pony to walk in before letting the door slam shut on its own. The room was the same as his. Three beds and three desks. But, where his room was rather Spartan and plain, this one had been decorated in pinks and whites. What little wall space there was was covered in movie posters or strings of lights. Unlike his room however, one of the desk situated itself right under the window and was covered with postcards. Chevonne took a seat at this desk. “How early am I?” Stormy asked, voice popping. He hoped it wasn’t as early as it seemed. Chevonne patted her pockets. “Um, I can tell you but do you see my phone?” Stormy scanned the room. How can you lose a phone?  Phones were still relatively new tech to Equestria just like the computer, only less common. Ponies didn’t see the point when they could just trot over and visit their friends or the Pony Express could deliver a letter to another city. At least the computers at Canterlot Castle contained information. Phones were just pointless. “Found it.” Stormy looked over to see Chevonne holding a small plastic slab which looked nothing like a phone. Phones were big and sat on a desk, they had either number pads or a dial with a connected receiver. This was just a small flat brick. “Oh!” Chevonne’s face flushed crimson. “I must really have lost track of time. You’re only ten minutes early.” She set the slab back onto her desk next to her portable computer. So it’s a clock? Stormy wondered. “What do you think of UCLA so far?” Chevonne asked the quiet pony. “It’s big.” Stormy hesitated before going on. “And confusing.” “Go on.” “Everypony else knows what they want to study. They all have plans.” Stormy felt his fears catching in his throat. “Everypony expects me to just go into weather or help them with weather. I don’t even understand this world.” The pony felt his eyes water even though his throat dried. “I…I…” He took a deep breath. Stormy looked up to see his NSA holding back a laugh. “Is that really what you think?” All Stormy could do was nod. “Do you know what my major was when I came here?” Chevonne didn’t give the pony a chance to answer before continuing. “History. I loved tales of the old world. How people conquered life. But anthropology is how they do it, how they live. Many people change their majors and don’t really have any idea what they want yet. They are still very much children and this is their first view of a larger world.” Chevonne turned back to her desk, rummaging through one of the drawers. Turning back around there was a book in her hands. “Take this, it isn’t up to date, I got it when I was a freshman, but it has brief explanations on the different classes. Take some time and get to know yourself first. Things will fall into place on their own.” Stormy took the book with a hoof. “General Catalog 2012-2013”  “Thank you.” “Now if you know of anyone subletting an apartment for fall let me know.” Chevonne half-muttered through her smile. “How do you get the door to stay open like this?” The off voice of Kat came from the open door. “If you turn the handle up, the bolt comes out to keep it from closing.” Chevonne called from her seat. “Come on in.” Katherine and Suzanne entered. Kat was dressed in another dress, this one a sunflower yellow. Sue had her own style with some sort of unfamiliar design etched in black across her white t-shirt. “So we are only waiting on Edward now?” Chevonne double checked. “Maybe we should form a search party. He may have gotten lost in one of his books.” Sue’s lopsided grin showed her humor. “That may work but I doubt you could find your way. Heard you got lost just trying to find the dining hall for breakfast.” Edward called from the propped open doorway. “And if you hadn’t been late we could have just gone with everyone else.” Suzanne quipped back. “Stormy, want to be our eye in the sky?” She turned towards the pony. Kat lightly slapped her friend on the arm. “Or we can go over how to register for classes.” Chevonne lightly interrupted. “And we can have lunch after that.” Everyone turned their attention back to Chevonne as she opened her computer up by raising the lid. “The first thing you need to do is login to My UCLA and select the Academics tab.” As the NSA spoke she showed each step. “First you need to select term and year. So we will pick Fall 2015.” The pages were all white and blue, nothing was used if it wasn’t necessary, even the pony could tell that much. “That will bring you to a drop down menu. Select your field and then what class you want. Let’s do Anthropology and 124P. What you see here,” Chevonne pointed at the screen. “You will have the CRN, a number specific to each class, the time for the lecture as well as the discussion. When you register you will only select the discussion number as each is tied into a specific lecture. You will also find the professor’s name as well as how many seats are still available. You can see here that the professor is Harold Eins. The lecture still has 124 out of 180 seats open and that one of the discussions is already full with twenty students. So it’s possible to be waitlisted for a discussion but not the lecture, which means you are still waitlisted and may not get the class you need. And pay attention to the final exam times, you don’t want to classes to have a final at the same time.” Chevonne proceeded to show them several more examples as well as how to find out what a class covered and the quality of the professor. “Now don’t worry about time. The computer labs will be open all day for you to search out what classes you want.” Chevonne informed the collected students. But she still let them each have a few minutes exploring the system. When Stormy got his turn, having trouble with the little pad on the computer used in place of the mouse; he was astounded at the sheer number of classes available. There were thousands to choose from it seemed. 193 majors. He remembered. That number finally sinking in.