That Would Be Bad

“You might get kaiju’ed.”

I tilted my head to the side. It’s a social cue that means I’m really listening. “I’m not familiar with that verb.”

“You might get crushed by a rampaging monster,” the monitor clarified, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Or evaporated in a ray of radiation, crushed by a collapsing building, et cetera, et cetera. This campus is highly susceptible to kaiju attack, and while you are a lower-level student, you will be particularly vulnerable until you join a House.”

I realized I’d been neglecting to make eye contact while I stared at her House Mecha pin. “Where are the Houses?”

She frowned. “It’s not a literal house. Each House has an early warning system, and they warn all their members if a monster is on the way. Each House is protected by a particular monster deterrent, for instance, House Mecha has a giant robot suit. House Ranger has a color-coded ninja force, House Ultra has a sun-powered superhero…you get it?”

“Not really.”

“Well, you’d better,” she advised. “If you’re not under a House’s protection, you’ll have to deal with the damage on your own. On top of finals and theses and re-setting your printer ID. All the Houses are having events for Survival Week, and House Mecha is always looking for energy dynamics majors. There’s a party on Friday if you want to come.”

My heart hammered in my chest, all the moisture sucked away from my lips, but I put on the smile I practiced. “Great! Thanks!” Honestly, I’d rather get kaiju’ed.

Skull Island University had the best program for extraterrestrial geology, and I’d hoped to find my place amongst all the rocks that didn’t belong. I didn’t know a single person in a two-thousand-mile radius, but I never anticipated that being a problem, since most of my network was online anyway, and there’s no need to smile when you’re wrapped up in a hazmat. My lab reports were all accurate and precise, my research papers had pages of citations, and I still had tiny panic attacks any time I had to share an elevator. Endearing myself to a social club was well beyond my tactical skills.

But, as I sat in a gen ed lecture, filling my psychology requirement, the professor stopped in mid-sentence, looking down at her watch. She excused herself, stepping out of the classroom, only half of the homework chalked on the board, leaving her students to squirm and giggle at how uncomfortable we all were. I was at the back of the room, and saw an upper-classman glance down at something in his pocket, then look up through the windows at the gathering clouds. He grabbed his bag and headed for the door, fingers twisting his House Moon pin. I didn’t know exactly what was happening, but I followed him out. The first time I’d ever left a class without being dismissed, leaving behind all the clueless freshmen like extremely squishable sitting ducks.

So, I tried getting in with the Houses. I went to the parties, blaring music and blazing lights, people shouting over each other, my cheeks numb from smile fatigue. I told House Mecha I was absolutely into crypto, told House Ranger I most definitely wasn’t color-blind, told House Moon I could totally squee over heart-shaped accessories (I Googled this; I think that’s correct). But I knew. I skipped every dance in high school because I already knew.

“It has nothing to do with you,” said my roommate. “You’re great. This is about money.”

I’d never had a roommate before, and he spent an exhausting amount of time Being Nice. “I don’t have any money.”

“Me, neither, that’s my point,” my roommate said. “Their whole protection racket takes money. The mechs are expensive, the costumes are dry-clean only, every flattened city is swimming in lawsuits. Just keep your head down, do your coursework, and they’ll be exploiting you for your brains in no time.”

Those pins kept grabbing my attention. Whenever I saw one, I studied the owner, looking to see if they got a tip-off from their group, where they went when it was time to go. Each House had a different communicator, and I know stealing’s bad, but I found a few in the trash. Okay, I was reeeeally looking. I managed to fix up one of the compacts from House Moon and one of the wrist communicators from House Ranger, but I got scant interceptions at best, no useful insights. They went off at completely different times, like the Houses themselves weren’t even scanning for the same threats.

“Dude, follow the money,” my roommate said. “Of course they don’t report the same threats, they only report the threats their protections can handle. If, say, Captain Ultra was doing most of the work, well, then, why do the Rangers get paid so much? They don’t want to tell you how many times the kaiju just take each other out by mistake when they’re also fundraising for the latest upgrades. Everyone pretends to be the only one who can save us.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” I say. “If there is a rampage, won’t we all get squished equally?”

My roommate nods. “Yeah. If there ever is one.”

I pointed to the TV, citing my sources. “Every other day, we see a near miss.”

“Yeah, we do,” my roommate agreed. “We never ever see a monster make contact. The threat of getting kaiju’ed hangs over everybody, but who do you know that ended up in a football-field footprint? All the Houses are paying for protection, but a lot of parents are still paying for tuition, so you and me and everyone we know can focus on our homework. Or, if you’re me, a lot of clothing-optional experimentation, but you should focus on your homework.”

“I’ve done it all already,” I grumbled. “So, these Houses are just a big scam to make money?”

“You get it.”

“And they still want to keep me out?”

My roommate grinned, a social cue that I was an idiot. “I think you’re great. Kind of intense and terrible with names, but still pretty great.”

I decided to try an experiment. Social interaction has always been an area outside of my normal skill set, but there are books on the subject, and I studied hard to practice my charisma. When I saw someone with a House pin, I’d comment on it, ask to see it closer, ask them about the House and how they felt as a member. I learned that sometimes the placement of the pin in relation to a person’s anatomy could lead to some incorrect assumptions about my motives, but once the crippling anxiety shrank back down to its constant background hum, I’d try again.

With time, this became a gimmick I was known for, a touchstone of my reputation, and people would volunteer their pins, talking at length about their significance, bringing me cast-offs and redundancies to add to my collection. As my roommate predicted, my academic achievements implied I was extremely capable of yielding a financial return in the future, so even though I was still a scholarship kid, I was quietly creeping onto the radar of each and every House. I still hated the noise and sweat of the parties, but they had a purpose now, and enduring them afforded me access to a part of society I had yet to pay for. I know lying is bad, but I told each House they were my sole focus, better than all the others, and it seemed socially acceptable, since they all told me the same thing.

Ensmugged pedantium, when combined with dunnite-krugerium, can take on the properties we now associate with the MacGuffin Effect. Among other things, these properties have been known to lure giganticized lifeforms, even from proximate solar systems or interdimensional rifts, but only if its presence is made known. Even trace amounts of this compound, say, a thin film smeared on each and every House pin, could serve as a highly stimulating enticement. For this reason, it is absolutely illegal to produce. I know producing highly illegal compounds on school property would be bad.

The monitor from my first day was at another House Mecha party, her glasses slightly askew as I handed her back her pin. “I knew there was something special about you,” she grinned. “You’re in the dorms, right? Do you have a roommate?”

I was having trouble smiling and not breathing the high-proof fumes on her breath. “He’s visiting his family this weekend.”

She pressed closer to me, like she wanted to whisper directly into my mouth. “Maybe you could show me around.”

Taking a step back for some virgin air, I said, “It’s a pretty standard dorm. Not very interesting.”

She said, “Oh.” Her shoulders slumped in a cue that I’d missed something, that I’d done something wrong.

I know the difference between right and wrong. I know that if the marauding kaiju beyond the walls got one whiff of my compound lure, they’d come crashing down on the school and everyone in it. I know that all of our protections, the saviors of each House and the unseen insurance of the University itself would be tied up in stopping them. Possibly, a highly motivated monster would get through, and target the tainted pins with single-minded violence. That would be bad.

It was much more efficient to circumvent these protections, and introduce the compound to the aquatic leviathans under the island, who could skip the wall entirely and come rocketing up the pipes.