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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: Embittered over the death of his father in the Winnipeg Annexation battle of '09, an American grade-school boy rebels against his peace-loving teacher by sending a secret evil message in his class project 'peace balloon'.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Asimov's, 1992
Fictionwise Release Date: April 2001

46 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [24 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [23 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [11 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [50 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [10 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [48 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [82 KB] , hiebook (KML) [54 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [37 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [9 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [11 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [39 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [18 KB]
Words: 2831
Reading time: 8-11 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"He doesn't have a message slip for his balloon," Lydia said, clearly trying to stifle her giggles.

"That won't do," Ms. Randolph told Brent. "You can't send up a balloon without a message. Pick one of the sample sayings I put on the board. Or write one of your own."

Brent couldn't imagine sending aloft a message like MAKE LOVE OR MONEY--NOT WAR. It insulted his dad's memory. It was naive, unheroic, and mercenary, all at the same time. So he said he'd do a message of his own, and Ms. Randolph gave him a noteBook and a felt-tipped pen and guided him to a picnic table on the edge of the gravel yard from which their balloons would soon go flying.

"Chop-chop, Mr. Sarcoxie. You're holding us all up. Lydia's getting chilly."

Brent hunched over the noteBook, considering. Eventually, he printed a message. Then he reconsidered, wrote a second slogan on another page, reconsidered again, tapped his pen on the table, tore out a page, handed it to Ms. Randolph.

She read his slogan aloud: "'THE BUSINESS OF WAR IS TO PRODUCE PEACE. ENLIST IN THAT BUSINESS TODAY.'"

Ms. Randolph's brow furrowed. His message, Brent knew, had a wonky pool-ball English on it that troubled her. But it was a call for peace. She had no grounds to make him write a toe-the-party-line substitute. After all, he was sitting on his real feelings and following her directions. Ms. Randolph distractedly handed his slogan back to him.

"Okay," she said. "Okay." But her brow stayed corrugated, and when she started walking toward the helium dispenser where all the other kids were jostling for a place, she swished her calico skirts as if trying to ward off out-of-season horse flies.

Brent wadded up the message that she had just okayed and tossed it into a nearby trash barrel. Then he ripped out the first slogan he'd written, folded it into a packet small enough to push through the lips of an uninflated balloon, and swaggered to the noisy queue at the helium dispenser.