The Shooter: When Virtual Education Becomes a Nightmare

Ms. Martinez gazed upon her students, each dressed in plaid slacks and a white short-sleeved shirt. Nine boys and nine girls, each the same height, each seated quietly, and listening intently to the review she was giving over last night’s homework.

The perfect classroom. The perfect group of kids. Just the right teacher-student ratio. And best of all, they were all safe here.

After decades of insanity, where children were not safe to come to school, where they lived in constant dread of some lunatic shooter arriving on campus, someone finally came up with a permanent solution. It wasn’t taking away the guns. It was taking away the classroom!

These days, her biggest concern was to catch the napping or distracted student. Their avatars always looked attentive, each one giving off an air of rapt attention, but often enough, the more clever ones would hide behind their perfect avatar while they played a game on their home system.

She noticed Jaimie looking at the girl seated beside her. Following her gaze she examined Sylvia. Like everyone else, she was dressed in uniform, her jet-black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Oddly enough, she wore a pair of black, horn-rimmed glasses.

Why would she wear glasses? she wondered. Students were always hacking the system, or trying to, at least. They could buy cheats online from the dark web and friends. These cheats could play with the coding for the avatars, resulting in something as little as Sylvia’s glasses, and some as flagrant as the time, Bethany, seated on the first seat of the third row, came to class as Maura, her favorite pop star, complete with her shockingly pink afro, and her notorious lack of clothing.

That had been quite the scandal. Bethany had been expelled from school for nearly two months before they let her back in, and then, only because the programmers said they’d fixed the hole she’d managed to hack.

The programmers worked constantly to keep ahead of the hackers, but truth be told, they were forever one step behind. As soon as they would plug one hole, the hackers would find another way into the system.

But when Ms. Martinez considered the alternative — having students come to a physical building, and gather together in little classrooms —where they were like ducks sitting in a barrel. At least now, students were safely settled at home in their school-provided VR recliners, showing up here in this virtual classroom, each with a school-approved avatar, all designed to minimize distractions and maximize safety.

She herself lay upon her own VR recliner, an upscale one she’d bought with her own money. Her head helmeted and her hands gloved, she moved through her virtual classroom, weaving up and down the rows as she spoke of the Complementary Angle Theorem, while seeing which students tracked her movements, or were made uncomfortable by her proximity. She was looking for the ones who did neither.

“Tell me, if two angles are complementary to the same angle, then what are they? Andrew?”

Nothing.

“Courtney?”

“Ma’am? Could you repeat that?”

“D’shante? Can you help her?”

D’shante, with no hesitation, piped in. “If two angles are complementary to the same angle, then they are congruent.”

“Good job, D’shante, they are congruent. Thank you for paying attention. Andrew and Courtney, you owe me five problems from page 116. Any five. I don’t care. On my desk by the end of the break.

“And that’s our queue. We’re going to take a quick stretch break. Go to the bathroom, get a snack, whatever it is you do. But be back here in 15 minutes, starting…now!”

Without a sound, the students’ avatars blinked out, disappearing from their chairs, except for Andrew, Li, and Phillip. She fired off a note to their parents and then disconnected.

At home, she stretched and yawned hugely, before taking off her gloves and helmet.

She passed her own kids’ rooms on the way downstairs for a cup of coffee. Beatrice, a middle schooler, was still strapped in and apparently answering a question put to her by her teacher. Her enthusiasm made Ms. Martinez smile.

Her son, Eric, a high schooler, was flat-out asleep.

“Eric, wake up, before Mr. Donaldson catches you.”

He stirred in his recliner and sat up. Without removing his helmet, he apologized sheepishly.

Downstairs, Roberto, her husband, sat on the couch, watching TV.

“I’m getting a cup of coffee, do you want one, babe?”

“Sure, Dana. Thanks!”

In the kitchen, she quickly made two coffees. For him, half espresso and half heavy cream with a shot of vanilla, and for her, straight black coffee, no sweeteners.

Depositing his cup in his hand as she went by, she bent down and grabbed a quick kiss.

“You working hard?” he asked.

“I’m working. How about you?”

“Soon enough. Got a meeting in an hour. And after that, I’ve got another one with Derrick about that new expansion in Tokyo.”

“Great, nice to see everyone productive, except that son of ours. I caught him napping.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Good. Do that.”

She climbed back up the stairs, pausing every so often to take a sip of coffee.

Back in her office, she settled into her recliner, took a long swig, then checking the time, she put her gear back on, and logged in.

One by one, and two by two, and by threes and fours, the students logged back into the classroom, their avatars popping into their seats out of nowhere. She noticed that Andrew’s avatar was running late.

Le and Phillip arrived simultaneously, both offering their apologies for not paying attention. She smiled, knowing her note had hit the mark. Then she wondered where Andrew was.

Picking up the next lesson, she began introducing some problems on the board and querying the students for the solutions.

She heard an electrical flickering sound at the back of the classroom and turned to see what it was. In the center of the wall, in a doorway that hadn’t been there before now, stood a dark figure, wearing black tactical gear, vest, hood, gloves and boots. Several weapons were slung over its shoulders, or clipped to its belts.

In its hands, it held some kind of sleek rifle, with which it took aim at one of the nearby students and pulled the trigger. The student slumped in her chair. Then there was another shot and another student fell to the floor.

Everything after that moved in slow motion.

The gunman firing, one shot after another.

The students turning to see what the noise was, and then shrinking back in fear.

The fact that everyone of them only needed to hit the disengage button to disappear from the scene, seemed to have been driven from their minds, as fear choked out all thought except to shrink back in horror.

Ms. Martinez’s own thoughts tumbled over one another, trying to remember what to do in this situation. There was nothing coming to her. A gunman in a VR classroom? Nothing like it had ever happened, nor had any plan of action been put forward.

The students are safe! she told herself. They’re safe in the real world!

The gunman pointed the weapon at her and pulled the trigger.

Fire erupted in her chest and she convulsed in her recliner, arched her back and clutched at her heart. Then nothingness.