Exile opened the door to his classroom, thankful for the break the third Friday offered. His eyes scanned across the empty classroom, falling finally upon his desk at the opposite end of the door. He was thankful to have this job, even if it didn't amount to much in the eyes of the System. It gave him a medium through which to perpetuate his political ideals and enrich the youth of Barrowside. Between reading and writing lessons, he would often talk about his political ideals and encourage open debate about the society they live in. It's gotten him in trouble from time to time, but he was easily the best teacher in the school's English department, making it hard for them to get rid of him. Still, it was a good job to have, allowing him to mold his students into the freethinking type.

But today he was alone, with nothing more than his thoughts to occupy him. That and perhaps his novel, or a short story. "No," he thought, seeing the rain fall outside his window and hearing it's rhythmic patter on the roof. "Today is a day of thought," he mused aloud, striding towards his desk, upon which sat several papers. Some were his own, pages from stories he had written, but most of them were works from his students. Every few weeks, he devoted a week to a sort of free write; a time in which the students were allowed to write whatever they wanted to, within certain guidelines. He figured he'd take a moment to look through some of the papers, and as he read each piece, ranging from somewhat disjointed writing to poetry that would make Shakespeare cry, he couldn't help but see the potential in everyone's works. Even the ones that didn't contain proper spelling and grammar had a meaningful theme, something that Exile always appreciated.

He chuckled as he read a love poem one of his brighter students had written about another. He would keep it a secret, but he knew the boy was shy. He'd have a talk with him the next time he saw him. Another student had written an extremely well-written elegy about her father. It had happened only a couple of years ago, and Exile could tell she was still coming to terms with it, but she was definitely coming to terms. It was a bittersweet thing, seeing her paper. He set it aside and continued going through the others. He used to see this job as a front; a way into Barrowside and nothing more, but over the last few years he grew to appreciate the true value his job held.

By the time he finished reading the last one, he realized he had spent quite a bit more time than he intended, spending over two hours reading all 19 papers. He chuckled to himself and picked up the stack of papers that were to be his next chapter in The Oasis. He had hardly began writing when he remembered something he had heard. He got up and looked out of his window towards The Social. He had heard rumors about someone organizing a party to leave this compound, and he had definitely considered going. The only reason he wasn't already there was because he was conflicted. He felt like he had a duty here, as a teacher. As much as he wanted to leave, as much as he preferred freedom over security, he didn't want to leave his students behind. Besides that, he knew there was no such thing as true security. He had learned that lesson years ago.

He turned and sat back down, contemplating what to do next. He knew that he would likely never get another chance like this, and time was of the essence. The sound of rain pattering on the window matched the pace of thoughts through Exile's mind. His head turned to the storage closet on the right side of the room. The classroom doubled as a metal shop for Exile, and since he became a teacher he had used the closet to store some of his builds, not least of all his contraband AK-105 and survival knife. The System didn't usually inspect the school, but he made a hidden area within the closet for the weapons anyways. There were a few parts and tools in there as well, but there was no need to hide them.

His head turned back to the pile of ungraded papers. He never wanted to make this place a permanent home, but he also had developed a connection to his students. The least he could do was grade this last assignment and leave them a note. "The latter can come later," he thought aloud as he took out a pen and began grading the papers.

-----

Even after two more hours the rain continued to pour into the streets of Barrowside, and Exile ended up getting a crash course in gymnastics trying to avoid the puddles. Luckily for exile, The Social was just a few yards away from The School, so he didn't have to be in the rain for long. There were several people gathered near the bar, some of whom he recognized. Daniel and Christi seemed to be musing over some sort of diagram; no doubt electronic in nature. Mina seemed to be sitting alone with an untouched drink in front of her. Everyone else seemed to just be enjoying a meal or drink. Exile figured he'd do the same, digging a token out of his pocket and heading for the bar.

The bartender called out to Exile before he even reached the bar. "Hey, what can I do ya for?"

"Anything that isn't between mud and turpentine, please." That got a laugh out of the man. "Lucky for you, the scavengers found some good stuff a few days ago," he said, putting a bottle of what looked like beer on the table. Exile placed his token next to it and took the container off of the bar. "Thank you," he said before turning back towards the crowd. He tried to read the label on the bottle, but it was too faded to make out anything. Still, it had to be at least edible, right? Exile took a sip out of it, finding it to be of somewhat decent quality as opposed to the usual garbage. "Huh. Actually tastes like it has alcohol," he mused. He took another sip before finding a table to sit at, taking off his messenger bag and pulling out several blank pages of paper and a pen. He took another swig of the beer as he began writing, taking an occasional pause to look around and try to pinpoint the meeting.