Aaron stepped off the old, beat up bus that had delivered him to Miss Dawson's Home for the Truly Gifted, a gym bag on his back and a briefcase in one hand.  The ancient machine sputtered off as his left foot hit the ground, leaving the boy to face the force field that guarded the small town.  He looked off to the right and noticed a sign with an intercom on it, and pushed the button below it to open a channel to whoever was in charge of new arrivals.  "Hey, uh, I just got here.  Mind getting off it and doing your job, buddy?"  He shifted his weight to one leg and crossed his arms, waiting impatiently for a response.