Chapter 2.2

Chapter 2.

4 hours and 28 minutes till Education is over for another day.  I sit in my Creativity class.  I hate Creativity.  It seems so pointless.  Drawing, sketching, tinkering on the keyboard, painting silly little pictures of silly little made up places.

What

Is

The

Point?

So I am sat, rubbing a stubby stick of charcoal over creamy coloured paper, till the dusty black shows nothing more than the embossing of the manufactured graining of the mock-wood table beneath.  It makes the sheet look like as if it is one large, dirty fingerprint, all pale loops and arches cutting through the dark colourings.  My Instructor walks over and I pretend to seem interested in my strokes.  He nods sagely, his chestnut and grey mottled hair flopping over his broad forehead.

Another student raises their hand in the opposite corner of the Creativity Room, and my Instructor wanders over, leaving me alone.  I sigh in relief.  I don’t think I can bare a conversation about my ‘inspiration’ for my so-called ‘art’.  I reach over to the pen pot in the centre of the table and grab a silver coloured ink marker.  I title the paper “Negative.”

1hour and 17 minutes till Education is over.

I can’t wait.  My brother says that I need to stop breaking my life down into countable chunks.  He says it means I never live in the present.

Bull.

I just hate Education.  Except for Numerics.  Numerics is logical.  It makes sense, the patterns, and the codes.  Easy.  There are no ‘uncertain’ answers in Numerics.  Unlike in Culturalisation and Collectivism; this is subjective in its response.  Whenever we have Assessments of Progress in C+C, I never seem to ‘get the right point.’  According to my Reports, my Assessments are “too empathetic”, but also “extremely cynical”.  I argue, don’t always think in the ‘right’ way, I don’t give the expected and ‘correct’ answer.  The answer Community expects.

I lie, on my single bed, in my Sleeproom, processing my day.  With the exception of the mind numbing dullness of Creativity, it had been moderately pleasant.  I had even had time for an Exercise Circuit following my day at Education, in the warm September air.

Earlier in the evening, after we had eaten, my Mother was telling us about her day.  She insists on daily Family Bonding time whenever she is on a day shift.

As usual, Alexis was staring into space, barely absorbing what my Mother was saying.  I could see that this agitated her somewhat.  My Father calmly held her right hand and was looking at her deep, dark eyes longingly.  Every so often he would unconsciously pat her thumb slightly, as if offering support.  My Mother was visibly stressed.

It seemed as if the hospital was full to the brim with Intensive Care patients.  My Mother hoped that it wouldn’t become a virus epidemic.  My Father spoke solemnly, “Well, trust in Community, Meryem.  They haven’t let an outbreak happen in 28 years.  I’m sure it’s just a nasty summer bug, that’ll fade once this muggy weather breaks, god knows it needs to...”

She nodded, knowing that he is right.  Community pumps a fortune of our Taxes into the major Pharmaceutical Corporations to ensure viruses and disease doesn’t spread.  But there was a fear in her eyes.

Father, on the other hand, seemed to be happier today.  I guess he loves having her on a day shift, so they can spend time together in the evenings.  Alexis says that it is, “needy and pathetic,” for a grown man to act this way.  Like he’d know anything about grown men, relationships and caring for someone.  Crikey, the guy is Mr One-Week Stand encapsulated.  He wouldn’t know love if it bit him on the backside.

Not that I can talk.  I don’t exactly have a lot of experience in that department.  With the exception of a 2 week dating stint with Ria Conrad, in the last semester of my first year at Upper Juvenile Education, and a yearlong obsession with a girl in my Linguistics class, Hettie, who was beyond divine, (god I missed her when her family were Relocated, when her Father got a promotion in another City); I know nothing about relationships.  I spend more time with my Oculars and Panel than with girls.

I guess I should kick-start that before I get to Transitional Training.  Don’t want to be the ‘Last Singe Loser’ in my class.  That’d be beyond lame.

I am not lame.

I’m not.

OK, maybe I’m a little lame, but hey, I am not in the business of dating for the sake of it.  There are plenty of girls who would love a slice of Joseph Orsin pie.  Take little Amelia in my C+C class; or Karina who plays chess with me at weekends in our local Juvenile Hall of Recreation.  She’s always making eyes at me over the rooks and pawns.

I mean, who can resist my classic Brunite looks, my chiselled jaw and sultry hazel eyes.  Combined with my wit, unrivalled knowledge and charm, I’m a great catch!

Why am I thinking this?  I need sleep...

Who knows, though, ‘she’ might be around the corner... if I ever take those damn Oculars off to look!