Daughter 4254

Chapter 15

 The remainder of my first week of school was much the same as the first two days. I spent most of my time trying not to be late, trying not to get lost and trying to keep my opinions to myself. I was slightly disappointed. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought that Secondary School might be different. That because it was in a bigger community, with more people, new professors, that somehow there would be different attitudes and new ideas. I realized quickly that although I was in a bigger place, the same rules and ideas that plagued me at home applied here, just on a larger scale.

I was enjoying my Technology class, where we learned all about the basics of how the optic circuitry in our electronics worked. Advanced Flora and Fauna was at least held mainly in the courtyard. The fresh air was something I looked forward to every afternoon. Mathematics was mostly review and I didn’t understand why I was not placed in a higher level class. As for Government? Well, let’s just say I was doing a good job at not getting in trouble while I gleaned what I thought I needed to know to survive.

History of Western Civilizations was another matter entirely. The subject matter was fascinating. I’d never had the chance to study our ancestry in such depth. I really enjoyed my chance to look at their artifacts and read about their traditions. I was completely enraptured by the ideas of design and artistry. I marveled that at one time people actually had assignments entirely devoted to creating beautiful things to look at. Of course it was presented in a way that made it seem garish and wasteful, a complete misuse of funds, energy and time, but that didn’t register it as bad in my mind. It was also explained that the arts that were so celebrated by our forefathers were a large part of the reason the entire civilization collapsed in the long run. And it was explained this way by Professor789.
 
He was completely unbearable. I’d been through a lot of different teachers who just didn’t like me, but I’d never met a teacher with the power to make me feel nonexistent. No one was allowed to comment or ask questions, which wasn’t new, but we also weren’t allowed to take notes. Having anything on our work tables, such as a writer or a reader or even a piece of paper, was considered a distraction and “would not be tolerated.” We were to give him our full, undivided attention while he lectured and that was that.

It was a good thing he was teaching such an interesting subject, even if I did think he was wrong. If he had been my Government teacher I’m afraid I might have been tempted to skip class or try to withdraw entirely. Still, there was no doubt that he was the one my mother told me about. I was sure of it. I went over the things she said countless times since she died. I scribbled them on scraps of paper and threw them away. I repeated them to myself at night before I fell asleep. There had to be some reason for her directing me to him and I was going to try, at least one more time, to connect with him.

I waited until the fourth day and applied for a pass to visit during office hours from Mother1. She looked at me skeptically, “It’s only your first week. Are you having troubles with your lessons so early? We were told you were something of a genius.”

“Oh, no. It’s not that. It’s just that I have a question about some things we went over in class. The material is so much more advanced than my last school.” Lying was becoming much too easy for me. I slid into the habit while struggling to hide my true feelings. I decided that instead of making people furious, I was going to try to say what would make them happy. So far it was working out in my favor. Except with 0203. She could see through every speck of untruth I tried to pass off. As could I with her. Already in the few short days we’d known each other I already discovered that she put her hands on her hips and went into confrontation mode when she was unsure of herself but not ready to back down. I figured her for the type to fight to the death, even if she knew she was wrong.

Mother1 reluctantly handed me my pass saying, “You still have to report for evening meal by 5pm. Do not be late or your next pass will be denied.”

“Thank you so much for reminding me!” I tried to sound perky like the other girls I noticed who seemed to be favorites, and I smiled as I took the pass and left. I snickered to myself once I got out of earshot. How amusing. There was a list of at least one hundred rules permanently attached to the back of the door in my quarters and I was here on probation for only as long as I was able to obey all of those rules to the letter, and she thought that I hadn’t read them or possibly forgot a few already. Not a chance.

I followed the map I made earlier to the wing for professors of Ancient Studies. It wasn’t too far so I wouldn’t have trouble getting back on time. Plus it was almost 4 o’clock now, I might even make it back early. Still, I had to admit there was a small part of my heart that was hoping otherwise. In a my day dreams, before I met him and learned his true character, he would have a sudden realization of who I was and would stand and embrace me then spend the next hour talking about my wonderful mother and showing me old annuals with her picture, or her old school records even. I tried to squash the thought like an unuseful bug, but it persisted.

As I turned down the final corridor I started to look at the labels on the doors. Each was a number corresponding with the professor who inhabited the office, so there was no order or reason to them. About halfway down on the left I found it. It looked like any other door, but so much lay behind it for me. I thought once more of my mother and took a deep breath before I knocked.

“Here I am.” I thought, “Let’s hope you were right!”

I raised my hand and before I could let it fall the door swung open. Suddenly I was face to face with Professor789, and he didn’t look pleased.

“Swipe your card. Let’s get this over with.”

I looked at him blankly, still shocked to see him standing there waiting for me. “How did you know I was here?” Without answering he motioned to the card scanner next to the door. Of course. We were required to scan in before we went into any room. I fumbled for my card and clumsily slipped it through the reader waiting for the beep to confirm that I had been registered. Meanwhile, Professor789 stepped back in his office letting the door fall back in my face. I caught it with my foot and pushed my way inside.

It was a warm room, with floor to ceiling book shelves, all of them fully stocked. They weren’t your typical paper readers, however. These were all different colors and sizes. Some looked older than the largest trees in the middle of our community back home. I gazed at them in wonder as he cleared his throat and began to assault me.

“Office hours are for questions and consultations, not for gawking at the personal belongings of your Leaders. You are to enter, seat yourself and proceed directly to the reason you are here.”

I turned to face him once again, not believing that THIS was the man who my mother pleaded with me to find, the man who was going to help me. Help me. The words wouldn’t leave my mind.

Not letting my eyes move from his, I took a seat in one of the small chairs across from his large wooden desk and arranged my papers on my lap.

“I take it then that you came to gawk at the Professor himself or are we to speak to one another? What do you want?” His tone was gruff and impatient. He was not approachable in the least.

“I’ve come to talk to you about my mother.”

He let out an exasperated sigh and sat back in his chair. “Uuuugh.... Personal matters are to be handled by a Secondary School Health Professional.” He started to rise from the large padded arm chair, “You can find them directly across from corridor 14D.”

“No.” I shifted in the chair, planting myself more permanently. I was not leaving until I heard what I came to hear. “My mother sent me to see you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. You knew her.  You were her teacher.”

“And who is your mother?”

“I told you before, 3244-2578 from community 699.”

“That is a farming community. I doubt any of my students were forced to serve in a place like that.”

“She said she made mistakes and she couldn't complete her first assignment. She said you would help me.”

“I don’t know who your mother is or why on earth she thought I would ‘help’ you..”

I cut him off, “Was.”

“Excuse me?”

“My mother was... She is no longer with us. She died a few months ago.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Irregardless, she was sadly mistaken. I do not remember her and I am not here to help anyone. I am a professor. You take my class, you learn my material and you pass my exams then move on.” He looked at me over the end of his stubby round nose then sat back down in his chair. Leaning forward he typed something into his electronic reader. “You, my dear, I do know about, unfortunately. Yes, here we are. Insubordination. Lack of respect. Theft. Lying. Waste of Community Resources....” He listed each offense as if I were on trial at the High Court. I was stung to the core but I didn’t let him see that. I sat tall in my seat, not afraid to face him or my past wrongs. I was not going to let him intimidate me. “Seems to me you are barely here by the skin on your teeth.” He smirked over the reader at me. “Why on earth would they let someone like YOU into The Secondary School? Hmm? I wonder.”

I looked him square in the eye and didn’t blink as I replied, “I received a perfect entrance exam score.”

“Oh, so you are intelligent then? But that does not seem to be very logical. Someone as smart as that, someone who could get a perfect score on a test that gets progressively harder as each correct answer is entered, you’d expect a person with that level of genius to have mastered her community first. Why would a person with so much brain power have so little control over her actions and speech? One would assume that person would be intelligent enough to either avoid being caught or to avoid the offenses altogether. This leads me to two conclusions.”

I sat perfectly still, not giving him the satisfaction of one of my famous outbursts.

“One: you are mentally defective. Or two: you cheated.” He sat back after this grand pronouncement and folded his arms across his chest.

I stood slowly, still holding his gaze, “My mother said you were a kind man.”

My heart was beating itself out of my throat. I couldn’t swallow and I was desperately trying not to cry.

“Your mother the manual laborer? Tell me, who was she again?”

I looked away at that moment to collect myself and regain composure after his complete lack of respect. I took a deep breath and raised my gaze above his head. I started to rattle off the numeric she was known by her whole life, starting with the community, but I trailed off. On the top shelf, above the professors head, tucked behind a plaque of recognition and some sort of rock collection, I could just make it out. It was a small frame, no bigger than two inches square, and in the center was a small, blue, embroidered star.

“Imani.” I looked him directly again. “Her name was Imani.”

A flicker of recognition crossed his cold eyes as he stared back at me. I knew in that moment that he was lying. He had known all along who my mother was. For whatever cruel reason, he was pretending she was insignificant and unworthy of his time. A twinge of something almost like pain flickered by after that, but he leaned back into his electronic reader before I could see more of his true feelings, and finally pronounced: “4254, I predict that my first estimation was correct and you will not be with us much longer.”

It was the final blow. I turned to the door and placed my hand on the knob to open it when he added, “Don’t think for a moment that I won’t be watching you.”

This final pronouncement didn’t phase me in the least. I was used to this situation. The bad girl, not trusted, not worthy of anyone’s time. It was nothing new. I let myself out of his office and walked straight ahead until the corridor ended. Then without thinking I made twists and turns, not paying any attention to my path or my destination. My mind was on fire, my heart was choked in a vice. I could not swallow, I would not cry. He would not have the best of me. None of these people would. They were just the same as back home. My mother had been wrong. Whatever good was in her dear professor when she was a girl was now gone. Probably wiped out by the same people who thought it necessary to disintegrate song birds. What was I even doing here? I needed a new plan. Did  I really want to spend the rest of my life in this hole? Surrounded by others telling me what was right, useful and allowed? I knew I could not bare it. I did the best I could this week, but every whit of my good behavior had been to fulfill my mother’s final wishes.

Something occurred to me then. I stopped on the spot to process the idea. What my mother wanted for me was to learn, to grow, to fuel the truth inside me. There had to be another way to do that besides sitting in these classes sucking in their ideas and their histories, trying to make sense of the senseless.

And then the most dangerous thought of all: my mother was dead. What she wanted for me did not matter. She would never see it. She would never benefit from it. She llived her life and died. This was my life, my time.

“I have to find my own way.” I said it out loud as I was prone to do when I wanted to make a final point to myself. It felt right. I felt resolved. The grip on my heart was gone, a slow even beat returned and I swallowed and breathed deeply. My surroundings slowly came into view and I realized I was far from my destination with only a few minutes to get there. Even though I was starting my own path, I still didn’t want to start out on that path by breaking all the rules. Not yet, at least.