I stifle a yawn as Bump Nose drones on about the many examples of weakness evident in Mesopotamian society. Last night it took me hours to finally fall into a turbulent slumber. I dreamed that once again I was hanging from a metal pole, except this time I wasn't in the classroom. The pole that my desperate, slippery fingers clasped connected two jagged cliffs. Instead of a safe drop to the floor, below me was a swirling ocean with sharp, craggy rocks jutting out in all directions.
Yet water wasn't blue. It was a swirly mass containing distinct blobs of every color imaginable. I had somehow stolen them for my memory over the course of many years: the seldom snippet of color awarded in a textbook, the eyes of the few non-monochromatic titles who survive Level One, the unlucky drop of ruby blood on flawless snow, first appearing as a bright and triumphant red before fading into a sweeter softer hue. I gazed downward entirely mesmerized as the pointed rocks and the turning waves relentlessly crashed together seeming to whisper, then scream, then whisper: the promise of a painful death. There seemed to be a force pulling me down (other than g = -9.81m/s/s). Something inside me was drawn to the colors. I wanted to drop to my death if only for a second to be in that swirling storm.
Next to me on the pole was a bird. I do not know what kind because every time I looked up it changed. One moment it is was vulture with pointed beak and talons, itching to snatch me up and devour me. The next moment it was an eagle, with a regal aura, and a noble heart, prepared to save me when I fall. Both birds had the same depthless blue eyes. My white knuckled fingers began to slip and I plummeted towards the colors, but just when I was about to reach them I felt talons on my arms, rough but gentle. For a second I was pulled upward to safety. Then the bird dove, driving me through the colors and into a delicious unknown.
Bump Nose's protruding grey eyes are chastising me from across the room: "Pay attention Seven." He reaches over to his wrist port to shock me, but this time the pain lasts only a second; it is enough to fully wake me, but not enough to send me sprawling into oblivion. With flawless transition he launches back into Mesopotamia. "Mesopotamia was the first major society of note. Due to a need for the protection of property people became drawn to structured government. With large organized groups of people and a government to control them came safety and an easier way of life-yet also opportunities for weakness. Much of this weakness was rooted in a belief system referred to as a religion." For a second he pauses as we hungrily soak in the foreign information. "One," he calls out. "Define religion." At the sheer mention of Title One my my fists clench driving my regulation short stubby nails into my palms. Dagger is annoying, but One is my true nemesis.
She has black hair, pale olive skin, a sharp jawline and black eyes. Her combined features meld together to create an aura of pristine beauty and intimidation. 12 claims that we are almost perfect clones of each other except for our eyes, that the resemblance is eerie. I still don't see it. Her aura is complemented by an uncanny ability to be perfect at everything. She is the definition of a perfect student, never standing out in any of the wrong ways like I do. She is smart enough not to try to break any records in Practical Training, or ask questions, or sneak around. Meanwhile, her academic performance is flawless and her running is practically unmatched by any other female in our annual speed assessments.
She has the uncanny ability possessed by few to simply float through life exerting half the effort I do yet still achieving the same level of success if not more. Yet I can't continue dwelling on this topic. Not for a second more for fear of implosion. It has always been an unspoken understanding among all that she would make it to Level Three, while it has always been assumed that my tendency to stick out in a crowd would eventually get me killed.
As though she is a computerized device One begins to flawlessly answer Bump Nose's question: "The belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, generally a personal God or gods. It is greatly linked to weakness due to the fact that it has been used throughout history as a buffer against the reality of death, followed only by decomposition. It has also been used as an effective method for the systematic control of the unintelligent, fearful and feeble minded." "Correct," exclaims Bump Nose, with the usual little glint in his eye that teachers always seem to get when talking to One.
"Tonight you will be reading and writing about the Mesopotamian religion, the behavioral weakness derived from said religion, and other minor behavioral weakness that emerged as commonplace in this time period." The class eagerly scrambles to get to work while I am left puzzled. Were the Mesopotamians stupid? If religion is such a blatant form of weakness than how could it become so common? How could something with no redeeming qualities gain so much power and prevalence? I discretely write the question down on my wrist port before beginning my work.
