The entire Chapter 1 of Ignorance, the Freedom of the Weak, volume I:
Everything looked perfect.
Shuttles were buzzing left and right on the invisible skyway, leaving the pedestrians to roam free on the ground and carelessly enjoy the warm sunny day.
Still, some citizens argued that this transport system blocked the sunlight and cast too many flickering shadows. Cases of vertigo had been reported. Scientists, however, were working hard to ensure that shuttles, skylanes and parking on building walls would become a thing of the past, and a revolution in transportation would soon follow. Until then, shuttles would rule the skies, whether people liked it or not.
To the untrained eye, this mottled flock of tin fowl provided a curious display of machinery and art. Designed in various styles and adorned with paint jobs ranging from complex ornate graphics to plain metal gray, they seemed to embody the aesthetic musings of an artistic society. But everything meant something, the manufacturer, the body style, the intricacy and palette of the markings, the counterintuitive manner in which they yielded right of way. Everything except the year.
Being a special day, the streets were more crowded than usual, people wandering around as they pleased rather than following a precise path.
The ceremony held by Scarlet Starling Flight Academy, one of the most popular events of this happyday, attracted a lot of citizens eager to witness the aerial show performed by top pilot graduates.
Resting in the middle of the amphitheater, the sleek red-striped interceptors awaited their spectators. They radiated valiantly toward the audience, arranged in a star-shaped formation.
Even if aircraft such as these were used for teaching purposes and were not military-grade, they commanded deference. With their arrogant, aggressive yet gracious curved lines, barely containing the fierceness within their small stature, they reigned tranquilly over the anxious crowd.
The image of composed authority and strength ready to be unleashed at any moment but casually restrained by a sort of proud benevolence mesmerized a lot of little boys who dreamed of riding through the stars. They yearned to tame and harness the might of these machines, to imbue their warrior souls with it and command the same reverence upon others.
This was not a challenge for everyone. This was not a challenge even for the ones who bore the virtues required to triumph.
And so, many boys who had seen their dreams crushed by the cold hull of their idols became fathers themselves. Mesmerized to this day, they brought their sons with them so they could have their dreams crushed as well.
The aerial show was not the only major event hosted by Scarlet Starling. This other occasion concerned a smaller group of citizens. On this day, the doors would briefly open for admissions, for future cadets, the lucky few who would ride the stars.
A man and his teenage son broke away from the heaping crowd gathering at the amphitheater entrance and followed the other young men heading for the admissions hall. They emanated a curious contrast through the solitary plainness of their appearance.
Like the shuttles in the sky, the citizens’ garments exhibited a variety of styles and colors. An outsider would have found it confusing in the same way the masses would have found the term tourist confusing. But this time, the discrepancy was too obvious to fool anyone.The closer they were to the doors, the more their attitude changed, setting them apart. They would probably drift away from each other if not for the invisible bond conveyed by their clothes.
As reluctant as Novak was when it came to the surface, he was all the more reluctant to be caught alone in this overwhelming crowd. He sensed the distance even if they moved around so close he could smell them. Not only that, but he was also unaccustomed to these situations, never having learned how to behave outside of his secluded life. A simple stroll under the sunlight, among people, was a difficult task for him to handle, but his son’s reckless decision forced him out of his shell, sending him to prevent their small world from crumbling.
His son was equally inexperienced in these matters, although his ambition crushed away any anxiety related to his absurd intentions. Case was too young to foresee how the consequences of his current actions would ripple into his future, a skill greatly required of people like him. Regardless of the risk, he was determined to sacrifice his destined future for the feeble chance of securing a new one.
Finally, they entered the hall despite all of Novak’s passive attempts at stalling. Instead of feeling more secure inside, Novak’s fear increased, and his first instinct was to scuttle out the door. Case, on the other hand, was marching forward, even though he had no idea where to go and how to proceed. He felt his father’s hand grabbing his arm and pulling him back to a discreet corner.
Case complied without questioning his ridiculous behavior.
He understood that his father had crossed the border into a world he was conditioned to perceive as far darker and hostile than the place in which they dwelled. And all the sunlight on the planet wouldn’t have been enough to make Novak feel otherwise. This custom fear had been seeded too early into his unconscious for wisdom to be able to defuse on ground zero. He knew it was absurd, but he couldn’t escape it. They advanced too fast and too deep inside this territory, and he needed to grab onto something and accommodate.
Case had no doubt he would have felt the same if he hadn’t been driven by the burning aspiration to fulfill his goals. So he allowed Novak his time to breathe. He had never seen him so vulnerable and weak.Fearing that seeing his father like this would affect his perception of him, Case turned his attention to the young people gathered in the hall. He concentrated on their behavior.
The admissions clerk sat in his chair, grave and stiff, burdened by the mediocrity of his situation. With glassy eyes, staring into nothingness, he greeted the applicants, blurting the same words over and over.
“Welcome to Scarlet Starling Flight Academy. Would you like to enroll in our flight program?”
“Yes, sir!” said a well-dressed young man, handing him a tablet with filled out admission forms.
The clerk took a glance at the forms, then measured the candidate from head to toe with a long examining squint.
“Everything is in order. An appointment will be made for your examination. Good luck.”
“Thank you!”
The young man left with a satisfied look on his face, content that half of the formalities had been completed. A young woman next in line stepped forward, and the scene repeated itself.
“Welcome to Scarlet Starling Flight Academy. Would you like to enroll in our flight program?”
“Yes, I do, sir!”
Novak and Case stood isolated in their corner, following the dull, repetitive admission procedure, the father blending more and more into the wall and the son growing more and more impatient.
“I’m going, Dad!”
“No, no. We have to wait and see how things are done before—”“You just stand in line and hand over the forms. I’ll go get a tablet.”
Novak’s eyes enlarged while he threw his arm out, trying to grab his son and pull him back to the safety of their corner. But the boy was already on his way to the large table where the tablets were stacked. His father directed his attention to the rest of the citizens present in the hall as if he expected some sort of retaliation. Indeed, Case’s gesture stirred the curiosity of a few people but no more than a minor distraction. They must have confused the garbagemen with their much luckier cousins, the janitors.
Case took a tablet from the stack and came back. Novak seemed to calm down watching Case examine the forms. The boy, however, became increasingly irritated as he went over the fields. He scrolled all the way down, seeing that his rights package was not fancy enough to unlock most of them.
Without another word to his father, he crossed to the admissions clerk. Novak rushed to take the lead, trying to address the clerk before Case did. He would have stayed in that corner all day long if it were up to him, but his compulsion to protect his boy was stronger than the sum of his fears.
The queue being cleared by now, the clerk witnessed the uncommon sight of two different tempered individuals racing toward his desk. But that was not everything he noticed. For a moment, he pondered whether he should call the guard. He might be in danger after all.
Still, distractions of this kind were rare gems. Connoisseurs treasured these minuscule fractures of life and collected them like other folks collected stamps. This clerk, himself obligated to be a connoisseur by the dullness of his existence, spotted the gem instantly.
Convinced that any self-respecting collector would bravely put his neck on the line for a prized specimen, he decided to face the danger. Also, not every day comes with the opportunity to inflict your condescension upon someone less fortunate.
All of this went on through the clerk’s head as Novak and Case approached his desk, making his eyes even glassier. A sort of imperceptible snarl appeared on his otherwise paralyzed face when Novak stopped abruptly, causing Case to bump into him.Instead of his usual worn-out institutional greet, he settled for raising his left eyebrow and slightly tilting his head back. Case pushed the tablet in his face, but Novak moved it away and tried to put a few words together.
“My boy… He’s very smart. A genius! He built—” Novak stopped short, realizing he was heading into dangerous territory. “He could build a whole shuttle out of scraps.
”The clerk was too distracted by the audacity to notice the slip. His face was stone cold, though.
“I would like to enroll in your flight program, sir!” said Case, eloquent and determined, putting hard emphasis on sir.
The clerk could not maintain his composure anymore and twitched so hard he almost broke his neck. His tiny eyes doubled in size, now staring at Case.
“But… sewage workers cannot become pilots… It’s. The. Law!” he said, suffocating.
“You see, he is very talented, great at engineering. You would be lucky to have him,” continued Novak, hoping to divert the man’s attention from Case.The clerk’s collar was about to burst, and his voice grew higher in pitch with every word he blurted.
“We have enough engineers, and geniuses, and pilots! We don’t need any coming from the sewers!” he declared victoriously with the self-satisfaction of the mediocre man pleased with the monotonous safety of his station.
The guard came a few steps closer to witness the show. He was covered. There was no need to intervene. No immediate danger, no disturbance he could be held accountable for. Even if it was impossible to climb the social ladder, demotion could be easily achieved. And his status was not high enough to afford it. There wasn’t much he could do except keep his head above the water.Although his face expressed otherwise, deep down, he rooted for Novak and Case. This simple man found himself surprisingly caring more about these strangers than he cared for the institution he had to uphold. The unscripted scene unraveling in front of him went against everything he was taught, yet it felt... right. A spark of revelation is all it takes to crack a lifetime of indoctrination. A struggle was flaring up inside him as he tried to defend these two sanitation technicians against his own sense of duty, his feelings advocating against the rules.
Novak shot a glance at the guard but didn’t see any of that. He caught the slight frown, the piercing glare and the nervous hand resting on the baton. Whispering something inarticulate, he tried to discourage Case but only managed to make him more angry.
“Now, if you would like to attend the festivities, the ticket booths are outside,” concluded the clerk, pointing at the door, then looking away.
The boy drew air to shout something, but his father gagged him before the next syllable and took another glance at the guard, terrified. The man fixated on Novak before taking the first step, his gaze begging him to leave immediately. One second. A meager head start. All he could do for them. Novak got the message instinctively and pushed Case away from the desk toward the exit. Case still protested but did not try to resist his father. The battle was lost.The threatening guard escorted them two steps behind with his right hand clenched on the baton. Later, he would remember the day he let those strangers escape and smile. That one-second head start was his rebellion.
“You knew this would happen,” yelled Case when the doors slid shut behind them.
“You knew it too,” answered Novak, calm, relieved that everything ended without incident. “You just didn’t want to believe it.”
“Why did you come then?”
“I had to make sure you wouldn’t get arrested. And, boy, after seeing what happened, I’m glad I came.” He hoped that Case’s inner turmoil and rebellion would now begin to wane, that he would learn to accept reality for what it was after standing against it and failing. He figured his son needed to try and needed to fail in order to fully accept his fate and be spared of regrets. Novak had his moment of rebellion too back in his youth and surprisingly gained his victory, so he was able to understand what his son was going through, at least up to a point.
His victory meant the world to him. To the world, it meant nothing. Furthermore, it was short-lived, and the consequences degraded his existence even more, pursuing him to this day. With half of his heart immersed in the past, Novak was content that his son failed and his life wouldn’t become any more miserable than it already was.
He was now relieved of the agoraphobic anxiety that possessed him earlier, although he was still uncomfortable rejoining the crowd. Stopping Case’s reckless behavior put his mind at ease and gave him enough confidence to walk among this muster of peacocks without looking like a hunted dog.
Novak put his arm around his son’s shoulders, steering him toward the ticket booths and hoping that watching the aerial show would lift the boy’s mood.
Ticket booth was an archaic term, preserved in the interest of a convenient tradition. Not even the eldest citizens could remember what tickets and money did. Or what they meant. Or that they once existed. And neither did history. There was no need for currency since everyone was simply given everything they needed. Everything that was decided they needed.
Novak and Case stood in front of the booth. Novak frowning at the screen, contemplating their poor seating options, Case staring down, lost. The few seats available to them were somewhere at the outer rim of the amphitheater, near the restrooms. Novak, disappointed, chose two and led his resigned son inside.
As they climbed the stairs, advancing upward through the rows, Novak noticed how the citizens’ clothes became plainer and plainer. A curious sight and feeling for him, being closer to the sky and to lesser people at the same time.No one else was seated in their sector. Novak was not surprised. He wouldn’t be here either if it weren’t for his son. Still, someone decided that everyone needed entertainment and could attend the festivities if they wanted to.
He wondered if there was anything else he would be allowed to do or have, so he got up and left to try his chances at the refreshments booth, leaving Case to deal with his grief. Novak was presented with some roasted corn kernels according to his calorie quota and tap water. He returned to his seat just in time for the opening parade and fanfare.
Novak turned to Case, smiling, encouraging him with his eyes. But the grand opening of the festivities didn’t do anything for the boy. He continued to stare into the emptiness of the ground. Novak saddened, hoping Case would feel better by the end of the show.
The parade dragged on forever. The speeches, even harder to endure. Novak was bored. He wanted to see the interceptors prowl the skies. Unfortunately for him, the amphitheater was for people who wished to enjoy the whole show. Granted, anyone above the surface could have watched the aerials, but the Academy wanted to provide something extra for the attending spectators.
The Academy choir was singing its fourth battle hymn. Having finished his kernels, Novak was about to dose off despite the amphitheater’s renowned acoustics. He awakened abruptly, startled by the silence. The choir was gone. He looked around, worried, afraid something wrong might have happened.
Some children forgot to chew their hot dogs. They sat in their chairs, stunned, with their mouths wide open.
The pilots were making an entrance. Joyful, waving casually at the cheering crowd, they appeared to advance in slow motion, determined, firm, resolute. The scarlet stripes on their suits matched the ones on the interceptors, wrapping around the chiseled bodies, complementing their agile features.
For the first time since his defeat, Case seems to be aware of what is happening around him. He lifts his head slowly and finally notices the aircraft, one of the beasts staring him in the face, defiant. Case smiles sarcastically, his pupils enlarging and his body straightening up in his chair. She is daring him, challenging him, patronizing him.
The anger and the grief, suddenly overwhelmed by the hunter’s confidence, vanish from his mind, and his eyes project a glimpse of another future, the one he has the strength to forge.
The interceptors are the striking embodiment of the holographic models from the contraband manuals Case acquired with so much difficulty. He knows them inside out, even if they have been worlds apart. But these are not rigid technical representations, these are untamed, luring beasts that would tear up anyone oblivious of their secrets.
Can you tame me?
Case unknowingly takes an assault stance in his chair, all tensed up, captivated by the machine in front of him. Not overwhelmed and stunned, not hypnotized and reverent like the children with their dropped jaws, but enraged by the insolent taunting of this bird of prey, his blood boiling with anticipation. A bullfighter at his first trial.
No one in the audience, not even Novak, suspects the ruthless clash that is taking place inside the heart and mind of this fragile boy, between the reality of the present and the dreams of a daring future.
The sun is ascending above the amphitheater. The obsidian canopy of the interceptor catches the rays and reflects them, spearing Case’s eyes. As the blinding light grows in intensity, scorching the boy’s sight, he feels the beast crushing him. Soon, he won’t be able to face it anymore.
But Case is not fighting with the burning sunlight or a parade aircraft, he is standing against his deepest fears. The chains binding him to the filthy sewers, the lost self-confidence, the rigidity of his society, the repression.
He thrusts up from his seat, ready to accept the challenge, and sprints down the stairs like a hungry feline in the savanna. Another fate is crying out to him louder than his father’s call.
Everything looked perfect.
Shuttles were buzzing left and right on the invisible skyway, leaving the pedestrians to roam free on the ground and carelessly enjoy the warm sunny day.
Still, some citizens argued that this transport system blocked the sunlight and cast too many flickering shadows. Cases of vertigo had been reported. Scientists, however, were working hard to ensure that shuttles, skylanes and parking on building walls would become a thing of the past, and a revolution in transportation would soon follow. Until then, shuttles would rule the skies, whether people liked it or not.
To the untrained eye, this mottled flock of tin fowl provided a curious display of machinery and art. Designed in various styles and adorned with paint jobs ranging from complex ornate graphics to plain metal gray, they seemed to embody the aesthetic musings of an artistic society. But everything meant something, the manufacturer, the body style, the intricacy and palette of the markings, the counterintuitive manner in which they yielded right of way. Everything except the year.
Being a special day, the streets were more crowded than usual, people wandering around as they pleased rather than following a precise path.
The ceremony held by Scarlet Starling Flight Academy, one of the most popular events of this happyday, attracted a lot of citizens eager to witness the aerial show performed by top pilot graduates.
Resting in the middle of the amphitheater, the sleek red-striped interceptors awaited their spectators. They radiated valiantly toward the audience, arranged in a star-shaped formation.
Even if aircraft such as these were used for teaching purposes and were not military-grade, they commanded deference. With their arrogant, aggressive yet gracious curved lines, barely containing the fierceness within their small stature, they reigned tranquilly over the anxious crowd.
The image of composed authority and strength ready to be unleashed at any moment but casually restrained by a sort of proud benevolence mesmerized a lot of little boys who dreamed of riding through the stars. They yearned to tame and harness the might of these machines, to imbue their warrior souls with it and command the same reverence upon others.
This was not a challenge for everyone. This was not a challenge even for the ones who bore the virtues required to triumph.
And so, many boys who had seen their dreams crushed by the cold hull of their idols became fathers themselves. Mesmerized to this day, they brought their sons with them so they could have their dreams crushed as well.
The aerial show was not the only major event hosted by Scarlet Starling. This other occasion concerned a smaller group of citizens. On this day, the doors would briefly open for admissions, for future cadets, the lucky few who would ride the stars.
A man and his teenage son broke away from the heaping crowd gathering at the amphitheater entrance and followed the other young men heading for the admissions hall. They emanated a curious contrast through the solitary plainness of their appearance.
Like the shuttles in the sky, the citizens’ garments exhibited a variety of styles and colors. An outsider would have found it confusing in the same way the masses would have found the term tourist confusing. But this time, the discrepancy was too obvious to fool anyone.The closer they were to the doors, the more their attitude changed, setting them apart. They would probably drift away from each other if not for the invisible bond conveyed by their clothes.
As reluctant as Novak was when it came to the surface, he was all the more reluctant to be caught alone in this overwhelming crowd. He sensed the distance even if they moved around so close he could smell them. Not only that, but he was also unaccustomed to these situations, never having learned how to behave outside of his secluded life. A simple stroll under the sunlight, among people, was a difficult task for him to handle, but his son’s reckless decision forced him out of his shell, sending him to prevent their small world from crumbling.
His son was equally inexperienced in these matters, although his ambition crushed away any anxiety related to his absurd intentions. Case was too young to foresee how the consequences of his current actions would ripple into his future, a skill greatly required of people like him. Regardless of the risk, he was determined to sacrifice his destined future for the feeble chance of securing a new one.
Finally, they entered the hall despite all of Novak’s passive attempts at stalling. Instead of feeling more secure inside, Novak’s fear increased, and his first instinct was to scuttle out the door. Case, on the other hand, was marching forward, even though he had no idea where to go and how to proceed. He felt his father’s hand grabbing his arm and pulling him back to a discreet corner.
Case complied without questioning his ridiculous behavior.
He understood that his father had crossed the border into a world he was conditioned to perceive as far darker and hostile than the place in which they dwelled. And all the sunlight on the planet wouldn’t have been enough to make Novak feel otherwise. This custom fear had been seeded too early into his unconscious for wisdom to be able to defuse on ground zero. He knew it was absurd, but he couldn’t escape it. They advanced too fast and too deep inside this territory, and he needed to grab onto something and accommodate.
Case had no doubt he would have felt the same if he hadn’t been driven by the burning aspiration to fulfill his goals. So he allowed Novak his time to breathe. He had never seen him so vulnerable and weak.Fearing that seeing his father like this would affect his perception of him, Case turned his attention to the young people gathered in the hall. He concentrated on their behavior.
The admissions clerk sat in his chair, grave and stiff, burdened by the mediocrity of his situation. With glassy eyes, staring into nothingness, he greeted the applicants, blurting the same words over and over.
“Welcome to Scarlet Starling Flight Academy. Would you like to enroll in our flight program?”
“Yes, sir!” said a well-dressed young man, handing him a tablet with filled out admission forms.
The clerk took a glance at the forms, then measured the candidate from head to toe with a long examining squint.
“Everything is in order. An appointment will be made for your examination. Good luck.”
“Thank you!”
The young man left with a satisfied look on his face, content that half of the formalities had been completed. A young woman next in line stepped forward, and the scene repeated itself.
“Welcome to Scarlet Starling Flight Academy. Would you like to enroll in our flight program?”
“Yes, I do, sir!”
Novak and Case stood isolated in their corner, following the dull, repetitive admission procedure, the father blending more and more into the wall and the son growing more and more impatient.
“I’m going, Dad!”
“No, no. We have to wait and see how things are done before—”“You just stand in line and hand over the forms. I’ll go get a tablet.”
Novak’s eyes enlarged while he threw his arm out, trying to grab his son and pull him back to the safety of their corner. But the boy was already on his way to the large table where the tablets were stacked. His father directed his attention to the rest of the citizens present in the hall as if he expected some sort of retaliation. Indeed, Case’s gesture stirred the curiosity of a few people but no more than a minor distraction. They must have confused the garbagemen with their much luckier cousins, the janitors.
Case took a tablet from the stack and came back. Novak seemed to calm down watching Case examine the forms. The boy, however, became increasingly irritated as he went over the fields. He scrolled all the way down, seeing that his rights package was not fancy enough to unlock most of them.
Without another word to his father, he crossed to the admissions clerk. Novak rushed to take the lead, trying to address the clerk before Case did. He would have stayed in that corner all day long if it were up to him, but his compulsion to protect his boy was stronger than the sum of his fears.
The queue being cleared by now, the clerk witnessed the uncommon sight of two different tempered individuals racing toward his desk. But that was not everything he noticed. For a moment, he pondered whether he should call the guard. He might be in danger after all.
Still, distractions of this kind were rare gems. Connoisseurs treasured these minuscule fractures of life and collected them like other folks collected stamps. This clerk, himself obligated to be a connoisseur by the dullness of his existence, spotted the gem instantly.
Convinced that any self-respecting collector would bravely put his neck on the line for a prized specimen, he decided to face the danger. Also, not every day comes with the opportunity to inflict your condescension upon someone less fortunate.
All of this went on through the clerk’s head as Novak and Case approached his desk, making his eyes even glassier. A sort of imperceptible snarl appeared on his otherwise paralyzed face when Novak stopped abruptly, causing Case to bump into him.Instead of his usual worn-out institutional greet, he settled for raising his left eyebrow and slightly tilting his head back. Case pushed the tablet in his face, but Novak moved it away and tried to put a few words together.
“My boy… He’s very smart. A genius! He built—” Novak stopped short, realizing he was heading into dangerous territory. “He could build a whole shuttle out of scraps.
”The clerk was too distracted by the audacity to notice the slip. His face was stone cold, though.
“I would like to enroll in your flight program, sir!” said Case, eloquent and determined, putting hard emphasis on sir.
The clerk could not maintain his composure anymore and twitched so hard he almost broke his neck. His tiny eyes doubled in size, now staring at Case.
“But… sewage workers cannot become pilots… It’s. The. Law!” he said, suffocating.
“You see, he is very talented, great at engineering. You would be lucky to have him,” continued Novak, hoping to divert the man’s attention from Case.The clerk’s collar was about to burst, and his voice grew higher in pitch with every word he blurted.
“We have enough engineers, and geniuses, and pilots! We don’t need any coming from the sewers!” he declared victoriously with the self-satisfaction of the mediocre man pleased with the monotonous safety of his station.
The guard came a few steps closer to witness the show. He was covered. There was no need to intervene. No immediate danger, no disturbance he could be held accountable for. Even if it was impossible to climb the social ladder, demotion could be easily achieved. And his status was not high enough to afford it. There wasn’t much he could do except keep his head above the water.Although his face expressed otherwise, deep down, he rooted for Novak and Case. This simple man found himself surprisingly caring more about these strangers than he cared for the institution he had to uphold. The unscripted scene unraveling in front of him went against everything he was taught, yet it felt... right. A spark of revelation is all it takes to crack a lifetime of indoctrination. A struggle was flaring up inside him as he tried to defend these two sanitation technicians against his own sense of duty, his feelings advocating against the rules.
Novak shot a glance at the guard but didn’t see any of that. He caught the slight frown, the piercing glare and the nervous hand resting on the baton. Whispering something inarticulate, he tried to discourage Case but only managed to make him more angry.
“Now, if you would like to attend the festivities, the ticket booths are outside,” concluded the clerk, pointing at the door, then looking away.
The boy drew air to shout something, but his father gagged him before the next syllable and took another glance at the guard, terrified. The man fixated on Novak before taking the first step, his gaze begging him to leave immediately. One second. A meager head start. All he could do for them. Novak got the message instinctively and pushed Case away from the desk toward the exit. Case still protested but did not try to resist his father. The battle was lost.The threatening guard escorted them two steps behind with his right hand clenched on the baton. Later, he would remember the day he let those strangers escape and smile. That one-second head start was his rebellion.
“You knew this would happen,” yelled Case when the doors slid shut behind them.
“You knew it too,” answered Novak, calm, relieved that everything ended without incident. “You just didn’t want to believe it.”
“Why did you come then?”
“I had to make sure you wouldn’t get arrested. And, boy, after seeing what happened, I’m glad I came.” He hoped that Case’s inner turmoil and rebellion would now begin to wane, that he would learn to accept reality for what it was after standing against it and failing. He figured his son needed to try and needed to fail in order to fully accept his fate and be spared of regrets. Novak had his moment of rebellion too back in his youth and surprisingly gained his victory, so he was able to understand what his son was going through, at least up to a point.
His victory meant the world to him. To the world, it meant nothing. Furthermore, it was short-lived, and the consequences degraded his existence even more, pursuing him to this day. With half of his heart immersed in the past, Novak was content that his son failed and his life wouldn’t become any more miserable than it already was.
He was now relieved of the agoraphobic anxiety that possessed him earlier, although he was still uncomfortable rejoining the crowd. Stopping Case’s reckless behavior put his mind at ease and gave him enough confidence to walk among this muster of peacocks without looking like a hunted dog.
Novak put his arm around his son’s shoulders, steering him toward the ticket booths and hoping that watching the aerial show would lift the boy’s mood.
Ticket booth was an archaic term, preserved in the interest of a convenient tradition. Not even the eldest citizens could remember what tickets and money did. Or what they meant. Or that they once existed. And neither did history. There was no need for currency since everyone was simply given everything they needed. Everything that was decided they needed.
Novak and Case stood in front of the booth. Novak frowning at the screen, contemplating their poor seating options, Case staring down, lost. The few seats available to them were somewhere at the outer rim of the amphitheater, near the restrooms. Novak, disappointed, chose two and led his resigned son inside.
As they climbed the stairs, advancing upward through the rows, Novak noticed how the citizens’ clothes became plainer and plainer. A curious sight and feeling for him, being closer to the sky and to lesser people at the same time.No one else was seated in their sector. Novak was not surprised. He wouldn’t be here either if it weren’t for his son. Still, someone decided that everyone needed entertainment and could attend the festivities if they wanted to.
He wondered if there was anything else he would be allowed to do or have, so he got up and left to try his chances at the refreshments booth, leaving Case to deal with his grief. Novak was presented with some roasted corn kernels according to his calorie quota and tap water. He returned to his seat just in time for the opening parade and fanfare.
Novak turned to Case, smiling, encouraging him with his eyes. But the grand opening of the festivities didn’t do anything for the boy. He continued to stare into the emptiness of the ground. Novak saddened, hoping Case would feel better by the end of the show.
The parade dragged on forever. The speeches, even harder to endure. Novak was bored. He wanted to see the interceptors prowl the skies. Unfortunately for him, the amphitheater was for people who wished to enjoy the whole show. Granted, anyone above the surface could have watched the aerials, but the Academy wanted to provide something extra for the attending spectators.
The Academy choir was singing its fourth battle hymn. Having finished his kernels, Novak was about to dose off despite the amphitheater’s renowned acoustics. He awakened abruptly, startled by the silence. The choir was gone. He looked around, worried, afraid something wrong might have happened.
Some children forgot to chew their hot dogs. They sat in their chairs, stunned, with their mouths wide open.
The pilots were making an entrance. Joyful, waving casually at the cheering crowd, they appeared to advance in slow motion, determined, firm, resolute. The scarlet stripes on their suits matched the ones on the interceptors, wrapping around the chiseled bodies, complementing their agile features.
For the first time since his defeat, Case seems to be aware of what is happening around him. He lifts his head slowly and finally notices the aircraft, one of the beasts staring him in the face, defiant. Case smiles sarcastically, his pupils enlarging and his body straightening up in his chair. She is daring him, challenging him, patronizing him.
The anger and the grief, suddenly overwhelmed by the hunter’s confidence, vanish from his mind, and his eyes project a glimpse of another future, the one he has the strength to forge.
The interceptors are the striking embodiment of the holographic models from the contraband manuals Case acquired with so much difficulty. He knows them inside out, even if they have been worlds apart. But these are not rigid technical representations, these are untamed, luring beasts that would tear up anyone oblivious of their secrets.
Can you tame me?
Case unknowingly takes an assault stance in his chair, all tensed up, captivated by the machine in front of him. Not overwhelmed and stunned, not hypnotized and reverent like the children with their dropped jaws, but enraged by the insolent taunting of this bird of prey, his blood boiling with anticipation. A bullfighter at his first trial.
No one in the audience, not even Novak, suspects the ruthless clash that is taking place inside the heart and mind of this fragile boy, between the reality of the present and the dreams of a daring future.
The sun is ascending above the amphitheater. The obsidian canopy of the interceptor catches the rays and reflects them, spearing Case’s eyes. As the blinding light grows in intensity, scorching the boy’s sight, he feels the beast crushing him. Soon, he won’t be able to face it anymore.
But Case is not fighting with the burning sunlight or a parade aircraft, he is standing against his deepest fears. The chains binding him to the filthy sewers, the lost self-confidence, the rigidity of his society, the repression.
He thrusts up from his seat, ready to accept the challenge, and sprints down the stairs like a hungry feline in the savanna. Another fate is crying out to him louder than his father’s call.
Last update on March 19, 5:04 am by Cristin Slobozeanu.
Be the first person to like this.