The Slave. Luigi Passarelli
main transition had occurred by now. He was lying on his bed when he began to doubt the usefulness of his past and future studies. He realised that he had not made choices which corresponded to his desires. He had even done all of the aptitude tests to try to work out a suitable career path that fitted in with his characteristics. He needn't have any doubt, a mistake could not be possible. He still felt lousy though. He knew as well that in reality he didn't actually have any plausible desires or aims. All he would have wanted to do was to travel and to choose from time to time the road down which he would travel. He knew very little about the world however. The only thing he knew about the world was about the different plants. And basically there wasn't that much to know about them.
Only one other boy from his age range had progressed with him through the same studies, and he had never even spoken to him. They had never met and he didn't even know his contact details. On the last day of school, they both had an appointment at the same time to go and see the building which would have been their new faculty. Every department of the university was strictly separated from the others.
He had never seen the building before, although it was not very far from his house. He had never even heard anybody talking about it. It was called Container B1. He decided to have a look on his tablet to try to find some photos of it. Strangely, he had never even thought about doing that before.
He was disappointed. There was only one app which he could download, the search engine could not find any others. There was no point trying anything else.
He presumed he would have access to more information when he had signed up. His father had already told him how many credits a year they would be spending, and also about the various possibilities for making more money.
He got a bit of energy and hope back. Maybe it was worth giving his best to get the most credits. He thought about a positive balance at the end of things. He only feared that it would be incredibly difficult to achieve.
Impossible tests, misleading questions and answers, they had done everything to try to make it as difficult as possible to find the right answer. But at the end of the day, if everything had been easy, then there would be no point. Or maybe there would...
He put his favourite channel on the radio, but the Voice of Conscience was speaking.
“Ivano, now that you can be who you have always dreamed of being, stop thinking negative thoughts! Today is a special day. Enjoy these moments with your loved ones. Show them some recognition for everything they have done for you. It is down to all of us! We have always been close to you and now you have made it to your Big Day. You should be grateful for that. Would you like to hear today's horoscope?”
Ivano hated horoscopes. He hated everything which claimed to be the truth but had no proof. It seemed like they were just made up.
The audiophone chose an invigorating playlist for him. Even so he only recognised a couple of the artist's songs. An older song came on, something by one of the few artists who had survived the years.
He had studied it over and over. It was an appropriate subject for him. The abandonment of idolatry and the love of icons. They were products in effect. Given the fact that the Programme was not able to control pure or impure thoughts, it was decided to do without all of that.
He could never understand if it would be useful, right or worthwhile, if it was time to simply cut the impossible knot and to make creativity walk the plank. Ivano thought that artefacts were stuff of the past, of a past which was full of doubts and problems, full of uncertainties and multiple interpretations. Now, all of that had definitively been left behind. He had not lived through the excitement and the culture, but it was certainly not possible to go back to that now.
He didn't feel remotely able of creating something, he was making the most of the positive energy and left those who were more graceful than him to be chosen by Selection.
There were after all special schools, where the work was very difficult and the most suitable students studied there.
He had actually got the lowest results in the tests.
He loved being stretched out and examining the ceiling. Especially when he liked what was on the audiophone. He loved being in his room.
Yes, the Voice was right. He had really accomplished a dream. Now he needed to rest, but if he slept now he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.
A sense of calm and of personal fulfilment swept over him, giving him a renewed feeling of self confidence. Slowly but surely he felt able to move forward. Going forward with these tiny things was the only journey he could take. A journey which had already been dreamt up and was already planned out. All he had to do to accomplish this journey was to pass the time. His studies had helped, now he understood that better. He was learning the true dimensions of realisation. Perhaps the microchip had helped him? He just didn’t know.
A few days later his brain, or more specifically his frontal cortex had got used to the intruder which had been placed there. He received a phone call from the other student of the same age, who had managed to get his number from a mutual friend. They were allowed to meet.
It was the middle of the morning and the two friends met up in front of their old school, which was closed.
A sense of nostalgia took over both of them. Basically everything had gone well.
Their first words to each other were about their school days and their shared experiences. They didn't have any idea about what was waiting for them at the end of the summer. They were both a bit offish with each other, typical boys. They both pretended that they did not trust what they had been told or the rumours that they had heard.
Generally in this kind of situation a sort of one-upping competition would take place, improvements and various possible privileges that they could gain in the future. Some would say that their life would be better, they would be richer, happier etc. and some would say the exact opposite. The one thing that is certain however is that none of this ever comes about due to their own personal choice. But all of the hopeful students hoped that the Programme would be kind to them, and that this kindness would be more influential than their studies and their test results.
He took his first steps in the direction of Container B1 and his friend followed.
“Listen... Have you bought anything yet? I haven't. If you want I can check your account and you can check mine. My father says to always keep an eye on it and to be careful about what you do and what you think. Are you scared?”
Ivano pointed his mobile phone at his friend's forehead as he had been asked to and was very surprised to see a figure which was three times higher than his own. He didn't make anything up but he refused to allow his friend to check what he was worth.
“Why not? I will let you see the display. You can even do it yourself, I will give you the phone and you can delete the data when you are finished. You know how to do it don't you?”
Ivano convinced himself, he actually wanted to check himself, to know once and for all.
He took his friends phone and checked how much he was worth. It told him what he already knew.
He didn't delete the figure from the phone and feeling a bit ashamed he gave it back to his friend who reacted with a mixture of compassion and disgust.
“My father was right,” he said.
Ivano told his friend about an ethics lesson he remembered: once you reach maturity you are able to drive a hydrogen car. On the road you have to be precise and disciplined. However, you need a good amount of luck as well. If a tree falls in front of you or someone else makes a mistake you could end up dead and it would not be your fault at all.
“But mine is not just luck. It is down to merit. Calculated merit.”
Ivano said that basically the secret was to make simple things complicated.
His friend told him to be quiet and not to say things like that any more. There would be no more secret words or shortcuts, they were not allowed. It was time to put up and shut up. It was all down