Suspicions

The routine for the lessons was the same as usual. It was quite easy to see a pattern in different math problems as well as taking notes at the same time. I was so used to it that sometimes I felt like being in a daze.

Caroline wrote down everything the teacher did as well. She then proceeded to stare at it for the meantime the teacher explained. Even I felt inferior as I saw her learning process and the deep focus she had on this one subject. It felt like pure energy was radiating from her intense working.

"Any more questions?", the teacher asked courteously. Caroline's hand raised into the sky almost immediately. The person next to me almost started clapping out of reflex. This focus and intense thought process was what we all only could admire.

"Can you explain that again with less scientific terms? I don't understand your explanation", Caroline declared. In front of the teacher with no shame at all.

The student next to me almost collapsed on his table. Another one slapped his head for a 'facepalm' so hard that he started having a nosebleed. And my whole body just stopped functioning. Didn't Caroline knew that asking the teachers to repeat was considered rude? Didn't she learn the scientific terms so that she could understand what was said.

Obviously she was graced with taking in some fresh air outside of the classroom. Only at the end was she allowed to enter again. I sighed in distress. I guess I have to take more careful notes for her to understand now…

The rest of the day went by peacefully. The only exciting thing was that a cat got lost in our school building. Apparently a few students tried to attract it and keep it as a school mascot.

However I wished that the day wouldn't end yet. I did not look forward to my meeting with Mr Windsor. Just thinking about it made my stomach act up. I knew that I failed my position as a model student so would have rather changed it directly without this stress.

Especially while walking through the hallway I felt like carrying a thousand pounds. The way seemed way longer than usual which made no sense at all since I knew that it wouldn't change. It was probably the problem of my current stressed emotions.

Yet it felt too fast as I arrived at the door in front of me. It was sturdy and consisted out of dark and strong wood. Unusual for this school since usually the doors were kept a clinical white. No stain to be found. Though this door had small scrapes. Almost like scars telling a story.

Was it a good one? Was it a bad one? The scar itself would never show exactly how something happened. I thought about the scar on my back. Something I never showed anyone. I did not recall when it happened but it was pretty old. The scar could never indicate what happened so I was at a loss. Was it serious? Was it an accident?

"Are you decorating the floor now Alex?", the voice of an old man rang through my ears. I felt myself blush a little at the embarrassment. Did I seriously try to postpone this by thinking about a door? How could I do something so irresponsible?

Still embarrassed I entered the room. Only a few necessary utensils were found like Mr. Windsor's pad as well as a hologram projector. A old model at that.

What strikes me the most was the giant display of books. There were so many I could not believe it. They were displayed around the walls painting them in a color pattern so complex and beautiful. They were different colors, different sizes, everything seemed so…

So unorganized. I could stop myself from looking devasted. The lacking organization, lacking similarity made the whole room look so messy, so different from other offices that I felt devasted.

Next to that was the fact that books were useless. Not the knowledge in them but simply their existence. It was way easier and more effective to use ones pad. Wasting space and especially the money to manufacture a book was simply a waste. (708)

"Do you like books? I'm often told that my office is too overwhelming", Mr. Windsor said after sitting down on his chair. The chair stood behind a massive desk that made the whole scene seem more like a interrogation and less like a teacher-student conversation. He then gestured towards a small chair in front of his massive display. The chair was a foldable one, chairs that you only get cheap at flea markets and that nobody wants.

"Books are the pinnacle of knowledge. They hold our history safe within", I dodged his question.

"Do you know what makes books so wonderful?", Mr. Windsor questioned as he opened a book in front of him. "They are the best way to preserve knowledge".

I felt a little annoyed at his explanation. Did he want to boast about his antique collection and then kick me out? With a deep breath I looked at him. "Preserving knowledge should be done with a more sustainable medium. Books only serve purpose for the eye they do not hold knowledge well. A pad can preserve way more-", I stopped as Mr Windsor opened his pad. On there I could see my record and my failure. I balled my hands into fists.

He then looked at me directly. His eyes stared into mine and I felt as uncomfortable as you would by accidentally trying to go into an occupied bathroom.

His hand reached out. Something warm was running down my palm. Probably blood that came from the pressure of my fingernails. His hands hovering around my profile and then… He changed the recording. I myself felt relieved that this annoying number was taken care of. Though I was confused as well.

Mr. Windsor did not stop looking at me while he did this. Now he leaned back saying: "Now think about perseverance. You are dismissed".

Even after leaving the office I did not feel like I was conscious. There was only one word circulating through my mind: Why?