11/27/05

Original Sin 1.83 - insert for Jamie's early life

Jamie is alone on her morning recess stroll after acing her “special” geography exam. She’s thinking, as she usually does during academic breaks, of the many ways she will put her developing talents to use. Jeff, the downcast kid with the perma-scowl and the dorky-looking dress, a sixth grader, catches her eye as he does often on these school grounds. He’s a loner like her, but not by choice. He’s not content like Jamie. Often he mutters threats, mutilating enemies in his mind. It’s eerie seeing this behavior from the outside. She doesn’t want to think how much it reminds her of her last incarnation.

“No,” she says. “This is the time for clear thinking. I can handle it, even if Tommy couldn’t.” A group of second-graders look at her oddly and start whispering amongst themselves. This happens a lot. Jamie smiles and turns back to Jeff. Jeff allows himself the rare indulgence of level gaze and their eyes meet. He seems to want to approach but can’t commit himself. Jamie commits for him. She’s very decisive these days.

“Hi,” she says. “Your name’s Jeff right?”

“What do you want?” he says with a deepening scowl. “I don’t consort with scum.”

He wanted to talk to me so he could denounce my perceived malevolence, Jamie thinks. A moment of pity. Tommy would have related. But Jamie has written herself out of that loser-script. She refuses to relate, it’s not what God wants and it’s not what she wants. She shouldn’t relate to people like this, they’ll drag her down into their futile sever-lives.

“What did I do to you?” Jamie asks. “I thought you were smart. I’ve seen you around and you seem to be on a higher level than most of the dimwits here. But you know, we’re not all that different – except I’ve learned how to get what I want and not bitterly scorn the joys I’ll never possess. You’re living in your own world and you’ll die there. I know people like you – you’re hopeless. You don’t have the imagination to get out of your prison.”

Jeff gawks at her. Was this a prank or a prepared speech? He’s heard that Jamie’s an odd child and expected a strange response but he didn’t expect an articulate harangue like that from a second-grade girl, subverting his righteous denunciation. This isn’t fair. Anger flares in his eyes.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t understand what it’s like for me. They cast me out. They decided I’m not worthy to live. You’re just like them. Fuck off and leave me alone.”

Them them them…You blame everyone but yourself. You can integrate intelligently or you can show them what a bad-ass you can be. Or you can feel sorry for yourself and look like a douchebag. It’s your choice.”

“Get out of my face or I’ll kick your ass you little shit.”

“Ah, pick on someone your own size, that might toughen you up boy,” Jamie says and walks away, power-euphoria coursing through her brain. She’s never given such a lecture. It feels great. Maybe one day she’ll be a drill sergeant.

The pity returns but the euphoria breaks it down into isolated thoughts of little consequence. He won’t amount to anything, she thinks. Poor bastard’s saddled with a grade Z imagination. He’s a bit ahead of the curve, but he disappointed me with his inane retorts. His loser-mentality will bury him. I got a second chance because I have something to offer. The divine ideals God told me about. Yeah.

She guesses the universe needs Grade A imagination like hers… for engineering euphoria? Hyper euphoria? She remembers something her dad had said to her last month. He was reading one of his science magazines. There was an article about the “hedonic engineering” research going on in labs all over the country. They were actually announcing the creation of a training program for bright children. Somewhere, a group of scientists are going to mold young minds to eventually take over these ambitious experiments. Derrick had suggested she look into the program. Something to think about, definitely. But she really wants to be that concert pianist she meant to be since the days of Tommy.

No comments:

channeling easy mode

Sometimes I fade, like  Bod . Then proceed to get away with things. Stealing time, treating myself. To a glorified journal entry. This pigmy...