“If they had any clue at all, they’d know this social experiment was doomed to fail,” the standing teenaged boy said.
“Have you ever seen one of those wooden instruments?” said the man who sat nearby.
The boy pictured it in an instant.
The man didn’t reply.
The boy read the angle, yet had been less scathing than his anger could make him capable.
“It’s a recycling storm of self-denial. Or is it living in a box on purpose?”
“Takes time and I suspect you’re cleverer than what you pose. People don’t just arrive here and start thinking like you do.”
“You mean I’ve just been dumped across a border or over from say, the Pacific? That’s like the starting line.”
“You see? Someone comes here out of desperation, but after gets to hear about it with that kind of peripheral. That might be reward enough for their suffering.”
"Okay, I get it."
The man wasn’t going to go along.
“To people who know enough to be concerned, it’s dangerous.”
“You’re no comedian,” started the boy, “and to me, you continue to stand apart from their neolithic baggage. You ought to be proud.” He began to smirk. “I even know what people used to refer to as the melting pot.” He looked afar, waiting for what he thought was true.
The man briefly gestured a finger, "Something you learned in school?"
The boys’ eyes flashed and head turned slightly.
"See? Like I said, not like them."
The man remained outwardly indifferent.
“Well, it’s working right?” Then the boy said in his native tongue, "but you’re right. These things do take time."
This startled the man.
“Ah. That’s good. Variable brain.”
“Didn’t get that from my father.”
"Yeah…From his father."
The man paused momentarily to allign his thoughts.
"His knowledge is formidable. But he’s kindly diplomatic. A cultural chronicler–except that everything…everthing really is becoming lost and it seems he’s unusually adept at it–in a good way. It’s all up there in his memory."
The boy thought on, "I used to be able to speak it without making people cringe on the inside or out."
The man was getting further annoyed, yet reminded himself of the boys’ innocence as a child.
“Nobody’s going to hold that against you when you’re five.”
"Heh. Well, I could make a request like this."
The boy pointed toward his mouth.
“That’s extremely vague. But I get it.”
“Even then you might get an excuse about how hard they worked for it.”
"Look, they aren’t going to modify it in a way that you’ll approve, you know that. But that doesn’t mean you should discard whatever they say. Come on, you’re too smart to be ungrateful."
The boy realized through his nostrils, “Man. I can’t be more careful around you.” His right index finger suddenly pointed like a gun. “Even though there’s something definitely wrong. I’m not going to say what that is.” He looked away with a kind of confidence. “Goddamned sap.” He meant it as alone.
“What’s stoicism to them, anyways? You can’t explain it to them. They’ll just think you’re trying to be superior.”
“And when you reject a human need out of pride because you’re afraid it might actually make the ones you care about not hate you. But I didn’t mention either.” The boy then inferred the honest insight of the man. “Okay, I did,” he corrected.
The man understood. Yet, he could see that this young man was different. He was like Charles. Charles was just as brilliant but could fit in with the youths more. But him. No. Not how he used to be. Unlike when he was little up to until he was in highschool. He’s changed. He’s become profound. And maybe something else…
Not risking the nature of his realization, the man turned his attention to a few teenaged girls on their way across the field towards the other youths. “Hey.” He indicated with a gesture that meant in the direction of his chin.
"You mean, you–"
The man instictively replied, "Not possible."
The boy just as swiftly looked at the man. The man knew from the boys’ eyes that it was condescension.
“You don’t know, you really don’t know…until you’ve learned the proper implications of Biology,” said the boy as he looked back at the girls, unfocused.
The man was going to ask its meaning. But then he figured it out. He knew. I’ll wait. If he does explain, will he try now to devil it out?
Then the boy said something Hugh, for the second time, couldn’t have possibly foreseen, “Admiration can surely go too far.” He made a return again to english. “In the language of the forgotten,” he said. Then he walked away.