6 Student: Festering Crow
My memory is infallible, in a certain sense. My article of artificial anamnesis, while the prospect revolts me, has ensured that all knowledge which I deign to catalogue remains mostly within my mental grasp. It is as though I record my experiences, in all existential perceptions, as they transpire; though I am prone, like any other organism of flesh and blood, to error as a result of my aloof personality and capricious nature. The diamond, regardless, has prevented me from failing to recollect the atrocities I have witnessed, the knowledge I have accrued, the adumbrations of inevitable history repeating, the people I have loved and the lives I have lost.
Of course, I would much prefer the blithe innocence of ignorance. Though to discard my memories would be to sully not only my self-proclaimed position, but also to dishonor the lives I have taken and the death I have wrought. Though, perhaps "dishonor" isn't the right word…
The ability to recollect virtually anything I come into contact with has its benefits, however, as I'm sure one could easily fathom. For nearly all 18 millennia of my detestable life I have been in active pursuit of knowledge. From all matters mundane and obscure, to the greatest mysteries which have plagued human curiosity since the dawn of our inception. While I may fool myself into believing that life is best spent "living," my boredom knows no such solace, and I quickly turn to subjects of intrigue.
I have always had, barring all modesty, here, an eclectic fascination and affinity for the various sciences. From micro-biology to chemistry; from astronomical engineering to botany and alchemy; from pathology and taxonomy to astronomy. I have obtained discriminating noesis of varied natures over the years. I have read entire libraries, infiltrated facilities for observation, gleaned the minds of many worlds and species, and executed countless experiments.
One sect of fields, in particular, I am quite fond of and possess a certain proclivity for: physics. From quantum to astro to mechanical and physiological, I adore the studies. Ever since Yvonne, one of my companions in my home world of Gaea, began instructing me in the art I have been infatuated with the concept. Just think: the one true science, the one true series of laws and sequential formulae; the potential to understand the origin of all existence. To have the ability to dissect the universe itself evokes feelings of ecstasy in me unlike any I have ever known.
I am aware that this proclamation may sound rather contradictory to the ideals I profess; however I find the prospect of intimate awareness, expressed numerically and in universal formulae, to be quite flattering of nature. Nature itself is naught more than a series of elaborate and unerring laws; a grandiose construct of absolute values. There is no uncertainty in nature; there is no humanity in the laws of physics. Nay, there is only the failings of the human mind which is incapable of understanding her beauty and rigidity. The only uncertainties we humans face in the unquantifiable throngs of the sciences are our own misunderstandings and faults.
I wish the study of psychology came half as easily to me as physics and mathematics did. If, perhaps, I were half as proficient in the empathetic arts as I am in the most stringent of calculations, I might have had the opportunity to avert many of the tragic failings of my past… But that's what makes discovery so enthralling, so exciting, isn't it…? Failure. Uncertainty.
-----
The job was so monotonous, "Okay, so normal force on a slope is calculated by the force of gravity, which as you'll recall is mass times the constant of gravity, multiplied by the cosine of the angle, which can be found using the tans…" I was repeating the same lesson time and again.
"Now we have to add friction into the equation. The coefficient of friction, the mu, can be either for static or kinetic. A value for the coefficient of friction can never exceed 1, and the mu of kinetic friction on any one surface is always less than static…" I would have left long ago, if not for him. I droned on and on for a group of kids who hated my guts; children who never listened.
"Now as defined by the third law of physics, the force of friction…" I was wasting my time, my talents. I was far from the greatest instructor, besides. The only reason I got the job was a direct result of a bar dispute between me and two college professors over the magnitude of ohms produced by a resistor in a certain magnetic current. In this world electricity was a relatively new concept, still in the infant stages of development and comprehension, but it was a prospect I had long since been familiar and intimate with. When I flashed some damning numbers in front of their faces, in my drunken stupor, they were eager to recommend work for me. A transient, bound by the invisible thralls of Fear and without a penny to my name, I obliged.
I lost my train of thought. My students were murmuring behind me but I paid no attention to them, my thoughts fixed on the board before me. The numbers danced about on the board, rearranging themselves into something more entertaining, "T1=256N+20.00001kg times 9.8m/s squared plus 3.0 m/s squared." I wrote a two bodied pulley problem up on the board and solved it on my own, mumbling to satiate my boredom, something I often did.
I cursed the powdery rod which I held in my hand as it slipped out of the rag. Chalk was one of the most offensive substances to my tactile senses, and I had to grip the sticks with a washcloth I brought to work each day.
"What the hell is he doing now?" One of my students whispered, but I heeded her not.
"Wait, I'm so lost… Is this going to be on the test?"
"Is he spacing out again?"
"Man, fuck this class, I'm out."
"Sir!" The last voice yelled. It was a familiar voice, and so I turned about and saw Yrr Regnah raising his hand. He was a small lad, of nineteen, and an all about poster-child for the stereotypical bully victim. He wore thin wire-framed glasses held together with tape, a button-up shirt, and had short-cropped rusty hair. His demeanor lacked any self-confidence; he slouched almost as bad as I, and always averted eye contact.
I would have found him a contemptible weakling had I not shared so much in common with the lad. He was quite intellectually inclined, and an absolute introvert, "That's next chapter, sir."
"Huh?" I scratched my nose and wiped the sleep out of my eyes. I looked back at the board - an incomprehensible mess of numbers and symbols. After a few moments of looking over my work I apologized, "Oh, yeah… sorry."
"God, really?" Lenna let out. I loathed that girl. In that country, a very affluent and advanced nation – a true rarity and paragon of peace and stability – a college level education, a two year entry degree, was mandatory and a public service. While in principal this might sound ideal for such an advanced society, it also brought in its share of troubles: namely students with no ethic, no desire to learn, and no future. In short: it brought in rabble which would otherwise be dealing drugs or selling their bodies on the street corners. Lenna was one such disgrace.
I looked up at the clock, which read 3:15, and sat down at my desk, "Uh, I suppose that concludes today's lesson. Cover the materials in…"
"Chapter 8, sir." Yrr finished for me.
"Ah, yes, thank you Yrr." I feigned a smile and clapped my hands, "Okay, uh, I'll delay the quarterly exam until next week, by way of apology for my… aloofness."
"Suck up…" Lenna whispered in a volume unperceivable to one with normal hearing.
-----
The class left moments later and I kicked my loafers off and unbuttoned the top two notches of my dress shirt. Wearing all that clothing was just one of the many reasons I loathed that job. I leaned back in my chair, bending my arms behind my neck, and tried to recline. there was a staff meeting I would need to attend later that day, so simply departing for home was out of the question.
I closed my eyes, kicking my feet up onto the desk, when I heard a confrontation outside the door to my class.
"…You think you have the right to talk to me like that, Festering Crow?" The voice was muffled but undeniably Lenna's. She referred to Yrr. In that country's language, Yrr meant "crow" and Regnah meant "honorable." Unfortunately for Yrr, his middle initial was U. Urregnah meant "festering" or "decomposing." Lenna was a harlot, but extremely popular with the male students. I could only imagine her ego being supersaturated in high school to the extent that she might become the tormenter she is today.
Yrr was as easy target, besides. No physical ability or intimidating features to speak of, Yrr drew the ire of every child with repressed antagonism. It did not help that Yrr was also fascinated with aviation and ornithology, and had a foul natural body odor to boot. Yes, Yrr Urregnah was quite a fitting title.
I sighed and sat up, "You only get good grades because you brown nose Mr. Wiren." Lenna's equally detestable boyfriend, Gaal, spouted.
"I-I think I get better grades because I…pay attention?" Yrr dug his own grave with that passive aggressive statement, "I mean… I could help you, if you'd like."
"Bullshit!" Lenna shouted, no longer trying to hide the conflict, "That idiot of a professor can't keep track of the time of day, much less teach-"
She cut herself off as I opened to door to the hallway, empty now save for the three speaking, "Why hello there, children! Is there aught I may assist you with? A recap of the day's lessons, perhaps?"
Lenna scoffed and clicked her tongue, storming off without a word and glaring at me from beneath her bangs, over her shoulder. She snapped her fingers and Gaal was close behind her.
Yrr wore a dejected look on his face and gazed emptily at the ground, "What's up, kid?" He did not respond, and it irked me. He had a queer charisma about him, but his feeble mentality irritated me. I sighed, turned around and went back into the classroom. I stooped over, grabbed my loafers, and sat down on the desk nearest the door. Yrr did not move, electing to stay in the hallway with a tenebrous pall.
"I missed lunch today. You want to go grab an early dinner? My treat." I inquired, and immediately regretted it. In my social retardation I failed to consider the fact that my intent may be perceived in an unsavory manner.
After a long moment of awkward silence Yrr mumbled, "Sure…" At least it gave me an excuse not to attend the staff meeting.
-----
The great city of Ragnar: a monolith of technological advancement in a feudal era world. I despise metropolitan areas and large crowds but, as far as cities were concerned, Ragnar had a relatively low populace per capita. The Market square off of Salem Street, in particular, was a fairly sparse cluster of street vendors and stands where one could find almost anything. I often wondered how these people maintained a living; all things considered there didn't seem to be the traffic to mete out a feasible income.
"Do you like rabbit? That vendor, over there, sells great buns." I broke the long silence as we meandered about the stalls.
"Ah… sure." He intoned. I grumbled, I was unaccustomed to such a lack of sociability in people, especially humans. 'Tis rare indeed for me to be the talkative one.
I ordered two buns, the usual extra large order for myself, and a moderate sized one for the boy. We took a seat on a nearby bench and I kicked my shoes off again, pulling my legs up and crossing them on the public seat.
"Are you…sure you should be doing that? What about germs?" Yrr enquired.
"I don't sweat such inconsequential details; not when there is so much more to worry about." I replied.
"Like what?" He nervously took a bite of the bun, chewed it slowly, and then bit into it once more with vigor.
I leaned back on the wooden bench and stared up into the sky. There was not a single cloud marring the picturesque afternoon blue, "Like why someone like you takes abuse from a bitch like Lenna," He looked at me askance for a second, and then dropped his gaze, "I'm going to be frank with you, Yrr, I think you have the potential to be something great some day. Believe me when I say this, for I've known many such individuals like you. However you are only inhibiting your personal evolution with such a frail display of pacifism."
A seagull flew over head and dropped down before us, awaiting our scraps, and was followed by a Corvus Corone. I bit down into my bun and chewed with vim, pacing the silence over the din of the odd pedestrian. I pulled a string of meat out with my right incisor and brought it to my lips with my tongue. I spat the flesh out on the ground before us, and watched as the crow and seagull flared over who would get the right to consume it.
"Do you know what happens to a murder when one of the crows dies?" Yrr said after a long pause.
"The remaining members gather for a time and caw at the corpse, correct? I sometimes forget you're majoring in ornithology."
"Do you know why, Mr. Wiren?" He asked innocently. I used the alias Hal Wiren at that time. I had made too many enemies to use my real name.
"Do you?" I retorted.
"It's a funeral procession," Yrr picked inside his bun and ripped apart some stringy meat and a mini-carrot. He tossed the meat and vegetable on the ground, in two piles. The crow, the victor in the previous bout, claimed one and the gull the other, "No one will caw over me… So I need to keep everyone happy, right?"
"Hah," I spat, "A funeral procession, you say? No, my friend, it is survival instinct. The murder gathers to alert others of their dead comrade. All those who draw near to the sound see the body of their fallen compatriot and know that danger is afoot. Whether it be of old age or disease or hunter, the Corvus have need to know of a death so that they might prevent further harm from befalling their kind."
"R-really?" Yrr asked, and I nodded, "I don't recall reading that…"
"Not everything to know can be found in books, lad."
He chuckled, the first time all day I had seen an expression other than melancholy self-pity on his face. When I inquired, he elaborated, "I wouldn't have expected an answer like that from a college professor, Mr. Wiren."
I groaned and rolled my neck, "Well, it's true. The vast majority of the world's mysteries remain unwritten and un-catalogued. As an aspiring scientist, surely you can understand this. All of life together could not ever hope to understand even the origin of its creation, but we strive ever onward towards that intangible goal."
"Why?" Yrr wittily countered.
"Why…?" I paused, staring up into the sky once again. Off in the vast horizon, as the sun set, my oculus perceived the indication of storm clouds rolling in with the then gentle breeze. I breathed in deep through my nostril, the clear air had a feel to it - the barometric pressure was dropping. There would likely be a rain system moving in the next day, "Finding an answer to that question would take an eternity."
Which question was I answering? Why?
-----
"Sir, that's chapter 16," Yrr corrected me once more, "We are on chapter 10…"
"Oh my god…" Lenna crossed her arms and buried her face on her desk.
I turned around and looked at the various equations for electro-magnetic fields I had written up. In this world, where electric current itself was a relatively new concept, the material I had plotted on the board was practically "theoretical" science, "Ah, yes…" I stammered and bowed in apology when the class sighed in unison. It was a miracle I had been able to maintain the position for as long as I had.
It was so dull, so tedious. My lack of conversational skills makes conveying the knowledge I own a difficult endeavor; and repeating myself day after day, class after class, is so terribly humdrum. This is especially true considering the fact that I was not pressing my abilities. Such simplistic formulae have been mine to master for several thousand years. I lost my train of thought far too often for a teacher.
"We were breaking apart the electron and molecular orbitals before you… went off track." Yrr commented.
My eyes popped and I raised my eyebrows, "Oh, yeah." I was abashed that I started conducting field manipulation diagrams without first even explaining the electron; I was really off that day.
-----
I concluded class with another profuse apology to my students, but was met with cold negligence and blatant disregard, save for Yrr of course. After the class had emptied I opened the desk drawer and grabbed my wallet, a simple elk leather container – the leather of which I had tanned myself, though I proffered it to a crafter for the stitching – and walked out the door.
The boy was waiting for me with a smile on his face, "The usual, Yrr?"
"Unless you want to go somewhere else?"
"Nah."
-----
Almost every weekday Yrr and I would go out to a late lunch. Sometimes he brought enough money to pay his own way, but more often than not I was the one to feed the lad. I was not offended, and he offered an abundance of both thanks and apologies on a daily basis; the boy was thin and malnourished.
I did not know what manner of personal life the kid lead, but from his countenance and eager desire to spend time away from home I could only imagine the worst. We walked down the bustling street and I glanced down at the boy. It was the middle of summer, yet he was wearing a heavy long-sleeved shirt, "What are you hiding, Yrr?"
"Huh?" He jumped.
"More bruises?"
"W-what are you talking about?"
"Don't jerk me around, Yrr," I snapped. I had spent enough time with the boy to be marginally informal with him, I supposed, "It has to be damn near 30 degrees out. Who was it? Gaal?"
"What? No!" The young man waved hands in front of his face and wore a feigned grin, "I just didn't have anything to wear."
"If you don't speak up, Yrr, I can't help you," I growled, "Consider it fair exchange. Gaea knows you're the only reason I haven't lost my job, yet, so you can confide in me - for your own good, boy."
"N-no, really. I just can't really afford enough clothing to wear a lot of stuff each day, you know?" He made a horrendous, though plausible, excuse. I sighed and he diverted the conversation to more trivial matters, "Speaking of your job, you really went overboard today," He chuckled, "It was all I could do to keep up."
I humored his silent request, "Have you read the entire text book? You were the only one who didn't seem entirely lost."
"Haha, well not the whole thing exactly. I just sort of gleamed it; someone has to keep you in check."
"Humph."
-----
Yrr kept following me around for increasingly extended periods of time. I could smell the fear in his sweat; he was afraid to go home. I promised myself I would not pry. He would have to find the strength to fight his invisible assailant, or he would not survive. That is natural law; the world does not favor the weak. Natural selection would shift one way or another depending on whether or not Yrr could become able enough to wrest control of his own life, and I would not interfere.
I spent so much time with the pre-graduate that problems emerged at the institution. Students gossiped, staff talked, and everyone had their own opinion kept securely concealed from my ephemeral gaze. While I was not particularly in violation of any laws or rules, people did not view our relationship favorably. His grades were always good, he was genuinely a prodigy of physics and the aviation, but as he was one of the few students able to compete with my scatter-brained instruction there was obvious enmity brewed as a result.
He was like a nephew to me, I suppose. I enjoyed his company and his curiosity, if not his submissive behavior; he never questioned my logic or teachings. I never lied or taught him anything that was not factual, of course, but I could not see him making significant advancement in ornithology or aviation – or, indeed, any science – if he was not willing to question the established doctrines.
I liked the boy, and it saddened me to see such debilitating weakness of volition in him.
-----
We sat at the usual place, the bench at the edge of the street in the Salem market square, eating the same rabbit-veggie buns we always did. Yrr was, like myself, a habitual creature. Summer was ceding to autumn. The clouds, while sparse, were becoming ever more prevalent each day. The leaves were changing color and the air began to chill; Yrr now had a valid excuse to be wearing those long sleeved shirts.
"Hal?" My palpebra bolted; it was the first time Yrr had called me by my "first" name.
"Yeah?" I yawned. There was a pre-dawn staff meeting that day regarding preventative measures for the discriminative bullying occurring on grounds.
He didn't say anything for a moment and I looked over. Of late he had been mimicking me, his legs were pulled up onto the bench and he was staring up into the sky; though his eyes followed the circling crows, "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to fly?" He brought the bun to his mouth and bit down, taking a sizable chunk of food, never taking his eyes from the sky.
"I've been to the sky," I replied honestly, "It's a frightening place, in my experience."
He was taken aback, and confounded, he gazed at me with open mouth, "What? How?" His speech was muffled by the un-chewed bun in his gums.
I realized my mistake as I spoke the words; this world knew very little about magic, particularly the human races, and technology had not advanced to a level where traditional flight would be possible, "I have used a glider once or twice before," I lied, "Quite the disturbing experience."
"Really? What was it like?"
I could answer that in complete honesty, at least; in the past the Shadow had thrown me across nations and over mountains, "As I said, disturbing. Man was not meant to have more than their own two feet on the ground."
"No, no! I need to know, please. Details. Was it beautiful? Did you jump above the clouds? Did you look down at the world and laugh? It was exhilarating, wasn't it?"
I did not know how to respond; why was he asking these questions? I regret not analyzing it with greater scrutiny, "I suppose it had its aesthetic appeal," I chuckled inwardly. There had been times, as I was soaring through the air after taking a blow to the gut from the Shadow, where I looked down at the surface below me and thought, 'this is nice,' "and I cannot deny that there is a certain exhilaration about it," Though that would likely be the adrenaline of the fight, prior, "but it is not something I relish the thought of ever experiencing again. I prefer to have my feet rooted firmly in the soil."
"What did you see?"
"Hmm," I pondered, scratching my clean-shaven chin, "Well I remember once gliding over a river. There was a white, foamy froth crawling ever so slowly up the length of it. As I got closer I realized it was a salmon run; that was quite intriguing. When you are so high up you realize your sense of visual perception is askew; like trying to determine if something is really small or very far away."
"What else?" He gazed up at me inquisitively, head cocked like a confounded whelp.
"I saw vast fields of farmland which looked like nothing more than small patches of tilled dirt. I couldn't even discern the crops," Even I was getting into the spirit, now. The diverted focus of the conversation before was leaving my mind as I recounted the event, "And I saw a great city, with walls encompassing it all around. I could see the entire stretch, which would take someone a day to walk on foot. Then, off in the distance as I licked the clouds, I witnessed the setting sun glistening over the ocean. A menagerie of vibrant colors bounding to and fro as the reflections dance with each undulation; the wind licked it gently… Yes, I suppose it was quite beautiful."
We continued to talk about flight, birds, engineering, and physics until dusk fell upon us.
