Young and Childish Things

The loud high pitched squeal of the rusty door hinge causes me to stir and awake. But I don't want to. Lost between crying about the interruption of my sweet sleep and trying to ignore the interruption and ease gently back into it, I feel dazed. My thoughts are few. But the interruption persists and calls my name. It's time to wake up and prepare for school, again!

My name is Folu, it's 1993 and I'm 4 years old.

The red patch on my thumb is hurting again, from pressing my pencil hard against my book. It's handwriting class and this is not my pencil. The eraser still stands looking juicy on top of the pen. Definitely not my pencil. I look around, scanning the classroom. The coloured cut outs on the windows look really pretty. Why does my teacher get all the fun? Why does she freak out when I grab a scissors and some coloured paper? I can do this stuff too! The lunch table is littered with lunch boxes and bags. The combination of all the food and snacks form a unique smell that really makes me want to skip lunch. Everybody is busy trying to scribble their best looking letter A on their books. I feel their frustration. I see it in my mind. In fact I write it smoothly in my mind, but it doesn't just come out the same when I try to write it. Whatever is the matter with these hands. Then I see it. Yellow and short. The top half chewed off very roughly. My dear pencil! Why would she go and give someone else my pencil. Didn't she know it was mine? My mummy bought it for me along with my new socks, shoes and underwear! My mummy must hear this. I feel heavy inside, and sad too. I begin to swell. Waterfall.

"Why are you crying?" She asks, annoyed and impatient for no reason I could see.

"My...my...my...p..pe...

pencil!" I muttered in between sobs.

"You better face your work and use the pencil I gave you!" She snapped.

I remembered the last smacking. I could almost still feel the heat on my bum. I swell up some more. Now my book is all wet and mushy and messy. I can't even remember why I'm crying in the first place!

I manage to write something down. It's definitely not a letter A. Just glad to get it done with. Now she's coming to my table. I don't like her very much. She's not like the teacher in the next class. That one is so pretty. I'll tell daddy I'll marry her. She's looking at my work but doesn't look pleased. Here it comes... Earthquake!

I'm rubbing my head like the queen of lice decided to take a vacation in my hair. Once again I'm crying but my mouth is just open and silent. That's deep. And painful too.

"Your head is just big for nothing!" She snorts

I wonder who thought of this school idea in the first place. The person must be very wicked. Why can't everyday be like saturday?!

I need to get out of here. The pain in my head isn't so much. But I feel the need to cry even harder. Maybe someone will hear and come and take me away, take me home. Maybe spiderman will come too. Turn up the volume! The waterworks came down in full force. It's quite easy to cry really. Just decide you want to cry, and you just do it.

"You better keep quiet there" she says and eyes me.

There's just something about her that just makes me unhappy. I'm scared of her. I think it's the regular smacking. I don't understand why she likes to smack me. I never do anything wrong. Except for that time I had to poop in my shorts because she wasn't in the class and there was nobody I could take permission from to go to the toilet. And that other time I cried from home because I did not want to go to school that morning. And that other time I broke her glasses that she left on her table. And that other time I poured ink on her skirt. And that other time I tore my friends story book while trying to see if the butterfly had any teeth. It's like she came here to smack me!

I remember my voltron toy in my bag. I immediately begin to feel excited. At least I've got something I'll play with...

Follow the White Rabbit

The evolution of human interaction has largely been informed by available technology and its evolution. First it was symbols, colours and devices that produced various sounds that determined the quality of human discourse. Then postal and telegram services made it possible to extend this interaction across distant borders. Voice communication or phone calls then brought these distant borders even closer and blurred lines in the map of the world. Then came text messaging and instant messaging on a variety of platforms. It expanded to include multimedia so an absent father could also enjoy watching his daughter take her first steps, real time. Now we're hearing rumours of holographic messaging. Soon we won't even leave the "comfort" of our room but still live, work and play. At this point, the human race will have completely eradicated all the barriers to true human interaction. This will mark off the beginning of super-human interaction.

Beginning of the End

In the near future, we will see a brain scan technology that can determine, without fail, if a person is lying or telling the truth. Shortly thereafter, we will be able to buy mobile devices that can perform this same task on the fly. In other words, we are on the verge of having all our conversations constantly and instantly monitored for veracity. This would then spawn a counter-technology comprised of personal mind shields that keep one from being scanned (the use of which, of course, will imply that one is keeping secrets). The end result? Universal honesty, initially as a result of the duress of surveillance, will become the norm. Then, over time, this mode of thinking, communicating, and behaving will become second nature. This will usher in the dawn of a new civilisation. After thousands of years of human suffering, world peace and “goodwill towards all men” will have finally arrived. The end of lying and cheating will also mark the end of scripted communication, perception management and brand creation. So, you know, there will be a downside.




Culled from the TV Series  Big Bang Theory