Proxeterium. Chapter 1. Part 4: Class

    This post is a continuation of the story about a man who changed his life, which directly depends on the computer for the better. Each part will be short so that there is no tension and fatigue from reading, and the text is written simply, without frills and complex phrases. I will try to adhere to spoken language. Further, if you like it, I will try to make the story better and better. I will be happy to hear your comments and suggestions.
    Chapter 1. Part 1: Introduction
    Chapter 1. Part 2: Street
    Chapter 1. Part 3: School






    So, now we need to gather our thoughts and go into the office. I know what I have to see there, because it repeats from time to time, every day. As always, there is a slight anxiety in my soul. Maybe something will change today? Maybe today will be wrong? But I ask myself this question every time I come to school and constantly everything that I am so afraid of is repeated again and again. It remains to take the last step to fall into the hands of a terrible evil. The door handle is so cold ...
    As usual in the classroom, due to the chatter of the students, it is no less noisy than outside and immediately after my appearance in the office the views of my classmates lit up on me. Moreover, this look is difficult to describe, it is not as lively and joyful as it usually happens in children, but heavy and stressful, as if they were expecting something from me. Of course, because you hate me as much as I hate you. You require attention, understanding, while you yourself are not ready to give this in relation to another. You are only interested in yourself and you do not care about the rest, everything, everything and always should do everything for you. And you are not even ready to move your finger to help another if it does not bring you any good.
    As usual, late was apologized, and the teacher did not even react. Of course, a person who is always late, why pay more attention to him than just a daring and condemning look? Surely now in the teacher’s thoughts is a discussion about who I can become in the future with this attitude to time and life. It seems to you that I will not succeed, and I will not achieve anything, that I am not interested in anything in this life, except computers ... and you know what I want to say, yes, it really is, but it suits me perfectly. Or maybe not? I don’t understand ...
    I walk quietly to my back desk, where I am always lonely, always alone. Once this year I had a desk neighbor, and that’s because he was put there because he was noisy and talked with a neighbor, but you don’t talk much to me. An ideal partner for creating silence in the classroom, are these needed by the “system”? Quiet and humble? But statistics show that just such people are inclined to commit crimes. But of course this does not interest you ...
    Time in the lesson flows very slowly, visibly, through the voice of a teacher who speaks and draws something by the blackboard. But for me it is all completely uninteresting, there is no desire to even try to understand it. I recall the experience of other countries where there are subjects of choice, oh, it would be great if we had such a thing, because just recently our educational system was one of the most respected, and now it is not suitable even for a candle. It’s scary, it’s more terrible to live, it’s harder to live, no, let's say, survive, it will be more correct. It’s scary to live when they try to make you a robot, a creature without a mind, without a desire to think or reason. Everyone needs you to obey and do what they say, they don’t give a damn about the rest.
    The call. How loud he is, that he constantly wants to jump and run away from him, to close his ears. A piece of iron striking another piece of iron and extracting this terrible, loud, unbearable and constantly the same sound. Again, I want to recall the practice of other states that have long introduced music instead of a bell. Calm, measured, not annoying and not scary to the depth of the bones. But, apparently, this is still far from us ...

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