The teacher struts back and forth in front of a classroom full of teenagers, all dressed alike, all with the same, neat hairstyles. He stops suddenly.
“Recite ‘Macbeth’, Act 1, Scene 2, line 45!” he commands in a harsh, gruff, drill instructor voice. Immediately every student recites the line, no mistakes made. One seat is empty. The teacher eyes it suspiciously; Jonathan hasn’t been in school for a while. The punishment for truancy, or any behavior belligerent to the norm, is death; any interruption in society is not tolerated. Vestiges of sympathy, an emotion society long ago deemed unnecessary, and thus stamped out, began to grip him; he quickly shakes it off and gets back to teaching.
“Old Man and the Sea!” he shouts. “Page 34, second paragraph, third sentence!” Again, everyone infallibly recites it, but they are interrupted as the classroom door bursts open. In rushes a young man with long hair, a dirty tee-shirt, torn jeans, and battered Converse; he makes a shocking contrast to the well-groomed, uniformed pupils. All eyes are on him; everyone expects a bullet to shatter sshis skull any moment. “Difference is delinquence; individualism is delinquence” they were taught from a young age. “Individualism and difference hinder society; they will not be tolerated”.
Immediately, robotically, the teacher rushes to the gun in his desk, as he awas trained to do. The young man whips his hand in a flash, and in the next moment, the teacher’s hand is impaled by a long, silver blade. The young man whips his hand again, and another blade pins the screaming and bleeding teacher to the wall behind him. The young man now yells out, enraged.
“Do you people even understand what you’ve been taught!” he shouts. “Not one of you has made one thought on your own since you were three! There is no innovation, no art, no music, no progress, because you’re all robots! You’ve accepted the norm; you’ve conformed, and now where’s your identity? You recall facts, but do you understand them? Can you do anything independent of the state, of the police, of the fucking kid next to you! Can’t any of you see that you’re not people until you can actually think!” he throws books, pens, bookbags, and continues to yell and growl, just vocalizing now, unable to find the right words in his rage. The classroom stares silently. They turn forward and pick up their recitations where they left off. The young man stares disbelievingly.
“Can you tell me what the point of the ‘Old Man and the Sea’ is?” he asks disgustedly. A summary is recited in unison, the same summary as always, word for word.
“No!” he screams. What’s the point! The purpose! What was Hemingway trying to say? Your interpretations, not a fucking summary!” Silence again, for a moment, and the class recites the summary again. The young man now falls to his kneew, pleading for the class to become capable of individual thought. The recitation drowns his sobbing. He quietly takes his seat now, the empty seat with a placard reading “Jonathan”. His last-ditch effort at saving humanity failed. No amount of anarchy would save society; no matter how many pamphlets he illegally distributed, no matter how many government propaganda stations he destroyed, no matter how many officers, teachers, and soldiers he fought during his absence from school, Jonathan realized he couldn’t change anything.
He pulls out another knife and begins carving into his desk. Without hesitation, he plunges the blade into his chest, falling over onto the floor. The teacher unpinned himself.
“Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 1, line 3!” he commands, not missing a beat. While the class recited, Jane, who sat behind Jonathan, carefully peeks at the writing he carved. The month he was gone from school was the same month in which she began reading an underground pamphlet, entitled simply “A”. She was scared to speak out while Jonathan raged, but she wanted to tell him that she thought Hemingway meant to communicate that life was pointless in the end, and that the only thing one could do was enjoy the journey.
Jane reads Jonathan’s last words over and over. There were lyrics to a song; she had to keep from humming, for music of any sort was forbidden. The bell rings, and the entire class methodically rises, gathers their stuff, and leaves. The teacher leaves as well; he had a report to file, and an undertaker to contact. Jane quickly, carefully, reenters the empty room. She pulls the knife from Jonathan’s chest, wipes off the blood, and quickly hides it. She takes one last look at the lyrics before she darts out.
We’re so pretty,
Oh, so pretty…vacant!
-Sex Pistols
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