THEY — Chapter 4 — Adolescence
What follows is chapter four of my book “THEY”. If you are looking for a different chapter, check the INDEX — or check the rest of my stories on my MEDIUM profile: Caralynn Scott — Medium
All material is original and I own the copyright. Subsequent chapters will be published (as long as Medium allows). Your comments are VERY welcome below, so please let me know what you think. Although the book is completely written, your feedback may help to make improvements to future chapters of the story which may (hopefully) be actually published at some point in the future!
CHAPTER 4 — Adolescence
The Earth continued its rhythmic dance around the sun seven more times, and Jennic grew taller and more intelligent with every pirouette. While they excelled in academics and were reasonably good in athletics, they never really fit into any social group. Not because they were awkward, for in fact they could be quite graceful. Rather it was because they didn’t have a great deal in common with the other youth their age.
Even when Jennic was forced to participate in prescribed physical activities, they preferred the role of analyst and strategist over physically participating in the games. They remained detached as much as possible, never really entering directly into the sports with others in the group.
It was not the physical activity itself that they were averse to. When they wanted to, they could be quite athletic. Actually, there was one activity that Jennic did excel in: gymnastics — or more specifically the uneven bars. They loved considering the physics involved in every swing and jump and enjoyed putting that knowledge into use as they twisted and turned their way around the bars, gripping and flying, turning, folding, and executing complicated release moves and dismounts. While performing, they could turn their mind inward, concentrating on the precision of the movements and shutting out the noise and confusion of the rest of the world and all the people in it. Jennic became reasonably proficient, even winning several regional competitions. However, when practice began to take too much time from other intellectual pursuits, Jennic chose not to continue.
Initially, the idea of studying anthropology excited Jennic, fuelled by a love of ancient things that continued to hold their attention. Strangely though, as Jennic’s interest in studying the dynamics of people groups continued to grow, their personal social interactions continued to dim. It was as if Jennic were held separate from society, not really a part of it, finding groups of people more interesting to study than participate in.
At School, Jennic still sat in the middle seat of each classroom they joined, like the eye of a hurricane, rarely interacting with the chaos of conversation and activity surrounding them. The center seat was the ideal place to observe and study them. What others did not know was that Jennic was listening and analyzing every conversation within earshot.
The first morning of the ninth year of school (Jennic’s 13th orbit) Praija wanted Jennic to look their best for the first day of a new session and had ordered a new tunic for Jennic to wear. Of course, it was much like the tunics worn by every other child in the school, though this one was crisp, new, and very much cleaner than any of the other ones Jennic owned.
“Thank you, Praija.” Jennic said listlessly, cautiously, not wishing to be rude. “But I’m sorry, I don’t want to wear this.”
Lately, Jennic had been expressing themselves differently in their choice of clothing. “It just isn’t… well… Me.” They said.
In spite of the disappointment Jennic felt from Praija, it felt empowering to take a stand on something they strongly believed. It was still hard to explain and exposing themselves in that way was difficult.
Praija knew Jennic well enough not to be offended, but still wished deeply for them to find a place amongst their peers. It was only Praija’s fear for Jennic’s future that produced disappointment. They decided to try one more time. “It looks so nice on you Jennic. You will fit right in with your friends. And everyone will love it.”
“I don’t want to fit in… I don’t care if I fit in… I don’t NEED to fit in.”
In a world where there was no gender and sexual expression was non-existent, one would think that adolescence would be easier to navigate, but it is not. There is a transition that happens between that point where a child is totally dependent on their parents, and the time when they must stand completely on their own; a time filled with confusion and conflict between a strengthening ego and self-doubt and a deep reliance on the beneficial nature of their nurturing parents. They must learn to make their own choices and live their own lives, but they still require the care and support of those around them. It is a time when we all discover who we really are.
As different as Jennic appeared to be from everyone else, they were not exempt from this right of passage. In fact, perhaps they felt it to an even greater degree than most as their peculiarities made it all the more difficult to determine who they were. Jennic was gaining confidence, not only in this conversation with Praija, but also in life, asserting themselves in new ways every day.
“I’m not like them. They might as well all be Arti’s. They look the same. They dress the same. They talk the same. That’s not me, Praija… I am… different.”
Just exactly how different from everyone else, Jennic had not yet figured out, but they knew they were. They felt different. They looked different. They acted different. They saw things differently, and people treated them differently.
In Praija’s mind, Jennic was simply a free spirit. But one day they would have to face the world on their own, and that day was approaching faster than Praija expected. It was becoming increasingly difficult to guard Jennic from harm. While Jennic was still young and growing, Praija wanted to protect them from the scorn and criticism of their peers, but as they grew, it was impossible to protect them from everything.
Generally, Jennic was a good child who rebelled in relatively small ways, like decorating a science project with sparkles, or outright refusing to write about the benefits of a eusocial society for a class history assignment. Jennic’s behaviour was called into question several times by the school and Praija and Navlin spent more than a few evenings in the monitor’s office discussing discipline and behaviour correction.
For a time, Praija thought perhaps Jennic had an artist’s soul — that they needed to express themselves through some form of art, so they enrolled them in music. Jennic chose to learn the cello because they loved the gentle curves and natural wood of the ancient instrument, and the mellow, sombre sound calmed and distracted them from other concerns — at least once the initial screeching stage of learning had passed.
At one time, Jennic looked particularly excited about a piece they were playing for their parents and Praija became hopeful that perhaps this was beginning to pay off, but Jennic explained they had realized how deep the mathematics were in the combinations of notes and rhythms — that they reminded them of a math equation and that the flow of the numbers made them happy. Navlin and Praija looked at each other and shook their heads, astounded, and confounded. Like everything Jennic did, they excelled, becoming a proficient player, though playing remained only a hobby.
Jennic most certainly noticed the way people treated them. At first, they generally ignored it, but as it continued, it began to wear them down and they were becoming tired of it. Why could they not accept Jennic’s differences? Why did everyone feel they had to be the same as everyone else? Was it not precious that Jennic was different? Did it not make them special? Jennic was kind to everyone and neither meant or caused any harm to anyone, nor did they look down on anyone else because of who they chose to be. So why was everyone intent on changing them?
“I’m not wearing it.”
Jennic’s protest had become adamant and Praija decided it was best to concede to avoid an argument. Slumping their shoulders and frowning, Praija asked, “Then what are you going to wear?”
“This.” Jennic said, indicating what they were already wearing: a black tank top, ripped tights, plaid skirt, and black hoodie. It was unique — different from anything Praija had seen on anyone, except perhaps in those ancient images Jennic seemed to enjoy so much. It was hardly modern fashion and would probably be scoffed at out in the community. It stood out like a white knight, alone in a sea of black chess pieces on the black side of the board. But Jennic did not seem concerned. They had taken to wearing things like this around the house, and while doing school with the Arti’s, but until then, had never gone out in public dressed this way.
“You’ve got to be kidding. That looks ridiculous. Where did you even find an outfit like that? It belongs in a museum.”
“I like it. It feels like ‘me’ — and I’m wearing it.” Jennic stomped a rather heavy looking boot, turned, and walked boldly out the entranceway toward the tube.
Praija shook their head, but let them go, “That child is going to bring about my death!” they murmured under their breath. They only hoped they would not have to pick up the pieces at the end of the day. Jennic had made the choice and they would have to live with it.
Later, Praija welcomed Jennic home, expecting to hear stories of other kids having made fun of Jennic’s choice of attire, but if they did, Jennic never let it show. They didn’t say everything went well, either, but at least they were in no worse condition for having chosen such an odd way of expressing themselves.
The year continued and although Jennic usually wore the more appropriate tunic and slacks, they would occasionally pick some other odd historical outfit just to mix things up. The outfits became somewhat of a conversation topic among the other students and even the parents. The novelty sometimes even brought moments of joy into an otherwise boring day.
Life continued this way for another five orbits, and with each, Jennic became bolder in their expression of who they were and their insistence on doing things their own way, in spite of what people said or thought.
Although they still struggled socially, Jennic managed to forge the semblance of a friendship with a few individuals, none of whom really understood them. The acquaintances (which was Jennic’s word because they were not really friends) were nonetheless willing to spend time with Jennic, perhaps out of curiosity as much as a desire to bond in any way.
As Jennic’s eighteenth orbit celebration approached, they wanted to celebrate in their usual quirky way. Their penchant for all things ancient meant they wanted to decorate in a way reminiscent of a time gone by. In regard to this celebration more specifically, in a style from the early 21st century.
Materials were difficult to find, or rather articles that resembled them. But Jennic managed to get or make balloons and streamers to hang all around the room. There were actual physical two-dimensional photographs and things called “posters” they pasted on the walls. The dollhouse they had received so many years ago was also decorated for the occasion. It was still in the room, holding a nostalgic place in Jennic’s heart. No longer regularly played with, it sat in a corner amongst what had become a sort of shrine to Jennic’s favourite things, all harkening back to a more physical, less digital era.
Eighteen being an even year, this was going to be a large social gathering, and Jennic was not looking forward to it. In the meantime, their parents had suggested Jennic should plan their own low-key celebration, which they thought was a wonderful idea.
At the beginning of the day before the actual celebration, Jennic was hanging ribbons from the ceiling. Navlin came to the door, paused, and leaned against the frame for a long moment, looking on without being noticed, before saying, “I’m proud of you Jennic.”
So much in the human experience has survived throughout our existence and has not changed for thousands, perhaps millions of years: Joy, laughter, sadness, pain. The pride of a parent for their child is one of those things that remains constant, and yet it is one of the oddest. It betrays a strange contradiction; while it affirms a child’s place in the family, it also affirms their journey towards independence.
At this moment, Navlin felt an immense pride for Jennic with all the sincerity of any parent looking at their child knowing they have reached an age where they will soon leave and find their own way. Navlin’s heart burst as they looked at Jennic reaching for the corner of the room in that crazy sleeveless dress they had made.
One of those peers whom Jennic had formed a loose connection with was Slavin, a rather chubby individual who shared an interest in ancient things, though more directly from an archeological perspective than the strange way Jennic immersed themselves and seemed to want to ‘live’ in the period.
Jennic had recently learned to cook some real food, which fascinated and interested Praija. They had lured Slavin over by promising they would heat their food like cave dwellers and eat it using ancient utensils. With a Bunsen burner, a small metal stand and a warped piece of metal sheeting fitted with an insulated handle, Jennic fashioned a small pan.
Following a great deal of research and a lot of embarrassing begging at a nearby zoo, where there were several live chickens held in captivity, Jennic managed to acquire several real chicken eggs. This morning four of those eggs were being transformed into scrambled eggs. Three others lay cracked and scattered around, creating a sticky mess due to mishaps trying to remove the shells. Though disappointed, Jennic knew the Arti’s would dutifully clean them up later and recycle the waste.
Slavin watched with fascination as Jennic cracked the last four eggs ever so carefully and spilled the contents onto the heated metal surface, then mixed them up so that the yellow centre made the clear portion turn opaque. “Why are you so careful not to break the yellow thing when you are only going to mix it all together anyway?” Slavin asked, tilting their head to one side, fascinated by the consistency changing from liquid to solid.
“That’s just the way you do it.” Jennic said, though they really did not know the reason. That is what they did in those old 2D projections archived from what the ARI referred to as the ‘YouTube’. “I suppose it makes them taste better.” Jennic offered. They really didn’t believe it made any difference at all, still, it was as good a reason as any other possibility.
When the eggs seemed cooked, Jennic handed Slavin another piece of metal that had a flat surface and several pointy bits at one end, and a thin handle protruding from the other. Jennic had printed several of these for them to use, calling them forks. Demonstrating with a practiced hand, Jennic then showed Slavin how to pick up the egg with the fork and deposit it gingerly in their mouth.
“It requires so much balance.” Slavin said.
Of course, Slavin was used to eating their regular meals, processed into bite sized cubes, simply with their hands. “It’s like playing a game with your food, like Hockrosse but on a tiny scale… And it’s so hard to get the bits at the edge.” Slavin commented, trying to push a little bit that remained onto the fork with their finger, then quickly retracting it from the heat. “So, this is how the ‘breeders’ ate, is it?”
“Breeders?” Jennic asked, “What are those?”
“That’s what I’ve heard them called: Our ancestors from ancient times. They called them breeders because that’s what they did. They procreated; you know… mated. Physically joining, with one partner injecting the other who became fat and spat out a new-born child. Pretty messy and gruesome when you think about it…” Slavin screwed up their face as they relayed this information. “ I’m glad we’ve evolved past that and having a child isn’t so repulsive now.”
Jennic considered this for a few moments. Little was taught about where children came from in ancient times, and unless one was a biologist, there was no need to understand how animals procreated either. Jennic always assumed it was the same as humans, that the Arti’s took care of it.
As the topic had nothing to do with mathematics, or social structures, it held little interest for Jennic. They looked at Slavin for a moment, considering whether Slavin knew more, or was just pretending to know, then decided discussing the point was not worth it. “Um Hm.” They said simply and continued eating the eggs.
The pair were so involved in sharing the primitive meal that they did not hear the door chime.
Out in the common room, Navlin greeted two individuals standing at the entrance to their home. The first was tall and slender, with dark, tight, curly hair. The second was a shorter, stockier individual with longer straight red hair. “Hello?” Navlin greeted them both curiously.
Their clothing was dark charcoal in colour, but otherwise appeared to be the familiar tunic and pants that everyone else wore. The way they wore it, however, suggested something different about them. They stood with an air of authority Navlin was not accustomed to, as if they were to be obeyed and there would be consequences if they were not.
The taller person carried a pad in their left hand and studied it closely. Looking up momentarily, they jumped right in, “Navlin Patrovic?”
The other did not speak but stared unflinchingly at Navlin.
“Yes.”
“And your partner… Praija… Are they here as well?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Please just answer the question.”
“Well, yes, they are. But what concern is that of yours?”
“I am from The Office of Corrections.”
The taller Enforcer held out an Identification marker, which the door read, then scanned their biological signature and cross referenced them all with ARI’s database. After a beat, the disembodied voice of the systems responded with “Enforcer 306923. Jenco. Enforcer 492643. Ranya. Western North America Enforcement Division.”
“The office of corrections?… You’re an Enforcer?… I’ve never met an Enfo before… What is it you think needs correcting here?”
The Enforcer (or Enfo for short) paused to look down at their notepad one more time, feigning a cursory check of the answer again before looking directly into Navlin’s eyes with an intensity that made Navlin cower deep inside. Navlin did not know whether to shut the door, run away, or push the individuals away, but social order and discretion ruled out all of those options. In the end, they did none of those things, choosing instead to simply stand there. Time seemed to come to a sudden and complete stop as they heard the Enforcer’s words;
“We have come because of your child.”
