Language in Obscurity 6

We really should’ve known better than to be complacent. Whenever things got too calm, we were always caught unawares when when the ONEs were rotated, the rules changing depending on whoever was in charge. Very often, we would be going along, absent-mindedly living our days. And then all of a sudden, we’d have to continue our classes in a language we had no knowledge of. Not that this was made any easier, since we were only told this after the fact in a language we couldn’t understand, so we couldn’t talk back.

It’s one thing to refuse using a device. It’s another to have said device taken away just as you’re getting acclimated to it. With our filters removed, we fell back into our old habits of trying to suss things out via guesswork, which led to unfortunate outcomes. We were harangued for intentionally misunderstanding and slowing everybody down, when the delay mostly came from the Teacher’s outbursts. Sure, our techniques were unreliable, but they were all we had to work with.

The filters - the receivers inside our heads were still intact, but couldn’t pick up anything that registered, and couldn’t be removed without doing extreme damage. Something the ONEs figured out only after the fact.

After much frustration, the ONEs decided that the majority of us were simply unteachable. But they still needed us to fill the quota, so only the smartest students would represent them while the rest of us were left to fend to ourselves. In the meantime, we were exempt from studying, save for being accepted in the classes where we couldn’t understand anything, and exempt from the classes we COULD understand. They felt we needed to work on our weaknesses than our strengths. For those of us who struggled just to understand, it was an uphill challenge.

You’d think that having less studies would be more relaxing, but that was the furthest thing from the case. Left to our own devices, we were seen as a fount of potential trouble that needed to be squashed at every opportunity. One of the most insidious punishments was to catch someone doing something they disapproved of, such as sneaking food, comforting someone or breathing. Then they would gather an audience and openly condemn the guilty party of their ‘crime’.

The nature of these ‘crimes’ varied, but we were grateful when we weren’t singled out. Thing was, they would routinely punish all of us if they weren’t sure which one of us did something or not. And the nature of what was and wasn’t acceptable kept changing, so we couldn’t ever be complacent.

One day, it would be acceptable to have hair, and the next, you weren’t. One day, you could wear clothes, and the next, it would be repugnant to do so. What we were proud of one day would become shameful the next. The values were never consistent, so we were constantly wary over just what we might be doing wrong at any time.

Two students were given blanket accusations based on the presumption that they “looked” guilty. It was an early lesson on giving guilty pleas in return for less harsher sentences. A sentiment they carried on well on later in their lives when they were found guilty for a crime they didn’t commit, and were encouraged to confess, lest the enforcing arm of the law look bad.

Speaking of looking bad, an open house was established to expose the outside world to the wonderment of these Institutions and their betterment of teaching those thought to be previously untaught. But those outsiders were exposed to a culture that was far removed from what they expected. While the Institution showed a face of respectability, behind the scenes was a society of depravity, the inhabitants dwelling in rampant violence and heavy drug use. The visitors who went off the intended path were shown an unknown insular world they were never meant to see. Students who greeted their new arrivals with all the grace of intruders. They made rude remarks that though considered incomprehensible, was still understood through their intent. A famous example being the case of a medical graduate who was caught selling Bliss to babies.

They shouldn’t have been so shocked. If they wanted to keep their bubble of truth intact, they shouldn’t have gone off the path. With so little outlet for our frustrations, was it that surprising that so many of us indulged in vices to relieve ourselves of boredom?

It was all covered up of course. They were more concerned about looking bad than the behavior of an individual. Thing was, this wasn’t an isolated incident. If it were just the result of one rowdy punk, that would be easily remedied. But everybody shared the medical graduate’s views. There wasn’t any harm in sharing medical drugs with promising benefits with the very young. It was only a crime if someone without a promising reputation did that very thing.

They would parade these designated representatives around as proof that we could be tamed. But as soon as these useful models of respectability left the room, the ONEs would disparage their helpful workers, calling them names in front of us who they assumed couldn’t understand what they were saying. They also let slip personal thoughts about how they really thought about us, saying that we needed to be wiped out before it was too late, that we were wasting our potential, that we were dangerous, that we were capable of committing atrocities beyond imagination. Reinforced words that burrowed deep down inside our minds.

I became aware of the unique slurs the ONEs expelled our way, every one being a variation of, ‘below the gunk beneath our feet’. It was the singular most common usage across all language lines, the second being called WOPs, or Waste Of Potential.

If we were deemed inefficient, it was because there was very little we were allowed to do. There was a bicycle kept in storage that could’ve helped getting around much faster. But when I brought mention of its existence up, I was faced with resistance. The ONEs avowed against outside assistance, the administration didn’t want trouble if a student got injured, and the Teachers didn’t want students arguing over whose turn it was. Every plea for appeal was rebuffed and dismissed without wanting to hear more.

The bike remained untouched in storage all throughout my stay. It remains there still. There were so many lost opportunities that could’ve been taken; showing the physics of the open mechanisms, how to repair when it broke down, navigation through the streets. Bicycles are basically open engines. But THEY weren’t interested in any of that, seeing us unworthy of such lessons. Or they may have preferred that we couldn’t travel very far.

Until this was resolved, we were faced with the prospect of having nothing to do. And this was taken as the perfect chance for critics to go down on us hard for our inability to be independent. On the one hand, we were unable to do anything without being aware of everything going on, and on the other, we were admonished for being too lazy to stand up for ourselves.

The most affluent of us who managed to successfully assimilate into society was done so due to the influence of powerful backers with personal investments. Investment they neglected to share with the rest of us. Because of constant delays in our lessons, we didn’t get to complete our last year of schooling for five years. We lost a lot of motivation during that time.

Oh yes - something I forgot - in the midst of our last years, we encountered body changes, growth hormones and puberty. Something neither us nor the Teachers knew about. Our biology wasn’t high on their list of importance. So when I started bleeding out from underneath, I had no idea what to expect.

Eventually, an examination was given, and I was told that the easiest way to stop the blood loss was to remove a body part from inside me that was causing it. With my consent, I allowed them to operate on me. Anything to stop the embarrassing leaks and looks in class. This option was given to all the girls in my group, who went along with me so I wouldn’t feel so alone.

So without knowing it, I willingly sold my ovaries for a pittance. They put up a very convincing argument why I should do so. And it was perfectly legal. What they did with my lady parts, I still don’t know to this day.

At one point, a medical exam was conducted on us and it was determined that I was far older than expected, and should’ve moved on to higher education years ago. And then the day came when we were finally considered mature enough to graduate. Sure, our grades weren’t terribly high across all levels, but they were still impressive considering our limitations. If it weren’t for the presence of these filters, then our chances of success would’ve been much lower, if nonexistent.

As much of a relief it was not having to go to school all the time, I was also stricken with the sudden realization that I had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Then we found out that the filtering services that we’d relied on for so long would have limited access outside the school walls. They could only be used in specific functions, such as meetings, not one-on-one interviews. And they had to be set up ahead of time, which made spontaneous get-togethers an impossibility.

One of the arguments made was that we shouldn’t have been so dependent on filters, since that wouldn’t prepare us for the real world. We should’ve been absorbing information with ease. But the power to understand extra stimuli was beyond our ability to do so. What came naturally to these ONEs was much more difficult for us to do. And they couldn’t accept that.