The seventh year of the Reign of Emperor Olaf of House Kendar (317 AF) to The eighth year of the Reign of Emperor Olaf of House Kendar (318 AF), on Canopus
A poor boy's dreams might be narrow and tight.
When he was five, he resolved that his Uncle should have been his father. Everything would have been better than, he decided, in his naive way. They were so rich, and the Uncle was so smart and worldly. Looking back, he knew that his Uncle, who worked as a programmer for some of the mining machine, was not really all that much richer than his father, and that they were both trapped, seemingly going nowhere. But the Uncle had a way out, and Salamah would watch him take it, take it and leave Salamah behind, of course.
But at five he merely knew that when he went there with his sister, they had a second-hand game system, and only two children, and they seemed, if not happier, at least richer, and that was all that mattered to Salamah.
He would stare in envy, and go home, and when he was there he wasn't nice to his sister. She was a reminder that he was bound to the family, that they had made him, raised him, and that his heart was theirs. He loved his family, and hated the fact, for it seemed to give him no options, no choices. She was cute and precocious and loved him and reminded him by hugging him all the time. It was annoying, and he often snubbed her when they were at his Uncle's house, which was close enough that it was often.
At five, he was already aware that his world was constricted, and he often felt trapped. His vast intellect was as yet untapped, undirected, undiscovered. He didn't know it, but it would only be then that he would begin to see a bit of hope--not that he lived a life in miserable despair, but he had lived a childhood before that day with no sight of some final goal.
As he continued on his journey of being five, with all that it entailed, he found that his father and Uncle were arguing more and more often. Something about tests, or quizzes. More and more his Uncle gave him weird little games with rewards like ice-cream if he played them. They were all too easy, and he thought nothing of it except that it was a nice way to win candy and balls and all sorts of little things. But he was told not to talk about it.
When he got home that day his father gave him a big, long, vague speech about hopes and dreams, and how the latter was a distraction, and the former shouldn't be gotten up, and how practicality was the best way to live life. And that they didn't have money, but that didn't mean they would accept charity. It went on and on, going nowhere, a run on thought with a point that was lost to Salamah. At the end of it Salamah simply nodded and nothing actually changed for anyone.
His father was just not all that convincing.
Soon after, to Salamah's pure, twisted, petty, childish envy, he started testing his little sister Aaqilah, albeit on slightly easier tests.
A hundred times he almost turned her in, and then realized he'd be caught too. He didn't know why the tests were wrong, but they must have been, but Salamah didn't care, so he just had to not get caught.
Then one day they came into the house, holding their stuffed animals--unlike rich kids, theirs didn't teach them foreign languages, play complex games with them, and all the other cute electronic things...theirs were just cloth and fluff and buttons and glass eyes, nothing more--and found two packages on the couch of the Uncle's house.
One was larger, and labeled Salamah, one smaller, and labeled Aaqilah. Each was covered in green wrapping paper. They sprang forward, and tore the thing to shreds, enjoying it quite a bit--genius or no, Salamah loved tearing up boxes and presents.
It was an Educational hand-held device, that could project onto the walls, onto a wall-screen, or right there, and teach kids...well, just about anything, in theory. It required focus, sure, and it wasn't a cheat-button for hard work, but it was an education, day by day, week by week, that could fit into the palm of a hand: some planets, often those whose educational budgets were either astronomical or incredibly low, simply handed kids them and, with differing amounts of supervision, let them get on with the process of learning.
They turned them on, and a short recording by their Uncle asked them to check it out, and Salamah began on lessons appropriate for a five year old. It really was remarkable programming. It taught the lesson once, and then ran through it again using different methods, approaches, ways to look at it, just to make sure everyone got it. At any time after a certain point in the 'base' part of the lesson, a person could hit the 'I understand' button and take a test to see if that was so. Less than twenty minutes into the 2 hour (thirty of which was the base lesson) lesson, he pressed 'I understand' got all ten questions right, and moved on to the next thing.
Soon he was flying, or so it felt like, and the would slipped away. Days and days of lessons passed in an hour, and all of them stuck in his mind, placed into boxes, related to one another, associated and remembered. He was a week ahead of the 'baseline' by the time, almost two hours later, the Uncle and Salamah's father came in to see that both of them were still eagerly laboring away at the devices.
"Oh, alright fine," their father conceeded, "They can learn, but it's not going to do them any good."
Salamah didn't hear, and he would have disagreed. At five he was certain he had found the way from weakness to strength, darkness to light: knowledge and education.
But a poor boy's dreams could be of infinite light.
Cast:
Fahidra Laurent, 49: Father of Salamah. He believes that education will not advance their lot, trapped as they are in their (not legally slavery) contract, and that it is a waste of time and resources to try to educated Salamah and his sister.
Corbin Laurent, 38: Uncle of Salamah, he has two children who are quite ordinary, and so has placed some of his hopes in them. A programmer and someone who plays at being quite the scholar--he has submitted more than a few essays to major publications--he is an unlikely hero to the two kids, but his interference at the right time is vital.
Salamah Laurent, 5: Our hero, a slightly petty, confused, angry, trapped little boy, he finds his first rays of hopes where many have found it, in knowledge. But will all turn out as well as he might have dreamed on that day?
Aaqilah Laurent, age 3: The next youngest sibling, and Salamah's little sister. She, like him, has the bright spark of brilliance. How long can it last?
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