Scott Melani
Unwanted child

Author's word

I invite you to dive into the second book of my new universe, modestly titled Scott Melanie's Universe.

I decided to take a short break from the story of Michael Silver and delve into the fate of his half-brother. This book will be about just that.

I thought readers would be interested in learning about the history of his younger brother. What was he like before he joined the Silver family? How did his relationship with his birth family work out, how did he live with George and Mariana after Michael left? And finally, how did he get involved in the story that he and Michael had worked out in the first book, Mercenary at Heart.

This book will tell the story of Theodore's personal and athletic achievements and failures, and the struggles he faced during his childhood and adolescence, from family relationships to his interactions with his peers. The book will tell you how the boy came to this ruthless sport called boxing, and how in his own way he decided to go against the accepted system. You will see that despite the fact that the brothers are not blood relatives, they are united by an unbreakable bond, the desire for honesty and justice. Both, they stand up for their own right to choose in this big and dangerous world.

Intro

762. Theodore sat on a bench in the men's locker room, waiting to be invited into the ring. He was dressed in blue boxer shorts, his hands wrapped in bandages, fixing the damaged joints of his fingers and hands. The guy closed his eyes and started actively rubbing the hair on his head, as if toning and mentally preparing himself for the fight. 1/8 finals of the city tournament, which the young man had been through quite a few times during his current sports career. In essence, nothing unusual, but internally, Ted felt that this fight would change his life.

His trainer entered the locker room along with another black man. Both of them seemed to be from other worlds. One in a worn blue tracksuit. The other in a white business suit, tailored by the best tailor in town. The latter, Theodore knew well, because he was Dries, the bookmaker who co-owned his sports club and had recently been appointed general manager. In fact, this was the man who paid the guy's salary. He set the rules here: he said who should lie down and at what moment. This was his business, in which the man was perfectly able to shovel money, not leaving his companions in debt. Yes, and athletes competed in his tournaments not for prestige or glory, but more often than not to make money.

People like Dries were destroying the sport from the inside, but unfortunately no one, on a serious level, objected, because all the people Dries needed remained in a solid profit, including himself. The only people who lost money were the gamblers who lost hundreds and thousands of eurodollars month after month at the bookmaker's club. Poor people counted on luck, and thought that they were well versed in the sport, without knowing its kitchen from the inside.

Among the businessman's clients were not only ordinary citizens from a small town, but also unsuspecting businessmen and politicians from various localities.

The men sat on either side of the athlete and stared at him. The black-skinned businessman smiled at the boxer with his full mouth white smile. He took out a twisted wad of money from his inside pocket and handed it to the trainer. The latter instantly tucked the received amount into his tracksuit pocket.

Dries: ‘Well, how is our fighter doing? Ready for the fight?

Theodore: ‘As always.’

Dries (laughed loudly): ‘Ahahahaha. I like working with you. You're a very bright guy and you understand the business. So here's the deal, you're gonna lay down in round three tonight. Pretend you're exhausted and miss a few punches. Derek's been warned. He's not gonna hit you hard. But don't forget, you have to go down like he hit you really hard!’

Theodore: ‘I'm not giving in today. If I win, I win.’

Dries put his hand on the boxer's shoulder and smiled again: ‘Bargaining? Good. I'll throw another five per cent on you. Consider me in a good mood tonight, so I gave you a concession. In return, I expect you to lose in the ring to Derek tonight.’

Theodore: ‘No. I've been in this sport my whole life not to constantly leak contractual agreements. I only plan on adding to it so I can break through to city major competitions at the gold level and beyond.’

Coach: ‘Tedi, that's no way to do business. Stop fooling around! I've already taken the money. These are his requirements, his rules, and it's not for us to tell him what's right or wrong with them.’

Dries rose from his seat and pointed his index finger at the coach, pretending that the athlete needed to heed his advice.

Theodore: ‘I've said it all. Tired of being a punching bag already. I deserve better than that. I'm not you. For tonight's fight, I didn't take any extra money, and I'm not going to.’

The accompanying manager looked into the locker room, ‘Theodore Silver, you're being announced. It's time!’

The sportsman got up from the bench and headed for the locker room exit. He was blocked by Dries and with a serious expression said: ‘Don't mess this up, kid! You and I are in the same boat. If you try to jump out of it, I will personally drown you. I'll drown you myself, believe me!’

Theodore silently walked round the broad man from the side. Then Dries turned to his trainer, ‘You make sure, Sebastian, that the agreement between us is honoured. Otherwise, you'll get it too. It's your job to keep an eye on the kid. There's a lot of money at stake. I didn't come here personally for nothing…’

Coach: ‘I'll do my best, Dries. I'll do my best.’

The announcer solemnly introduced Theodore to the crowd. To the general buzz of the stands, Theodore, his accompanying manager and trainer made their way down the red carpet to the ring. Dries took his seat on the bleachers, took out a cigar, lit it and tensely began to watch the preparations for the upcoming fight.

Theodore climbed over the ropes and put gloves on his hands to greet the audience. He looked into the stands and saw Dries smoking his cigar. The announcer announced Theodore's opponent. A few dozen seconds after that, a large and aggressive fighter appeared from the other side of the ring, looking like a young, angry bull, raring to fight. The referee took his place in the centre of the ring. Both fighters approached him.

Judge: ‘I expect you both to fight fair. No holds barred. Only boxing.’

The referee simultaneously gestured and blew his whistle to start the fight. Both fighters rushed into the fight from the first seconds, hoping for a quick and legitimate victory.

FIRST STEPS

Parents

According to the new chronology, the year was 735. Gai was a relatively small settlement, where no more than 20,000 people lived and worked. Mostly people were engaged in agriculture and crafts. There were a couple of schools and a couple of kindergartens for children. Most of the townspeople still couldn't understand why rural children needed an education, as they were taught the craft of farmers and artisans by their own parents based on their years of experience. Despite the small population, the traffic on the country roads was quite busy. Every now and then, there were lorries and trucks travelling around delivering food to other settlements.

After borrowing money from his parents, Lars had moved here with his wife about five years ago, hoping to find peace and escape the hustle and bustle of the city. Although he had lived in Lockfood City before that, where he learnt the trade of a chef. The man was not a bad cook, and also knew most of all about the quality and freshness of the products needed for cooking. So, one day, he caught himself thinking that he would not be engaged in the manufacture of these products. In order to do so, he needed to get his own farm and cattle. He also needed to hire a few workers who knew how to care for and keep the animals.

At first, Inessa (the wife) was strongly against such a step, as it seemed illogical to her – to change a big city for some village. However, Lars managed to persuade her by telling her tales of a profitable business and how it would flourish.

Acquiring a working farm was difficult and prohibitively expensive, even for such a small village. Just like buying an empty plot of land to organise a new one from scratch. So the idea of buying a farm had to be abandoned. He used the borrowed money to buy several rooms in a two-storey house. One of them was on the ground floor, the other one was directly above it. The entrepreneur converted the first room into a small restaurant. It was a novelty for a small settlement, so there were plenty of visitors. The business gradually grew and developed. The second room was renovated and converted into a cosy two-room apartment, where the young family lived. By that time, Lars was 35 years old and Inessa was 27.

Communication with their parents did not work out well, so at some point the relatives stopped coming to Gai. No phone calls, no texts. It was not clear where it all started. It was much more important for the couple to preserve the idyll between them than to struggle to regain the long-lost relationship with their loved ones. Lars was madly in love with Inessa, and this feeling persisted in him even after many years. The couple started their relationship before marriage, and only after two years, they decided to get married.

It was only after three years that the family managed to pay off their debts to Lars's parents. He knew their account number and just silently sent them the agreed amount every month. From the outside, of course, this could seem both strange and sad. A native child who is bound to his parents by only two things – the formal details of kinship, and his debt. However, it happens, too. Especially when lovers protect each other in front of their parents, independently entering into conflicts and disputes with them.

Inessa more than once started a conversation with Lars about trying to have a child. At least one. After all, she said, they had everything they needed for that: enough money, their own apartment, their own business and love for each other. But Lars persisted and categorically refused to talk about it, believing that the time had not yet come. Yes, and in principle, man not very much love children, and somewhere inside, sincerely hopeful that Ines early or late stop this talk.

However, there are things that happen in life that do not depend on a person's will. Simply because it had to happen sooner or later. It happened to them in the year 740. Was ordinary everyday day. Inessa was helping Lars in the kitchen, once again thinking that she would like to have a child while looking at one of the happy families sitting at a table in their restaurant. The woman hadn't felt well all day, and she couldn't understand why. At one point, she felt nauseous, dizzy, and sick to her stomach and ran to the toilet. Lars saw that his wife was getting sick. He quit cutting the meat, leaving the knife on the table, and went to the closed toilet door, knocking quietly on it.

Lars: ‘Inna…are you okay? All good?’

The unpleasant sounds of nausea, vomiting and the gurgling of water in the toilet bowl were heard behind the door. Inessa ripped off the toilet paper hanging nearby and wiped her mouth several times, spitting the rest of the vomit into the toilet bowl periodically.

Inessa: ‘Lars, I think I have something poisoned. I don't know how I'll be able to continue working.’

Lars: ‘Erm…then go back to the apartment. I'll serve the last of the customers and be home soon. I'll ask the guys. Someone will fill in for you in the lounge.

Inessa had already realised what the ailments were about and that it was hardly poisoning. The next day, she bought a pregnancy test and her suspicions were confirmed. What the woman had been dreaming of for several years had come true. However, she was in no hurry to tell her husband about the news. First, she wanted to carefully prepare for her acceptance. For this purpose, Inessa from time to time started talking to the man about the children and emphasised his attention to small details related to their content. This only irritated him.

A month later, in August, when she visited a doctor, in one of the neighbouring cities, to determine the embryo's due date and get counselling. The city's hospitals had special scanners that could determine the sex of the baby in the womb from the embryo's two-month age, with 85 per cent accuracy. As well as the date of its birth down to the exact date. However, with dates, everything was not very well organised. The possibility of error was up to 70%. But it was possible to determine the approximate date. Research showed that the child should be born on 17 February. From statistics, taking into account the error, it meant that the exact month is February.

Inessa was over the moon. She had already started dreaming of a nursery, of the clothes she and Lars would buy, but suddenly, at one of the subsequent consultations, the doctors in charge of her maternal health brought her sad news. Due to the appearance of a foetus in her body, her congenital disease, referred to medically as ‘Hyena’, had become active. It progressively affected inside vital organ – kidney and liver. Treatment of this disease in modern medicine yet not exist. There are ways, only slow down the course of the disease. On the child's birth this also could say negative. But there was no turning back. Process has already been run and stop it was impossible. Only cared about the baby so that he could be born as healthy as possible.

On the same day, the woman gave her husband all the information about the baby, her illness and the possible risks. There was nowhere to put it off. As a result, she dumped a whole stream of data on him at once, for which the man was not ready. She got the expected reaction in return.

Lars: ‘I knew it! I told you that all this talk about children would not end well. We'll figure something out, okay? We'll definitely find a way to cure you. If you need an abortion, we'll do it. Since it's killing you…’

Inessa: ‘Lars, how can you say that? It's our baby! Having an abortion won't solve the problem! Promise me that when I'm gone, you'll take care of him the way you take care of me. That's the most important thing to me right now. More important than anything else in the world…’

Lars: ‘Don't worry. Just don't worry my dear. We'll think of something. We'll think of something.

It was getting dark. They stood in the kitchen near the dining table, hugging each other and crying. Lars, though he tried to be strong and firm, could not cope with the realisation that his wife would soon be gone. And Inessa, who had been living the dream of having a child, began to realise that she might lose it and never see her husband, whom she loved so much. For a moment she imagined in her mind that the woman would die agonisingly from the intolerable pain caused by the incurable disease, and she became even more frightened than she had been before.

It's February 741. The month of labour. Inessa had already been placed in a ward under constant observation because she was due to give birth any day now. Lars was constantly torn between business and the hospital. He was rushing to his beloved to see her during visiting hours and to support her. On the day of the birth, Lars closed the restaurant and waited nervously outside the delivery room, biting his fingers and nails with excitement. Finally, the obstetrician who was delivering the baby came out of the door. He was holding an infant in his arms. Lars rushed over to him.

The obstetrician: ‘Congratulations on your son, Mr Davel! You are now officially a daddy. Your wife, said to give him the name ‘Theodore’, do you consent to that?’

Lars glanced at the baby. He had already been washed, but there were still small traces of blood on him. He was crying and twitching. The baby's father quickly turned his gaze to the obstetrician, not reacting to his congratulatory words.

Lars: ‘How is my wife? Is she healthy? When can I see her?’

Obstetrician: ‘That will have to wait a little longer. Her condition is assessed as critical. After giving birth, her condition has deteriorated significantly.’

Lars (nervously): ‘how long do I have to wait?’

Obstetrician: ‘Have patience, Mr Davel. Our doctors are doing everything they can to stabilise her condition. You still haven't given us an answer as to the boy's name. Would you agree to us putting him down as Theodore Davel in the city's registration system?’

Lars: ‘Write him down however you want…’

Lars clutched his head and started pacing from side to side. In his head he was cursing the doctor, the labour, the baby and the whole situation. The obstetrician at first wanted to pass him by, but then turned to the man and said, ‘Then I'll put him down as “Theodore” at the mother's request. We'll get the paperwork done quickly enough so you can have the baby in an hour… and Mr Davel, I know you're going through a very difficult time, but don't blame it on the baby. It is not at all to blame for what is happening to its mother.’

Lars took the baby even though he didn't want to do so. The man had no time to prepare an apartment, a room or at least a cot for the baby. Clothes and nappies too. In fact, he didn't want to do it. Firstly, he was not completely sure that the labour would go well, and secondly, the father had absolutely no sympathy for his firstborn. He saw in him only the cause of his beloved's illness.

As a result, he laid the boy on a warm woollen rug that lay beside the bed, wrapping him in a plaid. Of course, the entrepreneur was not going to hire a nanny. So the baby lay on this mat, which he had enclosed with a dog enclosure, while Lars was working in the restaurant. The baby was doing his best, smearing his faeces all over the mat. Within a couple of days, Lars realised that it was necessary to buy nappies and nappies, as it would be cheaper than having to take the carpet to the city dry cleaner or buy a new one every time. However, the boy's conditions have not improved. Ah, if the juvenile affairs inspectors had seen this spectacle....

The little boy was fed three times a day. Once in the morning before Lars went to work, once at lunchtime, and once when the man returned from work. The boy was remarkably quiet for an infant. But, like any other child of that age, allowed himself to be capricious from time to time. including waking his father up at the crack of dawn.

Inessa was discharged home three weeks after the birth. According to the doctors, her condition was already stable enough that she did not need outpatient treatment. However, she was still weak. The disease was eating her from the inside out. The woman's appearance was pale and tortured. Lars was faced with another problem. Now both had to be taken care of at the same time. Davel spent most of his time taking care of his wife, sometimes forgetting about the child. Only when Inessa reminded him that he needed to feed the baby or change his nappy did he remember.

With Inessa's discharge, Lars' life became more complicated, as Inessa constantly gave him a lot of tasks to do and made sure that the baby was clean, clothed, fed and as happy as possible. With the arrival of the mother in the house, the baby, on his tiny face, finally began to appear a sincere and good-natured smile. Inessa herself, in spite of her unenviable state of health, was also greatly transformed around the child. She found extra strength to babysit him, talk to him, rock him and feed him. She had to feed him with formula milk, as she did not produce milk due to the same illness. Doctors were amazed that such a sick mother had a perfectly healthy child. After all, there was very little chance of the baby having such health, given the mother's problems with a large number of organs.

A couple of years went by. The child was growing up. Lars saw how reverently Inessa treated the baby and began to soak up her warmth and affection for this tiny creature. Unfortunately, the disease did not share their feelings. The disease had its own plans for the child's mother. Inessa was getting worse and worse with each passing month, until it came to the point that she had to be hospitalised again, as home treatment with medication alone was no longer sufficient. Constant medical supervision was required. Lars had to quit his job completely, hire a couple of other people, and become a housewife, torn between hospital and home. Only a couple of times a week, he stopped by the restaurant to check on his condition. As a result, the quality of service deteriorated and the flow of customers decreased, followed by a significant reduction in the income of the establishment.

For the last few days, Inessa had been almost completely immobilised from the illness and the large amount of chemical drugs. She had become so skinny that the outlines of bones and veins were visible through the stretched skin. Her head resembled the skull of a living dead person who had not yet had time to decompose, with deep pits and hollows. Her uncombed hair had already begun to peel away from her head, and whole strands of it were sliding down her pillow, falling to the floor. In place of the torn hair, her head was a patch of dark maroon-coloured, inflamed patches, some of them even showing pus. Her hands trembled frequently, the nails on them beginning to flake and fall off. It was not a sight for the faint of heart. And Lars, every time he saw his wife, doomed to death, so helpless and defenceless, could not hold back his tears. They poured from his eyes every time he sat down next to her hospital bed.

Every day, he came to the room with the baby and fruit. When Lars came inside, he lit a scented candle, put it on the bedside table, and put her favourite sweets in a saucer. She was tied to the bunk and there was no way she could eat them. It was part of some inalienable personal ritual for the man, carried out for the health of his wife. He knew how dear Theodore was to Inessa and how she felt about him, so Lars had hoped to the last moment to awaken in her new strength to fight the incurable disease by bringing a child with him. However, these attempts, as well as many others, proved futile. In May 743, Inessa died of the Hyena disease, making Lars a single father. Although, in fact, he had been such a long time ago, and now, it was only officially registered in the city registry.

The first arrival

The year is 744. It's been exactly one year since Inessa's death. Theodore was three years old. The family business had gone under. Lars practically stopped coming to his restaurant. More and more often he went to the bar to forget himself with a few beers or something stronger. The grief-stricken father of a young child tried to cope with the loss of his wife through alcohol, sinking deeper and deeper into an abyss of misery and frustration. Caring for the boy continued to be a mere formality without any feelings of love and care. Lars couldn't wait until the month of August to dump the burden in the Children's Educational Centre (or CEC for short) far away from himself.

This was the name given to all existing educational centres for children aged three to six. There were many such urban and rural institutions in the world. The main task of which was to identify talents in the kids. On the basis of appropriate recommendations from the teachers, parents would send their children to schools where they would be trained for their future professions. Lars was not the kind of parent who cared about the welfare of his child. He never dreamed of finding out what talent lay in his son. For him, the CEC was just a place where he could send his child for a long period of time. The classes were held on weekdays, from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. If it had been up to Lars, he would have left Theodore there forever and would not have regretted it.

The month of August has arrived. Crowds of parents and their children rushed to the gates of the CEC to celebrate the first school day. As the population of the village was small, there was only one CEC. This only added to the excitement of the enthusiastic parents who were genuinely proud that their children were entering a new phase of life. Where they had yet to learn about such concepts as ‘independence’, ‘self-discipline’, ‘responsibility’, and so on. And also to learn a lot of new things.

The Education Centre was a three-storey rectangular building with several classrooms connected by spacious corridors. There was a canteen on the top floor, and common toilets on each floor. Depending on the specific profile, the classrooms were equipped with everything necessary for classes. For example, there was a study of architecture and construction, where there was a large number of children's constructors of various shapes and colours, which were intended for children of different ages. For three-year-old children – bigger, for six-year-old children – smaller.

There was a sports room, where there were children's exercise machines, a football and fighting ground. In this room, children were deliberately provoked into conflicts in order to identify their leadership skills, team spirit, stress resistance and other useful qualities.

A low platform was erected near the entrance to the Education Centre for the first school day. On it, the presenter, teachers, director and older children who have been in the institution for at least one year performed. Thus, demonstrating what they have already learnt from teachers and coaches. As the holiday was not only for new students, senior students, there were a lot of people gathered. All of them watched the festive show, which consisted of dancing, singing and handicrafts.

Lars, a little tipsy because he had had a couple of beers before going out, stood emotionlessly in the centre of the crowd with his son, glancing around every now and then. Theodore held his father's hand tightly, seeing almost nothing but the backs of the people ahead of him. Caring fathers put their children on their shoulders so that they could see the performance better. But Lars was not such a father. He stood silently among the other people, as if serving a punishment for his misdemeanours.

One of the last numbers was a children's song. Many people were amazed at how the children, who had studied only a year or two at the education centre, had already learned to sing, hitting the notes exactly and feeling the rhythm. Not so long ago, they could not even speak. However, nothing so humbles and amuses the gathered mums and dads as the successes of young talents. Naturally, those children who had a certain talent for music and dance performed. In all probability, these children will go on to study vocal art and play some musical instruments. The song ended to great applause from the audience. In the middle stood the vocal teacher, and on the sides of him, holding each other by the hands of children of different ages. All of them, at the signal of their teacher made a simultaneous bow to the audience, which prompted the audience to clap even more fiercely and louder to support the little artists.

After the performance, the CEC headmistress came on stage again. She was dressed in a bright luscious pink bouffant dress. Taking the microphone on the stand, the headmistress thanked the children who had performed and invited the parents for a short tour of the educational centre where their little ones would be studying for the next three years.

After entering the main door of the CEC, the tour group found itself in the main hall, to the left and right of which were administrative and training rooms. In the middle of the hall was an escalator leading to the upper floors. It was unusual in that it worked in two directions, switching automatically depending on the time. For example, now the time was 10-00, and it was moving upwards. And at 10-30 its direction changed and the steps started moving in the opposite direction. The escalator itself was fenced on all sides with protective glass fences so that kids could not get on it without being accompanied by adults.

Headmistress: ‘This is the main corridor to get to any classroom. Mine, is at the very beginning. It's right here. And just beyond that is the teachers' lounge area. The toilets are at the end of the corridor.’

Man: ‘This escalator…it only goes up. How do you get back down?’

Headmistress: ‘Firstly, it changes direction every half an hour. Secondly, in case of force majeure, of course it can be stopped, or the direction can be changed manually. Let's go. Let's go into each room in turn.’

The group animatedly followed her guide, snaking around and entering the student rooms. Some of the parents were amazed at how organised and elaborate everything was inside, others were not surprised at all, as they had moved like Lars from larger communities where the CECs were even more modern and advanced. Lars and Theodore weaved in the tail. The boy's eyes were burning with excitement. He was curious about everything and wanted to start playing in these unusual and fun classes with his peers as soon as possible. For kids who had never studied with teachers, the CEC at first seemed like one big and amazing sandbox with lots of toys and hobbies. Many wanted to poke, touch and visit everything.

In the first year, learning was conducted in a playful way, gradually revealing the strengths and interests of young students, preparing them for more complex subjects. From the second year onwards, special techniques were introduced to help children better absorb the necessary information and delve into core subjects such as language, children's maths, logic, music and so on. That is why, by the age of six, children entered school ready for full-fledged study in the training profile chosen by their parents.

The group walked to one of the outermost doors at the end of the corridor. It was painted a dark purple colour. It was painted dark purple and had volumetric stickers in the form of flasks of various shapes with liquids inside. The headmistress stopped near the entrance and said proudly: ‘And this is one of my favourite classes. The chemistry room.’

Inside the room, the walls were painted the same purple colour, with orange stripes in the middle. There were also small multi-coloured blotches on them, reminiscent of ink stains carelessly left by a poorly-behaved student who couldn't write. The floor was covered with a special waterproof coating that could easily be used to clean up spills. In addition, it was very soft, so the students sitting on it were very comfortable. The kids sat on the floor, and in front of them were long wooden tables on which various liquids were spread out. Those were carefully trying to mix them together, watching with interest as the colour of the solutions changed. The children began to look round at the visitors who had just entered.

Headmistress: ‘Well, let's not distract them from their lessons. Let's move on!’

One of the mothers turned to the centre director, looking worriedly at the students: ‘Isn't this dangerous? Can't the children drink these liquids and get poisoned? What if they get some of it in their eyes?’

Headmistress: ‘Don't worry about anything. All liquids have a special composition that is edible, hypoallergenic and has an unpleasant taste. Therefore, children should only try it once to then stop doing so. Simply put, all liquids are ordinary water, even though they have different colours and mixing them leads to different reactions. The safety of the children is our centre's highest mission.’

The first floor was no different from the first, except for the high glass partitions that enclose the edges of the surface from the chasm in the middle of the floor, from which one escalator takes people up and down to the ground floor and another does the same to the second.

The tour group reached a blue door with a sticker of a crescent moon and a baby sleeping on it. Some of the parents wanted to go inside, but the headmistress stopped them, asking them not to disturb the babies resting there. So the room could only be seen standing on the threshold. It was painted in dark blue colour. It was coloured dark blue, and only a dim night-light in the form of a starry sky illuminated the room. From there came the faint sound of crickets singing, which was meant to lull the babies to sleep. The space was quite large, about 40 square metres. On the floor there were many cots arranged lengthwise and crosswise. Some of them were close to each other, and some on the contrary – at a distance, forming small passages between them. On the frames there were several plates with children's names, as one and the same cot was used by three or even four children in a day.

Headmistress: ‘The second exactly the same rest room is upstairs. The bed linen is changed four times a day, per child. The room is regularly disinfected with ultraviolet light’.

Father of one of the children: ‘But how do they fall asleep so quietly strictly according to your schedule? I can't put mine to bed for hours!’

Headmistress: ‘The secret lies in the sounds of nature used to put the children to sleep. On top of that, we use special speakers that emit certain vibrations into the air, which also contribute to a successful sedation. Right now, you don't feel it because you're outside. But once you get inside, lie down in bed and immerse yourself in this atmosphere of calm and serenity for a while, your eyes will start to close as if you had taken a powerful sleeping pill.

The same worried mum who asked the question in the chemistry room and many others: ‘Isn't it dangerous? Isn't this music of yours going to affect the children's hearing in any bad way?’

The headmistress looked at the mum with a look that was both tired and incomprehensible. A disgruntled mutter ran through the crowd. This woman, always asking the most questions and fretting about safety more than anyone else, had become somewhat of a major annoyance to those around her.

Headmistress: ‘As I have said before, I repeat: the safety of children comes first for us. As well as their health. You can rely on us for that.

The mum continued to press on, obviously not fully understanding the answer, ‘So there is no danger?’

A rumble of discontent spread through the crowd again. The headmistress gritted her teeth, took a deep breath and exhaled, then answered the annoying woman in a steady and monotonous voice: ‘No, there is no danger to her hearing.’

The tour around the main building of the CEC took some more time, after which the group stopped near the office of the headmistress, which was located on the ground floor, and parents took turns to go inside to settle some formalities with documents. Finally, it was the Davels' turn. Lars sat his son on one of the chairs near the desk of the head of the Centre, and sat down next to him on the next one. The little boy, chattering with his legs began to look around. All the space around the perimeter was filled with bookshelves. They were cluttered with various fiction and educational literature, the names of which Theodore could not read yet. So he just admired the colourful covers.

Lars: ‘So, when can I give you the boy?’

Headmistress: ‘You say that as if you want to get rid of him.’

There was a short silence. The headmistress finished filling out some paperwork and took her attention away from them and continued to answer the question: ‘From tomorrow, Theodore and his other classmates will start their first day of school. We always advise parents to support the baby in the first week and attend his first classes, at least for a while.’

Lars (emphatically): ‘I think there's no need for that. He can manage on his own.’

Headmistress: ‘Again, it's up to you. You are his father. We are only giving advice. As the boy will have to face a new society, hitherto unfamiliar to him. Therefore, certain changes may occur. Both psychological and…’

Lars: ‘Do you have psychologists?’

Headmistress: ‘Yes, of course.’

Lars: ‘Well, there you go. Then they will do their job in case of such changes.’

The headmistress looked regretfully at Theodore, who was sitting on a chair next to his father and wiggling his legs back and forth, looking at the books.

Headmistress: ‘Okay, I understand you. Then sign here and here. And you are free to go. We'll be expecting you tomorrow at 9:00.

Lars signed the papers handed to him by the headmistress and lifted his son from his chair and said goodbye. The boy paused for a moment and turned to the woman sitting at the table and waved his little hand at her. She smiled and waved back at him. The father tugged his son's hand and they walked away from the room.

The next day came. Early in the morning, the parents took the children to the Children's Education Centre. Some on foot, some by car. Every now and then the transport stopped near the entrance to the educational institution, dropping off the little passengers with their mothers and fathers at its doors. The Davels approached the building of the CEC. The door was swinging open as back and forth parents entered and exited. Theodore's father was in a remarkably good mood, believing he was finally rid of the cursed child for most of the day. The Davels equalled the other boy and the man. The child looked fearfully towards the CEC, unsure of what to expect from this new place. His father held his back as if to encourage him to take that step forward. The man bent down and whispered in the baby's ear, ‘It's going to be okay. We're going to go in there together and see what's going on!’

The child smiled in response to his words and moved forward confidently, scrambling up the small ladder leading to the entrance with eagerness and unintelligible sounds. Theodore smiled as he saw the way his peer was rushing to get into the building. Lars pulled his hand out of his son's small palm. So much so that he lost his balance from surprise and fell to the pavement. After which the man said: ‘That's it, go. You know the way. We were here yesterday.’ Lars turned his back on his son and silently headed in the opposite direction, leaving the child alone. Theodore, dressed in a grey summer jumpsuit at first, didn't understand what had happened and looked at his father with bewilderment, who soon disappeared from sight. Parents of other children passing by him began to pay attention to the child and stop with questions: ‘Whose boy are you? Where are your parents? Are you here alone?’

One of the mothers helped Theodore up off the ground and took him inside the centre, where the group assignment and introduction to the teachers had already begun.

Right in front of the entrance, not far from the principal's office, were happy parents waving to their children, who had already been assigned to groups and assigned to specific teachers. A couple of metres away from the parents were three rows of newly formed children's groups, headed by teachers. Between the parents and children, on a small step, the headmistress of the centre stood on a small step, solemnly announcing the names of the newly arrived students and then assigning them to a teacher.

The mother who had brought Theodore inside the building squeezed through the crowd of adults and turned to the director, pointing her finger at the child and explaining that she had found him near the entrance to the CEC. The director descended from her low stepladder and bending over the lost boy said: ‘Say, what's your name? Remember, we saw you yesterday. And we were sitting in this office.’ She pointed her finger at the door leading into her small office. Theodore turned his head in the direction she pointed. He wasn't frightened or agitated. He just couldn't understand what was wanted of him. The headmistress straightened to her full height and began to glance cursorily at the long piece of paper from which she had previously sounded out the list of enrolled kids.

Headmistress: ‘’Let's find you by the method of elimination. Who I haven't had time to allocate yet…’

An indignant whisper ran through the crowd, saying ‘how can this be?’, ‘where are his parents?’. ‘how can this be?’

The headmistress went over the entire list again, from beginning to end. She spoke loudly and clearly, pausing for long pauses between words, ‘I will ask for silence! There are still a few students left unassigned. When I call out their names, I will ask their parents for feedback. And so, let's begin! Derek Wanger!’

Almost instantly, a waving mum and her son appeared from the crowd. She shouted loudly: ‘That's us!’

Headmistress: ‘The boy is assigned to Mrs Donova's group.’ The mother led the boy to his assigned group. The headmistress made a note on her sheet.

Headmistress: ‘Susie Rauktree!’

A large man stepped forward from the crowd, holding his daughter by the legs on his shoulders. He pronounced: ‘She's here!’

Headmistress: ‘The girl is being assigned to a group in Mrs Santerini.’ The man gently and lovingly lowered his daughter to the ground and took her by the hand to the teacher's group.

Headmistress: ‘Theodore Davel!’ There was silence, and for a while there was silence in the air. The headmistress repeated the boy's first and last name twice. Theodore raised his head and took a couple of steps towards the headmistress. The crowd erupted, ‘That's him! That boy!’

The headmistress shifted her gaze to the child and smiled back at him: ‘Found you… So, your name is Theodore…’

Getting to know the CEC

The first day at the children's educational centre started with an introduction, which took a week, maybe a week and a half in total. Familiarisation with his peers, new teachers, unusual rooms filled with all sorts of thematic subjects. For him, as for the overwhelming majority of kids, all this was strange. Children at that age have a lot of energy, which they gladly spend on lessons. There was not a single child in Theodore's group who was eager to go back home to his parents. On the contrary. When the children crossed the threshold of the centre, it was as if they had forgotten about their existence. And when the time came to return home, many of them did not want to do so. After all, here, in a gigantic entertainment complex (as the children saw the centre), all attention was directed only at them. A lot of different entertainments, games and adventures.

After distribution on groups, educators conducted some demonstration classes with participation of parents of kids. Many of them, as it was recommended earlier by the headmistress, supported the children showing them that everything was fine and they were there for them. The classes were more like the first lessons of communication and familiarisation. First with the tutors, then with the classmates. The parents also got to know each other at this meeting and watched their children's behaviour with smiles.

Each group was in its own room. The children were seated in a circle on small stools. At the head of this circle at twelve o'clock level, sitting on the floor was the tutor Theodora. He was assigned to Mrs Donova. She was about forty-five years of age. The woman's black coloured hair was, tied in a small ponytail at her back. Dressed in an elegant bright blue business suit, consisting of a jacket and a long skirt, she looked at her pupils with a smile, radiating only positivity and warmth. Her experience in educating preschoolers totalled about twenty years. This woman knew exactly what good upbringing was, having trained and graduated seven groups. The age of the educator allowed her to apply previously studied methods of education, which have become classics, but also to improve their qualifications, quietly mastering new ones, not lagging behind the progress.

At first, the children fussed, getting up from their chairs, running around the room, crawling on the floor, not paying any attention to their new yet unfamiliar teacher. She chatted patiently with each of them, settling them back into their seats. Then she took out from her pocket some object that looked like an unusual pen shimmering with different colours, thus attracting attention to herself. Loud, surprised children's cries began to echo around the circle.

Ms Donova: ‘So, let's get acquainted! My name is Ms Donova. We will be talking and studying with you over the next few years. Let's get to know each of you better.’

She clicked one of the buttons on her mysterious pen and dimmed the lights in the room to semi-darkness. A spotlight came on over the circle in which the children were gathered. The floor inside this circle was coloured bright red, which was black striped into sectors according to the number of people inside it. It looked like a disproportionately marked clock with sixteen divisions. The teacher pressed the button of her fountain pen again and the sector she was in turned green. While the rest of the circle continued to burn red. The woman rose from her seat, and walked to the centre of the circle. The children watched the change of colours inside the circle with their eyes darting around in amazement. They kept shifting their gaze from the multi-coloured circle to the teacher holding a strange fountain pen in her hand.

Ms. Donova: ‘I want you, when you see the colour green in front of you, to come to the centre and say your name’.

She demonstrated what she wanted the children to do by example by repeating her surname. She then took her place in the circle and pressed the button again. The green sector moved anti-clockwise and positioned itself in front of the boy sitting next to her. He looked with interest at the glowing green triangle inviting him to take the first step. The teacher repeated her request, turning towards him, ‘Please come forward and tell me your name.’

The little boy got off his chair and with slow steps made his way to the centre of the circle, patting the glowing section. Donova repeated: ‘Tell me your name.’ The boy, merrily shaking his head from side to side, reached the centre of the circle and after a little stomping in one place said loudly and clearly, ‘Derek. My name is Derek!’

The pupil, with all his seriousness, looked at the teacher, waiting for her to praise him for his accomplished task. She nodded in response, clapped her hands and said: ‘Well done. Nice to meet you Derek. You can go back to your seat.’

The boy stood in the centre for a while longer, enjoying the attention and the sense of accomplishment, and with the same leisurely steps he reached his chair and then sat on it. So each of the kids introduced themselves in turn, stepping out into the circle. The one who was less concentrated and comprehensible Mrs Donova took him to the centre by the hand and repeated her request several times. Finally, it was Theodore's turn. His sector lit up green and everyone stared at him.

Ted understood perfectly well what he was required to do, so based on the example of the previous kids he leisurely went to the centre of the circle and said his name. After that he remained standing in the same place, scrutinising those present. Throwing a glance outside the circle, he noticed the parents of his classmates watching their every move with awe. Looking at one and the other, he tried to spot Lars in the crowd of people he didn't know, but he never found him.

At the age of three, children cannot yet analyse their parents' actions, build a logical chain and conclude whether they are well taken care of or not. They do not know how to take offence over the long term, as their life now consists of momentary emotions. For example, at the moment he feels good because he was given a lollipop, but five minutes later he feels bad because it was taken away. This was approximately the stage of development of the child logic of Ted and his classmates, which the teachers had to develop by the end of the CEC training and bring it to a completely different level.

Mrs Donova: ‘Theodore, you can take your seat. Let's give your other classmates a chance to introduce themselves.’

At the moment of finding his father among the crowd of people standing in front of the boy, strangers to him, he felt nothing. No sadness, no regret. The only thought circling in his head was that his dad wasn't around.

After a couple of small and uncomplicated orientation sessions, the teacher said goodbye to the parents and the group started the next lesson in the drawing room. On the first day, the children reacted differently to their parents leaving. Some cried and were hysterical, others were unwavering and didn't give it a second thought. Theodore felt some relief when the adults left the little ones alone with their teacher. Ted was no different from the other children now. The only difference was that when Lars left him home alone, the boy was left to his own devices. But now, there were other children in the same room with him. Some of them even began to socialise with each other, increasing the general interest in the task at hand.

On the one hand, it was another familiarisation task for the newcomers, which everyone could handle without much difficulty, as everyone in the group understood what a family was. On the one hand, it was another familiarisation task for the newcomers, which each of them could cope with without much difficulty, because everyone in the group understood perfectly well what a family was. Everyone except Theodore. The kids sat down on the colourful floor, armed with markers and pencils, and began to draw banal pictures of suns, clouds, circles and sticks resembling human beings. Davel was the only one who sat still and did not understand what he had to draw on a piece of paper. No one had ever talked to him about family. The boy saw the children around him drawing with interest, but he had no interest in the class. Several times Mrs Donova came up to him and explained the task again, sketching ideas and projecting them on her piece of paper.

The time of the class was drawing to a close, and Theodore's sheet of paper remained as blank as it had originally been. Finally, he picked up a dark brown pencil that was lying nearby and began to paint the sheet a solid colour, trying his best not to leave any white gaps. Maybe he was embarrassed that he was the only kid who hadn't drawn a picture, or maybe Ted just wanted to keep himself busy.

The children began to hand in their work to the teacher. The teacher came up to each of them in turn and accepted their work. Theodore handed her a piece of paper on which a rectangle had been carefully drawn with a brown pencil. He looked at the tutor, waiting for any reaction. Mrs Donova smiled at the boy, stroked his head and encouraged him: ‘Well, there, you see! You, too, have succeeded in your own way in drawing a picture on a given theme. In time, you'll learn a lot more from us here!’.

Ted smiled back when he felt that no one was going to scold him. He had done a thorough job in his own way and was being praised for it. On the wave of positivity that swept over him, the boy walked over to the other boys who, without the teacher's instruction, had arranged themselves in a circle and were drawing something together.

It was lunchtime for Theodore's group. The children, led by Mrs Donova, went up to the third floor to eat a three-course set lunch specially prepared for them for the first time in their lives. The canteen staff also joined in to help the kindergarteners in shrinking the students. It was extremely difficult for one adult to cope with the still unorganised group of kids who saw plates of food placed on small tables. Despite the fact that the children could already sit on ordinary chairs and stools, at the first stage, in order to teach them discipline, the canteen was equipped with seats with small straps that were pulled over the waist of the children and fixed them in one place, not allowing them to move freely around the room.

There was a lot of temptation at the beginning, as the food was served based on the usual diet of the pupils of the educational centre. It was balanced, filled with all the necessary useful vitamins and minerals to maintain their health. The food was adjusted individually, depending on whether a particular pupil was allergic to certain types of food, or simply because he or she refused to eat one or another product.

For example, if a child does not eat broccoli, it can easily be replaced by carrots or cabbage, thus preserving the vitamins that he or she should get after eating. All caring parents, in most cases, have prepared in advance and provided the principal with lists of foods to be more careful about and to avoid. In Theodore's case, there was no such list at all. Lars replied dryly when questioned by the headmistress: ‘Yes, he eats everything. You can feed him whatever you want.’

So Theodore had to personally try the delicacies of the children's kitchen and find out for himself what he liked and what he didn't like.

Ted was taken by the hand by one of the canteen workers and sat down at the end table, where there were three more tables besides his seat. In front of him was a white cardboard small rectangular container wrapped in foil to keep the food warm. To the right of the food container, was a plastic small spoon. Some already knew how to handle some other cutlery, such as a fork and knife. But in the early days, the educators did not want to load the children with unnecessary information and create conflict in the minds of those who were not yet familiar with such utensils. They assumed that the learning of sharp objects, even plastic ones, should be gradual, not immediate.

The children gradually took their places at the tables. Theodore, too, became more crowded. A girl was seated opposite him and two boys to his right. He had not yet remembered their exact names. A canteen worker approached each of the children in turn and helped them open the boxes of food. Even stronger, the smell of food wafted in. Barely perceptible clouds of vapour drifting from the dishes rushed towards the ceiling, mixing together in the air to form the aroma of the canteen. Inside the box, Theodore found baked fish with sour cream sauce on top and boiled rice mixed with eggs.

The children sitting at the same table with him began to look at each other's food, trying to assess the contents of the neighbouring boxes. Ted, on the other hand, sat curled up over his container, showing little interest in the other's food. Finally, armed with their spoons, they began dynamically munching away at the food that smelled so appetising, leaving no chance to refuse it.

The boy sitting next door was the fastest to finish his treat and impatiently started looking around for something interesting to occupy himself. When he noticed his neighbour eating leisurely, he decided to help him by shoving his spoon into his food container. Theodore was a little taken aback by this insolence, and in response to the boy's actions, he snatched the spoon from his hand and threw it far away from him. It flew a few metres, then landed with a distinctive sound on the floor and disappeared under one of the chairs of another group of children, who were a year older than Theodore's classmates. The little boy straightened up, stretched his neck and turned his head in the direction of the flying cutlery, trying to spot it. Then he waved his arms and wailed with all his might: ‘Ah-ah-ah-ah! Sp-o-o-o-o-n! My sp-o-o-o-o-o-n!’

The dining room had been noisy enough up to that point. But when the boy shouted his short phrase to the whole floor and began to scandalise, shouting unintelligible sounds, the group of children seemed to revolt. His little tantrum became like a call to action for the rest of the kids. Some started throwing food scraps at each other, others started shouting loudly, others started running around the tables and hiding under them. However, for the tutor and the canteen workers, who were used to working in similar conditions, these antics of the new pupils were not something out of bounds and unexpected. They began to pacify the overexcited group, putting them back in their seats, playfully suggesting that they finish their meal and wait for the others. Finally, when the children had settled down and most of the food had been eaten, Mrs Donova led everyone in an orderly fashion to the common room to prepare the children for sleep and restore their previously spent energy.

The children lined up in front of the escalator in rows of two. Some of them held each other's hands. The carer pressed a button on the side of the escalator to change its direction. Unlike similar mobile structures in shopping centres, this one had the slowest speed for safety reasons.

When they reached the first floor, the group made their way to the door, which had a sticker of a crescent moon with a sleeping baby on it. Theodore was one of the last to enter, along with the girl who had sat at the same dinner table with him earlier. Of course, none of the children were planning on falling asleep. They all wanted to play and have fun. And when they saw their cots, they decided that this room was just part of another entertaining game, like the one the boy who had thrown a tantrum in the dining room not long ago had started playing. His name was Eric, and he seemed to have forgotten all about the unpleasant incident. The boy chose a cot for himself, confidently climbed on it and began to jump as if on a trampoline. This boy was a peculiar leader of the group. Not afraid of anything, brave and self-confident. Once again, he came up with an idea for fun that the other children were eager to support when they saw it in practice.

In an instant, the silence that had hitherto reigned in the recreation room, supplemented by the peaceful music of nature, was filled with children's delighted shouts and the clatter of beds hitting the floor under the impact of jumping. Like the lifeguards that they partly were, Mrs Donova's assistants flew into the room. They were mostly young female students on teaching practice. They began to help the teacher to quiet the crowd of children, who were overflowing with activity and demanding fun and amusement.

Much to the children's dismay, their cots had already been determined in advance and their names were signed on each one. Therefore, they were deprived of the possibility to choose on this issue. All the babies were redistributed to their cots. More often than not, the beds were much larger than the size of an average three-year-old, as they were assigned to older children up to the age of six, who were already taller and larger than the younger preschoolers. The sounds of nature intensified, attracting the attention of the babies, the main light in the room went out, and the ceiling was transformed into a dark blue sky with stars sparkling on it, which from time to time went out and then appeared in a new place. The cots vibrated, tuning the children's hearts to the rhythm of their upcoming sleep. Some were still on their feet, leaning against the wooden barriers of the cot, others lay down, feeling tired.

Theodore sat on his knees with his legs tucked under him, looking up at the stars twinkling in the artificial sky. The music slowly began to fade until it was barely audible. The children's eyes began to close and they gradually began to fall into a deep sleep, full of colourful and unique visions filled with adventures. Mrs Donova quietly and subtly took a seat on a small stool near the entrance, guarding the dreams of her children. She pressed a small switch on the inside of the door and the sticker of a crescent moon with a baby hanging from it began to shimmer. The baby's mouth began to move and the letter ‘Z’ began to appear from time to time, slowly moving upwards. The crescent moon itself turned a bright yellow colour and tiny craters were clearly visible on it. This meant that this room was occupied at that particular moment. Please do not enter or disturb the others.

The Theodore group's afternoon nap lasted only 45 minutes. Another 15 minutes were allowed to lull the babies to sleep. After the allotted nap time, the ceiling began to change into a clear and blue morning sky. Yellow silhouettes of birds began to pass by now and then, chirping loudly and calling the sleeping babies to wake up. The sounds of the singing birds gradually grew stronger until there were no more slumbering children in the common room. Ted woke up almost as soon as the extraneous sounds came. In addition, with the help of the floodlights emitting artificial sunlight, the room grew brighter and brighter by the second until there was not a single dark corner left at all.

The children began to yawn, rising lazily to their feet. After a few seconds, the playpens of the cots began to slowly open, pushing aside like a folding accordion. The way was open. Not fully understanding why they had been awakened, the half-asleep kids headed towards the teacher who was waiting for them near the exit. Having organised the group into one slender line of two, the woman opened the door and led her pupils to the sports classes.

 The gym was located on the ground floor. It had an elongated rectangular shape with a marked area in the middle. The sports ground was outlined with a white line. At the ends stood children's small football goals, and in the centre was a giant red circle for martial arts. That is, the hall was simultaneously designed to teach all the available sports that existed in the world. The floor of the hall was covered with soft rubber to prevent injuries during sports. Along the walls were large gymnastic balls, jump ropes, cones and other ancillary equipment.

Mrs Donova's group entered the gym. The assistants, who were already waiting for them inside, began to undress the kids so that they would not get their shoes dirty on the clean pavement. The boys, who saw the mountain of footballs, immediately rushed to them. Most of the girls stood around wondering what all the boys were so excited about, and what could possibly be so interesting about this room. No wonder! It was often rare for girls to become athletes. The adult women's football league was small, consisting of only ten teams. And the fairer half of the sex went into battle even less often, for obvious reasons.

Of course, the children's physical education classes at the Children's Centre were of a general nature only, without any specialisation, and consisted mainly in maintaining a healthy lifestyle among children. If it was necessary to correct posture with specific exercises, an orthopaedist from the local rural hospital was invited. The children were taught sports by a children's coach, while the tutor kept order in the gym and, if necessary, helped to organise the children.

While most of the kids scattered around the room to study the sports equipment, Theodore began to look at the gym in detail. The door through which they had entered was at his back. He stood on the white marked line separating the playground from the rest of the space. The far side of the room had large rectangular windows upstairs through which sunlight streamed in, supplemented by interior light fixtures. In front of the boy were small white plastic football goals that were about 30 centimetres taller than he was. A white net was attached to the back of them. Opposite them, at the far end of the pitch stood exactly the same goal. Ted crouched down on the floor and with interest began pulling at the strings that made up the gate set. Woven together, they formed a diamond-shaped pattern that stretched from bottom to top, flowing from one quadrangular shape to another.

There was a click of the door opening. A children's coach entered the hall, smiling and winking at the budding athletes. The man was about forty years old, of medium height, with a short haircut, muscular and trim. Apparently a former athlete. Gathering the kids around him, the man introduced himself. His name was Mr Petrie. To be honest, he didn't really like it when the kids addressed him so formally, but there was nothing to be done. Rules are rules.

During the first lessons it was hard to organise the kids so that they obediently followed all the commands of their new coach exactly as intended. Therefore, just like the others, the first physical education lessons were only of an introductory nature, rather than any benefit for the young organism. Having spread out gymnastic mats on the ground, teachers tried to show the group basic warm-up exercises, which the latter were reluctant to perform. The kids were constantly distracted by extraneous objects and classmates, laughing and wiggling without stopping.

In the middle of the session, Mr Petrie removed all the extra balls from the playground and, leaving only one, started to encourage the children to play football with him, passing to each of them in turn. Some reacted to this gesture in a sporting way – kicking the ball away from themselves in the opposite direction, others fell to their knees, trying to take the round toy for themselves and run away from the man, and others did not pay any attention to this unknown game for them. Ted belonged to the third group of children. When the turn came to him, and a miniature football slightly hit his foot, he looked at it perplexedly and turned around and went the other way, as if avoiding repeated contact with it.

The coach was not upset by the fact that not everyone in this hall was interested in sports games. Firstly, he realised that they were still very young children. Secondly, not everyone is destined to become a professional athlete in the future. Most of all, Mr Petrie was surprised by a situation that happened to Theodore a year and a half later, when he was already a second-year student at the CEC. It was this situation that predetermined Ted's further enrolment in a sports school.

Manifestation of the potential

It was the 18th of February, 746. Theodore's birthday. Of all the classmates studying at the CEC with him, he was the third oldest. Therefore, studying in his second year, he was already five years old. While many of the other kids were only four. On the one hand, he looked a bit bigger and older than the others, because he had finally started eating a lot of food, several times a day, and had gained a decent amount of weight. On the other hand, Ted was somewhat behind in intellectual development from the overwhelming majority of children due to the fact that in home conditions he was mostly left to himself, both before and after the CEC. Therefore, there was no consolidation of the knowledge the boy had learnt. That is why he was considered to be an average child with no predispositions to any knowledge.

Of course, Theodore had already learnt to read children's literature, specially selected by the tutors to suit his age, although his reading speed was almost the slowest in the course. He was also writing a little, although his handwriting was hard to recognise. Even though the CEC taught him to write in block letters, some of them, such as ‘G’, ‘W’ or ‘Z’, he could not reproduce on a piece of paper. In drawing classes he made some progress, but only in relation to his previous works. Such as ‘Family’, ‘Future Work’ and ‘Nature’. Now his drawings did not consist only in painting a rectangular sheet of paper in one colour. The boy learnt to draw little people, clouds, sun, moon, car and other simple associative images made up of simple lines and dots. It was difficult to call it masterpieces of children's painting, but in the attitude of the pupil himself obvious progress was present.

Theodore did not do well with dancing and singing. It even got to the point that the boy absolutely refused to participate in everything that was connected with these lessons and the teachers had to transfer him to another group for a while during the singing and dancing lessons. The obvious advantage was that Ted had an additional opportunity to socialise with other children while learning with other groups. Thus, he became more liberated and outgoing. Sometimes even too much so. In terms of communication, there was a feeling that he had no equal. The boy changed in front of my eyes, compared to how he came to the walls of this educational centre stiff and silent. And by the way, communication skills were one of the additional characteristics for admission to the school. That certainly added one point to Theodore's score.

As for other classroom activities, the preschooler did not have any high successes there. He was not uninterested in many of them, but he was not particularly fond of them either. Something he did something, for example, modelling from plasticine, and something – just to do. For example, in the lessons of constructor, the boy did not try to build some construction. But some of them turned out really unusual for their age structures. Ted most often chaotically picked up parts and connected them by putting them on top of each other. In the end, the result was a mess.

But what the second-year student was definitely addicted to was sports activities. He was one of the first to find a common language with the coach in the shortest possible time and understood exactly what he required from him. Despite the fact that fiddling with a football at the end of the lesson had a competitive effect, which added enthusiasm to the young pupil, Ted had no love for this sport. He behaved peculiarly on the court, and most often played not according to the rules, despite the large number of warnings and remarks from the coach and Mrs Donova. During the game, the boy always tried to be the first on the ball, forcefully pushing away his opponents and teammates. Yes, it still didn't look like a full-fledged football game, but the coach tried his best to instil the basic rules of football in the preschoolers. He explained to them how to act on the court is possible, and how categorically forbidden.

The situation was different for the boy when it came to playing in the red circle, which was in the centre of the sports hall. In order to instil in the pupils such useful qualities as perseverance, fighting to the very end, and endurance, there was a children's game that allowed to show and develop these strong-willed character traits. It consisted of the following:

The group was divided into three subgroups, each with an equal number of people, plus/minus one additional participant if the children could not be equally divided. Each member of the subgroup stood on the outline of the red circle in any free place and stayed there until the coach's signal, which was accompanied by a whistle or a loud clap of hands. After receiving this signal, the competition began. It consisted in keeping only one of its participants in the centre of the red circle. The permitted techniques were thrusts and arm grabs, with the help of which one could push his opponents out of the designated area. The circle was quite large and occupied almost 1/3 of the site, if we take into account its total internal area. Therefore, there was enough space for all the contestants. After the player's body completely left the red circle, the child was considered a loser and dropped out of the game. When trying to return and continue the competition, the coach or tutor would calm the child and explain to him that the game was over for him, so he had to wait until it was over so as not to disturb the other players.

Today, on Theodore's birthday, it happened to be the second day of physical education. It would be followed by a couple more classes, and then in the dining room Ted would have a little surprise prepared by Mrs Donova in honour of his birthday. In the meantime, the boy was focused on the upcoming competition, which had already become a routine for him. Theodore was most looking forward to this particular game, in which he outclassed everyone in strength and perseverance.

Ted's subgroup of three boys and two girls took their place around the red circle. Each of the children prepared in their own way for the start of the contest. Some simply stood erect, others bent forward a little and redistributed most of their weight onto their supporting leg. One of the girls looked around unhappily, clearly not understanding the meaning of the game and not really wanting to participate. Despite her very ordinary origin, she looked and behaved like a real princess. Therefore, she was extremely capricious and disobedient. She never did what she did not want to do at the moment, which many times upset her tutor, who tried hard to instil in her the desire and interest in various kinds of activities.

As soon as the coach's whistle sounded, simultaneously acting as an incorruptible and fair referee, the four boys (including Ted) rushed from their seats into the centre of the circle, simultaneously pushing and trying to pull each other by the arms beyond the permitted playing space. Only one girl remained standing in one place, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away contemptuously. Her teacher jumped up to her, offering her to join the common game, telling and explaining on her fingers how much fun she would have. The princess, however, would not listen. She turned her back to Mrs Donova and headed in the opposite direction, snorting her nose and rolling her eyes.

Meanwhile, the confrontation on the court continued and tension was building. No one wanted to lose, but they were stretched to the limit. Ted stood exactly in the centre of the circle, holding the hand of the two boys on either side of him. Each of them was trying to pull the boy towards him, so that he would leave the place of the unqualified winner. From afar it looked as if they were about to tear him in two. But they were not strong enough to do that, and Theodore himself was much stronger than they were. Ted knelt down, continuing to hold back his opponents and forcing them to do the same to him. At the moment, he felt a pull both to one side and the other from himself. Suddenly, something happened that neither of them expected. Ted seized the hand of the boy in front of him and began to pull him towards him. The result was an irresistible force that he could not resist. All three moved from their seats. The boy who was behind Ted was outside the circle and instantly became a loser. Theodore himself fell on his back, lying half inside and half outside the circle. And the boy who had been standing in front of him, thanks to the power of the joint pull, left the playing field, doing a couple of somersaults, like a brave acrobat. Thus there remained two contenders for victory. Theodore and another girl, whom he had completely forgotten about, concentrating on the stern male rivalry.

Satisfied but tired, the boy began to rise, looking at the spectators, coach and tutor sitting opposite him. Many of them started waving their hands and actively showing something. The little wrestler caught himself thinking that he had won, and that he would soon be facing the finals, including himself and the two other winners of the other subgroups. Suddenly Theodore felt a nudge directed at his back, which was enough to throw the boy off balance once again and cross this contestant's name off the list of future finalists. With an extremely surprised expression on his face, which was made even more comical by his wide-open mouth, which had taken the shape of an oval, and the scream he emitted from surprise, the kid flopped down on the soft rubber surface that cushioned his fall.

The coach loudly announced the winner of the current contest. Theodore fell over on his back and looked at the girl who had pushed him out with flapping eyes. She was jumping with joy on the spot and smiling, waving her little hand at him in a friendly manner.

– Lucy, let's go! You won! Wow, look at that…’ her friend said, walking over to the finalist and taking her hand. The two of them disappeared behind the backs of the children sitting on the floor. Ted continued to sit on the floor looking around. Mr Petrie came over to him and helped him up, saying: ‘It's all right Theodore. Losing happens. You can't win all the time. It's normal. Don't worry!’

For the rest of practice, Ted sat and watched the finals along with the rest of the eliminated boys. There were two boys in the finals and Lucy, who had somehow miraculously made it in because all the contestants had forgotten about her at the time of the fight. However, now that there was no crush in the circle and everyone could see each other well and clearly, there was no one to hide behind. The two boys quickly enough pushed the weak Lucy outside the circle and continued their confrontation. The coach helped her up and patted her on the head, praising her for her persistence and courage. The girl returned to the others, not feeling sad about the victory that had eluded her. Inwardly, she was proud of herself for just being in the finals for the first time in a while, and that was enough for her.

There was not much time left before the end of the class, but it had been calculated in advance by the trainer and the CEC teacher. Mrs Donova's assistants flew into the hall with quick seven-mile steps and began to prepare the washbasins for boys and girls. They were tall square folding screens with small entrances on one side and were placed at different ends of the gym. Each of the assistants sat down on a stool inside, taking with them antibacterial disposable baby wipes to wipe each child thoroughly after sports activities. They also had with them several sets of clean white clothes in the form of T-shirts and shorts to change the kids. There were exactly as many sets of clothes as there were children in each group. Improvised changing rooms, aka washrooms, for girls and boys were ready. The coach and the tutor lined up the children in two rows, according to their gender. Washing and changing clothes took some time, so in order not to let anyone run away during the waiting period, the adults kept the children busy talking and playing with them.

Finally, clean and tidy, the children were ready for the next class, which followed physical education. In a tight group of two, they went to another room prepared for a new lesson.

The last class before lunch was devoted to the study of plants. For each of the pupils there was an interactive book on the floor, each page of which had basic textual information about a particular plant, as well as a 3D model of it, attracting the children's attention with its beauty. The room was equipped with a spotlight projecting an informative cartoon about the plants mentioned in the book. Of course, the vast majority of the information provided was about those flower crops that existed in the area, but the textbooks also contained a fair amount of material about the most common plants that exist around the world. This was by no means the first or the last children's botany class. After all, nature was so diverse that it was difficult even for an adult to memorise everything at once. However, this did not mean that the class repeated the same material from time to time and watched the same cartoon film. The city authorities of large cities prepared a special development programme on this discipline in such a way that it was easy to be perceived by children's immature brains. At the same time, it was not boring and uninteresting. While watching the informative video material, the children admired flowers and trees, having fun and watching how animations that came to life on the wall talked to them and told them about themselves, explaining how they should be cared for and how they should not be treated. Children's zoology classes were held in a similar way. However, the course about animals and insects was not as long as the one about plants, because the former existed much more than the latter.

The afternoon lesson was over, and all the pupils of Mrs Donova's group lined up in rows of two. Theodore wanted to stand at the end of the row, as was his habit, but this time the teacher took him by the arm and placed him at the head of the group. The teacher's assistant closed the row, making sure that none of the children deviated from the planned course. The class began to slowly ascend the escalator upwards, which leisurely endeavoured to take Mrs Donova's group to the top floor of the building. Since Theodore was at the very beginning of the row, he happened to be one of the first to see the welcoming group of cafeteria workers holding yellow balloons. These helium-filled balloons had written in large white letters on one side, ‘Happy Birthday, Theodore!’ and on the other, ‘5 years old.’ Two lunchroom workers, dressed in white aprons, with sanitary disposable white caps on their heads, stood on either side of the escalator exit, holding the balloons with their fingers, eager to float up into the air and close to the ceiling under the influence of helium. Anticipating the boy's surprise in advance, bringing him to a standstill, the staff pressed the escalator button and temporarily stopped its movement to allow Ted to enjoy the moment his holiday began. The escalator steps instantly froze, and with them the entire children's group.

– Happy birthday, Theodore! Look what we've prepared for you today! Come on! – said one of the canteen staff, at the same time handing Ted a balloon and pulling him a little to the side, thus making way for the other children. Another staff member jabbed a button with his palm, setting the escalator in motion again. The kids slowly began to rise and spread out across the room. Theodore, clutching the ribbon with the balloon dangling at the far end, began to pull it down, running his hands over it and getting closer and closer to his goal. He wanted to take a closer look at the white text written on the balloon.

– Happy Birthday! I forgot you had one today…’ came the loud voice of a girl on the left, who stood next to the birthday boy and held out her hand to him. It was so unexpected that he flinched and the balloon slipped out of his hands, flying upwards towards the ceiling. Theodore's eyes bulged, trying to catch hold of the ribbon that was just as quickly slipping away from him. In one precise and sharp movement, the girl caught on the fly, seemingly already irretrievably missed Ted ribbon along with the balloon and holding out to him the saved thing moralisingly said: ‘Here. Don't lose it again!’

Theodore looked gratefully in the direction of the girl who was still reaching for his hand, wanting to congratulate the boy in person. It was Lucy. The same Lucy who had so unceremoniously taken advantage of the situation and pushed him out of the circle during the sports game. Now it wasn't a competitor standing in front of him, but just an ordinary, friendly girl wishing him a happy birthday. The birthday boy smiled and extended his hand to her in return, shaking it vigorously. His handshake was so strong and intense that Lucy began to release her palm from Theodore's steel grip.

– Ow! You're hurting me! What are you doing? – The girl whimpered pitifully. She whimpered and ran off in tears towards the dining-room. Mrs Donova came up to Ted, having heard Lucy's squeak and seen her reaction to the handshake.

– Theodore, you have to be more careful with girls. You're stronger than they are. Look how you scared her. They need to be protected. Come on, it's time to eat. – slowly, pausing at the end of each sentence, said the teacher, as if placing important accents in her words in order for the boy to understand their content. After a series of instructive words, the teacher took the pupil to his seat at one of the dining tables, which was visible even at a considerable distance.

Now, in the middle of the second year of the CEC, the children ate lunch sitting on full chairs, which consisted of four legs for stability, a seat and a backrest. In general, the chairs looked like normal chairs and were no different from the standard adult models, except that they were smaller in size. None of Theodore's classmates needed the auxiliary straps anymore.

Ted walked over to his chair, which was covered with yellow holiday balloons. On the table in front of him was a container of food tied with a golden ribbon in the shape of a bow, which the boy had to untie himself. The other children sitting around him gazed at the food box with interest, wondering about its inner contents. Slowly, Theodore climbed onto the chair, moved closer to the food and began to untie the intricately twisted bow by pulling one end of the golden ribbon. Then he opened the container, and all the neighbours on the dining table leaned forward, looking at the food inside. Inside lay a solid cooked piece of chicken fillet with rice on the side. To the right of the container, lay a napkin-wrapped sweet bun in the shape of an amused grimace. The same exact pastry awaited every child who came for lunch today. The glass to the left of the container was filled with apple sour cream, which was also expected by many, except for those to whom it was strongly contraindicated or disgusting. As it turned out, nothing special was provided for the birthday boy, which some of his classmates might have been excited about, feeling deprived.

Realising that Theodore's lunch did not merit any special interest, the children abruptly turned their attention to their containers and continued their meal. At the end of lunch, the group unintentionally sang the birthday boy a ‘Happy Birthday’ song at Mrs Donova's request. After the song was finished, the teacher brought Davel a small piece of colourful cake on a platter. There were exactly 15 such pieces for each child. Fortunately, no one in the group was allergic to confectionery. Everyone began to eat this culinary delicacy. Ted also took a small piece of his cake and put it in his mouth. The pleasant sweet fruity flavour filled the birthday boy with inexpressible feelings of joy and delight. He greedily began to work the spoon, trying to eat as quickly as possible all the contents of the saucer, before the whole piece disappeared from it to the last crumb. Of course, there were some children who could not get enough and demanded more. But they too had to accept the fact that there was no more to be had. So the little surprise in Ted's honour was over, and the children, cheered up by the dessert they had eaten, headed for the recreation room, which was scheduled for after lunchtime.

By and large Theodore was only given a little more attention than the others. He did not receive any special gift, except a few balloons, nor did he receive any privileges. The food he ate was the same as usual. In addition, one of his gifts did come loose from his chair and flew irretrievably to the ceiling. The rest of the balloons the teacher asked one of her assistants to take them to the teachers' lounge and leave them there. Theodore did not have a separate cot to which they could be tied, and going from one room to another, inadvertently could forget them or drop them. After all the lessons, the teacher planned to give the boy all his symbolic gifts. In fact, it was the first birthday party he had celebrated in five years, where everyone congratulated him together. For the first couple of years of his life, on Theodore's birthday, Lars carried him to the hospital to his mother's house to babysit her beloved baby. But her strength quickly waned, and by 743, when Ted was two years old, she had become infirm. After his mother's death, Lars became even more formalised in his treatment of the child, covering only basic matters concerning his upkeep so as not to become an ‘outcast’¹ and lose all his possessions. Therefore, what kind of birthday celebration in the boy's family could we talk about?

Of course, even such a gesture from the tutor in the form of balloons delighted Theodore. After all, he had never received any presents before. It would seem that nothing could spoil the boy's cheerful and cheerful mood. The school day was coming to an end and the children were going home, which caused a small crush in the main hall on the ground floor. Parents were darting back and forth without stopping to pick up their children and take them out of the Children's Educational Centre. Theodore's own father had never taken much care of him, and Mrs Donova knew it, so it might have felt a little like she was patronising him, but it wasn't quite true. For example, today the tutor was merely helping to put on the boy's jacket. It was at that moment that she was called by the headmistress, inviting her into her office.

– Come, Theodore, let's go get your marbles and go back to wait for your father! – Mrs Donova said excitedly, leaning over to the boy's ear. Together they entered the principal's office, where, having already taken all the seats on the sofa, parents and their children were sitting with disgruntled expressions on their faces. The headmistress sat down at the desk and looking her employee straight in the eyes in a commanding voice said: ‘Miss Donova, there has been a complaint about your behaviour from several pupils in your group and their parents.’

The teacher and Theodore stood almost at the very door separating the principal's office from the corridor. A man and a woman were sitting on the sofa, and on their laps were Patricia and Derek, the offended children. The teacher looked puzzled at the group of seated disgruntled people and said in response, addressing everyone present: ‘I'm not quite sure what I could have done to deserve the displeasure directed at me. We had a normal class today and there were no incidents, just like always.’

– Actually, as it turns out, there was! – came the loud, indignant voice of Patricia's mother, addressed to Mrs Donova.

– I can't wait to find out exactly what happened and what I'm being accused of. – The teacher of the children's group said calmly, putting her hand on Theodore's shoulder.

– Did you think we wouldn't find out anything about your prank? And about the special attention you pay to some of your students? – The student's mum continued to press her, raising her tone every now and then. She shifted her displeased gaze to Theodore.

– Really! How can this be? Don't our children deserve the same attention from your side? – Derek's father supported him, quietly slapping his palm on the armrest of the sofa.

– Can you tell me what you think my fault is? – The teacher asked the question.

– It's your fault for making a public display of this boy's name today. You singled him out from all the other kids. Gave him presents, fed him a dinner party and had the other children sing you a song in honour of his birthday. No one had ever celebrated a personal holiday within the walls of this institution until that moment. And I'm guessing they never will. Anyway, we need to undo what you've done today, just as publicly. And from now on, I hope Mrs Director will see to it that this sort of thing is not repeated. – Patricia's mother arrogantly stated her grievances of the day.

– Well, either that or let's have a holiday for all the children. That would be fairer. – Derek's father supported his mother's monologue.

– And more costly… – summarised the headmistress.

Mrs Donova froze, as if she had lost her breath from the words spoken to her by the parents of the children, who were now looking at her as if she were an enemy of the people. Obviously, the woman had not expected such a reaction, both from the children, who had reported about the holiday in a distorted form to their parents on the same day, and from the parents themselves, who began to defend the truth, which was not the truth. After a few seconds of pause, the educator took the floor, trying to explain how things had really played out.

Ms Donova: ‘I apologise if in any way I have offended you Patricia, and you Derek. Indeed, I took the initiative to organise a small celebratory dinner in Theodore's honour with my own money, which only added up to…’

– Mrs Donova. We are very pleased that you admit your guilt, but we are not interested in your excuses, which you have so carefully prepared. What's done is done. The question is how to remedy the situation now. Please bring to this office the presents you gave this boy. -Patricia's mother interrupted the teacher.

– But why? What are you going to do with these poor balloons? – The teacher asked in an incomprehensible tone of voice.

– You are in no position to argue with me now, let alone raise your voice at me! Do what you are asked to do and don't argue. We are looking forward to seeing you… – a woman with a child in her arms answered the question dryly and imperiously. The teacher looked at the director of the education centre. The director nodded and pointed at the door, as if agreeing with the words of the disgruntled parent. It was understandable. No director needs a scandal, especially a scandal made out of nowhere. Mrs Donova lowered her head wistfully and left the office. Theodore felt guilty at that moment. His mood had plummeted. He froze in one place, staring at the floor and picking at it with the toe of his boot.

– Oh, my God! What shamelessness! Standing there and arguing with me. I hope you don't have all the teachers like that! – broke up mum, summing up another indictment.

However, she was politely and tactfully interrupted by the headmistress: ‘Believe me, Mrs Weinschein, our teachers are the best in their field and are specially selected. Mrs Donova is no exception.’

Patricia's mum: ‘I don't really believe it anymore. Considering that this is not the first time she's done something wrong…’

Headmistress: ‘I think we've dealt with the last situation. It was an accident. No one could have foreseen it. There's no need to put it all in one pile.’

The door to the office opened and a kindergarten teacher came in with two yellow balloons that belonged to Theodore. She handed them to the boy again. He grabbed the ribbons, looked at them and immediately let go, staring at the floor again. The balls scattered around the room in different directions and as if magnetised to the ceiling, which was quite high. So it would have been impossible to get the balloons without a ladder. This gift was already no fun for Ted. Who needs such surprises, which spoil his mood and make him feel heavy at heart?

– Wretched boy! What are you all looking at? Get those damn balls down at once! Now! – The mother became hysterical, jumping up from her seat and dropping her own daughter on the floor, forgetting that she had been sitting on her feet. The girl fell and hit herself, screaming at the top of her voice in pain. The teacher rushed to the child to check her condition and help her. But the mother pushed the teacher away with force and hatred that she could hardly stay on her feet. The mother's face changed. In an instant she turned from a fury and a witch into an angel, covering the fallen child with her wide snow-white wings. Mrs Weinstein began to comfort the girl and help her up.

– My favourite child! I'm sorry. Mummy was a little overexcited… Where's the bobo? Mummy will blow and everything will heal!’ she babbled fearfully looking at her daughter and worrying that nothing would happen to her little creature.

– It's all right, Mummy. – Theodore slowly approached Patricia and took a tissue from his pocket, handing it to the girl. Theodore slowly approached Patricia and took a napkin out of his pocket and handed it to the girl. Patricia smiled in response to the gesture and taking the napkin from the boy's hands, continued to use it to wipe away the tears running down her face. The headmistress rose from her seat and leaning on the table with both hands calmly said: ‘There he is! The act of a true gentleman of our time. Well done Theodore. That's the way to behave with young ladies. Mrs Donova, please take Theodore back to the corridor so that his father won't lose him. Otherwise, he might leave without him, like he did six months ago…’

The teacher nodded and together with Ted they left the office, closing the door behind them.

– What do you mean? Left without him? – Patricia's mother looked at the headmistress with a puzzled look in her eyes.

– You see, not everyone in this world, unfortunately, is as lucky to have parents as your children are lucky to have you. This boy, from birth, has been deprived of a full life with his family. His mother is dead, his father is taking her death hard, Ted has no grandparents. No one cares about him except you and me. And if we turn our backs on him and take our anger and our rage out on the boy, what will his life become? What will he become? Today's situation… it's such a small thing. And you've made such a big deal out of it. It's not worth it. Believe me. The joy Mrs Donova gave him today was like a glimmer of light in his grey family life. Considering that it was the first birthday in five years of his life that Theodore had ever been congratulated by anyone. – said the headmistress, encouraging parents and their children to sympathise and understand.

– It can't be! How? The first birthday in five years? That's just awful! – began the discussion between the children's father and mother.

– You should not judge the situation without fully understanding it… You heard something from your children, but as it turned out, the information was somewhat embellished. And now, let's finish discussing this topic and not come back to it again. – The headmistress summarised the conversation as she escorted the visitors and students to the exit.

Choice of school

It was the last year of the CEC. The spring of the year 747 had arrived. The carers and parents already knew the potential of the children and had to think about finding a place for their future enrolment. The next stage of education was compulsory along with the education centre. There were only two schools in Gaya. One was a sports school that trained future boxers, mixed martial arts fighters and footballers. The other trained farmers and technicians to help fix agricultural equipment that often broke down due to years of use. For other specialities, one had to travel to another town or village to learn them.

It has to be said that in the CEC where Ted was trained there was no directive from above to increase the number of farmers. Firstly, there were plenty of them, and secondly, educators conscientiously identified the strengths of their students and honestly recommended the direction for a particular child in which he could succeed in the future. Although moving to a larger settlement was an unaffordable luxury for the majority of the population, parents were able to provide support to help their child choose a speciality exactly as recommended by the CEC staff, or at least close to it.

The director of the education centre convened the parents' council of the group in which Theodore was studying to advise on each child and to provide a list of schools for admission. A similar counselling session was held for each of the final year groups. The parents, who were attentive to their children's progress, realised their child's potential as early as the second year, so for many of them, the meeting was formal. The most they could get out of it was a list of recommended schools, which were recruiting in the speciality of interest, taking into account their financial situation.

The meeting was scheduled for 18-00. On the one hand, it was easier to get everyone together, because in any case parents took their children home from CEC at that time, and on the other hand, it was the most convenient time for most of the parents. The office of the director was overcrowded with people gathered inside and there was obviously not enough space for everyone. The meeting had already started about 20 minutes ago when Lars knocked on the door. He was tired after work and unhappy that he had to close the restaurant early due to a family emergency. Since there was barely enough money to feed himself, most of the staff had to be abandoned by the businessman. So he had to do many things in the establishment himself. He knocked on the door, immediately opened it and peered through the small crack inside. There was a discussion about Derek Wanger, which was nearing its conclusion.

Headmistress: ‘…so I think it would be ideal for Derek to go to a school with a sporting focus. In principle, you can send him to our village school, but I think that if you have the opportunity, you should go to Ounvilshen. It's a bronze status town after all, and the coaches there teach at a higher level. Not to mention that the school regularly fields its students in inter-city competitions, which certainly raises their level of training, giving the kids the extra practice they need. Yes, Mr Davel. You may come in.’

The headmistress gestured for the latecomer to enter her office, noticing the door slit through which Theodore's father was watching the discussion. Lars quietly entered and took the empty seat among the other parents. He wanted to be free as soon as possible so that he could return to his restaurant again. However, given his lateness, he could only count on the last place in the queue. The headmistress did not discuss each child individually for long, but if there was a discussion between her and the parents, or if they asked additional questions, it took some time to answer.

Describing each child's potential, the head of the youth centre explained to fathers and mothers, grandparents and carers exactly what it was and what prospects the children could have if they chose the right direction. After about an hour, it was Lars' turn. The rows were emptying out, because having received the necessary information about their child, the relatives were no longer particularly interested in staying in the office for a long time, listening about other people's children. Towards the end, only one elderly couple and Lars were left in the room when it was his turn.

Headmistress: ‘So, now, let's talk about Theodore. Mr Davel, could you come a little closer so I can get a good look at you. Especially since the available space in this room already allows for it.’

Despite the fact that there were hardly any people left, Lars had been in the same position until this request, leaning against the opposite wall from the headmistress. After her words, he involuntarily moved closer simply to avoid getting into a conflict with the woman who already considered him a careless man incapable of raising a child. This was due to a number of situations that had arisen in the past involving him, as well as the man's remarks to Theodore. Lars had repeatedly managed to clearly demonstrate his neglectful attitude to his son.

– So, Mr Davell. As you know, we're here to discuss your child's future. Do you already know which specialities Theodore has a great predisposition for? – The headmistress started the conversation, staring practically unblinkingly into the eyes of the boy's parent.

– I thought you were going to tell me everything… – Lars spread his hands, averting his gaze from the head of the CEC.

– Why am I not surprised at all? All the parents who have been in this office today, without my help and hints, already understood the strengths of their children.

– Very happy for them. What's next?

– Ah, next… you know, if it were up to me, if I had even the slightest reason, whether it was a complaint from Theodore or your neighbours about the boy's terrible upbringing and maintenance, I would not hesitate to go to the guardianship authorities and take him away from you. You are not a good parent and have no regard for the welfare of your child!

– But you haven't had cause to.

– I'm sorry… but you know I won't take my eyes off you for the rest of Theodore's education. You show up late and drunk, the child is dressed in shabby clothes that are already too small for him. If you spent less money on booze, you'd have enough for normal clothes. You are a clear example of what kind of parent you can't be!

– I'm still waiting for your comments about the school. I didn't come here to hear insults directed at me!

– Alas, the law is not on my side so I can save a boy from such a father!

– Remember that last phrase the next time you choose your words. Otherwise my patience will run out and you'll lose your job as a result.

– I'm not going to argue with you. I just want to make sure you don't screw up the boy's future.

– His future is not your problem. Let's get down to business.

– Theodore, just so you know, has the potential to be a good martial arts athlete. There are several schools that match his abilities. One, the closest one, is here in Gai. Another is in Ounvilshen, which is a priority because it's higher class. The third is of the same standard as our village school and is in another locality. That's about as far as the options closest to Gai go. Here's a list of all the schools that match the needed direction. They are arranged in order of distance from our village. The asterisks indicate their overall level. Please read this list in detail. Better yet, visit at least five of them to see for yourself their facilities and teaching staff.

– I'll figure it out. Is that it?

– That's all, Mr Davel.

Lars snatched the piece of paper the headmistress held in her hand and turned his back on her and walked silently out of the office. The headmistress looked regretfully at him and turned her gaze to the elderly couple sitting on the sofa.

Man: ‘What an unpleasant type. I remember when he fell in drunk at the CEC and could barely stand on his feet. Good thing we made him leave his car near the centre then. Otherwise, I think there would have been an accident.

Woman: ‘Why haven't the guardianship authorities taken an interest in his behaviour? Is there nothing that can be done?’

Headmistress: ‘Unfortunately, our hands are tied, because the current laws take the unambiguous position that no matter what the birth mother and father are, if there are no complaints against them from the child himself, it is impossible to deprive them of their parental rights. Moreover, Davel formally fulfils the main care of the child, feeding and clothing him. But you and I realise that formal parental care is never enough…’.

Lars grabbed Theodore's arm quickly and roughly, and they walked together in silence towards the car. Although Gai was a small village, the man was accustomed to doing all his business exclusively by means of a vehicle, neglecting walking. Ted, out of habit, wanted to sit in the back seat as he approached the car. He jerked the door handle, but was immediately stopped by his father, ‘No, no. Today you're going to walk and weave around catching up with me. You are an athlete, a future world boxing star! So develop your sporting skills’.

There was nothing to do. The boy stepped away from the car and obediently walked towards the house. It was evening, and it was almost dark outside. The poorly lit dirt road was illuminated only by the headlights of cars passing in opposite directions. Theodore stepped confidently along the narrow pavement, on the right side of which, at a distance of 200-300 metres, there were low lanterns emitting a dim light. They were of little use. They only served to delimit the space around them from total darkness. Lars's car had long since disappeared from Theodore's line of sight and disappeared into the distance. The boy walked in thought, not realising what he had done to make his father so angry that he had been deprived of the opportunity to get home by car. By the time he was six years old, he was already well versed in the neighbourhood, so after 10-15 minutes, the boy was already at home.

The ground floor of Lars's small restaurant was closed, but there was light from the windows of the first floor, and a car was parked in the car park. When Ted climbed the outside stairs to the first floor and entered through the ajar door, he saw his father on the old sofa, staring at the wall. Apparently there was an unpleasant conversation to be had. The boy cautiously approached his father and tried to take his hand, as if trying to apologise for something he hadn't done, drawing his attention to himself. Lars pulled his hand aside and turned to the child.

Lars: ‘What did you tell the headmistress? Why did she come at me again?’

Theodore: ‘Dad, I didn't even talk to her today. I haven't seen her in days.’

Lars: ‘Tell me… you think I don't understand anything? How everyone's talking behind my back about how I'm not as good a dad as everyone else. I don't take care of you. Sons of bitches! Get me a beer from the fridge! Quick!’

The boy ran headlong into the kitchen to get a cool drink for his father from the fridge. He still didn't understand what he had to do with the whole situation. Lars opened a can of foggy beer and drank it in one gulp, tossing it towards the boy, almost hitting him.

Lars: ‘Bring another one!’

Theodore brought the second can of beer and hid behind the sofa, avoiding the tin can flying in his direction. His father started pacing back and forth across the room, clearly nervous. And with each drop of beer he drank, his emotions seemed to intensify. For a moment it seemed to Theodore that if his father gave in to the emotions raging inside him, he might lose control of himself. However, this was not the first time Lars had lost his temper after drinking too much alcohol. Each time it happened, the boy tried to be quieter than water, lower than grass, so as not to cause aggression. Lucky only with the fact that even drunk and inadequate, Davel Sr. never once raised a hand on his son. But the stress the child was under all this time, wondering whether he would fall under his father's hot hand or not, was great.

Lars: ‘They dare to tell me what to do. They think they are exemplary teachers. Stupid rednecks! I come from a big city compared to them. They wouldn't let them anywhere near their kids. And they're telling me what to do! Let's go for a ride!’

After drinking three beers, Lars grabbed his son and dragged him by the hand into the car. They drove to the “place of remembrance”², where Davel planned to honour his wife. There was only one temple in Gai, and that was where Inessa's farewell ceremony was held. Since the Davel family had only basic “LSCs”³ at the moment, Lars had to pay a fee to use the sacred place. Father and son went down to the minus first floor using the lift. Compared to the city temples, the village temples didn't have many rooms underground. Everything was limited to a couple of Places of Remembrance on the minus first and minus second floors, a crematorium and burial cells, which were provided free of charge by the LSC or given on rent.

The Davels headed down the curved corridor to a room with a sign that read ‘PR’, indicating the Place of Remembrance. Theodore had been here before, both in this temple and in this room. He just didn't remember it, as he was too young. Stepping inside, the first thing that caught his eye was a memorial massive wooden table, seating eight people, made of oak. On the sides of the table were long benches. The walls of the room were so well soundproofed that no sound could leave it. This was done out of respect for the personal space of the visitors. Both those who simply came to visit the urns of their relatives, and those who performed their own rituals, commemorating the dead. And everyone's rituals could be different, starting from quiet and calm veneration in complete silence, to a raucous disco with the use of sound equipment. Therefore, thanks to good soundproofing, no one ever disturbed anyone.

– Stay here and don't touch anything. I'll go get your mother. – Lars slammed the door behind him, leaving the child alone for the time being. Theodore walked over to one of the white nightstands that stood in the corner of the square room. It was low, even for the average height of a six year old boy. So the child could easily reach the top of it. On it stood a thick wax candle tied with a dark brown paper ribbon, and to the left of the candle was a holder for the scented sticks that lay inside the nightstand. Ted pulled on the door handle and looked inside. There were a few shelves, and on them were various ritual paraphernalia: herbs, incense, candles of all sizes, ointments, fans, dolls, and other handicrafts. The boy's attention was attracted by a bronze dagger of unusual curved shape. It lay in a scabbard covered with a strange relief painting of suffering faces on fire. Theodore took the dagger in his hand and began to examine the painting in more detail. In addition to the main images, the scabbard had patterns remotely resembling horns, a beard and a crown. The weapon appears to have been made at least 750-850 years ago, in a time of turmoil and unrest. When peace was achieved by force alone. Ted pulled the dagger from its sheath and grasped the handle firmly and raised it upwards, imagining himself a skilled warrior, Rothrig, saving Gai from the evils of which the CEC often told tales. The front door opened and his father walked in, holding a ceramic urn containing Inessa's ashes. When he saw his son, he carefully placed the urn on the table and ran at him with fury, quickly taking the dagger from him and putting it back in the cabinet, closing the door with a clatter.

– No respect or reverence for the holy place! What did I tell you? Why don't you ever listen to me? – Lars slapped the back of Theodore's head, sitting the boy down on the bench at the memorial table, then sat across from him. Ted stared at the beige ceramic vessel on the table. It was engraved with his mother's surname and first name, and had her image painted on an oval piece of stoneware planted on a gel-like powerful glue. Standard urns were made without engraving and without an image, but Lars hadn't skimped and spent a decent amount of money to have the funeral craftsmen make the finest possible urn for the deceased. Father and son sat at the table with their heads down, thinking about their own thoughts. Lars placed his hands on the table, crossing his fingers in a lock between them. Theodore looked first at the grief-stricken father, then at the urn with the picture of the matter. The photograph that showed Inessa was dated 739. In it, Ted's mum looked like a cheerful woman, with a smile on her face, filled with genuine joy. The picture was taken during the couple's trip to the lake in a neighbouring village where relatives of Theodore's mother lived.

The boy felt no emotion associated with the photograph and the place where he and his father were. It wasn't that he didn't understand where they were now, or whose urn was in front of him. It's just that the kid lost his mum too soon, with little or no memory of her. In a way, given the unfortunate nature of the situation around him, it helped him avoid another childhood trauma associated with his mother's death. He knew and understood that at a certain period of his life she was not around. Therefore, the little boy did not have time to become attached to her in order to mourn the premature loss of his mother every day. The boy only remembered that his father often brought him to the hospital and that he was sometimes held in his arms by a woman whose face was not preserved in his memory. She was always coughing, she felt sick, the baby would start crying loudly and his father would take him in his arms again.

– Inna, I miss you every day. We were just starting to live with you. Why was I so powerless to do anything for you? To save your life… – Lars spoke sadly, turning to his deceased spouse. Theodore looked at his father again. He took a small flask filled with strong liquor out of his jacket and took a few big gulps.

– What are you looking at me for? Sitting there like nothing happened… You'll never understand my grief! Do you want to know how she died? – Lars glared at his son with anger in his eyes, taking a few more sips from his flask.

– YOU killed her! She had dreamed for years that we would have a child. And then you came along and finished her off! You shameless little demon who drank all the life out of his mother and drove her to her grave! – Lars shrieked at Theodore, rising from the table and tilting his head upwards, gulping greedily down the liquor container, literally sucking every last drop out of it. Theodore turned away and shrank back, as if trying to blend in with the table so as to be invisible to his father. Lars scrambled back and forth, clutching his head as if trying to quiet the voices inside him.

– And now, ha ha…how ironic…now you've taken on me too. You want me to go to my grave! But you know what? I won't let you do to me what you did to my wife! No, you don't have to try… – Lars, thinking hysterically and gesticulating impulsively, looked like an uncontrollable lunatic, ready to snap at any moment, which couldn't help but frighten Theodore. The boy got off the bench and climbed under the table, trying to hide from his father. He noticed this and went after him, cursing at his son and trying to drag him out of hiding. The clumsy, tipsy man bumped his head on the table, which the child took advantage of, quickly crawling out and heading for the door.

While Lars was on his feet, the boy had already managed to open the door, which was difficult to open, and run out of the room. At that moment Ted did not realise that he would have to return to his parents' house. He just wanted to get away from his angry father. When he saw the corridor in front of him, he forgot where the lift was and headed in the opposite direction. Trying to run as fast as possible, Ted tried to find an open door where he could get in and hide from his father for a while, hoping that after a while he would sober up and behave more appropriately. When Theodore saw the metal door ajar, he pushed it open and stepped inside. What he saw there was not a pleasant sight. So he froze, in one position, without moving from his seat.

In the elongated small room there were several metal gurneys on which several corpses lay. Against the back wall was an oven with a giant screen, and near it, a crematorium employee was bent over one of the corpses, preparing the body for incineration. He was wearing a black hooded cape and medical latex disposable gloves. The man was using a brush to treat the face and hands of the deceased with an odourous solution. Having finished the preparatory procedure, he put on the heat-protective gloves and opened the flap of the furnace. A huge flame emerged, ready to devour its next soulless victim. Lars appeared in the doorway. He spotted his frightened son standing there in bewilderment and shouted to him in a rough voice: ‘Theodore, come here at once.’

The labourer flinched in surprise, and noticing the boy standing in front of him with his mouth hanging open, shrieked: ‘Hey, what the hell is he doing here? Get him out of here quick!’.

Lars grabbed his son's hand and dragged him back to the Place of Remembrance. Once they were seated at the table, they both stared at the mother's urn in front of them. The father seemed to have sobered up a little, having had a small dose of adrenaline while chasing after the child. Theodore didn't feel like running anywhere anymore. He just sat and waited impatiently for the end of the wake, running through the last images in his mind. It was as if he'd been to an interactive horror film. That strange smell of dead meat, blood and the spicy aroma of the liquid the crematorium employee used to treat the dead still lingered in his nose. The boy barely restrained himself from throwing up on the table. However, the minutes were melting away. The quiet, melodic soothing music playing in the background for atmosphere was doing its job, and the child slowly began to move away from the unpleasant experience, switching his attention to what they were here for tonight.

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Примечания

1

Outcasts – people prosecuted under criminal law for particularly serious offences. They are forced to survive in the wild without the right to live in towns and villages. More about them is told in the book ‘Mercenary at heart’

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2

Places of Remembrance – premises located at municipal churches, intended to honour the dead.

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3

LSC – Life Support Cards, more in the book “Mercenary at Heart”.

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