Class of ’98

We were 20 in my class. You may think it’s a lot of people, but it was not. It turned out that out of these 20, at the end, only one, me, managed to join the Corps. I could say, anyway, that I expected that. When you study something at the University, you do it not expecting to work on it. The University was built as a kind of temple of knowledge, in the same way the Temple is for the people with religious needs. So you don’t expect anything in return. Your life can’t be based on it. We were a bunch of dickheads, all of us, just looking for a new life goal by digging our life rules out of the crap of our civilization. For example: do not modify digital records, unless owning them or having permission from the government. This meaning that, all that awful parties at the campus, all those annoying flirting deceptions, were recorded by default, unless specifically deleted by one of the Corps. That is what we learned then, and what I know now is that these recordings are kept only for three months, unless keeping them is strictly requested by a legal tutor, owner or authority. Meaning all these gorgeous parties, at the end, against our wishes, were deleted. We were partying at that moment like beasts, like there was no future.

For example, my first encounter with my best friend was in a party. There is no official recording now, but I remember it was a good one. We started at the University, celebrating the birthday of somebody of my class (I don’t remember his name, and I don’t want to remember it) and after ending up with everything that was drinkable on the room, we took a tube to the Low Lands. Somebody (again I don’t remember the name, but I could identify him if I see him) somehow prepared a hall for a live concert and an afterwards party. The place was in the middle of a hot area. The cameras came with us, since we were an government investment, but that didn’t stop us. There was the live music. And the life sex, by spontaneous performers. The doors to the hall were open. Everybody was invited, provided they knew there were cameras. The point is, the cameras don’t record everything everywhere, so sometimes it doesn’t matter if you have cameras or not.

He was speaking with a girl of my class. The lights were, again, not allowing me to identify him as a Pioneer, but I never cared. The thing is, I previously tried to approach to that girl, but she kicked my butt when I was thinking I was going to have a chance, so I was curious about the type of man she liked. It turned out, for my luck, that she kicked out my future friend also. And he ended up close to me.

– A real bitch, isn’t her? – He told me after he landed by my side, before finishing his drink, and immediately refilling it, not without offering me one too.

I said something defending her. He looked at me, I remember, like reading my mind. Then I realized what he was, but I decided to ignore it. He asked me about her taste in sex. I asked him about his taste in girls. We laughed, spontaneously, together, like old friends. We shared some common failures. It turned out we shared some common preferences, also. Then we walked around, looking for targets, in the hope that one plus one was more than two. The party was really good, but not for us. We drunk a lot. We spoke a lot. That day,  I think, we connected.

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About bitsanddragons

A traveller, an IT professional and a casual writer
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