He stares at white. White board, white paper, white pen. The spaces between the letters is white as well. Only the letters are black. Black. The board used to be black. The occasional screeching sound of the chalk on the blackboard, oh school days where everything was simple and yet to happen. Now blackboard is a website and the board is white. How things change. The simulacra is there but isn’t. He puts the tip of his pen down on the paper and starts writing but the pen is white as well. Shit, I’m out of ink, Shiroe whispers to himself. But if the pen wasn’t out of ink, what would he write? Is there a point to what he’s writing even?

Q1. Write in one page the meaning of history.

What do you mean write in one page the meaning of history? If the professor refers to the meaning of history as a truth versus the meaning of history as a false, the historiographic meta what was it, meta-something? Metafiction, there we go. No, that’s too simple, what could he mean by “meaning”. Does nobody really have a pen? Excuse me, professor, do you happen to have an extra pen? I’m sorry. That just took 5 minutes of his time, he still wrote nothing though, only if he wasn’t that anxious and awkward. What could he be thinking? The question is pretty simple but maybe he’s overthinking it. If I were him I’d probably write something about how history is only available through representations of its recollection. No recorded history is truly true. Oh, he started writing.

The meaning of history is the fact that it succeeded wonderfully at recording one perspective while completely ignoring the other.** What? Does he mean the marginalized? A bit too straight to the point but I guess it will have to do, let’s see where he goes with this. The concept of truth in history can be doubted if we are to take the standpoint that history is written by the winners. Let’s take Waterland by Graham Swift for example. Of course he will talk about Waterland by Swift, it’s just as plain as the black letters on the white exam paper. I don’t see how that relates directly to history being written by the winners, maybe he mixed something up? Why not take Neuromancer for example and write about historical truths from the perspective of a marginalized society that is dwelling with the shipwrecks of the modern society. That would be difficult but isn’t the pursuit just as rewarding as that grade. I never understood that. …the history of the family is portrayed through the lands covered… I’m not following, it’s boring. Shiroe is obviously into it but there’s nothing to read into that. Just plain regurgitating information from the class. Well he’s done his homework. This is pretty much what we talked about. Nothing impressive. Nothing impressive. Almost done with the first question, I still have time, whispered Shiroe under his breath.

He seems to be done with the first question, now he’s pondering on the second one but I’m not satisfied with his effort. Standardized testing is bullshit. No room for creativity. I guess this is how it’s been passed from generation to generation for the past what, couple of centuries? If it’s not broken why fix it, right? History at its finest. It worked for those before me, it will work those after me as well. No room for doubt, no voice to those actually inside the system. For some reason it feels as if those experiencing the educational system are the Leathermen although they far outnumber those who manage it. Weird. Shouldn’t it be the other way around. A fifth of the population inside a broken mechanism and yet they have no power over the wheel.

Good insight into the classroom discussion, need more elaboration on the family ties and how they define history. 4/5

Q2. Something about exhaustion.

I’m too lazy to find my glasses and I’m too far away to see properly. Shiroe is looking at the ceiling. What is he even doing here. He’s been here for four years but doesn’t have a single friend. Nobody to wish him good luck on the exams, nobody to celebrate with other than drunk acquaintances in night-clubs. What’s his problem I wonder? I try my best to make him seem confident but he lacks that certain something inside. I guess his neurons are fried or something, just like in Neuromancer for lack of a better comparison. He is acting as if his neurons are fried though. No initiative whatsoever. I guess this is what the system does to you, I wonder if he’ll ever remember me. What is he writing there? …the modernist society driven by perfectionism has set itself up to collapse onto itself and give birth to the voice of… boredom. That’s what it gave birth to. The first postmodernists were so bored they were tired of being bored. So they starting messing with other things such as formless texts and whatnot. Hipsters, that’s what they were. They were probably just as annoying to the society back then as modern hipsters are to us now. Most of them were probably posers too. ‘I was writing without an author’s voice before it was cool’ they would tell others while sipping on their coffee in some coffee shop with their portable typewriters.

Once again he’s just plain shooting straight. Did this kid learn nothing from me? Am I being a free spirit in the class for nothing? He’s just treating this as another sit and memorize class. Why do I even bother reading these? He obviously copied all of this into his short-term memory last night and now he’s pasting this onto the paper. He won’t remember any of this in a week. I agree with you there, he’ll remember nothing, but don’t worry. I remember everything and when Shiroe will finally wake up everything is going to be there for the taking. Given that he wakes before I disappear completely. Thus I believe that through repetitive marginalization of certain subgroups a series of fringe cultures has been created which in turn influenced the core from which they were distanced to begin with. He’s still going on about that. What about the fact that this is what they want you to believe? That the core was stable and everything else was just levitating around the white man. What about the scratches and the dents on its surface? What about the cuts and holes drilled all the way into the middle of it? Asteroids from the belt crash into the planet and so did those fringe characters that you so avidly try to describe. The same way Saturn is not Saturn without its rings, the white man was not white without influence from the African slaves, the Native Americans and the wars with each other. It’s only black if it has a white background, or vice-versa. There can’t be one without the other. A white object would be invisible on a white background, would it not? Hold up that paper against the whiteboard and tell me you don’t see it. It’s almost as if it belongs there. There’s nothing impressive to it though. A white thing on another white thing. Amazing. Not. What are you doing? Don’t actually hold it up you dumbass, focus on the third question. Why is Shiroe holding up his paper? Is he done? I’m looking at him but he’s just staring at the paper. Maybe I should ask him if there’s anything he needs? I’m sorry, I just spaced out for a moment. I’m still writing. Weird.

Q3. Imagine you’re one of Beckett’s Lost ones. What would you do? Explain your actions and the reasoning behind it.

What would Shiroe do. Good one. Look at him racking his brain, he’s so cute. As if he could even fathom not conforming. Eh, where are the good old days when he had a leather jacket, rode a bmx to school, smoked in the parking lot and worked in nightclubs. Now all he does is, nothing really. Go on, write about the perfect logicality of conformity and how breaking that stupid circle of climbing ladders for no reason is the most logical thing to do in that illogical world. …engaging oneself in the social conformity of even a place like a rubber cylinder is one of the consequences of human belonging as a social being. Yada, yada. Yes, you’re a social being aren’t you? Sitting in a social setting, engaging in social activities with other social beings. Where are the days when you used to write poetry under the moonlight? When you cursed the world for what it was and basked in its endless inferno? Where is the truth in what you wrote so many years ago?

Draw your dreams

Color them with life

Engulf just what they seem

Close your eyes, and dive

In an ocean of ashes

Is that what you did Shiroe? They broke you. The cylinder broke you. Now you’re one of them. You aimed for the ceiling, you cursed at it and looked for the highest ladder. You rallied them to hold the ladders end to end so that one may reach the ceiling but gave up at the first failure. Go on, make up a good excuse as to why now you’re part of the circle. Your history is nothing but fiction. When you’ll look upon me from some distant apartment in a distant city what will you remember as truth? Will you even remember? I guess there’s only one thing left for you to do now as you’re a fully integrated social individual. Go ahead, pick a religion and start believing that nothing is your fault, the consequences of your actions are but the will of a supreme being and you just stroll through life like nothing matters but your immediate surrounding. Good understanding of the lectures and class discussions.  Of course he has good understanding, he’s not stupid, he’s boring. There’s a difference. See me after class to discuss some points I’m a bit unclear on. Final grade 90/100. Oh great, now he’s going to go do his monologue about grades and stuff that he repeated in so many offices over the years, ugh. You know what, I’m out. I’m done. I have no interest in this anymore. I thought maybe these questions will arouse some sort of curiosity for the abnormal in him but he’s gone. Maybe one day’s you’ll remember this Shiroe. Maybe.

Say that you own,

The beauty of mind.

Say that you have

Purity of soul.

Believe in your lies

Only the Believer survives.

Only the fool truly lives,

The one who believes.

Yet I live, but I do not

Believe, in my lies.

He denies, his own

Demise

[originally published in 2016]