(Me) "This is goodbye. I am not getting involved. I had the pain of waiting a lifetime already for my freedom," I say to the sleeping AIS.

I find it surprising that she is even able to snooze moments later at this important moment. But since this is my opportunity, I slip away. A tingling feeling stops me. That terrible woman really left her mark on me. I grimace and rub the circulation back into my leg. The imprint of her arms and body slowly disappear. For someone dead, I surprisingly have a functional body.

Looking around, I find myself in a place full of darkness. The only light here is from me in small amounts while a majority from AIS. She's like a beacon for those lost in the afterlife... Well, it's no use to dwell on these thoughts. I continue walking monotonously in the direction I was going before.

...

I followed what I felt intrinsically. I find myself lost in the surrounding darkness. The whispers and swishing of wind flittered at the edge of my awareness at the beginning. They became more prominent as time went by. I lost track of that time as hours, days passed. Was this a representation of my mind? Am I stuck in my own delusions?

Then, I reach a wall. A literal wall. It's composed of dirty iron bricks lined high and beyond my sight. Their cracks scream about the fragility of my psyche- my mind as weak and my sights as bleak. It is brittle and thin: a shallow cover.

I notice this wall now surrounds me. It feels comforting; a soothing blanket over the outside world. I am alone but not in a forlorn way. I am alone in an everlasting peace. The AIS must have lied to me because this does not feel painful at all. It is a sensation without sensing; an existence by nonexistence.

…

I remember. My first days in school were scary. I was a quiet and shy kid who always kept to himself. Everything new was a fresh nightmare and all of it was confusing. The halls were intimidating, giant mazes; the school was a labyrinth. I didn't understand what the new things were nor was I able to ask what they were. They just were.

School continued like that. I studied quietly to not make any trouble. Classes changed, classmates changed, I even changed. But I still was the same quiet and shy kid, only if a bit more book-smart. Yet I still couldn't name things, name people, name events, name names.

And I watched it all. The bullies teasing, beating up others, and causing trouble to get attention or satisfy themselves. The troublemakers doing whatever to disrupt class just to have some entertainment, giggles, and hijinks. The studious students keeping highly educated and focused. The athletes forging their bodies to show the world for some global event. And others like me: the spectators, the watchers, the bystanders.

Most teachers just went about their days listlessly. They tried to convince themselves that this job is what they wanted; teaching kids and creating a better future was best for them. But it showed in their actions, in their eyes, in their health- an overall fall in performance. They all hated this cycle but somehow couldn't stop coming back for more.

Of course, there were good teachers who really cared. They kept track of the world, their teachings, their students' lives- all of it. They knew what they were doing, or at least what they were aiming for, and kept close watch over their students. Learning was fun with them rather than bland and forced. They learned from us and we from them; it was an exchange.

…

I had a favorite teacher: he was a substitute one day in high school and laid down the law. He was not a noticeable man, nor did he have a special name as I've already forgotten it. But he left an impression on me.

He was a sarcastic and humorous man. The first thing he did was write his name in an illegible script on the board in the front of the room. Then, he turned to the class and introduced himself with a bow.

(Mr. Teacher) "Let's get things started. Namely-" he said in a calm voice, underlining his name when he said 'namely', "With introductions."

(Mr. Teacher) "Sally Axle?" he went on, completely ignoring his name.

(Sally Axle) "Eh? Yes!?!" she cried out, utterly confused at his mannerisms.

(Mr. Teacher) "I know you're called Miss Axle, but don't get too turned around," he said, adding turning motions with his hands, as if spinning a wheel. "Stay fixated on the class," he finished, his statement finalized with the slamming of the bottom of his balled fist, like he was planting a flag to represent his authority on his desk.

(Sally Axle) "Was that a joke?"

(Student ?) "Did he-"

(Student ?) "I think he just did."

(Mr. Teacher) "Robert Bark?" he said, completely ignoring the class in the same way he did with his name.

(Robert Bark) "What's it to you?" he replied, in an intimidating snide.

(Mr. Teacher) "Ah, Mister Bark. A lot of Barks must be in your family, right? Just hope that we don't have to cut it out to keep you docile and quiet," he spoke, smoothly making a slicing motion at his nether regions and yanking an imaginary manhood off.

(Robert Bark) "The fuck? What's wrong with you?"

(Student ?) "Did he-"

(Student ?) "Yeah. He compared Robert to a misbehaving dog."

(Mr. Teacher) "Halley Chalk?" he continued, unperturbed.

(Halley Chalk) "Don't you fucking dare make fun of my name!" she hissed.

(Mr. Teacher) "Don't you worry your head, Miss Chalk. I'd draw the line with your name," he said comfortingly. But he also drew another line under his name when he said her name and held out his hands to present it like a magic trick. He definitely was mocking the entire class one by one.

(Halley Chalk) "You bastard!" she screamed.

(Mr. Teacher) "Please refrain from using foul language, Miss Chalk. And don't chalk it all up to me being a bastard. You would know what a real bastard is like, wouldn't you?" he silkily, slickly, and chilly said in the same instance. A knowing look in his eyes glinted as he stared back into Halley Chalk's eyes.

(Halley Chalk) "Shut up..." she relented, sitting back down.

(Student ?) "Did he-"

(Student ?) "Just insinuate that she's a bastard child? Yeah, he made undertones like that-"

(Student ?) "Fuck you asshole! Stop interrupting me! Don't be a know-it-all and let me speak!" he interjected.

The guy in a red blazer and blue sports pants jumped up and grabbed his neighbor at the desk beside him. He pulled the other student up to his face and continued shouting profanities.

(Mr. Teacher) "..." he sighed and clapped his hands together, applauding the performance. "Yes! Burning passion kids. But please keep your hands to yourselves in public," he iterated in a smug and sly voice. He even winked at them.

(Student ?) "You fuck! I don't swing that way!"

(Mr. Teacher) "Then why did you want to grab him? To hold him in your hands?"

(Student ?) "Don't say it that way! That makes a lot of misunderstandings! I hate him. I'm angry. And I want to beat the fuck out of his face. That's it," he fumes, pissed off as Hell's fire when fueled by the urine of Cerberus.

(Mr. Teacher) "Sure, sure. Just keep it in your pants."

(Student ?) "I will, you fucker. Disgusting piece of shit..." he said, throwing the other student back into their seat and then sitting down grumpily. The other student was still reeling from the noise and hurt by the sudden assault, but he was recovering.

(Mr. Teacher) "So, shall we continue?" he said, spreading his hands out in a gesture resembling an Olympist who stuck the high-jump landing. Seriously, what?

He continued to be a strange man, constantly harassing us while continuing the lesson. We collectively hated him but he somehow brought the class together and more involved in class. Gone were the bored faces and easy times. It was full of discussions, debates, and, most important of all, interest.

When he was leaving, some of us wanted to know how and why.

(Robert Bark) "Who the fuck are you, man?" he spat out, his words furious.

(Mr. Teacher) "People say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. But you, Mister Bark, grew out of the tree as its Bark. That is why you are so thick, isn't it?" he said. The entire time he spoke, he drew a diagram of a tree, apples in its branches, one falling off, and a circle around a growth coming out of the tree's side.

(Robert Bark) "Fuck you too. I'm not a dumbshit," he growled.

(Sally Axle) "Excuse him, but seriously, who are you? You never told use your name!" she pouted.

(Mr. Teacher) "Who I am does not matter. What really matters is what you do with your life."

And he left, never to come back. He did change the class and I admit he was good at his job. He covered the math lesson smoothly and we all passed the next math test, if just barely. We stopped being so immature. We gained inspiration. And he changed our futures.

Robert Bark became a literate lyricist and rapper. And the others? I don't know, why the fuck are you asking me? But I became a teacher. I became cynical. I became more assertive. I became a teacher.

…

My first actual job was in my University. I was a part-timer, helping a freshmen class. I was excited. I really was. It was my first time truly teaching several kids at a time. I tutored one-on-one before with close friends, but never an audience of strangers.

I pulled on a business suit and tucked in my pants before I left to prepare the classroom on the first day. I was nervous- how could I not be nervous? I was still the same quiet and shy person I was before, despite the practice upon practice I did at home. I never did anything after school and the only parties I went to were for my friend's birthdays.

You could say I was extremely sheltered. I burned away all my lifetime on books and both board and video games. I became generically knowledgeable about fantasy but I still could not name things. A bird-like reptilian creature breathing magical power and of enormous size was a dragon. But what unique dragons there were? I could not be sure like I've always been about everything.

I lost my nerve. When I got really nervous, I'd self-reflect and drown in the resulting self-pity from the terrible remains of my life. I was a pessimist. But I wanted to change. I wanted to be like Mr. Teacher. So I prepared, rehearsed, and there I was.

I didn’t do my best with that class, which was obvious. I stumbled in my words and got frightened at their outbursts of annoyance and aggression. Who knew American History could get them so riled up? But eventually, I settled into it. I was any average teacher on the job. I became “most teachers”, just there for the job and living blankly.

…

By my early 30s, I decided to change from teaching adults. I thought of them as opinionated and stubborn; they did not change easily nor listen to my authority. I was just someone there to teach them the subject and pass them for their great big dream in their future. I was holding the torch for them to start the games of life. I was a gatekeeper.

Instead of this, I wanted to teach kids. The impressionable, malleable kids that could learn to open up and not be so pushy. It’d be easier, wouldn’t it?

I ended up landing a job at my old school and had the embarrassment of going over old memories with teachers still there. My childhood spent there and my hometown. My parents living nearby and people who I knew and their kids too. It all was good.

I helped them pronounce their letters. I helped them write. I taught them morals. I taught them manners. I gave them love. I gave them unity. I gave it my all to make sure the future generations were happier than mine was. But reality is a pain in the ass.

Kids couldn’t cope with their problems: parents divorced, were abusive, died, had a family member ill or killed- all these negative things and they had no way of dealing with it. They had to accept it, but many denied or spewed their emotions on the world. They just couldn’t understand the injustice.

I began to talk to them about reality. Of the real world. How people die and never come back, how people fall out of love and separate, how people have bad things happen to them every day. They learned to emphasize. They learned what can happen. They learned to not hate each other. They learned to work together. They learned to be mature.

This, of course, went wrong in all sorts of places. Superintendents, principals, teachers, society- each of them reviled at my actions. Parents complained, filed lawsuits, and I even had some dads beat the shit out of me on the way home for “defiling their daughter’s innocence”. I lost my job more times than I could count and traveled to find another opening. But the whole time, I felt it was needed. Even if they lose interest in their toys. Even if they don’t play games as much as they do. Even if they looked sad at times. Kids needed this.

I also told them of the future. Of what they should prepare for. Different cultures, different opportunities, different ways of thinking. How one idea could blossom many others; an idea to compile on the work of others to promote unity. I told them of what they could be. A leader. A follower. An individual. A creator. Whatever they wanted, they could do. They could do as they like.

I finished with the idea of choice. Their actions affect not only themselves but others and their futures too. I felt at times, my idealistic teachings were bullshit, but I kept at it. I wanted them to know there is more to hate, anger, dissatisfaction, sadness, annoyance. Society treats us as babies too much; they do not prepare us for the adult world.

We can individually do our own actions, but we need to account for the problems from them. At least, that’s what I thought back then. When my neighborhood turned to shit and the increase of crime rate in the area scared away parents, I had to retire early. Yet I stayed in my neighborhood. I still taught kids at a Sunday school, despite being nonreligious in my own righteousness.

And I learned now that none of it mattered. What happened, happened and I guess I did little to the world. My talk didn’t mean shit, but at least I don’t have to deal with another world again.

Or so I thought. The walls around me crumbled and I fell out into the world of Tekton. Another set of problems set in another life, I guess. I hope at the very least that this one is more enjoyable than my pissy old life. I don’t want to be a teacher again. I hate dealing with people and their problems. My own problems are enough, like how I just fell flat on my face and I'm feeling extreme pain for the first time in forever.