The G. M. Os. - 7. Chapter 7 - You Are Not Dumb

Chapter 7
Ship Clock 262036
Eugenus (Gene) 54-721c
You Are Not Dumb

“Hi, Moli, what are you doing out here?” Gene asked as he sat down on the log next to his best friend. She said they were boyfriend-girlfriend, but Gene didn’t want to go that far. They were only twelve; he felt they were too young to have that kind of relationship.

“Oh, I don’t know, I just got away for a couple hours. I was in the greenhouse working on some apricot root stock and got bored. I asked the bot supervisor and it said I could be gone no more than three hours, but, you know, it takes a while to get back so I have to leave soon. I was hoping you would be here.”

“No, I couldn’t get away; I have a chemistry test tomorrow and have to study. I’ve failed this test five times already and if I fail this one, I’ll fail the whole module. I’m afraid I’ll be called into the court to explain my problem.”

“You have a problem with studying, again? Weren’t you ordered to study molecular biology?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m capable of being a molecular biologist. I don’t think I’m capable of doing anything academic that would be of use to the ship.”

“Oh, Gene, no! You’ve got to study harder, you can’t stop now and, like you say, you’ll get in trouble with the bots. You’d better go back right now and get to studying your subject. You’ve been at this degree for too long already. What has it been, thirty-three years? Now, go!”

“Okay, but I won’t like it,” Gene said as he stood up.

“Will you like going to juvenile detention, again?”

“No,” Gene said. He turned and walked away toward his residence. He wanted to change his major, again, but the court appointed advisor told him there was no way that was going to happen. When he failed the test three weeks ago, a bot came to escort him to his advisor who stressed Gene had to get with the program and pass the test or suffer the consequences, which weren’t specified. Unfortunately, he knew what would happen; the judge would send him back to detention, maybe forever.

By most standards the test was relatively easy. It was about the elements appearing on the periodic table, most of which he was certain were not on the ship; so why was it important to study the thing in its entirety? The questions were confusing, too. The letters didn’t make a bit of sense, but he had to memorize all of them because each question was about a different one: what element does Au stand for, what is the symbol for Uranium, what is the atomic number of Titanium, what is the electron configuration of Barium, or, most confusing of all, what was the dark matter coefficient of Na? There were so many of them Gene could never remember which one went where or what it meant; plus, they kept changing the test, meaning he kept failing it. This time, though, he had to pass.

He saw a rock, which were rare on the ship, in the middle of the trail and kicked it; and, as he walked along, he kept kicking it as he tried to distract his mind from tomorrow’s test. The test, the test, why couldn’t he memorize all of that material? He had memorized the color solid when he studied art, so why couldn’t he memorize the periodic table and all the associated data for all the elements? What was the dark matter coefficient for Si? What was Si? He kicked the rock, hard, and it flew off into his parents’ apple orchard. Probably made out of Au, he thought. What was Au and was there any of it on the ship? Probably not, he thought.

He walked into the orchard and looked for the rock, but it was hiding in the orchard grass and he didn’t care. His mind turned to the bot juvenile prison. Would he be able to live there for years? He was probably going to get at least a year long sentence. How many more, he couldn’t imagine. He walked through the orchard looking at the ripening Galas and Granny Smiths. In a few weeks, he was going be out here picking the Granny Smiths, which would ripen first.

He sat down and leaned against a tree. Twenty meters away was the path between the apples and the pears, the path leading back to the residence. Thirty-three years studying the same subject was too long, he was going too slowly, he was taking too much time off between modules, and he wanted to go back to art. Yes, art had been a good subject until he had to memorize the formulas for the different colors of paint. He wanted to be a computer artist, but he had to study drawing and painting, first. Why did he have to study subjects he would never encounter again? Why did he have to know all about dark matter coefficients, that didn’t even apply to molecular biology? That was his sister’s subject. She was the physics genius. She was going to work in the ship’s dark matter labs. What was Au, anyway?

Gene stood up and then sat back down. The tree was uncomfortable, but at least it didn’t have a module screen standing beside it. What was the color of a yellowing apple leaf? He had to study that. What colors did he have to mix together to make a painting of a yellowing leaf look like a real yellowing leaf? That memory was lost, now; gone the way of electrical engineering, module troubleshooting, how to ask customers what was wrong with their food prep, or how to draw a picture, in pastels, of a nude and get the color right. Was there any gold on the ship and what was its symbol?

He stood up, again, and walked over to the path where he turned down toward the residence. After about fifty meters he almost ran into his father, who was testing a Gala for sugar content, maybe they were going to ripen first.

“What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be studying. If you fail this time, you’re going back to court for a review of your sentence. You know we’ll need you here to help out with the apple harvests. I think the Galas will wait until we’re through with the Granny Smiths. The farm bots will be able to do most of the work, but you’ll have to check off the count so we’ll know how many will go to the bots for distribution in the cities. So, get back to your room and study! Now!”

“Fine, but I’m going to fail, anyway.”

“Like I said, if you fail you’ll go away for a long time. We need you here, not in a bot detention center. Now, go!”

“Okay!” Gene exclaimed.

Sometimes Father could be so demanding. He didn’t understand a thing about what Gene was going through. He’d never studied the periodic table. He was a farmer, raised by farmers, who were raised by farmers. Maybe, Gene thought, maybe he could stay here and learn more about farming. Maybe, that was his calling. Could he convince his advisor of that?

*********

Q WHO IS CREDITED WITH FIRST PUBLISHING THE PERIODIC TABLE?

What kind of question was that? He never studied that. That had never been on the previous tests.

A DON’T KNOW.

Q WHAT IS THE ELEMENT WITH THE SYMBOL Au?

A AUDRIUM.

Q WHAT IS THE DARK MATTER COEFFICIENT OF H?

A 1.

Q WHAT IS THE ATOMIC NUMBER OF Al?

A 82.

And, so it went through all hundred and fifty questions, though, Gene felt pretty good about how he did. This time there were only fifteen “don’t knows.” All the others, he gave the best answers he could, but was certain he got most of them right. Seventy-five percent was an acceptable score, at least it was passing. Yes, seventy-five percent would be his score.

EUGENUS 54-721C DO NOT LEAVE YOUR RESIDENCE

Don’t leave the residence? That could mean only one thing. Well, he figured it would come to this, eventually. He looked at the module and there it was:

SCORE 1 . . . GRADE 0.0

What had he gotten right? He had always gotten a few questions right, but only one? What question was that? Could it be that Au stood for Audrium? No, that was silly, it was only a guess. What were all those questions about gold? Why did he need to know that? He was sure there wasn’t any gold on the ship. What use did it have and what was its dark matter coefficient? What was its electron configuration? There were hardly any questions about the other elements, except, maybe, uranium, but was there any of that on the ship? What was the third dark matter coefficient of uranium? Third? He’d never studied anything about multiple dark matter coefficients, had he?

Gene pushed his chair back from the module, but didn’t stand up. There was a soft knock at the door. He turned toward it, “Yes? Come in.”

The door opened and Nanny trundled in. “A bot speeder will be here in a few minutes. It would look better if you were outside waiting for it.”

“How did you know it was coming?” Gene asked. He knew the answer, all the bots talked to each other. She had been sent a message to ensure he was ready to go. He slipped off his rubber soled socks and put on his running shoes, at least they’d be comfortable.

He got to his feet and followed Nanny to the front door. Outside, he, at first, remained on the porch, but then figured it was best if he went down to the parking area. Mother walked up and asked, “What are you doing out here? Did you finish your test?”

“Yes, I failed it. A security bot speeder is on its way to pick me up.”

“No! You’re needed here for the apple harvests,” Mother said. She stood there, close to him, staring.

Gene turned away when the whooshing sound of the approaching speeder filled the air. He turned back and unexpectedly, saw it was a covered speeder and, besides the driver, there were four security bots inside it.

“Woman, you will leave the area,” one of the security bots said. “We are here only for Eugenus 54-721c.”

Gene watched Mother walk up to the porch and turn back toward the speeder. He knew she was risking her life, but also knew she, at least, cared what was probably going to happen to him. That was nice, he thought.

“Eugenus 54-721c?” the security bot asked.

“Yes.”

“You will remain standing there.”

Gene didn’t know what was going to happen, but wasn’t surprised that two other security bots coasted down to stand on either side of him. They had soft plastic bands that they used to secure his hands and arms, and feet and legs. They put a dark bag over his head, blocking out all light. He felt them hold him as they rose into the speeder and set him in a human adapted seat. The lid softly clicked shut and he felt the sensation of the speeder rising into the air and felt his arms being pushed back against the seat.

To Gene, this was the strangest way to transport a prisoner to the interrogation center, but maybe he wasn’t going there, maybe they were taking him somewhere else. Where remained unspoken and he knew not to ask questions. One never asked a security bot what it was doing. The dark was getting uncomfortable to the point where he wanted to pull the bag off his head, but that was impossible and if it was, he wouldn’t have done it. The security bots put it there and only they were going to take it off.

After a while, a long while, longer than all his trips to the interrogation center, he felt the speeder slow and then come to a stop. He was picked up and carried between two bots, where he had no idea. The bots floated along, but the stress of their artificial hands on his upper arms was getting unbearable. Just when he was about to say something they stopped and set him down on a firm surface.

“Undo the bonds on his arms, legs, and feet,” a voice said. “Leave the hood, we will send it along later.”

He didn’t hear the security bots leave and didn’t hear anything else. Then he felt something tighten around his neck. It felt like a rope. They were going to execute him! Just for failing a module, well, his twentieth module, but that was beside the point as far as he was concerned.

“Eugenus 54-721c, having been found guilty of disrespecting the court of Ring 2, you have been sentenced to die by hanging,” the metallic voice of a bot said. “Do you have any last words?”

“No, what can I say?” Gene said.

He felt the floor drop out from under him. He shit himself in an instant. Pee dribbled from his penis. He stared into darkness. Suddenly, he realized he wasn’t dead. He felt himself being raised back up and the garrote being removed from his neck. The bonds on his wrists were cut, but his arms were pulled behind his back and his wrists were cuffed; shackles were locked onto his ankles. The hood was removed. He was standing on an execution platform in the bot juvenile prison.

“Eugenus 54-721c, this was only an example of what may happen to you in the future,” the bot in front of him said. “Eugenus 54-721c, you have been sentenced to ten years solitary confinement, seven years suspended if you show progress in the court assigned course of study. Take the prisoner to his cell.”

At least they let him cleanup before his strip search. The bot med-tech actually seemed nice about it, but Gene was still in prison and didn’t look forward to three years of solitary confinement. It was plainly obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to talk to his school advisor about staying on the farm. The bots definitely wanted him to study molecular biology, probably so he could work in their birthing centers. Mutations and diseases were getting through the process even though the genes of every egg and sperm were thoroughly examined, but that meant he’d have to pass all the chemistry modules, which meant having to memorize the periodic table. He wasn’t certain that was a possibility. Though, his only choice might be death. He couldn’t see the bots keeping him for ten whole years. He sat on his bed wondering if he could ask the bots for study material on all the elements. Then he lay down and rested his head on the flimsy pillow. No, he’d just have to get used to it. Three years without talking to another person; he wondered if he would be given visiting rights. No, that would mean the bots would have to be nice. How could they be nice when they didn’t have hearts?

********

“Hi, Gene, I heard you were here,” Eugeni said.

“How did you get in?”

“I’m important to them and I can do things other people can’t. Are they treating you decently?”

“Decently? These are bots, they don’t know how to be decent to people,” Gene said. Why did the tin men have to come with no hearts? You’d think their programmers would have known that being nice to people would make the people feel good. “Well, actually, I can’t complain; not that that would do me any good, anyway.”

“I’ve asked them to give you study material so you can learn everything about the elements; I know this has been hard on you.”

“Hard? You don’t know hard. I could memorize a color solid, but not how to mix paint and I can’t memorize everything I need to know about all of those elements that probably aren’t on the ship anyway.”

“You’d be surprised how many we do have.”

“Can I ask you something; why does uranium have three dark matter coefficients?”

“Actually it has five; it’s a very weird element and it’s one of the most studied in the dark matter lab. The strangest thing about it is the number of dark matter particles attached to uranium atoms the ship ingests to power its engines. As far as we know, it’s one of the few that is capable of doing that. Maybe, that’s why it’s so heavy, but, then, some of the lighter atoms have high coefficients, too, like hydrogen. It’s the lightest element but it has fourteen coefficients.”

“Can you tell me exactly what a dark matter coefficient is?” Gene asked. He thought now was a good time to actually find out. After all, Eugeni was the physics expert. “I think there was a mathematical formula related to it, but since I’m not as good at mathematics as you, it didn’t mean anything to me.”

“How far did you get in calculus?”

“I failed the first module and got a deferment to study it later, but I guess I should’ve tried harder. I didn’t even do well with algebra and barely passed the eighteen modules. I’m just not as smart as you. I was thinking about asking my advisor if I could just stay in farming, but they sent me here before I had the chance. I’m just not good at memorizing complicated stuff, like you.”

“Gene, you can do anything you set your heart to. But, I’ll see what I can do; maybe we can get you into a mental hospital where they can test your intelligence and cognitive abilities. Maybe you just aren’t as smart as everyone thinks you are. Now, I want you to be good and try not to piss off the bots, you know what they can do. I’ve got to catch the omnibus back to Ring 1.”

“Thanks for coming,” Gene said. A wave of sadness swept over him and he was almost certain he was going to cry. “I wish Mother and Father could get permission to come and visit me, too.”

“I’ll see what the bots think. Sorry, but I’ve got to run. Be good, Gene.”

“Thank you for coming, Eugeni. Bye.”

“Bye, Gene.”

Gene watched his sister being escorted out the door of the visiting room and waited for his bot escort to take him back to his cell. A mental hospital? What would that mean? He wasn’t crazy, he was just stupid, dumb, brain dead, certainly not nuts. What if they found out he was incapable of doing higher cognitive tasks. Would he be able to study farming or would he have to stay on the farm with Father and Mother until they died and then be was sent to a facility for dummies? Or, would the bots send him to such a facility right off? What would become of his life? He wasn’t that dumb, just couldn’t memorize complicated things like mixing paint and knowing all those complicated things about elements.

Where was his escort? He had to pee and there was no sign of them. He tried to concentrate on something other than having to pee, but his focus refused to move to away from his bladder. If they didn’t hurry, he was going to pee on himself. The door to his side of the visitors’ room slid open and a bot entered.

“Eugenus 54-721c, stand up, I will escort you to your cell,” the bot said. “You certainly are a lucky human. The court has notified us that you are required for your farm’s apple harvest and have been granted a four week supervised absence. It will count as time served. You will leave in the morning with your security team.”

Gene wanted say thank you, but he had to pee so much he didn’t want to focus on anything other than his bladder. He decided to chance it and asked, “Is there a toilet room on our way? I have to pee really bad.”

“You should have urinated before coming down here,” the bot said. “You cannot be uncuffed so you must wait until you get back to your cell or just urinate on yourself. You are only age twelve; you certainly cannot have that much urine in you. Now, let us go before you do that on the floor and a bot has to clean it up.”

Gene shuffled along totally focused on his bladder. The crackling of the shackles certainly didn’t help, but he had no choice in the matter. Then came the pain, the familiar pain of not going when you’re supposed to. Then it happened.

“Are you urinating?” The bot asked.

“Yes.”

“Stand still, I will call a med-tech,” the bot said. Another guard appeared around the corner, followed by another. They just stood there watching him pee on himself. Soon a med-tech bot came trundling along with new coveralls, underwear, and a towel. It stopped in front of Gene.

“Take off his cuffs and shackles,” the med-tech said. It proceeded to pull off Gene’s coveralls and underwear and then toweled him off. “He has urinated on his slippers. Take him to his cell barefoot and a new pair will be delivered.”

After the med-tech helped Gene put on new underwear and coveralls, one of the guards cuffed him while the other shackled his ankles. It was going to be uncomfortable going back to his cell without slippers, but what choice did he have?

********

“Gene, welcome home,” Father said as the boy stepped out of the speeder. “Who are they?”

“They are my guards, Father. They’re here to make sure I don’t try to run away.”

“You know they’ll kill you if you do.”

“I’m not that stupid.”

“We got a message from Eugeni that you’re going to be sent to a prison hospital on Ring 7 for a mental evaluation. For some reason, she thinks you’re not as smart as her. I know that can’t be right. Sure, she’s a genius and maybe you’re just a different kind of genius, but I know you’re a smart boy and can do whatever you set your mind to. Come inside, Cook has made something special for lunch. How about them?”

“They’ll stay outside; I’m wearing a tracking module on my ankle. It’s good to be home, Father.”

“We’re glad you’re here, boy.”

“You haven’t called me that since I was little,” Gene said as a wave of nostalgia passed through his mind.

“Well, since you want to stay with us until, well until you find a place on this ship, why shouldn’t I try to be a little nicer?”

“I guess Eugeni put that in her message, too.”

“Yes, she did and your mother and I would be happy to have you here until you’re officially an adult. Maybe you could get on a commune. I hear there’s a fantastic one on Ring 5.”

“I’ve heard about that one, too. You know, we didn’t get out of that place until later than I expected and I’m kind of getting hungry. Can we go inside, now? Is Mother here?”

“No, she’s up in the orchard testing the Galas and Granny Smiths to see which one we’ll harvest first. She’ll be back in a little bit.”

Gene turned to his escorts and said, “I’m going inside now.”

Not unexpectedly, they had already powered down to standby mode and might not be listening, though they would immediately respond if he went out the backdoor. That was the thing about bots; they could look like they weren’t paying the least bit of attention, but actually listened to everything you said. If they felt they didn’t have to respond, they simply wouldn’t. Of course, Nanny, Cook, and the cleaning bot would watch him very closely.

Inside, Gene went to his bedroom and put on his farm coveralls and his own house slippers. He was out, but didn’t want to look like he’d just come from a prison. It was bad enough having to arrive here in his prison clothes. As far as he was concerned that uniform didn’t have a place outside of the prison.

Coming out of his bedroom, he almost ran into Nanny who was standing right by his door. He scowled at her and said, “You knew I was in there, it’s not like I was going to climb out the window. You know I have an ankle bracelet and the guards will respond as soon as I leave the house.”

“Just following instructions,” Nanny said.

“Do you think I can go up to the log and talk to Moli while I’m here?”

“Not without an escort.”

“So, you’re saying I could go up there with an escort?”

“I will ask,” Nanny said and promptly powered down. In moment, she came back. “You will have a supervised visit. If you say anything about your stay in the prison, the visit will be terminated and you will be returned to the prison without delay. That will mean you will not be able to help with the harvest and that will anger Glorus.”

“Fine, can I send a message to her asking to meet me?”

Nanny powered down, again, but quickly came back, “You will get permission from Glorus first and then I will send a message to Moli’s nanny. She will advise if the visit is permissible and when will be a convenient time. To expedite the visit, you will be taken to the log in the speeder. A farm bot will pilot. Is that satisfactory?”

“Do I have a choice?” Gene asked sarcastically.

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll ask Father and then you can send the message to set up the meet.”

Gene walked to the living room and saw that Mother had gotten back in time for lunch. “Hi, Mother,” he said.

“Gene! It’s so good to have you home, even if it’s only for a short time. Are they treating you okay?”

“I’m not permitted to say.”

“Oh, of course, a bot rule.”

“Glori, I called Gene ‘boy’ a little bit ago and he seemed very happy about it,” Father said.

“He is just a boy, Glorus; he’s not even into puberty yet.”

“How do you know about boys?”

“You’re my brother and you didn’t start until you were fourteen; or, that was what Father told me.”

“How did he know?”

“Fathers know things like that, sometimes mothers, too. You’re so involved with the farm; you hardly have time with Gene, or Eugeni.”

“Can I interrupt?” Gene asked.

“Sure, what is it, son?” Mother asked.

“Well, now that I’m back, for a short time, can I see Moli for a short visit? I know that the apples are probably ready, but just for a short time; I would appreciate it and won’t ask, again. Nanny said that I’ll be taken up there in the speeder and I’ll have at least one guard with me.”

“Boy, your mother was telling me that the Galas are ready now, but I think we can let you have just a couple hours first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“See, he calls me Father, too. Gene, we’re going to start the harvest today after lunch, so your meeting will have to be around seven tomorrow morning, no later.”

“Thank you, Father,” Gene said as he turned to go. “I’m going to tell Nanny.”

“Oh, Gene, you’ve never called me Glori or your father by his name, why is that?” Mother asked.

“I don’t know, Eugeni never called either of you Mother or Father and, I guess, I just didn’t want to do what she did, but she’s so smart, maybe that was her way of communicating with you, Mother.”

“Thank you, Gene.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Gene said and then hurried into the hall where he found Nanny standing by his room.

“I heard and have communicated your request to Moli’s farm. I should know before supper.”

“Thank you, Nanny.”

Wow! He thought, life was certainly changing now that everyone thought he was dumb. He wondered, though, if he could get on at that commune if he was as dumb as Eugeni thought he was. It was her idea that he go to a mental hospital. Maybe being dumber than Eugeni wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he wouldn’t have to study molecular biology and could stay on the farm until he was an adult. He’d like that, farming and all, being here with Mother and Father. How things had changed now that everyone, except his father, thought he was dumb.

********

Moli was at the log when Gene arrived in the speeder the next morning. It was about ten minutes before seven and he wondered how long she had been waiting. “Hi, Moli,” he said as he stepped out of the speeder. One of the guards followed him. The farm bot powered down the thrusters.

“Hi, Gene,” Moli said. “What’s going on?”

“I have to have my guards with me at all times. That’s why they brought me here in the speeder. Have you been here for a long time?”

“No, I just got here a few minutes ago. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he said. He knew she was going to ask about the prison and wondered what the guard behind him would do.

“Are they treating you okay at the prison?”

“I’m forbidden to talk about the prison,” he said. Moli gave him a questioning look, but he just shrugged. What more could he say?

“How are things at the farm?”

“We started harvesting the Galas yesterday afternoon. I’m doing the count again this season, too bad I won’t be available for the Goldens, but that’s just how things go. There’s the D’Anjous coming up next month and then the Bartletts will follow a couple weeks later. Then it’ll be time to start putting the Galas and Granny Smiths into dormancy so the bots can get them pruned for the next harvest. By then the second harvest of the Bings will arrive. After that the peaches and apricots will be coming on. There’s so much to do here.”

“I received a message from Eugeni.”

“You two communicate with each other?”

“Certainly, we’re friends. She said something about you being sent to a mental hospital. Is that right?”

Gene turned to the bot, but it had powered down. It was listening, just not paying that much attention. “They want to do some mental tests to see why I’m not as smart as Eugeni.”

“Oh, I thought maybe you were having mental problems.”

“I think it has more to do with cognitive issues.”

“What are those?”

“I think it has to do with thinking, I don’t memorize things very well.”

“Oh, okay, that makes sense, now. You have been studying molecular biology for a long, long time. Oh, I’d better start back. We’re harvesting our Granny Smiths first thing this morning and I have to do the count, too. Hope I see you soon.”

“Guard? Can we take Moli to her farm on our way back?” Gene asked.

The bots eyes came back on and brightened. “Yes, we can do that,” it said.

“Come on Moli, you can sit next to me,” Gene said.

********

The day after he returned to the prison Gene was advised that he was being sent to the prison and mental hospital on Ring 7, which elicited a sigh of relief that was more mental than audible. The next morning, he slowly climbed out of a security speeder, which was difficult considering he was cuffed and shackled at the prison. Why the bots didn’t help him was beyond understanding. The mental hospital was a tall, at least twelve stories high, yellowish brick building behind double razor wire topped chain-link fences. He waited for the guards, but they remained in the speeder. Soon, two columns of four guards came out of the building and stopped in front of Gene.

“Eugenus 54-721c, welcome to Ring 7 prison and mental hospital,” one of the bots in front said. “We are your escort. No talking, no resistance, and no unnecessary slowing of your progress into the institution.”

No talking, no resistance, that certainly sounded botish thought Gene. He started shuffling and the bots spread apart so that he was in the middle. When they entered the building, they led him to a room where he was unshackled, told to strip, and received the standard body orifice search; though, this time it was performed by a human. He was given new pale blue coveralls, underwear, and slippers; then he was shackled, cuffed, and led to his room where there was only one bed, but at least it had a mattress on it. Obviously, this was a hospital first and prison second.

That afternoon he started his tests, which began with a brain scan, a lengthy questionnaire that required him to write out the answers, and ended with another scan which Gene didn’t recognize, not that it would have mattered. The following morning he had an interview with a psychologist followed by another lengthy test. That afternoon he was delivered to a room where there were three doctors who began telling him his mental abilities and whether he had a disability or not. From what he got out of the talk he definitely wasn’t as smart as his sister and probably not smart enough to successfully complete any college level course work considering the wide variety of subjects a student was required to study outside of the pursuit for a degree in their chosen field. They did suggest that he take a more technical education, say in farming, but not in botany which would require a lot of chemistry, mathematics, and other subjects that Gene had proven an inability to complete. The final result was that they were going to send their report to the court on Ring 2 and recommend he be released from prison and sent back to his parents’ farm where he would be of more use to the ship than forever studying subjects he would never fully comprehend.

He asked them if he was dumb, they said no; retarded, no; stupid, no; or, just not with it in relation to other people, to which they said no, also. They explained that super intelligence was very rare and while his twin was a genius, brain development varied between persons, meaning that while his cognitive abilities were on the other side of the scale, it didn’t mean he was dumb, retarded, stupid, mentally deficient, or just not with it. He had a brain disability that prevented him from writing, understanding complex instructions, and completing simple tasks. They did say it was strange that he could read because with his type of disability it usually involved writing and reading. Gene wasn’t convinced, though, but did not say anything more. Going back to the farm sounded like a good idea and getting out of prison sounded even better. He audibly sighed with relief and the doctors smiled, not knowing that he could live with the fact he was not smart enough to be a molecular biologist.

The following day he was sent back to the prison on Ring 2, but that afternoon he was taken down to the reception area where he changed from his prison garb into the clothes he wore when he arrived; surprisingly, they had been laundered from when he had shit and peed while being hung. This was it, then. A speeder was provided for his transport back to the farm which dropped him off in the parking area and immediately left.

Gene looked around at his home and was happy again. He knew he was going to have to study some agriculture courses via the module, but at least he wouldn’t have to go to a real university. He was now and forever to be a farmer, never to look forward to a life in a stark white laboratory somewhere on the ship. This was home and he was not going to leave until he received his official release as an adult.

He saw his father come toward him and said, “Hello Father, it’s nice to be home, again.”

“Your Mother and I are very happy that you’ve come home Gene. Come on inside and Cook will make you a sandwich.”

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“I’m happy to be here.”

“I know how you feel, boy.”