CHAPTER 6
“Teacher?”
“Yes, Josiah?”
“I realize that we’ve already talked about this but can you go over homonyms again?”
“I believe we can. Did you not understand it then, Josiah? You should have said so.”
She knew that Josiah had learned about homonyms before she had ever taught him. But why would he ask the question?
“It’s not quite that, but that I heard another word that could be a homonym or maybe a homophone, so I wanted to ask about it.”
“I think we’ve been over a majority of them, but go ahead. What’s the word?”
“Sun.”
“First of all, let me remind you what a homonym is.” It was strange that he needed a reminder. “It’s a word that shares the same sound of another word but means something different. Is this what you are thinking?” She knew it was precisely what he was thinking. He never confused what he had learned.
“Yes, ma’am. So what about my word?”
“I’m afraid there’s only one son, and as you surely know, a son is a male child.”
“And there’s no other word?”
“No. I’m not sure what you heard, Josiah, but I assure you that there’s no other word.”
“You’re absolutely sure there is no other ‘son’ that means something different?”
She felt like Josiah was playing at something. Was he trying to insult her in some way? Why was he asking? And why pick that word? Her tone changed. She put on her superior demeaning tone that she had never used on him before, but he knew it well since she used it often on the trouble makers and the interrupters.
“I’m absolutely sure, Josiah. Can we get on with what we need to learn, or do you have anything else?”
“Rain?”
Frustration was swelling inside of her. She had never known Josiah to act up like this. Then again, he had been acting strangely lately. He had been awfully quiet and inactive in class. Maybe this was a strange stage of his.
“Again, Josiah, no other words. I can give you a list if you’d like – “
“I would very much like it.” He was completely oblivious.
“Josiah, listen, please. I can give you a list, but don’t waste our time guessing at words.”
“I wasn’t guessing. I heard them.”
“Can I ask from whom?”
He finally caught the frustrated tone of the teacher and became embarrassed. He had never meant any harm. If he were to answer her question honestly he would suffer more embarrassment because those words had come from his Aunt Junia who was well known to be a great source of laughter from his fellows. He had heard the numerous derogatory remarks. So he declined to answer. He was then dismissed from the classroom.
It wasn’t bizarre to him that his teacher didn’t know. He had simply hoped for the best. What he thought bizarre was that he was dismissed from class because he asked the teacher. Why had she done that? He wasn’t troubled by the question for long. He wasn’t angry with his teacher. Instead he used the time he had to wait on his mother at lunch. When the time came, he found her in the commons and sat with her for the first time in a long while.
“Mom?”
“What is it, Josiah?”
“My teacher didn’t know, but I thought maybe you would. Do you know what a sun is?”
“You know what it is. You are my son.”
She glanced at her colleagues who sat at the table with her with a look that seemed to say, “I promise, he actually is a genius.”
“Well, yeah. I know that. But is there another word that means something different?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“Well, I heard it from Aunt Junia.” He had momentarily forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to have gone to see Aunt Junia alone, especially when he was supposed to be asleep and so he quickly added, “a long time ago.”
“Don’t you think that she was talking about someone, maybe her own, no, not her own, but someone else’s son?”
“But she said that the sun was an it and that it was beautiful.”
“Josiah, do I have to keep reminding you about her mind. There is something I need to tell you since we are talking about her. Son,” he twitched at the mere sound of the word, “Aunt Junia has died.”
Despite her hand lying on his shoulder as a sign of comfort, she said it so matter-of-factly. Everyone always did. She didn’t mean it so coldly, but it came across that way. No one had really ever tried to explain it to him. His dream had taught him more of death than anything else. What he had feared most had come true. The next day her name was added to the wall. He then understood that he would never talk to her again. He would never see her again. Just like he had never talked to, or seen any of those whose names were on the wall before hers since they had been put there. Only this time it actually mattered. What he had taken for her normal doze in the middle of her speaking turned into her death. He at least knew that she was happy when she was dying. Not only was she happy, she was thriving, and her eyes had been vividly blue, even if for the last time. She had no doubt been herself when she had spoken her last words. And what last words they were. He held on to them strongly. He would never forget those words. He knew that much.
Josiah’s head hung low, and he regressed once again into his quiet and sulky mood, only this time there was no promise that he would come out of it. That old woman had been his cure before, just as she had always been, but he no longer knew of a way to see her. The only evidence that she had been a part of the people at all was an engraved name on the bronze wall. This was where he found himself without quite knowing why. He spent hours just gazing and searching the names. Hers was simply the last on a list that held numerous names, and he had only then fully understood that they too had once lived but no longer did. “So many names, so many people, and they are all gone. She is gone.”
If it wasn’t for her absence, he might not have held on to what became his obsession. There was only one thing that filled his mind, only one idea, only one word. Sun. But no one knew what it was. They would say over and over again, “It’s not an it. It’s a who.” There was no sun. Just like her other words, it didn’t exist. It was made up. Perhaps she was crazy after all.
He had stopped his pretense of playing with the others. Instead, he spent his time slumped back into his hidden corner, his safe place, and would confide in his puzzles and riddles, which were borrowed from four age groups above. He was soon forgotten by his playmates, and he cared very little. He had always felt so removed but knew he was not alone in his feelings. He saw the look in many people’s eyes, including his mother’s. They looked exactly how he felt. They just didn’t know how to express it, and he was only beginning to learn. It was only later through this expression that he discovered anything true.
For reasons Josiah would never know, the Captain had kept his keen eye on Josiah. He knew that the old woman was Josiah’s great aunt and that the two were “peculiarly close.” He also knew that the boy had become withdrawn lately because of her death, at least that was his assumption. The Captain had invested in Josiah, and so he felt that a follow-up was necessary in order to “correct what is so strange.” Therefore, Josiah was summoned to his office once again, only this time without his mother.
“Here, wear this one.”
“I’ll be fine, mom.”
“Your shirt’s not straight. There.”
“Mom!”
“Don’t ask him any questions. Understand? Don’t bother him too much. He’s a very busy man as you can imagine, and he doesn’t like for people to bother him with nonsense. Don’t look so worried.” For her to say that betrayed her true feelings. She was exhausted with worry. Her fair face was lined with stress. Even her hands trembled as she combed his hair and tied his shoes. However, despite her worries, she had successfully made Josiah into an “official-looking boy.” He thought he had seen a tear in his mother’s eye, but her voice remained steady, and she kissed him on his forehead.
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br /> “I once asked him for something.” Her voice stopped involuntarily in her throat. She paused to recover. Josiah knew nothing of what she was thinking. They never talked about much, at least not anything that really mattered, but the tone she used told him that this mattered. “I once asked him for something, and he gave it to me. He doesn’t always give people what they ask for, and even when he does, it’s not always what they expect. Just be careful, son. He’s the Captain,” and as the people all said, she finished the statement with, “and he is good.”
He was guided to the Captain by the same, silent guard and knew that to ask him the reason for a second visit was useless. The man would never budge. He was led to the same elevator with the same code, up to the same floor, down the same hall with the same secretary’s greeting. This time, however, the Captain was not sitting at his office desk. The door was open, but the seat was empty. Josiah sat in the lobby and bid his time reading magazines. He then heard a door crack, then open, and then close quietly. The Captain appeared and invited the boy into his office. It was only then that Josiah had noticed the door which obviously led to another room adjacent to the Captain’s office. It had a keypad lock next to the handle similar to the elevator’s. Was it the same code, he wondered.
He had no fear this time. Even knowing that his mother would be absent, he went in mostly indifferent although a bit curious. He had shaken hands once again, this time with a purposeful firmness that he assumed was expected from such an official-looking boy. As he sat, the Captain offered him a glass of cider, and he accepted it, showing the sign of appreciation that expressed physically what was so often expressed vocally. “He is the Captain, and he is good.” Only Josiah didn’t do it exactly.
It was a fault of the Captain’s that he never learned how to interact with children. He had been told long ago that it was of the utmost importance, but he failed to understand this importance and never heeded the wisdom.
The first words the Captain said were, “Your aunt was an old woman.” It was an awkward statement from an uncomfortable man. He enjoyed exercising authority on those that he felt superior to. Strangely enough, in the presence of a child, he felt like a smaller, simpler man. Children were the ones who saw through him the most. Perhaps, after all, it is children that know men more than they know themselves. Perhaps children are the ones to first recognize who is truly good and who is simply corrupt or misguided. Josiah found a strange comfort in the Captain’s uneasiness. His statement had stung coldly, but it hurt less because he knew that there was no malice involved. The Captain was simply so disconnected with death. He never had anyone close enough to him to be affected by their death, at least at the time. Eventually he would know the effects of death. Eventually he would have to face death. Every person is affected by the absence it causes, sooner or later. In the few cases that people remain far from death’s effects, they still must face their own. The Captain never wanted to think about it. For his own reasons, and in following the advice of an old counselor, he removed himself from the people. If the population remained stable, he could care less who was born and who died, as long as it happened. He worked for the health and wealth of the colony without caring about the needs of any. He did not care if the people were good, only that they thought him to be.
“Everyone dies.” His mustache twitched in his discomfort. His consolation was failing miserably. However, Josiah knew that if the Captain had spoken of how sorry he was or of how he regretted the tragedy or any other sympathetic line, he would then be lying. The Captain was a deceiver and a charmer and had many pretenses, but at the same time, he spoke very forwardly.
His ignorance of children only led him to speak to Josiah bluntly and authoritatively as he did everyone else. Josiah, meanwhile, sipped his cider.
“I brought you in for two reasons, Josiah. One is to offer my condolences.” Condolences seemed such a perfectly removed word. “Secondly, and mainly, I want to encourage you to keep up the good work. There is a time for grief and mourning - “He instantly interrupted his speech. If Josiah had been looking him in the eyes, he would have seen a flash of fear, but the look quickly passed and he continued. “There’s a time for grief, and there is an appropriate amount of time for it, but it is not good to linger. Though you might not know it, there are people who still need you to do what you do best. The world is simply a better place when you strive to your full potential. It is not a compliment I pay to everyone. In fact, there are very few people who earn my flattery, but you are different.”
So many questions ran through his mind, but he allowed himself to say was “Thank you, sir.” The Captain continued his speech which overflowed with authority. That’s where his strength was found. That is what Josiah perceived, at least. It was in this speech that the boy finally saw what those close to him must have been familiar with, that the Captain was strong more than he was good. He was attractively strong but in a much more encompassing way than merely physical. Confidence was the base of all his expressions. Even before in his uncomfortable manner, Josiah had recognized a background of boldness. He was comfortable in his position. He knew what had to be done.
The Captain’s expectations in someone in particular always had a strangely positive effect on people. He always played to the recruits. Never keeping company with the commoners because there was no need, he only cared for those of exceptional talent and personality. He held similar discussions with few others, but Josiah had then had the Captain’s full confidence. The man’s expectations in Josiah had a strangely positive effect. The boy wanted to do better. He wanted to strive to reach his full potential. He also wanted to come back for yet another visit which the Captain indiscreetly hinted toward. But he still remained silent, following his mother’s advice. It was because of her that he never fully trusted the man. Josiah always heard it in her voice despite what she claimed. “He is the Captain, and he is good.”