"Kid, what's your name?" the guy asked me. He put his hand on my shoulder as if we were familiar.

He was wearing a business suit that didn't really match with the dress code of the police officers around the scene. From all the Sherlock Holmes shows I've watched, I have reason to believe this guy was a detective or something similar. I wonder how it was that I got into this situation... Ah, I really should have held back my laughter...

Who was I kidding? The more time I waste, the less time I will have to spend at school. How coincidentally helpful.

"Your name, kid." the man said with a deep voice now. It was like he was trying to intimidate me.

I kept looking down without making any eye contact. It was best to act timidly in scenarios like this.

"George." I lied as naturally as I could think. It probably wasn't a good idea.

"George, last name? Actually, nevermind," he said. And here I was expecting this guy to be Sherlock Holmes. I guess lying is pretty easy to get away with. Then again, this is my first actual conversation with a police guy.

"According to most of the witnesses, you were the one closest to those terrorists," he continued while staying standing, "Were you scared?"

Strangely enough, this guy was referring to that group of hoodlums as terrorists. He was also asking how I was feeling. Did he think this event traumatized me or something?

I didn't answer the question and looked to the left while keeping my head down. I noticed the guy's shoes were clean and his pants were a bit too long. It was actually just long enough to cover his socks. The skin could not be seen. The pants did not seem to be wrinkled either. I could still make out minor fold marks.

"Anyway, witnesses—the other people on the train—have said you were quote-unquote, 'laughing hysterically as if he were a villainous mastermind.' after the event," he said.

A villainous mastermind? American citizens these days must be watching too many television shows. But I must admit, it was my fault that I was unable to hold in the laughter. I simply found that predicament quite funny. But I recognize that my definition of 'funny' is a bit unique. It'll be hard to explain to a conventional person. I also know that my moral judgment is not exactly the same as others. The more I think, the more I feel like that the description of an evil villain actually holds true to me. I guess to strangers, my outbreak of laughter was an oddity within itself. It is similar to how The Joker is one of the most neurotic villains in the—oh, isn't this perfect? I'm so glad I watched that old 2019 Joker film.

"Well..." I started with an uncertain and shy tone. I could tell that the detective's gaze was on me—focused on observing my every being.

"I have..." I made way for another pause to add a dramatic effect, "I have a disorder that makes me laugh."

"A disorder that makes you laugh..." the detective muttered under his breath while keeping his gaze on me. Though it was quiet, it couldn't escape my hypersensitive ears.

"Do you have pseudobulbar affect?" he asked.

I had no clue what the disorder was called since it was only briefly mentioned in that film. It was unlikely for this guy to have much medical knowledge if he was a detective. Thus, he could be throwing out a completely irrelevant term to catch me lying. I have to tread carefully...

So I didn't respond.

As if sensing the awkward air around us, his stance fell back a bit, and he took a small—very, very small step back on his right leg. I had my eyes glued to the ground throughout the whole interaction so I could easily see the most subtle changes. No matter how minuscule the detail, it could not be ignored; at least that's what I've learned of the science of deduction from watching Sherlock Holmes. I wonder how impeccable his deductive skill may have been if he were a real person...

Anyway, he took a step back on his right leg. It is commonly known that the right hand is the dominant hand, and for leg dominance, it is probably the same. His body also stopped leaning in, and it was more laid back now. That meant he was probably going to stop asking about 'my' information and ask something else.

"Can you tell me about what you saw?" he asked, just like I had expected: the question was no longer about me. It wasn't that I was hiding some dark secret or anything. I just don't like it when people try to analyze me.

Now, what did he ask again? 'Can you tell me about what you saw?' Yeah—it should be something like that. What would make a natural response?

I slowly moved my head up and made short glances around the area. I was currently outside of the train and on some station that I've never stopped at before. Half the station was blocked off, but the train could still be accessed by civilians. It's just that the witnesses—me and a couple others—were being held back for questioning. I didn't know what happened to the train, but it was probably pulled onto some railroad parking lot for further investigation. The 'terrorists' were brought out and laid on the floor. They were apparently all dead, which I found interesting. Perhaps I need to reevaluate the dangers of psychic powers. That reminds me, who was it that killed them? That voice...

"Can you—."

"It..." I cut him off rudely, "It started when the train stopped. I think someone pulled the brakes or something."

Shall we add some spice to the story? Hmm, I guess not. I don't think my acting is good enough to pull that off.

"They came and threatened us to give them money or something..."

"Money?" the detective questioned. Did he not already question the other witnesses? Why is he asking as if he's never heard this story before?

"I remember one of them had a floating ball of fire in his hand," I said with a calm voice.

"Are you sure they said they wanted money?" the guy asked.

"Yeah... I'm pretty sure they were trying to rob everyone."

He was most likely still looking at me, but I made sure my eyes never made direct contact with him.

"After that, I heard a voice"

"And?" the detective urged me to continue.

"Those guys started falling over. And when they were on the ground, I heard the police sirens. And, yeah. That's what happened." I said, concluding with as little detail as possible.

"Can you tell me how the voice sounded?"

"I-I don't know." I stuttered on purpose

"I see... You have school right, kid?" he asked while shuffling through his jacket's pocket.

"I heard the attendance policy nowadays is quite harsh. Here." the guy gave me what looked to be a business card.

"Show that to your school counselor or whomever so that you aren't marked late," he said.

I didn't know what to think. Why would he give me a business card? Didn't he know I could just make up some excuse like, 'the train had technical issues, so I was held up.' For the first actual time, I looked him in the eyes. He had a significant amount of grey hairs, a sign of the times. He must've worked in this line of work for a long time; stressful, I'd assume.

As if noticing the awkwardness yet again, he said, "Ah, if you have any problems or you think there's something you forgot to tell me, then feel free to dial that number."

Weird.

It was peculiar.

Too much so.

The man looked to be about in his late 40s or 50s. He didn't have many wrinkles, yet he had grey hair. Sharp yet calm eyes. His eyebrows were jagged, and there was a scar along his right cheek. It wasn't intimidating at all. It's just...something about this feels off. What is it?

At the same time, a train came rushing into the station. It wasn't always this loud. But I suppose my ears are a tad bit sensitive today.

"You should go, kid. Education is valuable." He gave a big smile that I found was off as well. It wasn't to the point that it was obvious. But I had a feeling that the smile was fake, yet it was also a real one. Could something be real and fake at the same time? Dead and alive? Does the cat die or is it alive, Schrödinger?

The guy patted my back as he walked past me and went to inspect the bodies of those terrorists—a more accurate noun would be: gangsters.

*Ding

The doors to the train opened as if waiting for me to enter. Feeling compelled, I got up off the seat and left the scene... I couldn't erase this sense of unease. It bothered me so. Something about what just transpired was strange. I've seen my fair share of detective shows... Something was definitely off...

Was it the card? Was it perhaps a tracking device or something?

Making my way toward the open doors, I ducked underneath the yellow barricade tape that indicated it was a crime scene.

With the doors closing behind me, I noticed that I was the only one in there. This train carriage was empty.

It wasn't too strange when you consider that few people even take the train in this area and the fact that rush hour was over.

Now that I think of it, none of the other witnesses called the police. So how did they get there so fast?

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Taking out the business card that the guy gave me, I read the information.

'Reagan Livvy, Private Investigator.'

A private investigator...

I took out my phone and searched the web. I had 7G, but it was loading real slowly for some reason.

I took the time to read the information on the web about this guy and the occupation. He was a sort of freelance detective that could be hired by anyone...

I tossed the business card somewhere on the floor and went to sit further away from where I just littered.

***

Boredom is the mental state of dissatisfaction. Specifically, being dissatisfied with a stimulation. It is characterized by the understanding that there is little to no meaning or value in an activity, which is usually the stimulation. Yet, the things in life that we define as boring may not be so to others. Funny little thing, is it not? The nuance behind the phrase, 'I'm bored' is simple. You have energy and time, but no passion. A lack of passion can stem from many things. Indecisiveness is one of them. Mental limiting could be another.

Let's think of the hypothetical—your parents tell you to focus on your studies because if you don't, you won't be able to get a job. You have ten thick textbooks sitting on the work-desk waiting just for you. But the thing is, you can't see any satisfactory outcome in doing it. And so, you resort to reading books, or perhaps games, for you have something to gain from them—entertainment: which is an abbreviation for 'I'll take your time away from you.' After hours, you find yourself sucked in, unable to stop. It could be any activity—not just reading and gaming—heck, you might even find yourself staring at a wall for hours on end. As you continue this activity, your parents would waltz into your room and scold you for doing meaningless things instead of something productive. Let me ask you now. These activities that you perform to cope with the so-called boredom—do you think they are boring? Or rather, do you believe they are interesting? At this point, your answer will either be a yes, or something along the lines of 'I don't know.' There is no 'no.'

In your mind, you subconsciously categorize activities to be one of the two: boring and interesting. There is no in-between. If you do say it is both boring and interesting, you are hypothetically correct. But suggesting that a task can be both—means it is a hundred percent boring since something interesting cannot be boring. After all, boring is boring, and interesting is interesting. If you paint a sheet of paper with white ink, it is white. But when you add black ink, it becomes black. Black and white do not mix. Realistically, when mixed, they become grey; but you can't mix abstract concepts(boring and interesting). Someone can be interested in something boring...

Wait, no—someone can be interested in something perceived as boring. A tad confusing but point of view is the key here.

Perhaps using a completely two-dimensional coin to represent the two traits was more accurate. Since for something to be boring, it is, by definition, something that does not appeal to you. You could bring up the case of exercise. It can bring many health benefits if you exercise, so you'd consciously categorize it on the positive side—the interesting. But the subconscious does not allow it. While your conscious self is busy brainwashing yourself to believe exercise is interesting, the subconscious reminds you of your inner desires. And your inner desires are nurtured by the luxurious current-day society. Reasonably speaking, the rise of industrial technology and the genius that is automation would make any chimpanzees cry in awe...

That is if they can even comprehend the complexities behind those inventions. Thus, the subconscious concludes: 'Why do I need to be fit when we are no longer under the constant threat of death in the jungle?'

Here, we have the conscious and subconscious clashing with each other. One believes an activity is interesting. The other says it to be boring. Thus the product of these two combinations is the phrase, 'I don't know.' So—

"Caeus. What's the axis of symmetry."

I turned my attention back to the virtual board upon hearing my name.

"Should be 7," I responded swiftly to prove I wasn't daydreaming.

"An—."

"The Range should be -89/3 if we substitute and solve the equation. Since you don't want the answer in decimal form, I kept it as an improper fraction." I said again at top speed as further proof that I was totally, honestly, and definitely—not daydreaming in his Algebra-2 class.

Sarcasm aside, I frankly don't care since I could do without his class if it weren't for the school's strict attendance policy. But yeah, I was bull-shiting when I mentioned converting to decimals because It's not like I'm a human calculator.

"Alright, Caeus." the math teacher said. I wonder what his name was again? Well, if I can't remember it, it probably isn't important. Take it as retribution for incorrectly pronouncing my name when it's already the third semester. Is it not simple? It is pronounced, 'chaos' except the 'o' sound is more of a 'u.' So pronunciation wise, it would be something like 'K' and 'us,' Coeus. The teacher, on the other hand, pronounced 'Chaas.'

Anyways, where was I again? Ah—yes.

So back to the studying analogy with reading and gaming. The reason why it is unlikely for someone to say 'no' to that question: is because the subconscious mind already assigned the task of studying as a boring activity. If someone abandoned the activity only to find another similarly boring activity, that wouldn't make much logical sense. This would bring me to believe it is much likelier for the average person to say: anything—anything but a simple 'no.'

Schopenhauer once said, 'A man can do what he wants, but not want what he wants.' It is a question of free will. You have the option to choose, but the options which you can choose are limited and predetermined. It's the same as giving someone the option to either shoot themself to death or stab themselves to death. The outcome is the same, but just because he is given the option of choosing does not mean he wanted to die. So would that—or would it not be considered free will? Just some food for thought.

But my question here is what makes an activity boring? What is it that makes the idea of studying to be boring? If it's the fact that studying requires reading and understanding a text—is that not similar to reading a book for entertainment? In the context of gaming, you are still seeing the screen with your eyes to determine the next course of action. Is it not similar? Haven't bought it? Okay.

If I spent my time staring at a wall, the thing I'm most likely doing is thinking. To think critically requires the ability to analyze a thought from many perspectives. Comprehension is the act of appreciating and evaluating the mind, the idea, and opinions. If you meant staring at a wall in a literal sense as a hobby—you should go see a doctor. Of course, observing a wall is different. When you are analyzing a wall, you can see the minute details: marks, indents, colors, grime, and things that you'd tend to miss if you didn't observe closely. Heck, if your deductive prowess could reach the level of Sherlock Holmes, I'd bet you'd be able to see much more than just those details. And there's also—

"Yo, pass the papers." said someone from behind.

"Alright," I said while passing down the papers that were on my desk. There were six people in my row, and I was the fourth. That meant I was supposed to have three papers: one for me, one for the guy behind me, and one for the guy behind that guy. But I only had two. Did the person in front of me lose one of the papers? Or did the teacher—wait, it's Global History class already?—wait a minute, we have a quiz? What? Who? How? When? Wh—I think I know why.

"Yo!"

Seeing how impatient the one behind me was, I just passed the two sheets along. Students these days must really love taking tests. Today is the first day back from a long break, so the quiz is most likely to test what we still remember.

Damn, I probably should've paid attention in class—not. I could care less.

Now, what was the history teacher's name again? If I recall correctly, her name was similar to some famous people. Alexander the Great? Alexander Hamilton? Wait—no, it should be Alexandra if I'm not wrong.

Without raising my hand, I said, "Miss Alexandra, I don't have a sheet."

"You don't have one? But you're in the middle of the column!" the old woman said. Although what she's saying makes sense, she hasn't accounted for the fact that I am the epitome of the altruistic person(wink, wink). So what if I gave my quiz to the guy behind me? I don't want to take a fucking test. I can't help but be selfless in such situations! Righteousness is lacking in this world, so I must provide hope! Who does this guy think he is? A hero? The protagonist of a superhero film?

Seeing that there really wasn't a paper on my desk, she got one and came over to give it to me.

Welp, if all goes well, this quiz should be easy. After all, most of the context and excerpts are in the quiz. This is why Global History is an easy class. All that matters is that you can answer short-response questions based on the attached reading. It tests a student's ability to analyze historical texts with not much memorization. In the end, this is not testing our historical knowledge, but our ability to read and write. I honestly don't see any difference between this class and the English class. Other than the fact that we need to learn about Shakespeare: who writes, reads, speaks, and lives in some foreign code language that we need to comprehend to get passing marks.

"Alright, everyone can start." hearing the announcement, I got to it by flipping the page. I was lucky that this wasn't double-sided.

Going back to the front, I gave a cursory glance through the whole page and determined this should take at most three minutes since there were only two questions. The first half of the page resided the text/document, while the bottom half was the questions. While writing my name and all that good stuff, I had my eyes on the text. There was no reason to think hard or read slowly since all one needed to do, was find the important details.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Virus That Threatened the World

Covid-19, also commonly known as the coronavirus(among many other coronaviruses) was the virus that set the world ablaze in the 20s. It appeared abruptly in Wuhan, China, and was recognized on December 31, 2019: just one day before 2020—also known as the Year of Despair(which continued into mid-2021). The old World Health Organization(WHO) announced the virus outbreak as a classified(global) pandemic on March 11, 2020. Although the virus is known for its sneaky asymptomatic carriers, symptoms vary and may include: coughing, shortness of breath, fatigue, difficulty breathing, body aches, loss of taste, loss of smell, sore throat, headaches, Diarrhea, Congestion, etc. Further complications like pneumonia or organ failure can be lethal. Many have died from this virus and many more have had their lives changed. Quarantine was practiced worldwide as a method of preventing the spread of Covid-19. Its reign of terror was ended in late-2021 but would continue to have its impact felt around the world—even today.

1) Why was there a resurgence in Covid-19 during the fall and winter of 2020?

2) What happened to businesses during the Year of Despair?

~~~~~~~~~~

Alright, I've determined there is absolutely no useful information at all in the text.

That aside, the questions are still easy nevertheless. Covid-19 is a virus, so it'll obviously thrive better in the cold months: which are the fall and winter months. There's also the fact that immune systems are weaker in cold weather.

Now for number two, it says Covid-19 put the world in quarantine: meaning that work would have to be done from home—so stuff was probably done virtually. A lot of restaurants and stores probably closed down since everyone stayed in the confines of their home. I'd assume businesses that thrive on an online community such as transportation and delivery services would thrive. A lot of people should be out of work. And many more will start online businesses.

Okay, that should suffice for answering the questions.

I flipped the paper face-down and looked around the classroom. Some people were scratching their heads as they tried to answer the questions. Others hadn't even started writing but were still reading. The desks were all separated so exams/quizzes could be administered at any time in any given class. It was similar to those school settings in those old 2010 and 2020 anime. The only major difference was that the windows were smaller and uglier, which added to the feeling of being behind bars. If I'm correct, this method of classroom organization was established in America right after the Year of Despair—whoever named it had a horrible naming sense. No, seriously, that's the same as naming a baby: baby, or a cat: cat. At least some people have the sense to name their cats as dogs—still ridiculous, but it's better than calling something for what it literally is.

From what I know, the higher-ups of the Department of Education decided it was a good idea to keep social distancing in classes as a means of preparing for future pandemics. It is, in my opinion—stupid. Either way, it is what it is.

"Miss Alex! I'm done!" said a girl all the way in the front row. Of course, it's the tryhard overachiever student. Not much to say about that, but she was especially annoying. I still recall that one time when I submitted my quiz ahead of her. She wouldn't stop harassing bothering me until the next quiz when I purposely did it slower. I was seated behind her now, so even if I finished, she wouldn't know. A personal goal of mine is to breeze through the entirety of high school without interacting with anybody. In the end, it's useless to make connections with children.