Lataio was feeling strange—it was an inner voice, a "perception" that he could not quiet down.

At school, his professor of ethics kept calling him to the stands. "Lataio, voice your concerns," he kept repeating. "We sense something is disorderly with you today." The senses were the helmets that each student had to wear all the time. They were heavy and uncomfortable. "That's what Merlin used," the teacher kept saying. But the fact was that the students did not like them. "It makes us look stupid, even if it is supposed to make us geniuses of human rights."

"But if they are so sure, why do we discuss them anyway?" Lataio kept pondering the question. The teacher called him to the stands for that. "Lataio, you use words that are not able to be pronounced, others lost the tongues for that in the past."

He didn't believe it. "My gut feeling… this is made up," he kept saying to himself. When he was "let free" for the contemplative moment, they would consult the ancient ones—who, unfortunately, did not speak their languages. "Then what? How do I know they are even there?"

The teacher called him to the stands again. "Lataio, belief is a question of assurance that it is there, because there is no discussion in harmony," they told him.

"Imposed rules," he said again.

The teacher's voice hardened. "There is no imposition, but only what you are doing to yourself."

Today, his nerves broke. "I don't want to be calmed, if I don't feel calmed. I am alarmed, and I prefer to be worried instead of calmed!" This time, he had to be removed from the class, stuck into a room. There, Lex, the father of fathers, the system of systems, the wisest amongst the wisest, said...

"We know you come to question because you are in a quest to find out. And that's why we found you, Lataio. Nothing is against you, only you are against coming closer to us. But eternity is here, and you will come to the senses you are so feeling about."

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"Go home, and walk today, because you need to ponder the steps you take in life."

Lataio immediately set off on his way, so irritated was he, "these philosophical games, these combined words, these airs of peace, I don't believe in any of it."

Now already panting, he began to accelerate his pace in a way that drew attention from other passersby who had also been advised to meditate on their steps in society. No one walked except out of the need to reflect. On the road, one could see the monotonous traffic of extreme rules. "Only extremity can ensure vitality" was Lex's slogan, the god that multiplied in everything, he was the center, central to a society that could only function in peace this way, for a system is perfect if that system is, and Lex was.

"Even when playing, we have to dance to homogeneity! If I want to pass by him, I have to let him recover the ball, so that everything starts over again," he was now saying out loud. "If I want to run, I have to wait for others so that together we cross the line." "Now red with energy, he was sprinting. 'And if I want to argue with someone, I have to use condescension!' His rage carried him forward, blind to everything except his own rebellion. He didn't notice the street turning the corner as he ran straight into the road. The automated traffic system detected him instantly, triggering precise evasive maneuvers from every vehicle. But the system, designed for perfect order, had never calculated for the chaos of human impulse - a direct collision course with traffic. In the cascade of automated responses, one last car, adjusting to adjust to adjustments, couldn't avoid a slight bump with another. Just a touch of metal on metal. But in a world of perfect control, even this tiny imperfection would prove devastating!"