End The LightCatcher

  Chapter 12

  The Teacher

  In the following weeks, End suddenly became very enthusiastic about everything at the ILC. He began to work harder in just about everything just so that the weekend could come. That would also mean making sure that his behavior and diligence was at tip-top condition, so as not to incur any punishments that would ruin his weekends. He shared his new discoveries with Quentin, which sent Quentin into frenzy.

  “I knew it!”

  “Why don’t you stay back on one of the weekends and we can explore it together.”

  “I love to, End. But my contract is a little different. I can’t stay back even when I am punished.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Hey, we both have our secrets.”

  “Alright, I will respect that.”

  “Thanks End. But please teach me any new thing that you may learn about Lightcatching.”

  “That would be my pleasure,” replied End.

  When the weekends came, End would sneak back into the old library, and would trick the Librarian into believing that he was sent here on a permanent basis to clean the library. The old Librarian would let him be, being always pre-occupied with whatever was going on in his own mind. In between his cleaning, End would try to flip more pages of the book, whenever the old man took toilet breaks or fell asleep eating his instant noodles in a cup.

  Something peculiar struck End’s curiosity. He had noticed the Librarian’s love for talking to himself. Out of fun, and the love of experimentation, he used his newfound skill of recording audio with his VF, to record the Librarian’s murmurings. At night, he would listen to them. He found them strange and meaningless, but there was perhaps something very soothing about the way he talked to himself. End didn’t know this yet, but I can tell you that the Librarian was a very intelligent man, and the way he spoke, perhaps its beats and momentum, was like slow Baroque music, which was known for centuries to be good for learning or studying. Unknown to End, as he fell asleep each night listening to the soothing voice of the Librarian, the patterns of the Librarian’s speech was enhancing his brain functions. Whenever he listened to the Librarian’s chants, his blood pressure was lowered, his heartbeat was kept at a healthy rhythm, beta brain waves decrease, alpha brain waves that are for relaxing is increased, and both the left and right hemispheres of his brain became synchronized.

  In short, End was growing smarter.

  With his new upgrades, End was able to pass the Photon Rifle range test with a much-improved score of 75% accuracy. End also managed to summon enough energy to throw a Light grenade and finally clear that test. Although his newfound skills should be much credited for his amazing progress, it was his hard worked and positive mentality that allowed for any of this to have happened. He still did not enjoy the military training of the ILC, but he loved the Library.

  One weekend, while cleaning the library, End decided to attempt something of a higher level that he had learnt from the book. He remembered watching Akira do it. It was the ability to use light to push a person across the room, almost like tele-kinesis, since force, electro-magnetism and electricity were all connected by a single equation.

  End was ambitious. He wanted to move an entire bookshelf, which was at least three times taller than he was. He stood before the bookshelf, a midget in comparison. He raised his hand, and summoned the power in his hand to do it. At first nothing happened, and End tried to concentrate harder. Then all of a sudden, the bookshelf began to vibrate. End was delirious.

  “More!”

  End squinted his eyes, there was power coming through, but he needed a spark. Just then, the image of ? popped in his mind. The thought of her filled his heart with that warm old feeling, and the energy channeled into his VF. A surge of power burst through him, and the shelf began to move. This was it. Another breakthrough. But much to his horror, the bookshelf began to fall towards him.

  “Og oh,” said End as it was too late to run away. He closed his eyes.

  Seconds before the shelf flattened him into a paper-thin pancake, the Librarian stood in front of End, and the shelf stood still. End caught his breath and opened his eyes. He noticed that the Librarian used his own version of the VF. His viewfinder looked more primitive, like an out of fashion clock compared to End’s tattoo. It was also definitely a D.I.Y viewfinder. Maybe the Librarian was poor.

  “Are you a LightCatcher too?” asked End.

  “You were not sent here to clean the library. You lied to me. Leave!”

  “You seemed to be knee deep in research of the olden form of LightCatching.”

  The Librarian said nothing.

  “Can you teach me about the olden form of LightCatching?” asked End.

  The Librarian ignored End and walked on as far away from End as he could.

  “Why should I?” asked the Librarian as his voice echoed down the empty hallways of books.

  “Please. I have never been interested in pretty much anything in my life, but this is different. I am very interested in this olden form. I want to know more about Lightcatching.”

  “Passion is not enough a reason for my tutelage. The ability to LightCatch is a form of power. To attain power, one must first have a good moral reason, otherwise there will only be corruption. You want me to teach you because you want to learn? That’s not good enough.”

  The Librarian began to walk away. End fell to his knees.

  “Please. I just want to be part of this world,” said End.

  The Librarian stopped dead in his tracks. He could hear the sobbing voice of End.

  “There has got to be something I can do to make this world stop looking at me this way. I tried so hard to participate. I am not useless. I have a voice. I can speak, I can shout, and I want to be heard!”

  The Librarian turned around and took a look at End from the corner of his eyes. When he saw that End was crying he felt a tinge of sympathy in his heart.

  “I want to learn the truth of this viewfinder because I think that inside this amazing device, I may finally find the one thing that I am good at. I am not interested in war, and I don’t believe that the VF was built for this purpose. No, both the VF and I were built for something else, and when I find out what it is, I am going to change everything. There will be no more wars on earth.”

  The Librarian continued to look at the End. For a moment, the boy looked very familiar, but he didn’t know why. There was a change in expression in the wrinkled face of the old janitor. He was not built to be an evil or tough man and so his face betrayed any attempts of him to act the fierce disciplinarian or the tough loving parent. He shed the fake tough guy mask that he wore, and revealed his true face which was of a person who wanted to give the boy a chance.

  “First of all. You are naïve. Till the infinity of time, there will always be war. You can’t change the nature of man.”

  “I can do it.”

  “No you can’t, no one can.”

  “I can.”

  “Get me a violin.”

  “A violin?”

  “Yes. If you can get me a violin, I will train you.”

  End was taken by surprise. A smile grew on his face once more.

  “And those were the words of the old Librarian that day,” said End to Quentin, when they met the next Monday.

  “Wow. I could get a violin for you from the City, it’s pretty easy.”

  “No. He said that the violin must come from within the ILC.”

  “But there is no violin within ILC.”

  “Actually, there is.”

  End told Quentin about Amadeus. He understood that the Librarian wanted to test if he could take the violin off Amadeus.

  “That’s easy, let’s do it while he is sleeping,” suggested Quentin.

  And so, in the middle of the night, the dynamic duo of Area Cleaning crept up one evening to try and rob Amadeus of his violin. Amadeus had a habit of snoozing in a public area after a long day of work. He would go to his favorite
bench, a spot that was not too hot and not too drafty, and he would lie there like a tired raccoon, and snooze with his legs wide open. And yes, in his hand, was still the violin, gripped with such ferocity that it would be easier to get your finger back from a crab’s pincer. Quentin tested this theory and proved that I was spot on. He tried to pry the violin from Amadeus and only succeeded in wasting his own strength. In his sleep, Amadeus seemed to have turbulent dreams and swung his violin about. Quentin was sent tossed across the cookhouse. With awful tasting noodles in his hair, he came walked back to End.

  “I don’t think we should steal the violin,” said End. You could imagine Quentin’s face. It was the most insensitive thing to say after what he had just been through.

  “Do you think we could just ask him for it then?” asked Quentin with unabashed sarcasm.

  “No, I meant I don’t wish to attain it by stealing.”

  “Stop being wishy-washy. We have come this far. I say we find a way to pry it from his hand, I think I might know of this huge spanner we could use.”

  “No, we shouldn’t. It’s his property.”

  “Are you even hearing what you are saying?”

  “I know what I am saying. I am saying that we should not steal.”

  “That’s absurd. Wait here, I will go get the spanner.”

  “No.”

  “You are just not listening to me End!” said Quentin.

  “I am.”

  “No you are not.”

  Suddenly End had an epiphany. It came to him like a bolt of lightning.

  “What?” asked Quentin.

  “I’m just not listening.” Murmured End.

  End thought back to the times when Amadeus was playing all these songs with no sound. He looked back at Amadeus. Even in his sleep, Amadeus was playing his violin with imaginary movements in his fingers. Although there was still no sound being produced. Something prompted End to scrutinize the strings of the violin. Even in his sleep, Amadeus was still playing. To End’s astonishment, the strings were vibrating. But the vibration was always too tiny for the person who was not paying attention.

  “What do you see?” asked Quentin.

  End began to do a recording of the Amadeus’s playing with his viewfinder.

  “I wish to do an experiment. Should I succeed, you will be the first to know.” End recorded a sample of Amadeus’s playing and walked off. Quentin sometimes did not understand his good pal.

  That weekend, at the library, End recalled a chapter from the book that talked about using the Viewfinder to magnify low frequencies of sound into light. He activated the recording in his viewfinder, but he needed something to magnify the sound. He found a way to transfer the music file to the huge gramophone. The sound was magnified. The result was something simply astonishing.

  Indeed Amadeus was right, as End heard the musical piece he called “Dies Irae” being played. It was as if an entire orchestra was playing, all that grand music coming from one hand made violin. How is that even possible? The problem was just that Amadeus was playing in the frequencies outside of the hearing range of the human ear. End finally understood something. Amadeus had reached such a high level of mastery, that he wasn’t playing a single instrument. He was producing an entire orchestra’s piece with just one violin.

  “A pure genius!” commented End.

  The Librarian was fumbling through some papers when he heard the beautiful music. As he turned a corner past the high rows of books, he saw a grand display of light and sounds on the domed ceilings of the Library. He saw that End was translating the music into visuals. The inaudible music was now translated into a fascinating display of laser lights dancing off the walls and ceilings of the Library. It was bright, beautiful and in every color of the spectrum of light.

  “How did you do that?” asked the Librarian.

  “I don’t know.” End was just standing there swaying to the music in happiness. But he was also paying attention to it. For inside the seemingly random design of visuals, he seemed to see something. Yes. It was becoming clearer. The colors were actually painting a portrait of a grand battle. The Librarian edged closer. Together, they saw a pattern. The frequencies were not just for mere entertainment. They seemed to contain a message. The colors were becoming a washed out oil painting. At times, you could see a video with characters emerging. What were the characters doing?

  “Dark Monday,” said the Librarian.

  “What do you mean?” asked End.

  “Amadeus was playing a song about Dark Monday. Can’t you see faces?”

  End finally saw what the Librarian had already noticed. Inside that wild display of colors and lines, were people fighting. He finally saw everything. Colonel King dodging enemy fire with fancy dance moves. Amon had grabbed one of the enemy’s photon rifles and was firing it back at the enemy. Colonel Eastwood caught hold of one of the Light Grenades and tossed it back at the enemy. Colonel Brown was commanding a tank. Snakeskin was sneaking up from behind some enemies and disabling them. There was one more soldier’s face that was not clear. Amadeus was trying to fend off some enemies. Colonel Chuck was standing there firing his machine gun thinking he was bullet proof only to discover that he was not.

  Just then, the front door of the library swung open. It was Amadeus. He looked at the ceilings and corners of the library, as if he was following the scent of his own music, like a chef to his own great dish. His great music occupied every inch of the library. The zombie-like Amadeus actually fell to his knees and smiled. Then he cried, and they were tears of joy. Something re-activated his dead mind for that brief remaining few minutes. End could even see humanity inside his eyes again. Amadeus actually looked into End’s eyes. End could see the good old Mona Lisa painting that was the soul of Amadeus once more. Amadeus smiled at End and handed him his violin.

  The music ended, and Amadeus turned back into brain-dead self the Sphere of Influence had made him into. Amadeus walked out of the Library once more. The Librarian could not believe what he had just witnessed. End handed the violin over to the Librarian. The Librarian smiled. He placed the violin to his chin. He took a breath as if feeling the energy of music surround him. That all at once, he began playing on the violin.

  He was a really awful violinist.

  End covered his ears.

  “Why did you ask me to get the violin if you can’t play?”

  The Librarian walked away playing the violin badly.

  No answer from him.

  “So will you tutor me?” asked End. The Librarian seemed more pre-occupied with playing bad sounds from the violin than listening to him as he walked away. End was speechless. It had been a long time since he last sighed. What was all of this about? He sighed again.

  “There are many ways to achieve the same result,” began the Librarian as he turned around and placed the violin down. “I always wondered if I could be a violinist, but I was never very patient with my small gifts. I never made them big gifts. Sometimes, we’re just too impatient to pay attention to what other people are really trying to tell us.”

  The Librarian turned around again to walk away. End wondered why he always like the dramatic way of talking to someone with his back turned.

  “I wanted to see if you would become desperate and snatch it from him. You didn’t. Your training begins tomorrow.”

  His words echoed down the hallway, and End’s face lit up brighter than sixty Christmas trees on Christmas.

  That night End could hardly sleep.

  The next day arrived in the blink of an eye. Expecting a fast & furious class into the exhilarating and informative world of the Viewfinder, End found to his surprise that the Librarian’s tutelage was actually rather boring. Instead of teaching him LightCatching, the Librarian taught him the usual boring subjects in school like mathematics, physics and sometimes even military law and war stratagems.

  “Why are you teaching me all the things I hate? I only wish to learn about the olden form of LightCatching.”
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  The Librarian stared at him for a moment.

  “Shall I stop?”

  End groaned and had to carry on. Mentors had a way of never telling you why they are teaching you something. If you watched enough kungfu movies from the past, you will know that it was a pre-dominant character trait of every white haired kungfu master. Each time End asked why he was learning a particular thing, the Librarian would ask End if he would wish to discontinue the class. Finally, a thousand questions later, End being End, could not resist it any more and had to speak his mind.

  “Alright, all this may be relevant to the Viewfinder somehow, but are you just training my patience? I have always felt that my entire life of education in schools was about cramming tons of useless information in my head. Without meaning to sound rude, can you just tell me why I am studying what I am studying?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  The Librarian did not answer.

  “I feel it would help me tremendously in terms of enthusiasm, if you just told me why I am studying…for instance, ‘focal length’.”

  The Librarian thought for a while. That while turned out to be a minute. He wasn’t deliberating, he genuinely had bed memory at times. Unlike other tutors, he was a more open-minded tutor and actually bought in to what End was trying to tell him.

  “You are learning Focal length, because it is the foundation of LightCatching. The numbers you see on each of the small lenses you use in your micro lens kit, corresponds to different focal lengths.”

  “I always thought they were distances of the object.”

  “No they are not. Without the basics, you will not even begin to use the viewfinder in the right way.”

  End took a look at another text-book.

  “How about total internal reflection? Why am I studying that?”

  “Are you ever going to stop asking?”

  “No.”

  The Librarian groaned for a second.

  “Because it will be essential when you build your own viewfinder.”

  End’s pupils enlarged. He began to smile like a kid about to be given candy.

  “Are you going to teach me how to build my own viewfinder?”

  “No,” said the Librarian, without a hint of what was to follow. End was relentless at pestering the Librarian to teach him how to build his own viewfinder. Although, the Librarian’s answer was final, he explained some of the finer concepts of how the Viewfinder basically functions and End seemed to nod his head at some of the complex stuff he said, though he understood none of it.

  As time went by, the Librarian would notice End mapping out everything that the Librarian had said to him in a holographic knowledge map. He would revise on the things that were taught to him. At time, he would maneuver the objects or equations that was floating in the air before him, to try and solve some puzzling mysteries of the VF. The Librarian noticed that End was sometimes just an equation or two away from figuring out how to build the VF. Though it might have been easier to walk up and tell him the answer, he resisted that temptation. End had to figure this one out by himself, the Librarian thought. He felt that if End could find out the answer, then that answer would belong to him forever.

  As the weeks went on, the Librarian would be lying if he said he did not enjoy End’s determination, endless curiosity and company. However, there were times that End would just spout nonsense.

  “I wonder why that statue would keep moving about.”

  “What statue?” asked the Librarian one day, after tuning into the mumblings of End. End shows him the footage of a certain statue.

  “Someone keeps shifting him around. I saw him in five different places around the campus. Does he represent something? Pride maybe? Why does he always fold his arms like that? And is it because you guys don’t have enough statues of him, so you keep shifting him around?”

  “That is the statue of the legendary Sir Bingley from the City of Three Lions. He is the man who founded The City of Lions in 2819.”

  “What is the meaning of founded?”

  The Old Librarian found himself suddenly cornered by a simple question, which had never occurred in his mind. End could have asked about history, but why on earth did he have to ask about the definition of “founded”. It was one of those moments where a proud teacher had no answer but was too proud to admit it. And so, he tried instead for an intelligent guess, because experience had taught him that when you have seniority behind you as well as some forceful guess, you could get away with things sometimes.

  “Well, in the 20th century, the colloquial language of the people of the city is known as Lionglish. It is a more heartland method of speaking the English language, for instance, “Why you so like that?” means ‘Why do you behave in such a manner?’ And so, the word ‘founded’ was a colloquial modification of the past tense of found. They wish to express that he found the place first, but colloquially when the local historians wrote that down, they used colloquial slang and thus it became, “he founded it.”

  The Librarian seemed very pleased that he had managed to concoct such a convincing answer.

  “I read somewhere that it just meant to build a foundation for…” The Old Librarian used his VF to scan through the most comprehensive online Encyclopedia known as Leakipedia. It was an online domain where the unabridged truth about anything in the world can leak out to the people without any interference from any governing body. He checked. End was right.

  “If you already knew the answer, then why did you ask me in the first place?” said the Librarian. He walked away, insulted, “Get out!”

  End was chased out of the library for playing a trick on his teacher. Never ask your teacher a question that you already knew the answer to, because they too, like yourself, have pride. Having realized this too late, End found himself with no library to go to for that day.

  As End walked out of the library, he saw the statue again.

  “It’s all your fault.” Said End as he walked past the statue. As he turned around, he thought he spotted the statue smiling. The smile was so subtle that it also looked like it was all just End’s imagination.

  For another week, End would perform well in the ILC, to await the weekends once more. Once the weekend came again, End continued to be relentless at asking why he was studying anything at all. Librarian was actually a rather liberal and patient teacher, and he entertained almost all his questions. At first, he thought that End would just stop asking but that never happened. With the Librarian’s open-mindedness, End found it easier to trust him. He began to focus more on the subjects rather than ask his incessant and sometimes silly questions.

  One day while cleaning, End uncovered an old plaque. Curiously, it was a shield that commemorated the founding of the ILC. It said “ILC founded 10th August 2965”.

  “But that would mean it was one day after the National Birthday of the City.”

  End went to cross reference the information with some historical books found under the category of history. He found something interesting and rushed to see the Librarian.

  “Sir, take a look at this. It’s strange. But I thought Amon Goth started the ILC?”

  “He did.”

  “That can’t be. He said in his speech that he founded the ILC on 1st January 3000, after Dark Monday. But according to this plaque, the ILC had been in existence a day after City of Lions was formed on 9th August 2965.”

  The Librarian tried to think, but his head hurt.

  “Why does all of this even matter to you anyway?” asked The Librarian as he massaged his head.

  “Because I believe that there was an older school of ILC, and it was dedicated to the arts!”

  “Nonsense.”

  End took out another photo.

  “This photo was wedged inside the plague. Who are these people?”

  The photo showed four people. A Japanese samurai like man, a mime, a very fierce leader-type guy, and a cowboy. Below were the words “Eye Arts” written as a sig
nature, probably by one of them.

  “Eye Arts. Who are the Eye arts?”

  “I can’t remember.” Exclaimed the Librarian.

  “And how about you! How did you learn all your skills?”

  “I am a librarian. I read all the books in this library.”

  “And you wrote some, didn’t you? Maybe you were a student in the old school. Or maybe a teacher?”

  The Librarian’s head began to hurt. He had to sit down.

  “Enough of this. Go back to your bunk. That’s enough for today.”

  “Why do you keep running away from trying to remember?”

  “Because my head hurts every time I try to. I am an old man, End. I can only look forward and learn new things,” he said, “And I keep having the distinct feeling that some extremely painful memories are better forgotten. I don’t know that means but it is written all over my brain. Forgetting is what keeps me alive each day, and what my heart wants for me.”

  End was totally confused by the Librarian’s answer as he watched the Librarian walk away, but he could feel his sadness. End decided to keep the photo of the Eye Arts in his pocket.

  For the following weeks, End continued to pester the Librarian with questions, but the Librarian simply refused to answer any of them. He pestered him until finally he also stopped asking altogether.

  “One more word about this, and I will ban you from my library indefinitely, are we clear?” said the Librarian.

  End was upset that his search had come to a dead end. Nonetheless, he was improving as a LightCatcher at an alarming rate in the ILC.

  At the Photon Rifle range, End’s scores was catching up to Quentin’s. At the Light Grenades section, he succeeded in throwing the light grenade with great precision. He could also now do ten emo-pull ups with ease. The only set back was that he still had no idea how to pass the Dark Obstacles course. Quentin was very proud of his good friend, realizing that although he was a good, End was much more hardworking and had the ability to learn much faster than he did.

  Something else happened. As a by product of absorbing so much knowledge about the olden form of LightCatching, End became an underground sensation for his ability to make films that showed the life of other recruits. He would shoot and record these footages and pass them from recruit to recruit. He and Quentin would work on it together, though Quentin was not able to do everything that End could. The content began with mostly documentary styled footages, where they would record some comical footage of people talking. Then they explored with cinematography, by filming the symmetry of soldiers marching. Next, they hung around the Warmart to secretly record rumors, but that was short-lived when Uncle E chased them out.

  In particular, End loved to record Arnold most of the time, because it made the scary man seemed a lot funnier when captured on film. They would then distribute by a simple handshake with another recruit. Their films were fast becoming viral.

  One day, the Wa brothers came up to Quentin and End.

  “Hey End, me and my brother would like to do something like a kungfu film. Are you interested in working together?” asked Andy Wa. Quentin and End agreed. Andy and Larry Wa showing off some of their Wing Chun styled fighting.

  “You’re not bad actually, were you guys trained before?” asked Quentin.

  “Of course. We trained in a place called Fou Shan, under a master who called himself the Intellectual Property Man.”

  As the Wa brothers fought, Quentin fuelled End with more light energy, and End was the chief film-maker. “I need more angles,” he said to himself. As he said those words, it was almost like an act of instinct, that he threw a little rectangular shaped object that looked like it was made of pure light on the ground.

  “What is that?” asked Quentin.

  “New camera angles,” End seemed so engrossed in positioning the angles that he did not realize that the Wa brothers and Quentin were staring at him. It was only a few minutes after that End stopped what he was doing and looked back at them. They were amazed that End was able to create a new invention simply through an inspiration or thought.

  “You are truly evolving my friend.” Said Quentin with a smile.

  With the weeks that followed, End began making more than just documentaries. He began choreographing and doing films. His little hobby was fast becoming an underground syndicate of movies and films that he made and they provided a source of alternative entertainment for all the recruits. End was the only one with sophisticated enough LightCatching skills to shoot films, so the demand for content was pretty heavy on him. He had tried to spread this knowledge, but no one was even his standard when it came to film making yet, not even Quentin. And the good thing about making great content was that even when everyone knew the punishments attached to the possession of these films, no one made a sound because he shared. This was because his content was sometimes more interesting than the video games that they were secretly playing at night. The great demand for his ability kept everyone’s mouth shut. Even Beef who was the natural enemy of End was too engrossed with watching his “Days of the ILC” episodes to bother about him. Quentin saw the obsession Beef had with “Days of the ILC”, and he laughed. He was really enjoying the peace that End had brought since his talents were finally on show for all to see.

  Arnold began to notice this change in End. In training, End would excel due to his ability. However, Arnold had years of experience watching recruits come in and out. He could smell an uninterested soldier a mile away, no matter how talented he was. For him, the last straw was when End failed another try of the Dark Obstacles Course but walked off talking to the Wa brothers about something else instead. Arnold was furious. He scrolled down the contacts list of his VF once more, and clicked on “Q”.

  One cooling night, while everyone was busy watching the films made by End, End was flipping through his stamps album. He thought about ? for a moment, how lovely she was. He flipped the album, which was full of stamps. There was a little space for one more stamp. There was a blank circle there, which indicated the stamp that should be placed there, and the dish was none other than the one I detested the most, the award winning “Liquid Nitrogen treated, Mozzarella Cheese flavored, Frog porridge served with Pitcher plant acid juice”. End laughed. Judging from his expression, he was not interested in trying it either. But he had to. He had to complete the album. A funny thought of how ? would have smuggled the food through the tight security of the military camp, tickled him. His smile turned into a slight frown, as a tiny feeling came suddenly like a train wreck at his heart. He felt the pain in his chest as he suddenly realized how tremendous he had missed her.

  Just then, End saw Arnold entering the room. Everyone scattered to turn off their viewfinders. Beef called for the room to stand at attention and everyone was ran back to their beds. Arnold was with his usual foul mood face.

  “At ease!”

  Arnold walked straight up to End.

  “Your buddy has been attached to a different company.”

  “What do you mean, Arnold?”

  Arnold said nothing as he left the bunk. End felt a sudden sense of loss. He felt his world shift, as if someone important had left once again. Quentin had been the big brother all along. And then he felt a sense of anger. Why didn’t Quentin say a word? Where did Quentin go?

  Beef heard what Arnold said. A smile stretched itself across his face. It was a smile of great satisfaction. He whistled for his gang. Patrick, Guile Wayne, Mickey, and little Ed John all got up. They walked up to End. Beef knew it was time. Revenge, oh sweet revenge. They walked up to End and formed a circle around his bed, so that he could not escape.

  “Boys, the good old days have returned.” Said Beef.

  However, End was not the least bit afraid. He was plagued with misery at the sudden and unannounced departure of Quentin. Beef felt a little insulted that End seemed not to have noticed him and his gang at all.

  “Ahem.” Said Beef.

  End turned to look at him f
or a second, before turning his head to look away again. Beef was infuriated.

  “Wow. It’s been that long has it? Perhaps you have forgotten what a true beating taste like. Boys, Let’s give our friend here a reminder.”

  Beef grabbed End’s arm and lifted him up. Without waiting for a response, he tossed End across the room. End smashed into one of the metal cabinets in the bunk.

  “Do you miss your buddy? You are about to miss him a whole lot more!”

  Beef picked End up and threw him against another metal cabinet. End spit blood out. He got up, rubbed his bruised arms, and walked back to his bed.

  “Not today Beef, I am not in the mood.”

  Beef looked at his gang with wide eyes of astonishment.

  “What big words! One day, you are saying that I can’t hurt you without your permission. And today, you are telling me that you are not in the mood? Gentlemen, our little End is all grown up now!”

  Beef grabbed End by the collar.

  “I said not today Beef!” said End.

  “Or what?”

  Beef saw End’s food stamps album. End saw Beef’s line of sight, and panicked for the very first time in a long while. Beef knew that the album meant alot to him. He grabbed it just as End failed to snatch it back. The pure panic in End’s heart was not enough to stop what happened next as Beef ripped the stamp album into tiny little pieces. Guile, Patrick, Mickey and Ed John all held End, and allowed him to watch as Beef torched the album into dust with his VF.

  “I think you need to get a new one.” Laughed Beef.

  Something changed inside of End. All that he had learnt from Mahatma was lost for a second. There was a pure rage that burned in his heart when he neglected the theory of good fears vs bad fears. As Beef tried to lift End up once more, there was a cracking sound that everyone heard. The sound was similar to that of the flame from a Bunsen burner becoming exhausted from the lack of fuel. It was created from the dark layer of aura that had emerged from End. Beef turned his head to look at End.

  Before he knew it, he had been thrown across the room. Beef rammed straight into a wall, causing some bricks to break. Beef’s gang stared at End, unsure of what just happened, or how that was possible. End stood strong, his eyes filled with a kind of hate. Beef got up, trying to muster enough anger to charge at End, but fear overtook anger in an instance as his lips quivered. Beef lunged a second attack, and End gave a tight slap that sent him crashing into a metal cabinet and out cold for good. End walked towards Beef. Beef found himself crawling backwards and as far as possible from End.

  Some of the bunk-mates applauded. They were excited to see a villain tortured. Others looked on in fear of what End had become. But to End, none of it mattered. He was upset. The ashes of the food album made for him by ? was in ruins. He felt a surge of wrath that cannot be explained. He touched his own dog tag. This would be the last and only physical object he had of her to remind him of her. He tore his dog tag off his neck and threw it at Beef who was kneeling before End.

  “Destroy it.” Said End.

  Beef did not understand, and I don’t blame him. The emotion was a little complex. End was so afraid of losing his final piece of memory of ? that he was challenging Beef to destroy it, rather than suffer the fear of losing it suddenly.

  “Destroy it, so that I may destroy you.” Said End.

  “Destroy me? What are you talking about?”

  End touched a chair. It disintegrated into dust.

  Beef picked up the dog tag with shivering hands and handed it back to End.

  “No, Come on, End, what are you saying? Take it back.” Beef’s voice was much gentler now.

  “You should destroy it. You know you want to.”

  “No, I don’t. Of course I don’t.”

  Beef tried to place the dog tag back in End’s hand, but End refused to accept it. The dog tag was going nowhere, going to and fro between both their hands.

  “Do it.” Commanded End.

  “Please.”

  End caught Beef’s wrist, and began squeezing it. Beef felt the pain in his wrist.

  “Stop, It is going to break.” Said Beef.

  “Then destroy it.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  As the emotions between the two got intense. The dog tag shone out its hologram. It was that same visual that End had stored. It was the visuals of the first time he had seen ? looking at him in the Destiny Rewriting Chamber. As the hologram shone out, it was positioned such that it looked as if ? was looking at End right now. End stopped what he was doing for a while. That look of ?, as End recalled was the look that was different from how everyone else in the universe looked at him. ?’s look gave him hope, and gave him a chance at life. ?’s look was forgiving, almost like a smile, not like a sympathizing look, but more of a look of encouragement but of stern encouragement. It was a look that endowed End with power, a supportive glance that told him that he was not the worst person in the world, that change was possible inside him, if he would permit it for himself.

  End returned to his normal self. He let go of Beef’s wrist. Beef was crying by then. Beef had to be escorted back to his bed sobbing, as he was so afraid that his wrist had probably broken. Recruit Billy Gin saw the state that Beef was in and had a mixed feeling. He felt the hurt that Beef was going through but at the same time a kind of liberation that End brought, because the bully was no more. For a brief moment, Billy felt free.

  End sat down in his bed. The rest of the people in the bunk looked at him as both a monster and their possible new leader, if he wanted that title. End wanted nothing. He wanted to sleep. He was sorry for what he had almost become. End laid down in his bed and fell asleep fast. He was the new king of the jungle and no one shakes the king when he sleeps. As he slept he thought hard about his own pathway in the ILC. Internally, he was sick of depending on someone else for emotional support. He had to find a new way to depend on himself.

  That night was a most difficult night for him to fall asleep in. Even though it was now safer than it ever was before, End had too many things on his mind. On the bed across his, he could hear some murmuring from the Wa Brothers.

  “Hey you all set for the vocation AGM tomorrow?”

  “Yup. Do you think Dr Brown will like our creation?”

  “Of course he would. He is going to love it, and he is going to enlist us into his Armored E division.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” asked End.

  “Oh, tomorrow they are going to have a presentation of all the available vocations that you could go to.”

  “Yeah. Once they pick you, you would have finally found your place. The training phase ends, and you work during working hours like people in the City of Lions.”

  “But only if they pick you.”

  “Like they picked Quentin.”

  End looked at Andy Wa.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shall I tell him Larry?”

  “It’s only a rumor, you have no foundation for it.”

  “What is it?” asked End.

  “Well, the logical explanation that I can come up with, regarding where Quentin went, was that he was poached by a unit.”

  “So soon?”

  “Well. Sometimes a man has got to have some connections.”

  Connections, thought End. In his heart he was angry that his friend just left. At least if he said something, then he wouldn’t have felt so betrayed. So connections made the world go round.

  “I am going to sleep, Andy. I don’t want to have eye bags when we present our invention to Dr Brown tomorrow.” From the tone of their voice, End knew that tomorrow was an important day. It could be his ticket to freedom if only he knew how to play his cards right.