The first arrival

The year is 744. It's been exactly one year since Inessa's death. Theodore was three years old. The family business had gone under. Lars practically stopped coming to his restaurant. More and more often he went to the bar to forget himself with a few beers or something stronger. The grief-stricken father of a young child tried to cope with the loss of his wife through alcohol, sinking deeper and deeper into an abyss of misery and frustration. Caring for the boy continued to be a mere formality without any feelings of love and care. Lars couldn't wait until the month of August to dump the burden in the Children's Educational Centre (or CEC for short) far away from himself.

This was the name given to all existing educational centres for children aged three to six. There were many such urban and rural institutions in the world. The main task of which was to identify talents in the kids. On the basis of appropriate recommendations from the teachers, parents would send their children to schools where they would be trained for their future professions. Lars was not the kind of parent who cared about the welfare of his child. He never dreamed of finding out what talent lay in his son. For him, the CEC was just a place where he could send his child for a long period of time. The classes were held on weekdays, from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. If it had been up to Lars, he would have left Theodore there forever and would not have regretted it.

The month of August has arrived. Crowds of parents and their children rushed to the gates of the CEC to celebrate the first school day. As the population of the village was small, there was only one CEC. This only added to the excitement of the enthusiastic parents who were genuinely proud that their children were entering a new phase of life. Where they had yet to learn about such concepts as ‘independence’, ‘self-discipline’, ‘responsibility’, and so on. And also to learn a lot of new things.

The Education Centre was a three-storey rectangular building with several classrooms connected by spacious corridors. There was a canteen on the top floor, and common toilets on each floor. Depending on the specific profile, the classrooms were equipped with everything necessary for classes. For example, there was a study of architecture and construction, where there was a large number of children's constructors of various shapes and colours, which were intended for children of different ages. For three-year-old children – bigger, for six-year-old children – smaller.

There was a sports room, where there were children's exercise machines, a football and fighting ground. In this room, children were deliberately provoked into conflicts in order to identify their leadership skills, team spirit, stress resistance and other useful qualities.

A low platform was erected near the entrance to the Education Centre for the first school day. On it, the presenter, teachers, director and older children who have been in the institution for at least one year performed. Thus, demonstrating what they have already learnt from teachers and coaches. As the holiday was not only for new students, senior students, there were a lot of people gathered. All of them watched the festive show, which consisted of dancing, singing and handicrafts.

Lars, a little tipsy because he had had a couple of beers before going out, stood emotionlessly in the centre of the crowd with his son, glancing around every now and then. Theodore held his father's hand tightly, seeing almost nothing but the backs of the people ahead of him. Caring fathers put their children on their shoulders so that they could see the performance better. But Lars was not such a father. He stood silently among the other people, as if serving a punishment for his misdemeanours.

One of the last numbers was a children's song. Many people were amazed at how the children, who had studied only a year or two at the education centre, had already learned to sing, hitting the notes exactly and feeling the rhythm. Not so long ago, they could not even speak. However, nothing so humbles and amuses the gathered mums and dads as the successes of young talents. Naturally, those children who had a certain talent for music and dance performed. In all probability, these children will go on to study vocal art and play some musical instruments. The song ended to great applause from the audience. In the middle stood the vocal teacher, and on the sides of him, holding each other by the hands of children of different ages. All of them, at the signal of their teacher made a simultaneous bow to the audience, which prompted the audience to clap even more fiercely and louder to support the little artists.

After the performance, the CEC headmistress came on stage again. She was dressed in a bright luscious pink bouffant dress. Taking the microphone on the stand, the headmistress thanked the children who had performed and invited the parents for a short tour of the educational centre where their little ones would be studying for the next three years.

After entering the main door of the CEC, the tour group found itself in the main hall, to the left and right of which were administrative and training rooms. In the middle of the hall was an escalator leading to the upper floors. It was unusual in that it worked in two directions, switching automatically depending on the time. For example, now the time was 10-00, and it was moving upwards. And at 10-30 its direction changed and the steps started moving in the opposite direction. The escalator itself was fenced on all sides with protective glass fences so that kids could not get on it without being accompanied by adults.

Headmistress: ‘This is the main corridor to get to any classroom. Mine, is at the very beginning. It's right here. And just beyond that is the teachers' lounge area. The toilets are at the end of the corridor.’

Man: ‘This escalator…it only goes up. How do you get back down?’

Headmistress: ‘Firstly, it changes direction every half an hour. Secondly, in case of force majeure, of course it can be stopped, or the direction can be changed manually. Let's go. Let's go into each room in turn.’

The group animatedly followed her guide, snaking around and entering the student rooms. Some of the parents were amazed at how organised and elaborate everything was inside, others were not surprised at all, as they had moved like Lars from larger communities where the CECs were even more modern and advanced. Lars and Theodore weaved in the tail. The boy's eyes were burning with excitement. He was curious about everything and wanted to start playing in these unusual and fun classes with his peers as soon as possible. For kids who had never studied with teachers, the CEC at first seemed like one big and amazing sandbox with lots of toys and hobbies. Many wanted to poke, touch and visit everything.

In the first year, learning was conducted in a playful way, gradually revealing the strengths and interests of young students, preparing them for more complex subjects. From the second year onwards, special techniques were introduced to help children better absorb the necessary information and delve into core subjects such as language, children's maths, logic, music and so on. That is why, by the age of six, children entered school ready for full-fledged study in the training profile chosen by their parents.

The group walked to one of the outermost doors at the end of the corridor. It was painted a dark purple colour. It was painted dark purple and had volumetric stickers in the form of flasks of various shapes with liquids inside. The headmistress stopped near the entrance and said proudly: ‘And this is one of my favourite classes. The chemistry room.’

Inside the room, the walls were painted the same purple colour, with orange stripes in the middle. There were also small multi-coloured blotches on them, reminiscent of ink stains carelessly left by a poorly-behaved student who couldn't write. The floor was covered with a special waterproof coating that could easily be used to clean up spills. In addition, it was very soft, so the students sitting on it were very comfortable. The kids sat on the floor, and in front of them were long wooden tables on which various liquids were spread out. Those were carefully trying to mix them together, watching with interest as the colour of the solutions changed. The children began to look round at the visitors who had just entered.

Headmistress: ‘Well, let's not distract them from their lessons. Let's move on!’

One of the mothers turned to the centre director, looking worriedly at the students: ‘Isn't this dangerous? Can't the children drink these liquids and get poisoned? What if they get some of it in their eyes?’

Headmistress: ‘Don't worry about anything. All liquids have a special composition that is edible, hypoallergenic and has an unpleasant taste. Therefore, children should only try it once to then stop doing so. Simply put, all liquids are ordinary water, even though they have different colours and mixing them leads to different reactions. The safety of the children is our centre's highest mission.’

The first floor was no different from the first, except for the high glass partitions that enclose the edges of the surface from the chasm in the middle of the floor, from which one escalator takes people up and down to the ground floor and another does the same to the second.

The tour group reached a blue door with a sticker of a crescent moon and a baby sleeping on it. Some of the parents wanted to go inside, but the headmistress stopped them, asking them not to disturb the babies resting there. So the room could only be seen standing on the threshold. It was painted in dark blue colour. It was coloured dark blue, and only a dim night-light in the form of a starry sky illuminated the room. From there came the faint sound of crickets singing, which was meant to lull the babies to sleep. The space was quite large, about 40 square metres. On the floor there were many cots arranged lengthwise and crosswise. Some of them were close to each other, and some on the contrary – at a distance, forming small passages between them. On the frames there were several plates with children's names, as one and the same cot was used by three or even four children in a day.

Headmistress: ‘The second exactly the same rest room is upstairs. The bed linen is changed four times a day, per child. The room is regularly disinfected with ultraviolet light’.

Father of one of the children: ‘But how do they fall asleep so quietly strictly according to your schedule? I can't put mine to bed for hours!’

Headmistress: ‘The secret lies in the sounds of nature used to put the children to sleep. On top of that, we use special speakers that emit certain vibrations into the air, which also contribute to a successful sedation. Right now, you don't feel it because you're outside. But once you get inside, lie down in bed and immerse yourself in this atmosphere of calm and serenity for a while, your eyes will start to close as if you had taken a powerful sleeping pill.

The same worried mum who asked the question in the chemistry room and many others: ‘Isn't it dangerous? Isn't this music of yours going to affect the children's hearing in any bad way?’

The headmistress looked at the mum with a look that was both tired and incomprehensible. A disgruntled mutter ran through the crowd. This woman, always asking the most questions and fretting about safety more than anyone else, had become somewhat of a major annoyance to those around her.

Headmistress: ‘As I have said before, I repeat: the safety of children comes first for us. As well as their health. You can rely on us for that.

The mum continued to press on, obviously not fully understanding the answer, ‘So there is no danger?’

A rumble of discontent spread through the crowd again. The headmistress gritted her teeth, took a deep breath and exhaled, then answered the annoying woman in a steady and monotonous voice: ‘No, there is no danger to her hearing.’

The tour around the main building of the CEC took some more time, after which the group stopped near the office of the headmistress, which was located on the ground floor, and parents took turns to go inside to settle some formalities with documents. Finally, it was the Davels' turn. Lars sat his son on one of the chairs near the desk of the head of the Centre, and sat down next to him on the next one. The little boy, chattering with his legs began to look around. All the space around the perimeter was filled with bookshelves. They were cluttered with various fiction and educational literature, the names of which Theodore could not read yet. So he just admired the colourful covers.

Lars: ‘So, when can I give you the boy?’

Headmistress: ‘You say that as if you want to get rid of him.’

There was a short silence. The headmistress finished filling out some paperwork and took her attention away from them and continued to answer the question: ‘From tomorrow, Theodore and his other classmates will start their first day of school. We always advise parents to support the baby in the first week and attend his first classes, at least for a while.’

Lars (emphatically): ‘I think there's no need for that. He can manage on his own.’

Headmistress: ‘Again, it's up to you. You are his father. We are only giving advice. As the boy will have to face a new society, hitherto unfamiliar to him. Therefore, certain changes may occur. Both psychological and…’

Lars: ‘Do you have psychologists?’

Headmistress: ‘Yes, of course.’

Lars: ‘Well, there you go. Then they will do their job in case of such changes.’

The headmistress looked regretfully at Theodore, who was sitting on a chair next to his father and wiggling his legs back and forth, looking at the books.

Headmistress: ‘Okay, I understand you. Then sign here and here. And you are free to go. We'll be expecting you tomorrow at 9:00.

Lars signed the papers handed to him by the headmistress and lifted his son from his chair and said goodbye. The boy paused for a moment and turned to the woman sitting at the table and waved his little hand at her. She smiled and waved back at him. The father tugged his son's hand and they walked away from the room.

The next day came. Early in the morning, the parents took the children to the Children's Education Centre. Some on foot, some by car. Every now and then the transport stopped near the entrance to the educational institution, dropping off the little passengers with their mothers and fathers at its doors. The Davels approached the building of the CEC. The door was swinging open as back and forth parents entered and exited. Theodore's father was in a remarkably good mood, believing he was finally rid of the cursed child for most of the day. The Davels equalled the other boy and the man. The child looked fearfully towards the CEC, unsure of what to expect from this new place. His father held his back as if to encourage him to take that step forward. The man bent down and whispered in the baby's ear, ‘It's going to be okay. We're going to go in there together and see what's going on!’

The child smiled in response to his words and moved forward confidently, scrambling up the small ladder leading to the entrance with eagerness and unintelligible sounds. Theodore smiled as he saw the way his peer was rushing to get into the building. Lars pulled his hand out of his son's small palm. So much so that he lost his balance from surprise and fell to the pavement. After which the man said: ‘That's it, go. You know the way. We were here yesterday.’ Lars turned his back on his son and silently headed in the opposite direction, leaving the child alone. Theodore, dressed in a grey summer jumpsuit at first, didn't understand what had happened and looked at his father with bewilderment, who soon disappeared from sight. Parents of other children passing by him began to pay attention to the child and stop with questions: ‘Whose boy are you? Where are your parents? Are you here alone?’

One of the mothers helped Theodore up off the ground and took him inside the centre, where the group assignment and introduction to the teachers had already begun.

Right in front of the entrance, not far from the principal's office, were happy parents waving to their children, who had already been assigned to groups and assigned to specific teachers. A couple of metres away from the parents were three rows of newly formed children's groups, headed by teachers. Between the parents and children, on a small step, the headmistress of the centre stood on a small step, solemnly announcing the names of the newly arrived students and then assigning them to a teacher.

The mother who had brought Theodore inside the building squeezed through the crowd of adults and turned to the director, pointing her finger at the child and explaining that she had found him near the entrance to the CEC. The director descended from her low stepladder and bending over the lost boy said: ‘Say, what's your name? Remember, we saw you yesterday. And we were sitting in this office.’ She pointed her finger at the door leading into her small office. Theodore turned his head in the direction she pointed. He wasn't frightened or agitated. He just couldn't understand what was wanted of him. The headmistress straightened to her full height and began to glance cursorily at the long piece of paper from which she had previously sounded out the list of enrolled kids.

Headmistress: ‘’Let's find you by the method of elimination. Who I haven't had time to allocate yet…’

An indignant whisper ran through the crowd, saying ‘how can this be?’, ‘where are his parents?’. ‘how can this be?’

The headmistress went over the entire list again, from beginning to end. She spoke loudly and clearly, pausing for long pauses between words, ‘I will ask for silence! There are still a few students left unassigned. When I call out their names, I will ask their parents for feedback. And so, let's begin! Derek Wanger!’

Almost instantly, a waving mum and her son appeared from the crowd. She shouted loudly: ‘That's us!’

Headmistress: ‘The boy is assigned to Mrs Donova's group.’ The mother led the boy to his assigned group. The headmistress made a note on her sheet.

Headmistress: ‘Susie Rauktree!’

A large man stepped forward from the crowd, holding his daughter by the legs on his shoulders. He pronounced: ‘She's here!’

Headmistress: ‘The girl is being assigned to a group in Mrs Santerini.’ The man gently and lovingly lowered his daughter to the ground and took her by the hand to the teacher's group.

Headmistress: ‘Theodore Davel!’ There was silence, and for a while there was silence in the air. The headmistress repeated the boy's first and last name twice. Theodore raised his head and took a couple of steps towards the headmistress. The crowd erupted, ‘That's him! That boy!’

The headmistress shifted her gaze to the child and smiled back at him: ‘Found you… So, your name is Theodore…’