|A bit of a Ma'at Micro-Scene [message #47979]
||Thu, 10 November 2011 13:32
Registered: March 2005
Just enough to give a flavor:|
"Why so quiet, Davy? You've never been to New Hampshire, before. I thought you'd be more interested in what we're passing."
The boy shrugged and kept his eyes on the SUV's floor.
Davy looked up at his father, Eric, who sat behind the wheel.
"Dad, I don't WANT to go! I don't want you to leave me there. Please, can't I stay with you and Mom?" The boy fought back tears that threatened to overflow. No fourteen-year old boy wanted to cry like a little kid. "I'm sorry about ... everything. I didn't mean to put a hole in the back seat, but I know how not to do that anymore! Mostly, anyway. Can I please stay home?"
Davy's mother, Rebecca, reached across the seat and patted -- more or less -- her son's shoulder.
"If there was another way for you to learn what you need to know, we'd use it. Your patroness told you, before you accepted her gifts, that you'd have to learn how to control them."
"Yeah, but she never said I couldn't learn it at home! I don't know anyone there. All my friends will be hours away."
Davy settled into a sullen, silent huddle, ignoring his parents' further attempts at drawing him out. The adults exchanged a brief glance of sympathy for their son, but circumstances -- and promises -- demanded this course.
Their son was learning a hard, hard lesson; that even a seemingly idle conversation can have huge repercussions.
They passed a sign reading 'Berlin - 20 mi,' and so many miles from home seemed so very short of time to say all they wanted to say.
[Updated on: Thu, 10 November 2011 13:33]
"Power corrupts. Powerpoint corrupts absolutely."
- Edward R. Tufte, professor emeritus of political science, computer science and statistics, and graphic design at Yale