Page 243 of Light Leech

“Yuze’s class is just ahead. Mister Ershov, how did you find yourself in Arabasia?”

“I work in pharmaceuticals. Sales, mostly. I’ve lived in the Republic for most of my life—“

“I was going to say, despite your name, I would have never thought you were Medislavian.”

“My parents came here when I was a child.”

“And Arabasia?”

“My company sent me to a branch they were opening in New Shanghai, which is where I met Mei. We settled there for some time and we’re fortunate enough to escape the worst of the war.”

“I hear that it gets worse by the day.”

“We tend to avoid the news,” Naoma said. “Best to focus on the brighter side of life. The places we can make a difference.” She placed her hand on Kuni’s shoulder as Sanna stopped next to a classroom door and faced us.

“But don’t you worry about everyone else knowing what is happening while you remain ignorant?”

“What if we can’t rely on that information?” Naoma’s visage was approaching condescension.

“Seek out proper sources.”

“And how do I know which ones qualify as proper?”

I was starting to grow worried.

She continued. “Ulterior motives dictate education. How do I know outside influences won’t teach my child concepts I disagree with?”

I relaxed, seeing how well she was playing into her high-standard mother.

“Disagreeing with the common curriculum is a sign of your problematic beliefs.” Sanna was growing tense.

“Who decides which topics are problematic?”

“The Zingang Board of Education. Is there a certain topic you would like discussed?”

“Religious teachings and their oppression, discretion when teaching about pharmaceutical companies connected to the presidency, android rights–”

Sanna laughed, but the sound was free of joy. She held up her hand to stop Naoma. “So every point of modern controversy?”

“Unless you have the authority to discuss such policies, yes, I would like to speak with the Zingang Board.”

“I–uh–will have to message the head to see if our resident rep–”

“Great! While we await their response, we can finish the tour.” She gestured to the classroom door. “Shall we?”

“After you,” Naoma said with an enthusiastic yet dominating smile. These two were playing for power like competing salesmen. Being away from Naoma at work–the true Naoma not owned by Reef Records–was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know how much autonomy she had under Nichley, but if she was anything like she was now, she had fought for what she wanted. I recalled her brilliance in sending me the cuttlefish documentary. None of our success could have been accomplished without her.

Seeing her step into the room after Sanna with Kuni’s hand in hers, I recalled the pseudo-life her therapist had forced me to experience. Seeing that imagery cast now into a somewhat positive reflection, despite our circumstances, I wondered if I could ever see it come to fruition. If that was my future, I saw now that my child would be in good hands. I saw that this woman was sharper than those who claimed to be educational paragons. She knew how to work others. Perhaps her people skills were a remnant of her time at Reef. Others might have been taken aback by her subtle manipulation. I would have been alarmed if I hadn’t known her. Seeing her use it for the benefit of a child, regardless of the fictitious situation, I saw that she had what it took to be a parent in a world that tried to teach children to follow its ways rather than their parents.

Boyband elbowed me as he passed. “You good?” he asked over his shoulder, trying not to talk over Sanna.

I smiled. This was one of those genuine ones in a sea of feigned optimism. “Yeah.”

I stepped up to stand by Naoma, opposite Kuni. She looked at me, smiling and reaching for my hand. I took it and felt warmth blossom in my chest. All of this was an act, but this gesture felt genuine. She stroked the back of my hand with her thumb. Maybe she had seen my trepidation. Maybe she saw the nervous signs of fix withdrawal. The cause didn’t matter. I knew that she cared, and that was enough.

“The micro-neurosets we use are the latest model,” Sanna said, gesturing to the children. “And we replace them with each quarterly upgrade.”

Every child sat at their desk with hands on half-sized neurosets. Their eyes flashed, some occasionally exiting their daze to write something on their tablets.