The Movement

Chapter Seven - Part 9

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“Mr. Duckworth!” greeted President Barber’s hologram in the corner of his Nanolense. “So the tour with Dr. Hill went well, did it?”

“It went extremely well, Mr. President. Dr. Hill and his team do some amazing research and development over there.”

“They are the embodiment of The Movement.” added the president. “The rest of our teams need to emulate them.”

“Of course.” replied Troy, continuing his haste walking pace down the pathway.

“Now, I need you to report to the Youth Education Center in three hours” he demanded.

“Where is that located?” asked Troy. “Is it as clandestine as the Technology Laboratory?” he joked.

“No, no, no. Dr. Hill loves the privacy of it down there. He says it allows him to keep a peaceful mind to think abstractly. He is my top team leader, I allow him some flexibility down there.” said the president.

“So where do I report?” he asked once more.

“Just keep walking straight,” insisted the president. “I will return shortly to direct you further.”

President Barber’s hologram disappeared from Troy’s vision. He continued to walk down the pathway, wishing he were walking down the bouncy path in Dr. Hill’s laboratory instead.

At last, Troy saw the building from a distance, rising higher and higher above the landscape with each step forward. When he approached the doors, he noticed the ease with which he could enter this several story high building. He entered through the rotating doors. No one greeted him at the entrance.

The mezzanine consisted of five doors. Four evenly separated, two on either side of the room. The fifth was different than the others, in the right corner closest to the main entrance. He entered one of the four doors. Inside, a middle-aged woman tip-toed around infants, maybe one or two years old, sleeping in small cots on the floor. She signaled Troy to keep quiet, pressing her pointer finger to lips, otherwise ignoring his presence. Troy waited for several minutes longer, to no avail. Impatient, he turned around and exited the room.

Back in the mezzanine, Troy chose a different of the four doors. A young woman stood in front of a large group of toddler Youths, two or three years old, sitting on the floor. She jumped and shouted with much avidity, flapping her arms in the air as if she were trying to fly away. The Youths silently raised their hands, nearly synchronized. The woman stopped her performance, then called on a Youth near the center of the cluster.

“A bood.” said the Youth, gleaming.

“A what?” asked the woman.

“A bood!” repeated the Youth.

The woman placed her hands on her hips, standing akimbo. “Now, can anyone help Jasmine say the word correctly?”

Again, many Youths raised their hands in the air. The woman pointed at a Youth near the front.

“Yes?” she insisted the Youth to answer.

“A bird.” pronounced the Youth slowly, bending his neck to look at the other Youth. “You need to say -er, not -oo, Malachi.”

“That is correct, a bird!” said the woman. “Malachi, can you try once more please?”

The Youth stood up, rising above his peers. He cleared his throat, then repeatedly pronounced the -er sound under his breath. After several repetitions, he pronounced the ‘b’ sound, then combined it with the -er. “Ber, ber, ber.” he said quietly. “Bird.” he repeated as loud as he could through a wide smile.