How the World Judges You

Prologue

The world is unfair, and it will always be. Like how you work your ass of just to get high scores on your tests and sees the top student ace the exam without any sweat. I swear, I didn't even see him take his notes. Another example is when no matter how hard you finish your education, you never get the chance to be richer than Bill Gates or be as famous as Taylor Swift. That fact is something we cannot hide even if a lot of people are going on about having difference in perspective in each person. I don't give a shit though. The only ones capable of saying those words easily are the ones who get ahead of themselves and think that they need to comfort those who are weaker than they are.

"Why are you wearing a mask and with a hood, too?" I'm not insane. Believe me. But I am here having my regular consultation hours with Dr. Finns who happens to be my neighbor in a really secluded and you-know-those-super-VIP village or should I say, subdivision? Anyways, they are the same and it's not like you give a damn, do you?

"You ask that every time, Doctor. The answer will stay the way it is." Laying my back against the swivel chair, I take a sip of a cheap cappuccino drink I brewed personally. It is cheap. No other reason because it is I who made it, and my hands are of no value at all (according to Mom).

"I don't know what to do to you anymore. You ask me what you can do to improve your academics and in everything that your Mom wants you to learn. I tell you to ignore whatever pressure she throws right at you and reflect on the things that you want to do and will make you happy. You tell me again that you do not know what you want or what you love and it's like you don't have a will of your own."

We both sighed and there was long silence that conquered the air.

"Mathematical, Visual-Spatial and Body Coordination. Pick which one do you think you have?" I raised my eyebrows. The value of x was very hard to find, the atomic number too and this question.

"I cannot do arithmetic properly and I cannot possibly run half a mile. Not like our electronics company business can buy all that for me. Sometimes I even wonder how I got into college, but I just conclude that Mom spent millions of dollars donating to my old schools just to let me graduate." Looking at the ground was the only thing I could be proud of. I was stupid, an airhead who was a disgrace to the Collins.

She brought her hands together and touched the tip of her chin. "Have you tried the Visual-Spatial?" A strand of her golden and slightly blonde hair met with a little ray of light that twinkled. Like she was expecting some thrilling answer from me.

"What do you mean? Like the wide imaginations of Leonardo da Vinci? My stick-man sketches are cooler than you think, though. Is that what you mean?" There was a sudden surge in me that I wanted to throw my drink at her.

"You are overthinking things." She opened the right pane of her working desk and pulled out a very familiar thing, and closed it again.

"You're not kidding me, are you?" I asked.

It was a Rubik's cube. A three by three cube. She placed it on the table and brought her hands together again.

"Visual-Spatial is not only about artistic stuffs that gets in your head. It also includes the ability that architects have. Analyzing the space or object or how will something look like. Try solving this. I know you don't have any idea how. Just try. I'll give you enough minutes."

Just like that, I took the cube and thought of how I could bring the same colors together.