Phrenology: E-Lunar (3) Route A (MANUSCRIPT)

Prologue 1

        "There's a growing sensation of critics in our pop-culture today," Mr. Flame liked to greet the rest of the class, and I, one Tuesday morning by gripping his beige tie, and letting his Hispanic accent dribble in full force. "In our modern consumerist market, consumers are looking for the best deals. Nobody wants to put their money into a bad deal. Why would you?"

        I swear I could've heard crickets chirping, but... maybe not, considering Mr. Flame was a well liked guy! 

       "As such, saviors of the day, known as 'critics', tell people what they should and shouldn't put their money into via review of products. However, eventually, spending too long in the 'critical world' can really drag down on a person, and make them cynical. Thus, a lot of critics spend their time, soon, in loathing of the world-"

        "Huh, what a sad story that is." One Marissa Singer rested her chin over the smooth palm of her hand, sitting at the back of the classroom. 

        "Hmph. Many youths these days partake in criticism via many online forums and have started up their own 'internet-identities' as graciously obnoxious critics. Would I be far off in assuming that you, Marissa, are an important part of the growing trend? That you perhaps go by some popular username on a video-streaming site, or the like?" 

        Marissa's face, its usual pale, lit up into a pronounced red. "Like, do you... mean I play a big role, or- Because- Uh- I-" 

        "Yes. Or... do you not wish to expose your 'online-handle'? Very well, it shall be kept private then. I'd rather not discuss what you do with your free time on the internet anyway. Pardon me, madame." Mr. Flame gripped his tie -- once more -- fluffed his bangs, and turned around in a flash... to begin writing on a vastly black chalkboard. 

        If I told you there was a weirder professor somewhere in all of Little Japan, Ontario- I'd be a damned liar.

        Miguel Flame dressed as your average History professor, but he sure didn't act like one. Though, at this day and age, I wondered myself what, exactly, an 'average History professor' should look like. Fashion acted as this guy's way of making a statement against society, or so I liked to think. Mr. Flame never really behaved as an arguable person, despite giving Marissa a hard time just now. He liked to hang on to the more quiet side of things, and read lots -- and lots -- of books. That's what I recall, anyway. Makes sense, too, considering that History is mainly reading.  

        If I was to go into some specific detail on my teacher's look, however, I'd say that... Mr. Flame sports long, and almost plum-colored, hair which stops at his collar bones. 

        From there, the man wears the usual, white undershirt with a white, button-up shirt topped off with a black blazer. Oh, and let's not forget the pants! Everyone deserves a good pair of pants. I stifle a laugh as I sit in a round chair, clasping my two hands together. 

        The thought of one of this man's favorite tiny, little rebellions shoves its way into my brain- Mr. Flame liked to wear pink pants instead of khakis. Perhaps it's not that funny, but still. 

        But... enough about my History professor! My name is Tanaka Williamson. Not a name I can say I feel very proud of, however. I really wish I did. 

         Ya see, a while back, there was this criminal with the name of Tanaka, and he caused a lot of trouble for Little Japan and the surrounding areas. Ever since then, no one has really favored or cherished that name. Because of that, I've found myself trying to find ways of breaking the mold. I wanna do something that'll make me remembered, and bring a good feeling to my name. And in the year 2069, with the growing trend of online critics and their 'blogs', I wanna do something that can make those critics speak my name... even if it's too critical, just as long as I... believe in it. 

        These days, success is marked by which of those critics has the biggest following on their blogs. Despite that simple trend laid out before me... my dreams are a bit different. It could've -- possibly -- been easier for all of us, in the end, if I'd been born with different dreams.  

        Nonetheless, I wanna become the most skilled driver, of cars, in all of my country.

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