How many times have we learned and forgot. It doesn’t have to take a hundred years for humanity to get an education. There are easier ways, abbrev. wait, let’s take a break, new life every fifteen seconds, so by the time we’re just starting to get it, its over, ADD and dead. Why not get it right the first time so we can get on with it, whatever we do after work, what life’s really about[1]. That we have to keep learning it over and over means we didn’t really know it in the first place. Teach institution, not intuition, linear development along specialized course, degrees of dubious derivation begotten from Apocryphal texts. ‘What they didn’t teach you in school’, the teachers didn’t know, the parents didn’t know, and their parents—even less. A thing known only if everyone knows. Education, behind closed doors—a barrier to learning. There’re no taboo questions if you were born alive. You have to know which questions to ask, ‘s basically the way it is, (know yourself). Know me, meretricious. August of missed classes, flowing through corridors of familiar institutions wearing only socks and underwear. Emergency lights spilling from adjacent hallways, alcoves guarding locked and shuttered doors. Making for the nearest exit. The fastest way down, into the resplendent afternoon, crackling with the sounds of birds and rays, “hi Ray”. Taking roads until there’re no more roads to take, branching into open fields. The students have their books open, but they won’t find it in there, only an introduction, a market for more books, a racket to fill seats. Content to be good little cogs, graduating from one position to another, prompted to think, but not too hard, positive-relativist. Seated I am a particle-alcohol standing I am a wave-drugs. Need more experience, such and such a pre-requisite, degree… read this book and then-instead of-this one. The thing always just around the corner, just about to get it, and then…

The campus is a haven, a harem with its own politics, policies, newspaper, religion, its own bar. A walled city ‘protecting’ the students from the free-flow of information circulating outside so that all one needs to do is open the window and let it in.

There’s a mystery ship at sea, just a dot on the horizon, not even anything yet, but when it gets here everything is going to change.


[1] The average Hunter-Gatherer works an average of twenty hours per week.

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