18 KiB
The Difference Between an Idiot and a Moron
Adir sat alone in the waiting room. He could feel the receptionist's eyes on him, and huddled nervously on a plain plastic chair.
He was in a small, light-beige colored room, the color almost identical to his uniform, blending him in, swallowing him like an unmerciful beast. Soft traces of strong noon daylight came through the milky glass panels around the door.
Upon it, a small plain plaque read 'Dedicated Personel Officer'.
The room was lit with harsh white halogen bulbs - Adir could scarcely raise his head without instinctively reaching for his temples. Some effort appears to have been made at hospitality -- some pictures, some thank you notes, a few ancient magazines, a few stray old pillows -- but he felt it was a weak, false facade.
Adir had forgotten how uncomfortable the uniform is. The heavy black boots, the rough unbreathing fabric, the shirt tucked into the pants, the vile warm beret on his shoulder. It was the smallest touch he hated the most -- the cold metal dogtag touching his heart. He always wore it over his shirt against regulations, dreading the cold metal -- but he could feel it seeping through the worn fabric.
Though he had his phone, Adir could not bring himself to use it -- it still felt unnatural to him, used as he was to spending his days away from it. From the endless sea of information, entertainment and comforts of the Internet, he could think of nothing to do, and so sat there staring at his heavy black boots, adjusting his shirt, his socks or his cuffs.
The door suddenly opened and a pretty, middle aged woman stepped out decisively.
Upon seeing him, she drew her notepad and searched it intently.
'Hello! Welcome! Good to have you here!' she said sweetly. Too sweetly, Adir thought.
Help has finally come, he thought. I shouldn't be so bitter.
'Adir', he croaked in response, surprised at how feeble his voice was.
'I see. There must be some mistake -- I was expecting a young man named Tom. Rachel, when is Tom's appointment due?'
'10:30', the receptionist shot back without drawing breath.
'Well, I shan't wait any further then. Adir, you're scheduled for... 11:30, was it?"
"12:00"
"Really? How odd. Rachel?"
"12:00"
"Well then, there's no need for you to be here so soon. You can go back to the office in the meantime"
Adir stared at his feet, never meeting the officer's gaze. He made no move to rise.
"...Though I suppose I could push your appointment early", the officer said, mild irritation slipping into her voice. "How about you wait here a while, and I'll see you inside soon?"
He nodded.
"Alright," she said, closing the door behind her, and Adir was left alone with the receptionist again.
The door swung open again, yanking Adir from his train of thought. He had not the faintest idea to how much time has passed, or what was he just thinking about.
"Adir?", the officer offered sweetly. "Come on inside".
The Dedicated Personel Officer's room was not large, but it felt spacious thanks to the grand floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the entryway outside. Adir could just see the soldiers streaming in and out of the building. The only furnishings were a simple, standard issue wooden desk and three more simple plastic chairs against the wall, facing ninety degrees from the desk. A few simple photos were on the walls, as well as a small picture frame on the desk -- yet he could not make out anything in them.
The officer made her way behind the desk, her back to the window, with well adjusted movements.
"You can sit down, Adir. It's the same price", she said softly, and Adir -- who had not realized he was still standing, sat down flustered and huched on the middle chair. The officer watched him with observant eyes but made no remark.
"Adir, I am Tamara. I've been a psychologist here for just over fifteen years now. I am the head of the personnel department, and I do not usually treat soldiers as they come in, aside from more severe cases. However, I understand you've been waiting for some time -- a month or so, was it?"
"Since December", Adir answered weakly.
"No, no, that cannot be. How long have you been waiting, Adir?"
"Since December", Adir said again, finally finding some fortitude in his voice. "I've asked for an appointment in early November. It was scheduled for December".
"Adir, you're already here", Tamara said in a comforting voice. "I understand how you feel, truly, but there's no need to make an impression".
Adir said nothing.
"You don't expect me to believe it's been five months?"
Adir drew in a breath, and maintained his silence.
"Well never mind about that -- I can look into it later. Tell me about yourself, Adir."
"Not much to tell."
This time, Tamara maintened her silence.
"I was drafted in December, last year. One month of boot camp. Four months of training. Five months in 108. And here since".
"So it says in your file, Adir. Let's go over it, just in case. You are... 20?"
"Yes."
"Born late December, '97"
"Had birthday in boot camp", he chuckled nervously.
"Both parents are well?"
"Thankfully yes"
"Do you have any siblings?"
"A younger sister, and a younger brother."
" I'll need you to fill in their details here, please". She handed him a form and a pen on her notepad. He painstakingly scribbled them bit by bit -- it took a surprisingly long time.
"Any of them in service?" she asked as he was slaving away.
"No."
"Isn't your sister of age?"
"She is."
"What happened?"
"Wasn't cut out for it. She's in National service". He handed back the form.
"Doing what?", Tamara asked absent minded, brows furrowed as she deciphered his handwriting.
"Teaching at-risk youth."
Tamara looked up and smiled widely. "That's lovely!"
"I'm really proud of her".
"How about your younger brother?"
"He's fine. Good student."
"Does he know what he's going to do in the army?"
"He's thirteen."
"I see." Tamara paused momentarily. "What do your parents do, Adir?"
"Dad's a physicist. Mom's a lawyer"
"Where does your father work?"
"Ministry of Defence"
"Sounds interesting. What does he do?"
"No idea. He can't say."
"I'm quite familiar with it, being here. Must be difficult for you."
"He's a bit of a drama queen. Always complains about his rough day. But I can never tell if he's bluffing."
"Surely your mother knows"
"They met at the job, so she knows what's going on. It's really annoying".
"You mentioned she's a lawyer?"
"She is."
"What kind of lawyer?"
"Workspace law. I was the most well treated waiter on Earth."
"I see," said Tamara.
"Everything good at home? Violence between the parents?"
"No."
"Financial status?"
"We're doing OK. Pretty good."
"Wealthy?"
"Wouldn't say so. Upper middle class, maybe".
"And you? Big spender?"
"Absolutely not. Saving every penny."
"What for?"
Adir hesitated. "Whatever comes. I'll see."
"So, let's go over your service thus far, shall we?"
Adir vaguely gestured a 'go ahead'.
"What is your role called, again?"
"I am a Computing Systems Infastructure Manager".
"Role number?" she asked, scribbling.
"1850".
"Never heard of it before"
"It's not air force. Communication corps"
"That explains it. What do you do?"
"We're in charge of maintaining the military's operational data centers and classified computing systems. Spread throughout the corps"
"Must be interesting".
Adir said nothing, and Tamara surveyed him cautiously.
"You went to boot camp at... Spring Buds rookie base?"
"Yes."
"December boot camp in the south. Hard introduction."
"We heard jets and mortars at night."
"Right, right! It's just by the strip, isn't it?"
"15km."
"Must be hard."
"It was interesting. Didn't struggle especially."
"Following that, you were stationed at the Cyber Defence Academy."
"Defense Forces Academy Of Computer Professions And Cyberspace Defense", he intoned sarcastically.
"If you say so"
"It's a mouthful"
"What did you study?"
"It's a very wide field. There's been a touch of everything. Some Operating systems. Some databases. A bit of computer hardware. Some programming."
"Were you a good study?"
"I was the underdog. But I pulled through nicely."
"What's drawn you into computers?"
"Nothing at all."
Tamara looked at him questioningly.
"It's a cold, dead field."
"It sounds like you've gone through some hardcore training. If that's why you think -- why did you do it?"
"That's what they offered."
"They?"
"The army."
"It's a voluntary course."
"Had no other choice lined up. It sounded cool at the time, so I went for it."
"Let's go over your education, Adir. Finished highschool?"
"Yes."
"University? I see you were accepted into post-uni service."
"It didn't run that year."
"Many decide to go on their own."
Adir straightened his slouch and looked at Tamara.
"Not me," he said.
Tamara caught his gaze and held it intently. This was the first time he had seen her eyes.
"What did you study in highschool?"
It took him a moment to register the question -- her hard gaze distracted him greatly.
"Biology and Biotechnology."
"Quite a long way off from the cold, dead field of computers".
"It's a noble science. Fascinating, too."
"You must feel displaced."
"I wasn't expecting it as an army job."
"It's funny. Many young men base their studies on their aspired military role. Some earn their training in service."
"Not me."
"Why not?"
"It's a different chapter of my life."
"How so?"
"I didn't choose."
"Many young soldiers are dissatisfied in service. But if everyone had a choice, the army could not stay afloat," she questioned him pointedly, "Would it?"
"I don't care for that discussion. I was asked to serve, so I did."
"How do you feel about it?"
"There's no way to feel about it. It's a fact of life. So I just don't bother."
"That's an interesting response, Adir. Most young men I meet here rage against that 'fact', as you put it. They feel powerless since they refuse to accept it, and struggle against it until they are released, and some even well afterwards."
"Can imagine. Not very useful, though."
"So what's hurting you, Adir? You know where you stand. You knew this was coming, from what I gather. Everything's fine at home. It sounds like you lead a good life thus far."
"I did. I'm quite satisfied."
"So why are you here?" she peered into him. This time, he stood his ground.
Adir composed himself and stared back.
"I am depressed", he said. It still hurt admitting it, but it was getting easier.
"I wouldn't say it's up to you to decide; you hadn't visited a mental health professional, as we've established. Or have you?"
"Not recently."
"So, you self diagnose. I'll be happy to talk to you, and we'll figure out what's wrong and how I can help together. But blatant self-diagnosis -- it will get us nowhere. So let's avoid that terminology, for now."
Adir did not break his gaze.
"Call it whatever you will -- that's the best name I have for it at present."
"What makes you think you're depressed, Adir?"
"It's the small things. It gets harder to get out of bed every day. My head always hurts, and I can never concentrate anymore."
Tamara listened intently and said nothing.
"I just don't care about anything anymore. I don't bother seeing my friends, or doing anything for myself, or at all really. I feel hollow, and cold. I'm always so, so tired."
Tamara remained silent.
"I figured out something's wrong when I realized that if I sit alone in a blank room, and everything's absolutely fine -- I'll just... get sad. Just because."
Tamara nodded and thought. Adir said nothing.
"Why do you think you feel like that?"
"I... don't know. I've always been resilient. Nothing really happened
and I just... broke down."
"How have you been coping?"
"I haven't, really. Back during training, I could still function. Nowadays, I'm utterly useless."
"Surely you're not utterly useless."
"I haven't been working a good several months now. Nobody bothers."
"What do you mean?"
"They kicked me out. I know my job, and I know it damn well. But they thought I wasn't worth it. And I've been idle ever since."
"Adir, nobody thinks you're 'not worth it'. You are here, getting treatment, aren't you?"
"It took half my service, but sure. I guess I am".
"Let's not go to such harsh tones! I'm here to help, Adir"
"You see," he said passionately, "I'm sure you are. And my commanders have been saying the same thing since boot camp. But at the end of the day, those are all just big words that don't amount to anything. I've been struggling for... eighteen months now. And I've yet to see anyone lift a finger.
I'm not saying this against you -- I know how it sounds, but I'm not, really.
But I've lost faith. I'll believe it when I see it."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," she said.
"I am, too", Adir answered, blinking back tears. "I am, too."
"Have you talked to any of your commanders?"
"I did, sure. You know, I got transferred here -- that doesn't really happen. They knew I had trouble at Hutspace. But they clung to me like a wet towel."
"How so?"
"Training is supposed to be another four months over the Communication corp training. I've already done it in Hutspace. I had the same role. But they insisted I go through it again.
Fine. I did. It took me two weeks -- and they just said I should wait until I get enrolled into shifts. That never happened. They 'didn't like my energy'. When I came to ask them what's that all about, I was berated."
"What did they tell you?"
"You walk around with your head down. You don't have a passion; being here is a privilege, and yet you don't act like you're privileged. How can we trust you like that?"
"Must be frustrating, feeling as you describe -- but I'm sure it's out of good intentions"
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
"So it's said."
They sat silent for a while.
"What did you tell them?"
"Same as I've told you. I'm depressed."
"That was late November"
"And I've been away ever since."
"What have you been doing?"
"Both my commanding officer and his commanding officer were replaced in mid-December. The new officer has never so much as seen my face. Most of the squad has been promoted and replaced since."
"Haven't you? You should be a corporal by now, but you're not wearing your rank."
"I refused my rank."
"I didn't know you can do that."
"The unit commander came to our entire cycle -- eight of us from Communications. They made a big scene of it, and asked me to come up. I said no. What can they do in front of everyone?"
"Why would you refuse?"
"Why would I accept it? I'm not working. They kept blabbering about how rank is 'earned, not just granted'. What did I ever do to earn it, besides pouting and being miserable?"
"That doesn't come across as very cooperative".
Adir let that roll around for a bit. "No," he replied. "I suppose it doesn't".
Tamara sighed.
"I'll tell you what, Adir. I think you're just a little misplaced. Many young men have trouble adapting to their new roles, especially those that grasp themselves as resilient -- like you. I think we can have a long talk with your new commanding officer, get you reinstated, and keep talking from there.
How does that sound?"
"The new commanding officer," Adir said, "Is from Hutspace, and witnessed the whole spectacle I threw to get myself out of there. She's judged me now, and she doesn't know I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way."
"Now, what exactly do you mean, 'she doesn't know I'm here'?"
"I feel there's not much room for interpretation there".
"You show up every day. How can she not know?"
"The thing is, Tamara," he said, "I don't, and haven't in a while."
"You mean you don't enter the office?"
"No, no", he said. "I mean I've been sitting at home."
The officer considered this gravely.
"You mean to say you're absent in service?"
"In December, I was an absent in service. By now, I'm well into defector territory."
"I'm sorry, but I just don't believe you."
"I thought you'd say so. But I ask you to take a good, hard look at me. Do you think I got a permit for my beard? Or that I haven't been caught without my rank yet? You've likely sent a mail with this appointment, did you?"
"We did, several times. You didn't respond."
"Does that seem reasonable to you that a Systems Administrator in air force headquarters has no access to a computer to respond to his emails?"
"Adir, it just can't be. I'm sorry, but I don't accept this"
"And I do? It's degrading. I've never been so humiliated in my life.
But let's go down to the Pit -- to where I'm supposedly stationed. You can see my Gatekeeper card get rejected, because it hasn't been in use for five months.
Let's go down there, and see if anyone recognizes me at all, commanders included -- no one's seen me with the beard. I didn't have it when I left! That's how long I've been gone. If so much as a private recognizes me, I'll withdraw and never bother you again.
All I ask is we come and take a look."
Tamara drew a tense, long breath.
"So what do you want, Adir?"
"I signed up. I did whatever they asked me to. I pulled through that vicious course. And as soon as I struggled, I was tossed away like hot garbage. They kept telling us, from the second we're drafted, how needed we are, but I guess that's not so.
I have my own goals in life. My time is precious. I - "
"And why is that? What exactly do you do that's superior to serving your country?"
"I stopped showing up, because -"
"Why did you, really? Why was so important?"
"Because I signed up for university!", Adir said, heatedly. "Because if I wouldn't get out of there instead of sitting like some kind of idiot, I would've rotted there and no one would have twitched.
I'm not needed? That's fine and dandy. We all gave it a shot. No hard feelings. But if that's the case, I want my life back. I want to wake up early in the morning, like I always used to. I want to be passionate about what I do. I want to feel loved, and respected. I'd like to do something worthwhile with my time."
"So aside from these grand statements - what exactly do you want?"
"I want out."
"Out?"
"Out. It's been half my service. Nothing is coming."
Tamara stood up, took out a small notebook from one of the desks drawers, strode up to Adir and handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"It's a book," she said, "describing mental illnesses.
Pick one, or get out."
It hurt him to hear those words. He saw them coming, but it hurt all the same.
"What exactly am I supposed to do now? How long is this supposed to last?"
"Don't you dare threaten me", said the officer. "I'm not at all impressed"
"I wasn't threatening!"
"Sure you weren't".
Adir stood dumbstruck.
"Pick one, or get out."
He wanted to scream. He wanted to protest. He wanted to go on yet another righteous crusade.
Only this time, he drew a deep breath, and a resolution formed in his heart. A decision was made, and he will stick to it.
He got out.