Optimized

In a society oriented toward progress, some things are lost.

Twenty-eight rubber soles tapped and clicked on the polymer tiles, almost in perfect unison, then fell silent.

The children stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the great void through the floor to ceiling window of the space station's observation chamber. Isaac’s eyes widened at the countless stars twinkling in the blackness. He took a half step forward and wrapped his small hand around the aluminum railing that ran in front of his class. The boy next to him gave him a subtle nudge with his elbow. Isaac returned to the proper position.

The instructor stood behind them, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight, precise bun. Above her head on the rear wall of the observation chamber the word OPTIMIZE loomed, emblazoned in bold, blue letters. After a moment, she stepped forward to recite the lesson. “There are four acceptable routes through the Orson System. Twelve-E provides the fastest route by time and distance. The Gemini Pass provides re-charging opportunities via the radiation from Burst One and Seven.”

As she spoke, green and yellow streaks of the window's overlay mapped out the routes and highlighted the key points. The children stood with their hands at their sides. Their Neurometers, chips inserted just behind their ears at birth, recorded the lesson. While information still had to be absorbed through the senses, tests had shown a dramatic improvement in retention since their implementation.

The instructor continued, “If a B-X Falcon needed to cross the system, which route is most optimal?”

The children remained silent.

One by one, their answers flashed next to their names on the instructor's tablet. A green bar indicated an improved response time, blue indicated the response time was within expected thresholds for the child. Red was inadequate. Isaac's response was correct, but red.

The instructor stood behind him. “Please explain.” Her words were calm, measured.

Isaac started to turn to her, but caught the eye of the boy next to him and resisted. “Well, the second one… Gen… Gemini doesn't matter because that kind doesn't need to… it doesn't charge like that. Yes, so it's the first one.” He rocked up on his toes before adding, “Twelve-E is faster. The yellow one.”

“Correct. Thank you.” The instructor tapped Isaac's name and jotted a quick note in the field that popped up.

The overlay of routes and highlighted sections disappeared. “Think back to last week, class. Which route is optimal for a phosphorus transfer vessel?” Green and blue bars populated on her tablet's screen. No red. “Very good.”

The lesson continued, and finished without further anomalies. “That will be all for today. Follow the line to the cafeteria, class.”

Each student performed their well-practiced quarter turn and walked from the observation chamber. In the hallway, a blue line appeared on the floor to guide them. Before long, Isaac took to walking on it toe to heel, as if he might fall into the void if he did not get it just right. His pace slowed. The student behind him stayed back to avoid bumping into him. Isaac stretched his hands out to help balance.

He stopped, then leaped forward, landing on his toes. “That was close,” he whispered.

“Stop.” The girl behind him chided.

He looked back and caught the little girl's annoyed glare. “Sorry,” he said before straightening up. He began to walk normally, still looking over his shoulder.

Isaac turned his head just in time to smack his eye socket into the back of the head of the boy in front of him. The line had stopped.

The boy grabbed the back of his head and shot a look back at Isaac. Isaac held his own eye as a sharp pain radiated across his face. “Sorry, sorry.”

The instructor stood beside them. The boy turned back around and stood properly. Isaac noticed the instructor a bit late. “Sorry. I was just imagining–”

“It's alright. Please lower your hand.”

Isaac did as he was told, and the instructor's glasses scanned the affected area. She read the report before speaking. “A slight abrasion. It will pass momentarily. Would you like me to escort you to the clinic?”

“Yes!” Isaac jumped a little. A trip to the clinic, even for small things like this, usually meant a sweet tab.

The instructor nodded, pleasantly. “Please, step out of line. Class, continue on to the cafeteria.” She led Isaac in the opposite direction. Before long he was skipping from tile to tile behind her. She stopped and faced him.

“Watch out!” He whispered as he leapt to a farther tile, fully absorbed in his play.

“You have quite the imagination.”

“Hmm?”

“Imagination. You like to pretend.” The instructor motioned to the tiles.

“Sorry.”

They walked on.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?”

“Is Earth hard to walk on?”

“It is not.”

“The floor is round right?”

“Earth is round.”

“I bet you need to have really good balance to walk on Earth. It’s not flat like here.”

“It is not difficult.”

“You must have really good balance.”

“It is sufficient, but balance is generally not an issue. Earth is very large. You needn’t worry.”

“That’s good. I’m not worried, I’m actually great at balancing. I practice a lot.”

“That is unnecessary. Your efforts are best directed elsewhere.”

“Have you ever seen an animal?”

The instructor stopped walking. She turned. “We are not going to Earth. You needn’t worry about that either, at least not for a long time.”

“I know, I just don’t understand something. Have you ever seen one?”

She sighed. “I have.”

“Did you ever eat one?”

“They are a sustainable method of acquiring nutrients in that environment, so yes. But again, we are not in and will not be in that environment. You needn’t worry.”

“Ok, but that’s not my real question.”

“Alright. What is your real question?”

“Animals poop. I know they do. So, there's poop inside of them.”

The instructor lowered her head.

“How do you get the poop off of the parts you eat?” Isaac flung his hands out, astonished that no one had even thought of the problem before.

“That is not an issue.”

Isaac shrugged, then scrunched his face. “Cats have good balance, they like boxes and they poop in sand. They are probably my second or third favorite animal. Do they taste good?”

“Cats are not eaten. They are pets.”

Isaac put his hand to his head. “Oh, I knew that. Did you have a pet cat?”

“I did.” She smiled and glanced further up the hall. “An orange cat named Butters.”

“Well, you didn’t eat it. What happened to Butters?”

They stopped in front of the clinic. The instructor turned to Isaac. Her eyes were softer and sparkled with an almost nostalgic pleasantness. She corrected it, and checked her tablet. “He is with my sister. Would you like me to tell you more about him after you see the nurse?”

Isaac looked from the instructor to the door and back. “Oh, I think I’m fine now. We can just go to lunch.”

The instructor jotted a quick note, then they stood in silence. Isaac's fleeting glance met the instructor's eyes, but only for a moment.

“You will see the nurse.”

Isaac looked at the door again.

“I will go in first and discuss your situation. If the nurse agrees, you will see her after. When we are finished here, if you’d like, I will tell you more about Butters.”

Isaac nodded and lowered his eyes.

She went in.

He leaned on the wall. He quit leaning. He crouched, hugged his knees, stood, rocked up on his tip toes, then leaned on the wall again.

The door slid open. “The nurse will see you now.”

Isaac went in.

The instructor stood, heels together, holding her tablet in front of her. Her eyes flitted to the polymer tiles on the floor. A hint of a smile appeared, then it was gone.

The door slid open.

The instructor and the child looked at each other. A moment passed. They were still.

“How is your eye?”

“It does not bother me.”

The instructor gave a slight nod. “Very good. We will return to lunch now. You will have time to eat.”

As they walked, the instructor scrolled to his name on her tablet then asked, “Would you like to hear about Butters?”

“No, thank you.”

The instructor lowered her tablet and they continued on, their rubber soles tapping and clicking in perfect unison.

Word count: 1403