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The Hive, MY 2117
“What is the goal of every good Citizen?” the young man asked.
“To serve society,” the children answered in unison.
“Very good,” the teacher said, smiling. “And how to you accomplish this goal?”
Many hands shot up. “May, you may answer.”
“By serving mommy!” she answered with unveiled enthusiasm.
The teacher frowned. “No, May. That is not correct.” Little May seemed to shrink at the rebuke. More hands shot up. “Sanchez?”
“We serve the First Citizen!” he almost yelled.
Now the teacher smiled. “That is correct! Well done, Sanchez! The First Citizen is wise, wiser than any of us can ever understand. He led us to safety when the great ship from earth crashed. Without him all of us, your mommies and daddies, sisters, brothers would be dead! And after landing, what did he do?”
Hands raised, and wagged at the sky. “Chen,” the teacher said.
“The First Citizen helped us breath, and not die! He built our houses, and got us food!” the little boy said with a touch of reverence.
“Yes,” the teacher agreed, “he helped the People by making them understand what they were to do, and when to do it.” The teacher paused, and in a soft voice he said, “Some of the People are not People, but people. They do not want to help, but to hurt.” In a softer voice he said, “What hurts the people?”
No hands shot up. No one wanted to answer this question. He called on May, who tentatively answered, “Not working for the People. Being selfish. Thinking bad thoughts.”
The teacher nodded and gave May a smile. “And we don’t want to do that,” he said. “We all love the First Citizen, don’t we?”
All the little faces nodded and said in unison, “We love the First Citizen.”
“What is the goal of every good Citizen?” the young man asked.
“To serve society,” the children answered in unison.
“Very good,” the teacher said, smiling. “And how to you accomplish this goal?”
Many hands shot up. “May, you may answer.”
“By serving mommy!” she answered with unveiled enthusiasm.
The teacher frowned. “No, May. That is not correct.” Little May seemed to shrink at the rebuke. More hands shot up. “Sanchez?”
“We serve the First Citizen!” he almost yelled.
Now the teacher smiled. “That is correct! Well done, Sanchez! The First Citizen is wise, wiser than any of us can ever understand. He led us to safety when the great ship from earth crashed. Without him all of us, your mommies and daddies, sisters, brothers would be dead! And after landing, what did he do?”
Hands raised, and wagged at the sky. “Chen,” the teacher said.
“The First Citizen helped us breath, and not die! He built our houses, and got us food!” the little boy said with a touch of reverence.
“Yes,” the teacher agreed, “he helped the People by making them understand what they were to do, and when to do it.” The teacher paused, and in a soft voice he said, “Some of the People are not People, but people. They do not want to help, but to hurt.” In a softer voice he said, “What hurts the people?”
No hands shot up. No one wanted to answer this question. He called on May, who tentatively answered, “Not working for the People. Being selfish. Thinking bad thoughts.”
The teacher nodded and gave May a smile. “And we don’t want to do that,” he said. “We all love the First Citizen, don’t we?”
All the little faces nodded and said in unison, “We love the First Citizen.”
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