Pre-Jump Earth Literature

[aestrix]

It's a new term, and the end of the break between terms most students have been enjoying. But time marches ever on, and so at 1:00 PM, just after lunch, twenty-six students all around the age of fifteen are finding seats in an obnoxiously decorated classroom. It's one of those classrooms that tries very hard to be peppy and inspirational, and only succeeds at being very out of touch, and kind of creepy.

Soon it will be time to read about things long-dead people wrote.

Comments

[poll_the_stars]

Grin. "You're welcome."

Skim skim skim. "... Maybe something about minorities and cycles of cruelty? Victims becoming perpetrators? Not just Richard, Margaret definitely did it too."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Yeah... there's something there, but I don't know, how much agonizing emotional suffering can you bring to life in Margaret? Because I can get a lot out of Richard."

[poll_the_stars]

"I don't believe I can match you and Richard there," says Yvette seriously. "Not with just Margaret. I mean I can probably make some eloquent points but that's not quite the same as agonizing emotional suffering." Pause. "I am maybe bad at attempting to make someone cry."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I don't think I've ever deliberately set out to make someone cry before, but I have high hopes about my ability to pull it off."

[poll_the_stars]

She snorts.

"I'll make you be the one to type the essay, then."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Reasonable."

[poll_the_stars]

"I try! ... That being said I do want to uh. Actually help."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Well, help as in contribute to the essay, or help as in contribute to the goal of the essay? Because if it's the second thing, your most effective role might be as a test audience. ...Although I'd rather not make you cry, you haven't done anything to deserve it."

[poll_the_stars]

"Probably the first thing, but I can do the second. And I don't mind crying."

[thisvorlunatic]

"...What, really?"

[poll_the_stars]

"I mean. If you made me cry in front of people I'd be annoyed, but this is not in front of people? This is in a tiny out of the way study room, I can cry here without feeling the need to snarl at concerned but useless people that I am fine or deal with the awkward stares or finding a quiet corner to be left alone in until I'm out of tears. I mean, it'd. Be kind of embarrassing, I'll probably be trying desperately not to cry, but if I happen to in this environment it's not the end of the world?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"I cannot promise I won't stare awkwardly and/or hypocritically offer to hug you if you start crying about my agonizing literary interpretations."

[poll_the_stars]

"That's still - I trust you to mysteriously make yourself busy spellchecking or something if I asked you to stop awkwardly staring? And offering to hug me is fine, I'd probably accept. It's - large amounts of people doing it that makes it awful. And it's three that's the crowd, so I think we're all right."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Well, all right then."

He opens a text editor and stares meditatively at it.

[poll_the_stars]

"... So, we're doing the second thing?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"I mean, either way you're making me type it and I seem to be the one with a clearer idea of what I want to write down. Once there are words on the page maybe it'll be more obvious whether you're going to make direct contributions to the text or just help me rate its effectiveness."

[poll_the_stars]

"Sure, fair." She scoots her chair so she can see the screen.

....

(Do not pay attention to the proximity.)

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles sure doesn't seem to be paying attention to the proximity! He is absorbed in contemplating word choice, deciding on the most brutally eloquent way to deliver his perspective.

Finally he begins:

Richard, Duke of Gloucester, is a character whose experience of the world is defined by pain.

Although his description of his motivations in the opening monologue of the play reads as a transparent attempt to manipulate the audience, that doesn't necessarily make it false. And the state of mind he describes is a plausible one.

[poll_the_stars]

... Good so far, she thinks. Yvette doesn't have much to contribute, unfortunately. She doesn't have a ton of experience in this particular subject.

[thisvorlunatic]

Before continuing, he goes up to the top of the document and conscientiously adds a content warning for graphic descriptions of pervasive emotional trauma. Then he proceeds, with an intense little smile, to write.

You feel an inescapable, overwhelming loneliness. You feel an inescapable, intolerable self-loathing. You feel that you are unable to experience joy, and wouldn't deserve to if you could. You feel that nothing you can accomplish will ever make it acceptable that you exist. You feel that the very substance of your body and soul is stained with an irreparable wrongness. You feel that no one loves you, nor ever will. You feel that if things had been different, you could have been a person, but by the whims of fate you are a monster instead. You feel that never except through death will you be free of your fundamental brokenness. You feel that everyone who looks at you is staring in pity or disgust; often you feel it because it is true.

No wonder he decided evil plots were his best way forward. They didn't have licensed therapists in fifteenth-century England.

[poll_the_stars]

She does not interrupt. He seems to be quite busy, and has things under control. Nor does she cry. But - ow.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles goes on in this vein for several more paragraphs. He is eloquent. He is unflinching. He is enjoying himself immensely, in his weird intense little way.

Then he sits back a little and looks at Yvette. "Well? How'd I do? Anything to add?"

[poll_the_stars]

"Well, I think it's beautifully written and brutally to the point and unflinching in its depictions, and also I was holding back from deleting the entire document, picking up the terminal that it was written on, and then throwing it out of an airlock." Pause. "Good job!"

[thisvorlunatic]

...Miles bursts out laughing, and turns to bow to her in his seat.

"I'll take that as high praise, thank you!"

[poll_the_stars]

She snorts. "You're welcome. Sorry I uh, couldn't help with. Any of that." She waves a hand to the screen.