Daniel Klein

“This seat is not very comfy, but it will do. A gray fog closes my vision of all except my professor anyhow.”

My lesson begins unceremoniously. The previous attention to getting acquainted with people you will soon forget was over and the mundaneness of systematic learning had once again conquered the allure of knowledge. Now, all that remains is a lecture.

“The world is round.”

“Yeah, so?”

“This knowledge was contested for a great amount of time in human history.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Now, we are certain that the world is round through mathematical and actual observation.”

“Yeah, but if I never do the math myself or observe how does it matter to me so?”

“Uninformed dissent against this idea is dangerous to the modern world.”

“Yeah, what is so great about the modern world?”

“Without people being on the same page, society may fall apart.”

“Yeah, but what if we wish it so?”

Class ended, not much was said. I did not learn anything about the world, only about ever my increasing skepticism of why any of this matters to the layman. There is not much time on this earth, why waste it on thinking about the unseen mathematical world. 

The next class will start soon. The subject is different, but the same questions will be asked in my head- never aloud. The cynic is a danger to society, and thus it is a danger to the individual to mutter these very two words. “Yeah, so?” is alignment with a dissent unresponsive to logic. This is not dissent in argument, this is dissent of another uncontrollable kind. General apathy and dismay are traits that can never be addressed by the powers that be. “Yeah, so?” is transcendence. For if the person truly feels the role of the cynic, all attempts to be happy again will be met with the exact same words of  “Yeah, so?” Apathy is death; not of the person, but of logic. No leverage can be had by anyone else, and in that way you are truly free to feel nothing while simultaneously becoming complete.

It is almost if I teleported to my next class while exerting my internal monologue. I know asking those exact same words will always be of danger. Maybe, eventually, I’ll ask the question of why the danger matters too. 

“This seat is comfy, it will do. Doesn’t matter much anywho, a gray fog closes my vision of all except my professor anyhow.”