17/01/1980. Day Three Thousand Four Hundred and Forty Five.
"Aunty Dorothy, told me you've been a good boy", Cynthia praised.
"That's good. I'm thankful for her help", she says as they walk in the house.
The home looked starkly different to how he had left it, and he immediately took note of it. The curtains that separated their living room were taken down, the bed he had gotten used to sleeping on was no longer in immediate vicinity.
"Where is Lusanda?", he inquired in soft tone.
"She went back, to live with her father", Cynthia replied as she sat him down to break it down for him, "he took her back", she says, "it will be just you and I for the time being"
"Sorry, I know how tough this is for you"
"Mom", the boy said while reading her, "have you been crying?"
"Crying? What makes you say that?"
"Lusanda, she used to cry in her bed"
"She would cover herself with blankets and put a hand over her mouth to cry"
"At night when she thought I was asleep I could hear her cry"
"When she woke up and washed her face, to make it like she had not been crying, but I noticed"
"It's the same type of eyes you have right now", he remarked.
"I…uh…wasn't even aware", Cynthia said, "you got me, sorry"
"I was crying, but it's nothing to worry about"
"Gregor", she said, holding him by the cheeks, "even when things are hard, remember we must remain honest with one another"
"What's done is done"
"But you have to be honest with me, so I know what to do, or at least try to know, right…"
"It's like I said, I cannot parent what I don't know", she said.
"I'm trying to drill that into you as much as possible"
"School is around the corner, I'll have to sit down with you before then"
"There's clearly much to discuss"
03/09/1987. Day Six Thousand Two Hundred and Thirty One.
"Got a call from your father", his mother had informed, "he said he won't be able to make it this time around, however, if you are able to go visit him, he'll be pleased"
"Oh"
"Are you going to go?", she asked in a persuasive manner, "you are old enough to travel on your own now"
"I will", a now teenage Gregor replied, "But it'll have to wait for the holidays", he said, "I'm too cooped up to do anything right now"
"I also have to save extra money for the bus fares"
He was now sounding exactly like he did in the clips of Chase's and Vary's testimonies. Husky in tone and mild in pitch.
"Though, I must admit", he said, "I don't know what dad and I are going to talk about"
"We only ever speak over the phone…"
"Don't worry about it", Cynthia said, "he's much the talker, and a mine worker, I'm sure there's a lot to say"
"Knowing him, and seeing how you've grown, he'll probably ask you about girls", she said smiling, "so be prepared for that", and giggled.
"Wait…you don't have any do you?"
"Uh…no…not yet"
12/12/1987. Day Six Thousand Three Hundred and Thirty One.
"Gregor"
"Man, it's been quite a few"
"Jesus", father said, "look at how much you've grown", and went in for an embrace.
"Hey, Dad", the teenager said while hugging him back.
"Well then, come on in", Jeremy welcomed.
"I'm surprised you were able to easily find this place"
"Well, the house hasn't changed much", he commented, "still sort of looks the same"
Gregor pulled in the bag he had with him.
"Well", says Jeremy, "this is a redevelopment area, while the house has little change, the area has changed a lot since your last visit"
"So, it is surprising you easily found your way, despite the continuous construction"
Jeremy closed the door once Gregor walked in. He was barefooted, with no shoes in sight. The house was mostly built with bricks and cement, and no paint. Wooden planks were used for the pillars of the home.
"Why all the redevelopments?", he inquired.
"Well, this place is fairly close to the mines I work at", Jeremy replied.
"Thanks to that there's been some sort of economic improvement in surrounding areas. Or they trying to improve the economy through development"
"Sounds like your rent will go up soon", commented Gregor.
"Haha", laughed Jeremy, "so school has been teaching you well"
"Not really"
"What do you mean, not really?" – "Are you not enjoying school?"
"No, I do. It's pretty great"
"I'd just like to think I could come up with things, such as the laws around supply and demand without being in school"
"That is something, I think someone could have learnt through thorough observation"
"But now that I've learnt it from school"
"I'll never know if I ever had such a skill or capability to do so"
"The thin line that exists between knowledge and intelligence, is made ever so faint by the continuous learning of someone else's works"
"Now I just don't know if I have the ability to think for myself, or I'm simply good at safeguarding another person's thoughts"
"It's like a bank", he continued.
"We can deposit money in a bank, keep it save, then pass it down to future generations, so through the cycle of lineage, the same money flows around you"
"Now with knowledge, if you have a thought you save it in a book, future generations learn of it in school, our thinking processes are shaped by it, and the same ideas and practices remain in society, as money would in a family"
"I have come to a slow realisation and bitter acceptance that my head will be limited to a safety deposit box, to maintain the structure of our society", he said.
After looking around for sometime he eventually sat down on an empty stool, he looked up to catch the sight of his father staring at him. Jeremy was intently staring at him, at first his expression read startled something short of surprise, then he suddenly seemed puzzled.
"Are you drinking beers, already?", he asked.
Teenage Gregor brightened up into a smile, "What do beers have to do with it?"
"The men I work with"
"They talk the way you do, after having a beer or two"
"So, how much did you drink before coming here?"
"I haven't started drinking…not yet", he replied, still smiling.
"What do you mean, not yet?", asked Jeremy, "don't drink at all"
"But you do", he said looking around, at the empty bottles at the corners of the house.
"O, crap", he uttered, "you've grown up so much, I've forgotten to hide my mess"
"But, either way, that's good"
"You're grown now, so there's no reason to hide. I do drink, and if you're going to drink one day, don't drink too much", he advised, "these bottles are addictive"
"Are you…? – Hmm. Never mind"
"No, I'm not", Jeremy defended, "I'm not addicted"
"But I know a bunch of people that are"
"It's bad I tell ya, it's a…sorry state you do never want to find yourself in"
"You up for soda?"
12/12/1987. Day Six Thousand Three Hundred and Thirty One.
"Thank you", said his teenage self, as he accepted the drink.
"Ergh", grunted Jeremy, like a heavy elderly man trying to move from a chair they've been resting on.
"Still tired?"
"Well of course, I am", he said once he resettled in his chair.
"I work extremely long hours, in a very dangerous environment"
"Sorry", Gregor had mumbled, "it was just a question"
"The hell is that supposed to mean?", Jeremy smiled at him, "don't speak under your breath at me"
"And of course it was a question. You don't need to be knowledgeable nor intelligent to know that", he said, sipping his drink.
They sat in awkward silence for a while, during the silence Gregor failed to take a sip, while Jeremy was comfortable enough to continue gulping.
"Your mother told me you took running seriously this year", he said breaking the silence, "but I never received any updates after that"
"How did it go?"
"I uh…didn't make it", he hesitatingly admitted.
"Sorry, to hear that", said Jeremy, "so, no sport scholarship, huh"
"Unfortunately, not"
"And how are your marks looking?"
"I'm passing", he said, "but they're not the best out there", he rectified.
"Well…make sure, you work hard enough to come out with something"
"Or else, you'll end up with bottles lying around your home like I have"
"And you might just be blessed with a clever child that points out the obvious", he was smiling as if holding back a chuckle.
"Don't look so serious, kid"
"I'm only joking around with you"
"Yeah, I know"
"But I don't think I said anything to sound rude or disrespectful", he said.
"No, of course not", said his father.
"Anyways, I need to go see a friend, I just remembered I have to discuss tomorrow's work"
"I'll be back late", he said, "your sister was at her aunt's place, she'll be here either tonight or sometime tomorrow, depends on her"
"Tuck yourself in. She made space for you", he said, "as for me I just need to go", and was out the door by the next minute.
13/12/1987. Day Six Thousand Three Hundred and Thirty Two.
Gregor awoke to the sound of cries. Deep in sleep, they first seemed to be too far away, the sooner he fell out of sleep, the louder the cries got, the nearer they seemed to be.
Eventually finding himself wide awake, and shifting in bed, turning in the direction of his natural alarm, he caught the sight of Lusanda and her child.
"Sorry, to have woken", she said almost immediately, "this one is such a mess"
"I'm really sorry"
"It's okay", he said and sat up, "when did you get in?"
"Last night", she replied, "I found you in deep sleep, despite the fact that the little one was making so much noise, you didn't move"
"Long travels, I guess", he said.
"Yeah, I could tell", she replied, "you needed it"
The little one had stopped crying to view the strange man in his home, Gregor met his gaze with reciprocated curiosity.
"Who are you?", the little one asked.
Gregor looked at him in shock, at his sister, who looked back curiously, and back at the boy, "He knows how to talk already?"
"Hahaha", she laughed, "you must not know anything about children"
"He is seven years old now you know"
"Seven, already!?"
"Yeah. Did you know you guys share the same birth month"
"Kid was born august nineteenth"
"Ah, you don't say"
"I heard he went three months without a name"
"He did"
"I was struggling to find a name for him, granddad offered to name him"
"But I wanted to do it myself"
"Christopher, I settled on Christopher", she said, "gosh, finding a unique name was so hard"
"Christopher is just fine", Gregor reassured staring down the kid, "yeah...he definitely looks like a Christopher"
Lusanda slumbered chuckled, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Don't you see the way he looks at me, without talking", he said finally getting out of bed, "that's something a Christopher would do"
"I've never known a Christopher, but I believe you", she said.
"Hey, Christopher", he let his hand out, "Nice to meet ya, I'm Gregor, brother to your mother"
He shook the boy's hand and pat his forehead a little.
"Hey, Lussy, you doing okay?"
"I'm doing fine...and you?"
"Yeah"
13/12/1987. Day Six Thousand Three Hundred and Thirty Two.
"Greggy!", his sister called out from the other room.
"Yeah!", he yelled in reply, "hold on. You still call me that?"
"The mailman was here, please get the mail for me"
"No problem", he said, getting up from the stool from which he was reading newspapers, and listening to radio channels.
The mailman had already gone past their house, as he stepped out, leaving behind a few letters at the foot of their doorstep.
He picked them up, and had a look around. Factory and mine noise can be heard from here, clearer, and even more distinct than from inside the house, add onto that all the development and work going on around the place, he surprised himself to have slept through it all.
"Got your mail", he announced, closing the door behind him.
"Thank you!", she yelled still preoccupied in the other room, "some are mine others are for dad"
"You can arrange them, if you've got nothing else to do"
"I do have all the time in the world", he said, going to the kitchen with the mail in hand, they weren't much, just three, two for his father, the last for his sister, he noted, and set them apart.
Lusanda made her way in, peeked at the counter, quickly identified hers and grabbed it, she flipped the mail around and did not appear too interested, so she opened the drawer beneath the counter, where a bunch of opened letters were and threw all three in.
Teenage Gregor, was still standing there the whole time, and had remained in position after Lusanda's departure, for something in the drawer had caught his eye.
When gone, and out of sight, he reopened the drawer, and began to go through his fathers' mail.
Tretone remained silent, only Cretone visualised the scene of him reading through each of them, the more he read, the more emotional he got.
The footage remained silent until the creak of an opening door. Followed by the footsteps of his father, Jeremy.
"The hell, you doing kid?", he asked, "why are you going through my stuff?"
"I've grown up so much that you've forgotten to hide your mess", Gregor returned his words to him.