Being late is not tolerated in Asylum. Wind rushed through my ears as I swiftly galloped through crowds to get to the schoolhouse. As I rush by, rude comments and offensive noises are passed, but I ignore them. Being the only unicorn that isn't in the slavery unit is not the perfect life. I see the school and I run even faster. Why couldn't I have just woken up earlier? I sigh and keep running. When I finally reach the door, I shove myself in. I stumble and fall over. I try pushing myself up, but I collapse. I find a pole and wrap my hoof around it. Finally I pull myself up and run for the stairs. Ignore the pain 36, ignore it. After halfway crawling up three flights of stairs, I rush towards the classroom. I fall into the room right as the school bell rings. I look up at my teacher and he isn't pleased.
"36, you are late." Mr.82 scolds me.
"I apologize for my tardiness." I apologize.
"I accept your apology…do you need help, Ms.36?" He asks.
"Yes please." I ask.
He helps me up and I sit down at my desk, feeling embarrassed. I look at the board and I am a bit surprised. We are actually reading today! I search for my history book, "Asylum: The City of Prosperity", in my bag and pull it out. I open it to the first page and then look up to Mr.82.
"Good morning class and hopefully you had a wonderful night. As you see on the board, you needed your history books today. The ones who were not responsible enough to bring their book to class every day, may get one from the back shelve." Mr.82 says with no separation between his words.
I watch half the class stand and go to the back. 22 is up there as usual. He never brings his things to class, never. I look back at the book and study the page. I've read the book before but I never actually studied the condition. I look for the date of printing but I never find it. The book looks very new but Mr.82 says that he has used them for years. That's a little odd. My thought process is cut off by Mr.82 as he begins to speak again.
"Now that all of you have books, just turn to the first page. There is no title page like there is in other old books because Asylum must use paper wisely or it will run out. So to begin, do any of you know the definition of the word "History" itself?" Mr.82 asks.
None of us raise our hooves. He scans the room a few times but then he places his eyes right on me.
"Ms.36, do you have an answer?"He asks me with a raised eyebrow.
"I think I do, sir. History means to collect records from the past...that is my answer, sir."I reply.
He smiles.
"You were close Ms.36 but wrong. The proper definition is "History" means the branch of knowledge dealing with events from the past. Your guess was quite right though. Let us continue." He smiles.
I feel embarrassed once again but nobody seems to care. He talks about what I already read so I start thinking again. I stop thinking about the books and look at his desk. It is made from very old and dusty pine wood and it's cluttered with papers. I see a dictionary on the right hand side of the desk and something pops into my mind. 71 wanted me to look up the word "Sport" since her dictionary doesn't have the word in there. At the end of class I'll ask Mr.82. I tune back in to what Mr.82 is saying and it seems quite interesting.
"Ruler 0's library has thousands of books on the beginning of Asylum but they are classified as non readable so we may never know. It seems we only have a few more minutes of class left so you may read the first page of your book and go."He tells the class.
The people who actually read stand up first and leave. I watch slowly as the ponies stand up and leave the classroom with their friends. Once everyone leaves, I walk up to Mr.82's desk. He sits there staring at a document, shaking his head.
"Sir?" I ask.
He is startled by my sudden words but he smiles when he sees me.
"Yes, Ms.36, what do you need?" He responds.
"I was just wondering what the definition of the word "Sport" means." I tell him.
"Oh well, I haven't heard that word in a while. Let's see it's in here so-." He stops.
He stares at me with wide eyes. He blinks quickly and shakes his head.
"No, no, it can't be her. No." He whispers over and over.
"Sir? Are you alright sir?" I ask, worried.
He looks straight at me and shakes his head slowly.
"36, your mane mustn't be seen. Cover it as well as you can. Take this dictionary home and read it. Once you finish, hide it. You can't be seen, don't be seen." He says quickly.
"Sir, I'm worried. Are you sick?"I ask.
"I am fine, you are not. Go quickly! Do not be seen." He rushes me.
I pull my cloak over my head and put the book in my bag. I turn back to him and he urges me out. I run down the stairs and rush towards home. What is wrong with my mane?