1964
When Elena woke up, got herself ready for the day, and went downstairs, she was met with an unusual sight: her mother.
As far as the divorce went, the writing had been on the wall for a while. By the time Armeni officially set up the paperwork, she hadn't been regularly living with her husband for years. This might have actually made things easier for the family; Elena didn't have to see drawn out fights and shouting matches, and rather than an abrupt surprise, she was able to slowly come to terms with the fact that her parents didn't love each other as she matured.
Elena didn't have any particular preference about her living situation, against the expectations of the men in suits who asked her an annoying amount of questions. The home she had grown up in was dead. Neither of the two options would be the same. Living with her father, at least, would save her the trouble of moving.
She suspected her mother would have the same preference. While Armeni may not have been completely devoid of love for her family, it was incredibly obvious that she would choose her career over being a mother in an instant. But by some inexplicable force, be it guilt or pity or spite, she still negotiated for the right to be with her daughter every other weekend. Today was one of those weekends, but that wasn't all that made the current situation uncommon. Elena typically wouldn't wake up early enough to catch her mother. Today was a special day.
She had spent the past few months putting most of her mental energy into one particular extracurricular activity: the debate team. They had managed to win against the halfhearted competitors in the rest of the district and were able to move upwards to the next stage of the competition. It was a significant distance away, but the organization responsible for the competition paid for flights. She had a flight to catch.
"...Good luck. Sorry I couldn't drive you today."
Elena was caught off-guard by her mother finally saying something in her groggy state. Her dull brown eyes had stared at Elena like a deer in headlights before remembering what was happening today, and that was the entirety of interactions they'd had so far. The idea of Armeni helping with transit hadn't crossed her mind; she'd made arrangements with the family of a classmate before bothering to let her mother know about today.
"It's fine." Elena mumbled this out in between mouthfuls of toast. Her mother looked less than pleased by this display of etiquette, but pursed her lips and said nothing.
"Stay safe, okay?"
"I will." Elena rolled her eyes. The sentiment seemed empty from someone who could rarely be present to "keep her safe" on even the small fraction of time they had together. It's probably for the best. The most memorable times she had spent alone with her mother in the old days were never very good.
Seeming to take this as the end of their conversation, Armeni downed what remained of her coffee and went back to her room to get dressed. Some kind of meeting today. Elena probably wouldn't see her mother for another two weeks. She chose to wait outside to be picked up.
The experience of being on a plane was less intense than Elena expected. She was expecting something more akin to a war film than public transit, though, so this wasn't exactly saying much. She was glad she hadn't eaten more beforehand.
The group of people that Elena collaborated with in this club were the closest things she had to friends at school. They didn't interact much outside of this particular context, but she knew them reasonably well, and respected their willingness to put effort into this event. Even if the burden wasn't being placed on their Podunk highschool, someone was still paying good money to allow them the opportunity to compete.
The rules of the game were simple; every team received a list of topics a week in advance. These could range from hot button political issues to absurdly specific hypotheticals meant to highlight a common issue in the field of philosophy. On the day of the event proper, each team would compete against another team in three different "matches", and be scored for each based on their performance.
Each match would begin with the moderators revealing what the topic at hand was. One side would present an argument. Then the other side would be given time to argue against it or question their views, requesting clarification, etc. The first team would then be allowed to respond, and this continues for a total of five "turns". This did mean that the team chosen to start had slightly more time to talk, but the much more significant factor was the ability to steer the direction of the conversation. Their win in the more local division had largely come down to their opponents in ⅔ matches being unable to come up with a reasonable response, having planned on arguing the position that her team snatched first.
This was it. Her chance to achieve something she could call her own.
...None.
Elena sat alone. She had gotten lost on her way to the dining hall, and her team had already eaten. Despite being gracious enough to pay for flights, the competition still expected her to pay for food at the venue. That struck her as strange.
She halfheartedly chewed the lukewarm cafeteria food as she reflected on the past several hours.
Out of the three matches her team had participated in, one of them was a lost cause. The local Albrecht Institution of Learning was a powerhouse, and it was frequently murmured that any schools in the area had an unfair advantage or potentially early access to information. But the other two matches should have been theirs! They had gone first, the other side seemed unprepared, everything was in their favor. And yet she had not achieved a single victory today. She couldn't pin down the reason. Was she not good enough? Could it be that-
"Ahem."
Elena looked up. She recognized the person she saw from one of the matches. His appearance had defied any expectations.
The boy was no older than Elena; maybe even younger. But his expression carried the confidence of someone who had already surpassed all the trials of youth. His light brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail. This sort of choice was something only associated with the most socially ostracized hippies for Elena, so she was confused about the man's sex for a brief moment. He was dressed in a suit. This part wasn't that strange; she had opted for casual wear, but there were many schools who saw fit to impose higher standards on their students. What was the most confusing of all right now was the fact that someone with this incomprehensible formal appearance was casually eating an ice cream sandwich while waiting for her to respond to him.
"Can I help you?"
"You were with the southerners, correct?" The boy sat down across from her.
"Yes. You were on the opposing team in my second match."
"You lost."
Elena looked at him with an instinctual, unpleasant expression. "...Yeah. I did."
"Badly, I might add. I don't think the conclusion had a single coherent sentence. And your reference to the Korean War had zero relevance to the point you were supposed to be making." The boy was still eating. He seemed to lack any awareness that this might be an impolite topic of conversation.
Elena put her hand on her forehead in exasperation. "Is this like, your thing?"
"Pardon?"
"Like, do you occupy your time by kicking people while they're down? As a hobby?"
"Why would I do something so vulgar? Victory alone is enough. I'm trying to provide insight." He seemed genuinely offended.
"You aren't really helping."
"Because you've interrupted me!" He had finally finished eating, and paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts."You… were not bad."
The direction of this conversation continued to amaze.
"What?"
The boy broke direct eye contact, but continued to speak. "The rest of those pretenders had nothing to say but a reiteration of the prompt in different terms. They're pathetic. Only you had anything of substance. The bit about mutually assured destruction was a solid counterargument. I just believe you failed to stick the landing."
"...Oh."
On some level, Elena realized that this guy was still being a total douche, even if it was mostly to everyone else. But it felt nice to be acknowledged in some way.
The two were both silent for a few moments.
"I mean, it's not like it would have mattered." The boy spoke up. "I came in today fully prepared for my inevitable victory."
Elena decided not to mention the fact that the competition had yet to conclude, or that he had the help of three other people.
"If I would've won regardless, it would be better for there to be some challenge, is what I'm sa-"
"I get it! You're so very talented!"
"Thank you." He gave an exaggerated bow, missing any possible disingenuous tone. Elena was being spiteful, but she really couldn't deny that this kid was a powerhouse in the competition. He was easily the most talkative in his team, despite looking like someone who would awkwardly avoid the spotlight.
"Honestly, I would've picked the side your group did were I given the chance, but I couldn't think of how to word a pacifist argument in a way that doesn't feel weak. How do you do it? Do you study geopolitics?"
Elena took a moment to parse what the hell he was talking about. "Not really. It was more of a personal thing. My brother's a soldier."
"Ah. My condolences."
She looked at him in complete befuddlement. "I never said he was dead or anything."
"No, I meant for being poor."
Elena covered her mouth so she wouldn't spit out her drink. "I'm…"
He waited for Elena to continue, and when she didn't, picked up the slack himself. "I'm embroiled in a different sort of struggle universal to my family. My father hasn't said it outright, but he never stops talking about what he expects of me, and it's pretty clear he's pushing me to apply to Hyperion and enter the legal profession like him and his father."
"Hyperion... That's…"
"A prestigious academy, yes. But you know what?" He gave a sly smirk, as if letting her in on a secret for just the two of them. "I think I'm going to go to Themis."
"The school we're in right now?"
"Exactly. Oh, it's going to be a riot. I even have the plans set up for him to not know about my applications until I've been accepted. The look on his face will be priceless!"
"But this is… another real big deal law school, right?"
He cocked his head to the side. "Well, yeah. But it's a different one. That's the whole point."
"No, but how are you going against your pop if the thing you're trying to do is the same as what he wants?"
"But it's not. The school is different."
"I know the school is different, but why would that matter?"
"Because it's not the school he'd prefer." He was obviously frustrated at this point.
"I feel like you're not understanding me."
"No, I think you're not understanding me. It's a different school."
"I-" she sighed. "Okay. Sure. Good luck with that."
The sound of an intercom played, signaling for people to begin leaving the cafeteria.
"Perfect timing. I've said what I wanted to." He arose from his seat and moved as if to leave, but stopped and turned back. "What's your name? Don't think I caught it. I doubt we'll ever meet again, but it's only polite to say farewell with names."
"I'm Elena. Elena Ozturk. And you?"
He placed his hand on his chest in an exaggerated manner. "Well. I had just assumed my name would be commonplace in this community."
"My home's over a thousand miles away from here."
"No matter!" He gave no indication he had heard her. "It's been fun, Miss Ozturk. You can address your salutations to Manfred von Karma. Yes, that von Karma."
"I don't know your family. But bye, Manny."
"Yes, it—Manny?! You-"
Unfortunately for him, she was already out of earshot.
The rest of the day went as Elena would've expected; an awards ceremony far too drawn out for the scope of the competition, followed by a just as uncomfortable flight home. Manfred had his expectations met as well, with his team advancing to the next stage. As time went by and this day transitioned to a distant memory, the two of them would both have the same thing as the last moment they remembered as noteworthy. Their inner thoughts as they exited that dining hall.
"What a weirdo."