5

Chapter 7

Dickie sat in the auditorium…filled with dough-faced youths. Each of his peers was dressed in the same attire; a long black robe…and the classic flat, four-cornered hat.

Dickie watched the speaker; he stood at a podium at the front of the huge group.

"In these exciting times…I encourage each and every one of you to…"

He rambled on and on in such a manner; Dickie only half-listened.

His attention was split.

He could hear the murmurs and whispers of others; one girl complaining about a broken nail; a boy rambling about how Jessica such and such was going to be at the party.

Dickie's legs twitched nervously; he could feel perspiration slide down his face.

He glanced over his shoulder at the crowds of people; he tried to push the nauseous feelings to the back of his mind.

He scanned the audience with eyes…though not thoroughly. He felt a pull to re-focus his attention on the podium.

"I'd like to thank every one of you for giving me the opportunity to come here and speak to you tonight…"

Dickie's eyes focused on one of the secretaries pulling out a box filled with small black squares. He quickly swiped another glance at the audience...a small feeling of dread wash over him.

"And with that…I present to you the class of 2267!"

Dickie's hands began trembling as he watched one student after another rise and receive on of the black squares. One by one…the names got closer and closer to his.

"George Rivera…Mara Seely…"

Dickie's sweat sent shivers throughout his body. The anxiety tightened his muscles in his arms and legs.

"Richard Stern…"

Dickie froze. His body rose…but his mind was a cloud. His stomach took a dive; everything was a blur.

Dickie approached the podium…and blearily remembered shaking someone's hand.

His eyes darted to the crowd as a black square was thrust into the palm of his hand; Dickie felt shattered.

His father was nowhere to be seen.

Dickie quietly rose the steps of the porch; his face was to the ground. His expression-less face hid his disappointment.

He clamored through the front door…dropping the black square on the kitchen table.

He slowly marched into the den.

His father was passed out on the couch.

Dickie stood there for awhile…staring at his drunken father.

His eyes were red…but he held in the waterworks.

His sullen face turned to a sneer.

He threw the robe onto the ground…and left the way he came.

Dickie's father came to after several hours had passed. His eyes slowly drifted open.

He wiped the fatigue from his eyes and drool from his mouth; he glanced the room…noticing a crack of sunlight through the blinds.

He brushed the empty cans of beer off his lap.

He slowly staggered to his feet…letting out a loud belch and scratched his behind.

He slowly limped to the kitchen…grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the sink.

Out of the corner of his eye…he spotted the black square.

He staggered back to the living room…stepping on Dickie's robes.

He furrowed his brow in confusion; he knelt down and grabbed the robes.

"Oh yeah…" he said to himself chuckling.

He returned to the kitchen…opening the black square.

On it…in bold, black letters, read:

4.0

Top 10%

He made no expression; he simply dropped it on the floor and returned to the den.

"Kid probably thinks he's all that," he muttered to himself.

Dickie strolled along the streets of downtown; his eyes kept to his feet as he walked.

He didn't walk in any specific pattern; he wasn't going to any specific destination.

He simply walked.

He wanted to lose himself in all the different shops and people.

Irish bars; Chinese tea houses; Denobulan cafes.

The public library on the out-skirts of downtown…or the court house on the opposite end.

Dickie loved watching all the different people pass by; blacks, whites, Hispanics, Vulcans, and Andorians.

He loved fantasizing about being one of those people…scurrying of to some business or some other place.

He wanted to be someone else.

Dickie walked for hours; the sun was setting again by the time he took a rest.

He took a seat on a concrete curb…watching the people walk by…and the ships fly over-head.

He saw a couple of his classmates laugh and scream as they ran along the street…the scent of alcohol fresh on their lips.

He felt a pang of remorse…thinking of the parties he missed.

They didn't know him anyway though; Dickie spent all of his school years studying.

Deep in thought…a poster on the opposite side of the street caught Dickie's eye.

He studied it for several minutes…only half-acknowledging it.

He slowly rose to his feet…and sauntered over to get a better look.

The closer he got…he could clearly recognize the Starfleet insignia.

It was a recruiting poster.

Dickie stood there for quite sometime…processing the image he saw.

He turned it over in his head again and again.