The twenty-first is a significant birthday in many cultures. It signifies legal adulthood, the age at which one can vote, or sign a contract, or be conscripted. Some unfortunates cannot legally drink or smoke until this age, although that doesn't seem to stop them. For those fortunate enough to enjoy the benefits of formal education, twenty-one often marks the end of college and the entrance into post-graduate studies or the working world.
The dark stranger wandering through the crowd alone is choosing to celebrate his twenty-first birthday on this bright, mild summer day. July 1 is a holiday in this country. The young man didn't know anything about it when he left his shabby motel room this morning and was surprised to see bunting and flags on the streets. Travel will be difficult today, so he decides to make the best of it. The stranger is bemused to see all the excitement in the tiny commercial center of this small, semi-rural town. He's earned a bit of extra cash working in an orchard, the main industry of the area, so he allows himself the luxury of a beer with lunch. When the waiter asks for identification, the young man remembers that no matter what he's been through in his short life, to others, he is still a kid. It is high time he made the transition to adulthood official.
As the afternoon sun peaks, our hero amuses himself by watching the races and displays. He listens to the violinist – fiddlers, they call them here – and tastes the home-made cakes and pies, some of which are quite good. A loud, friendly woman in a striped pink dress hands him a slip of paper, an advertisement for some kind of communal dinner to be held at the Elk's Lodge later than night. It's all so different from what he's used to. Nobody in the crowd has been in his or her home for more than two generations. These people think that a quilt display is high culture and a church supper is fine dining. Even the mayor's suit appears to have come from some mail-order concern. The young man knows that there must be undercurrents of passion and violence in this small town, but damned if he can see any trace of them now.
After a few hours, he is bored and wanders past a few short blocks of small, square houses to the edge of town where there is a cold, clear stream and a lightly forested area. He's managed to "snag" another beer as they say here, and decides to enjoy it under a tree. Later on, perhaps, he'll go to the potluck the woman mentioned. It sounds dreadful, but he's here to explore, not necessarily enjoy, and a free meal is not something he can afford to turn down at the moment.
For some months now, the young man has been thinking about leaving his past behind in a decisive way. The process started with this haphazard tour of the world. He's been heading wherever tickets are cheapest or there's an opportunity to stow away or work for passage and he has seen some interesting sights. He's also learned that leaving everything behind doesn't sting as much as he thought it would. His Grand Tour has lasted five months and so far he hasn't been moved to write so much as a postcard to anyone.
Stretched out on the grass, the stranger reflects on what else he's learned. After all, today is his new birthday. Today, he is a man in the eyes of the world.
First and foremost, he is both literate and numerate. With those skills, one can learn anything in time, especially if one has a good memory.
He has learned four European languages and a smattering of Mandarin. Languages come easily to him and once he has learned one, it is locked in forever.
He has a strong foundation in history, geography, and general science. Although he has never been terribly interested in literature, he has read a few hundred of his culture's classics, some more than once.
He can employ several different firearms quickly and accurately. He knows how to use a knife for more than cutting a steak and is a decent hand-to-hand fighter, as long as he can avoid punches to his glass jaw.
He can fly a small plane well enough to earn a living at it, if necessary.
He has learned to make camp and survive in rough conditions. As a corollary, he's discovered that living in luxury is infinitely preferable to roughing it.
He has learned to be careful with his possessions and neat in his habits. Time is valuable and should never be wasted fumbling about or searching for a weapon or clean socks.
He has learned how to follow orders; also, that following orders is not always a good idea. In any case, he's intends to be the one giving orders before too long.
He has learned that features that are ugly in a child can be attractive in a man when he leaves adolescent awkwardness behind. More importantly, he now knows how to use his newfound good looks to his advantage.
One particularly memorable tutor taught him that the best way to know what a lover wants is to ask, although he still has some trouble with this would like to arrange more lessons.
He has learned that theft is quite easy if one is clever and bold enough, and that both good planning and flexibility are necessary for successful crimes. Also, that once one commits a crime, others follow easily.
He has learned to find and create safe, secret havens and avoid spending too long anywhere else.
The young man decides that he is satisfied with his education at the School of Hard Knocks and will continue with post-graduate work. He rises and begins walking back to town. Tomorrow he will make his way to the west coast and find some kind of transport further west to the mysterious Orient. He assumes that his gift for languages will do for him there as it has everywhere else. He has no fear of the future and no regrets about his past. From now on, this day is the one he will use to mark his age. He will not divulge the old date or birthplace to anyone. He will shut up his past in a lockbox and swallow the key.
It occurs to him, suddenly, that acquiring a new name will also be necessary. He'll pick one and try it out tonight at that awful dinner. How to decide? He doesn't want a name that is significant or meaningful in any way. It must be random, but not ridiculous. The young man stands on the curb and closes his eyes for a long second. When he opens them, a white delivery truck roars by, kicking up dust. Coughing, the young man reads the sign on the door: Olrik Meats and Deli. Oh, why not? It really doesn't matter much, and Olrik can serve as a first name, or last, or both. The self-christened Olrik drops his beer bottle in a municipal trash can and walks towards the crowd. Nobody realizes it, but tonight, they will all celebrate his birthday.
The End