Engineered: Chapter 4

Every character has an ark, and I am no different.

Did you hear the one about the twenty-four-year-old with options? No? It’s a fucking good one, I was there. But here, check it out. So, twenty years ago, I was twenty years younger. But that isn’t the shocker. No, because my moderate-looking, medium-skilled, half-witted brain was in this mid-rated skull. And the tale, such as it was, was one of largess. Not academic, no, that wasn’t me. A good memory mounted to a minor intellect. But that won’t save you. Look at all the corpses that had more. And we never shut the fuck up about those wankers. So me. I waltzed into higher education at the exact time I was supposed to. College, Uni and job. The Trinity of the un-Highered. And I excelled in mediocrity. Coasted along, altitude zero, attitude stratospheric. Sure, I didn’t have the papers, the exams, the regard, the scores, the grades; I had nowt, really. But then, when were races won by the most deserving? I was quick. You wanna know what electricity is and was up to? I’m your gender-specific guide. Strap in. Fuck, I even know hex code. How ya like me now? So there was me, nineteen, unable to spell nineteen, but man, I could equate, I could experiment, and I could ignore what the lecturer said and still shimmy and shake into the top ten percentile. I was focused. And free, largely, of booze. No drugs, clean living. This was almost a decade before the bugle. The powder. The Columbian cold-maker. Pink lunged and lily-livered. Clear of snout and eye. Great craic. And I had a squad, a team, which I didn’t lead, but wasn’t afraid to break free from. Unless there was pool. I sucked at pool, but boy, did it pass the time. And classes? Meh. A luxury to be afforded by the criminally insane? Aye, mate, sure-fire deal. Who needs Kirchoff’s mathematical musings on current? The direction it took around a circuit never offended me. Or physics. The latter being the quality inspector for existence. After five years, I was the twenty-four-year-old with options. Earned options. Educational air miles. I was flying. Into work at the first shot. No dogs dying in the space for my ascension. No. But hey, how did this guy become Johnny Jobseeker?