Book of Knowledge

by Slater, David Michael

  It was frightening at first, walking casually into litter-strewn alleys and filthy, run-down apartments, especially because the men they were seeking in them looked even more hostile than their surroundings. Some of them looked downright murderous. At the sight of Richards, every one of them tried to flee. Of course they ignored the Officer’s orders to freeze, but not Dex’s.

  Normally, had he seen any one of these people coming toward him, Dex would’ve run the other way, but he quickly conquered the impulse. Their first “visit” was with a six-foot giant wearing a spiked collar, who at Dex’s order, approached them like a first-grader caught running in the halls. Dex watched the hatred in the man’s eyes soften into a milky white cloud of agreeability as the Word took hold.

  After that, it was a breeze. When Dexter and Richards walked away from him, as was the case when they walked away from each successive “visit,” they left a hardened criminal scratching his head, trying to remember who they’d just talked to and feeling a strange and irresistible urge to start living an honest life.

  In the afternoon, after a fast-food lunch, Richards drove Dex around the West Hills. It was like they’d entered another world. Now they were waltzing into fancy homes to talk to attractive men and women in tailored clothes.

  On their way into the first gigantic house built into the side of a hill overlooking the city, Richards explained that though these offenders were clean cut and well-spoken, they were every bit as dangerous as those they met in the morning, if not more so. A few of them were personally just as violent, but most didn’t commit crimes with their own hands. They were much more likely to pay criminals in the dangerous parts of town to do their dirty work, which made them hard to catch and even harder to convict.

  He needn’t have worried. Dex would never again assume anyone was what they appeared to be, not after everything he’d been through.

  Dexter was more than happy to straighten out this type as well. It was too easy not to. After they visited a half dozen residences, Richards whisked Dex downtown to a series of high-rise buildings. They rode up plush elevators and invited themselves into the offices of men and women who ran companies that exploited thousands of people or poisoned the environment or cheated their customers. Dex’s presentations were brief, but persuasive.

  As the day wore on, the energy coursing through Dexter’s body increased until he felt near to bursting. It took a long time, but he finally realized what it was: he was having fun again. Only this time, and maybe for the first time, he was having fun doing something good. It was a simple but startling realization. The only things he’d ever really considered fun before were things he knew were in one way or another wrong, like skipping school or spying on Daphna’s first meeting with Rash, a million years ago now.

  On the way to a CEO’s lavish penthouse apartment, Dex turned to Richards and asked, “Do you believe in God?”

  “I believe I do God’s work everyday,” was the Officer’s reply.

  This struck Dexter as significant. Didn’t people mean by “God’s work” exactly the work God never did?

  There is no God, he thought on his way out of the penthouse. Maybe there never was a God, or maybe Adem Tarik killed him, but either way, he isn’t doing his own job. Then Dex thought: I am.

  As Officer Richards conducted him from place to place, Dex became so taken with the notion that he nearly forgot about school altogether. He didn’t get dropped back off until nearly 2:30, and he had to have the siren turned on to get him there by then.

  Before he hopped out of the car, Dex made sure to tell Richards to forget everything they’d done. The Officer nodded, and as he drove off, Dexter watched him for a few seconds. Then he hurried through the parking lot, thinking he could make seventh period if he hustled. His plan was to show himself that school wouldn’t get the better of him this year, then he’d find Daphna and tell her what was up.

  Out of habit, Dex circled behind the building and headed to the rear entrance, where there were never any adults. But the moment he hauled open one of the red metal doors, he realized he was going to have to go all the way through the building to the front office to get his schedule card, which would make it nearly impossible to find his class on time.

  Then Dex sensed something wasn’t right. He let the door slam shut without stepping inside and looked around. Something was off. A few cars were parked in the mini-lot there. Kids were playing football in gym class out on the fields beyond. They seemed to be having a great time, which was slightly odd. Usually at least one kid was complaining or sulking or picking on someone loudly. But that wasn’t it. What was missing?

  The Slackers! Dex realized—the dozen or so kids who hung out behind the dumpsters, skipping class all day long—not a single one was there. Maybe the office finally got a clue, Dex thought. He heaved open the doors again and headed that way.

  The bell ending sixth period rang just as Dex entered the main hall. There was no way to avoid being late now, so he stopped and turned, thinking it better just to leave, but someone touched him on the shoulder and said, “Hi Dexter.”

  Dex spun to see who could possibly have said hello to him, but whoever it was had moved down the hall and gotten swallowed in a crowd. This was far stranger than a harmonious PE class or AWOL slackers. No one ever said hello to him.

  “Hey, Dexter,” someone else said passing by.

  Dex turned again, but again couldn’t identify the source of the greeting. Was there some sort of practical joke going on? He looked around for Daphna, but he didn’t really expect to find her.

  “If you need help with anything this year,” said a boy who actually stopped before hurrying off, “you can ask me.”

  Dexter was flabbergasted. That was a Pop. And now he noticed that the Pops weren’t all in a pack. They were scattered around, and all talking to people they’d normally rather spit on. Something bizarre was going on, and now Dex wanted to get to the bottom of it.

  He rushed forward, noticing yet another strange phenomenon: people got out of his way. There wasn’t the usual mob scene going on. The older kids, who usually threw their weight around, were circulating slowly, calmly exchanging books at their lockers. Everyone was smiling like it was the last day of school rather than the first.

  Only the sixth graders weren’t looking thrilled. They looked nervous, but not completely petrified like they usually did, which had to be a direct result of the seventh and eighth graders not stampeding them.

  Dex was stopped four more times. It wasn’t until the bell rang that he was finally able to get free and hurry down to the office. No one was there but the school’s main secretary, Mrs. Kodama, who was talking into a headset, working on a computer and filing some papers all at once. That was normal. What wasn’t normal was that the blue chairs were empty.

  The blue chairs were for troublemakers who had to wait to get detentions from the Vice Principal. It being the first day of school did not explain the absence of miscreants.

  “Can I help you?”

  Dex had been staring at the chairs but now looked up at Mrs. Kodama, who must’ve asked him that several times, even though she wasn’t looking at him. She didn’t sound too irritated, though.

  “Ah, yeah,” said Dex, ready to use his Word to help Mrs. Kodama overlook the fact he was nearly six hours late. “I need my schedule card. I know I’m a little—”

  “Sure, honey.” Mrs. Kodama didn’t even ask him for a note. Instead, she flipped through a box on her desk while resuming her phone conversation. Dex couldn’t understand why things were so strange with everyone. But then Mrs. Kodama handed him a yellow card, looking him in the eye when she did so.

  That’s when Dex finally understood.

  “No! I don’t believe it!” Dex cried. “Not again!”

  “What’s that, honey?”

  “Can you tell me what class Daphna Wax is in right now?”

  “Certainly. Let’s see—here she is! A-13, with Mr. Guillermo.”

  “Thanks.”


  “Not at all! Have a great day!”

  Dexter stalked down A hall. He had no idea what he was going to do, and that made him even angrier because he had Shop this period, the one class he always relied on to salvage his GPA. He stopped in front of Mr. Guillermo’s door and glared in the little vertical window. Dex was pretty sure the same guy used to teach at their elementary school. Some sort of animated discussion was already going on inside.

  Daphna was right in the middle of it, of course, talking while waving a ballpoint pen in the air. The seat behind her was empty, but there was no way to get in without drawing attention to himself. He had to wait for someone to come out. It took nearly fifteen minutes, but a student in the back of the room finally got up and headed for the door with a bright orange hall pass in hand.

  With a Word, Dex turned himself invisible, and when the student came out, he slipped through the open door and sat down behind his sister. Then he hissed, “I know what you’re up to.”

  “Dexter?” Daphna cried. She looked to her left and right, then behind her, confused and alarmed.

  “Excuse me, Daphna? Is something wrong?”

  “Sorry!” Daphna apologized, turning back around, crimson-faced. “I’m really sorry. Go on, Mr. Guillermo. This is a really interesting discussion.”

  And it was. The course was an elective called World Religions. At lunch, when Daphna remembered it was one of the options she didn’t choose at the end of last year, she went to the office and had her schedule changed. She thought the class would be the perfect opportunity to look deeper into the history of the Book of Nonsense, and it would be ideal if she could get credit for doing the research. They’d been talking so far about how Mr. G would be open to pursuing whatever interests the students had.

  Mr. Guillermo smiled warmly at Daphna over his half-glasses, then turned his attention to Tory, the girl sitting next to her. “Perhaps then this isn’t the best choice of classes for you,” he said.

  Daphna tried not to nod. Tory was the only one in the room not smiling or misty-eyed, which meant she must have come in late and missed the announcements, and she’d been hogging most of the conversation.

  “Remember,” Mr. Guillermo was saying, “this is an elective.”

  “Daaaphna,” Dexter whispered a few times. It was hilarious to watch her cock her head and get all agitated trying to figure out what was going on. But that got boring quickly, so he looked around the room. It was exactly as he expected: everyone had fogged over eyes, except maybe the girl next to Daphna who wouldn’t shut up.

  Everyone else looked engaged and thoughtful, but through a thin film that made them look ever so slightly somewhere else at the same time. Did she do the whole school? he wondered bitterly. She obviously knew the same Word he did, or one that did the same thing. Couldn’t anything in the world be his alone?

  “I know what’s going on,” he snarled as anger surged through him again. He made no attempt to keep his voice low this time. “I know what you’ve done, Daphna.”

  Daphna suddenly turned all the way around in her chair. To Dex it seemed like she was looking right at him. In a way she was, because she’d finally figured out what was going on.

  She smiled, shrugged and whispered, “Good for you.” Then she turned around.

  Daphna hadn’t planned to conceal anything from Dexter this time. She had too much to worry about. How he’d figured her out again, she had no idea, but what did it matter? It wasn’t like things wouldn’t be much better for him at school, too. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t benefit from her taking revenge against Adem Tarik, which she was going to do as soon as she was confident enough.

  Still, Daphna felt a twinge of guilt. She turned round again and whispered, “I’ll explain after—” but then she realized that if Dexter had heard her announcement this morning, he wouldn’t be sitting there hissing at her. “You’ve been skipping school!” she cried.

  Now it was Dexter’s turn to shrug, invisible though he was.

  “Daphna?”

  “Oh, sorry! Sorry, Mr. Guillermo. Go on.”

  “Yes, Tory? You were saying?”

  “I’m just saying there’s no point in studying other religions when there’s only one right one. We should just study the Bible!”

  “I’m only worried that someone saw you!” Daphna whispered over her shoulder. “What if Evelyn finds out? What if the cops find out?”

  “Tory thinks every word in the Bible is true,” said a student in the back, but very politely.

  “Well, it is!” Tory declared.

  “Don’t worry about the cops,” Dex muttered.

  “What do you mean don’t worry about the cops?”

  “Listen, kids,” Mr. Guillermo was saying. He’d taken his glasses off. “Hold on—Daphna, would you mind? Honestly—”

  “I’m so sorry!” Daphna blushed. She’d never been asked to stop disrupting before. She’d never been so out of touch with class discussion, either. Before Dex had come in, she was right there, scribbling down notes. She was the only one in the room who had a notebook out! But now, two minutes with her brother and he was already dragging her down to his level. Still, she had to know what he meant about the cops.

  “Thank you for your attention,” said Mr. Guillermo, putting his glasses back on. “Now,” he continued, “this is great discussion. Really. We won’t shy away from any of it. In this class, you are free to have and express any opinion you want about these issues. You’re all, what, thirteen now? I think we can assume a certain level of maturity. It’s time you engaged in some serious intellectual and philosophical investigations. It’s time for us to follow Socrates’s advice. It’s time for us to get to know ourselves.”

  “I’m not thirteen!” Tory announced. “I skipped two grades!”

  “Dexter—what about the cops? Did you forget what could—Thirteen?”

  “What’s that Daphna?” asked Mr. Guillermo.

  “Did you say something about us being thirteen?”

  “Yes, I did. Though it seems I was wrong about Tory. I’m sorry about that, Tory. No offense intended.”

  “That’s okay.”

  That explained why her eyes were clear, Daphna realized. But Tory was suddenly of no concern. “Why is that such an important age?” Daphna asked. “What’s the big deal about it?”

  “What a great question!” Mr. Guillermo beamed.

  Daphna sat up a bit. Dex rolled his eyes, but he did want to hear the answer, even though he had no idea what the class was talking about.

  “Let’s look at that for a moment,” said Mr. Guillermo, removing his glasses. “Did you know that, worldwide, a vast number of cultures have a ritual that formally marks the transformation of a child into an adult, from someone who depends on the community to someone who can contribute to it? You’d be amazed how many of them have that ritual at age thirteen.” He put his glasses on again.

  “But, it’s just a number, thirteen, right?” Daphna asked. “I mean, couldn’t it be twelve or fourteen or something?”

  “Or eleven!” Tory insisted.

  “It’s puberty!” someone called out from the back of the room. Half the class tried but failed to suppress giggles at the mere mention of the word.

  Mr. Guillermo was not embarrassed. In fact, he seemed even more pleased. “Yes,” he said. “That’s the traditional thinking, and it certainly makes sense. That is the age where most children begin to look like young adults. But there’s something else—”

  “What is it?” Daphna nearly shouted when Mr. Guillermo’s pause grew a split second too long for her to bear.

  The class all turned to look at Daphna, who yet again went red in the face. “I mean, sorry, I’m just very interested.”

  “I encourage your enthusiasm!” Mr. Guillermo replied with enthusiasm of his own. He put his glasses back on and said, “I was going to say that we can look at the physical development of people, but also the emotional development, and—this is where it gets interesting—the moral develo
pment.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, to be brief, some psychologists believe that a child is incapable of exercising free will, that is, making truly free choices in life, until they are able to understand right and wrong. This ability doesn’t seem to be completely formed in most people until the age of thirteen. So, it makes good sense to think that one becomes an adult not when one starts to look like one, but when one starts to think like one.”

  This was fascinating. The twins both sensed it explained something about why the First Tongue had no affect on children under thirteen, but they both needed time to think about it.

  Mr. Guillermo switched back to his more general discussion. “You have to be willing to listen,” he said, taking his glasses off again. “You have to be willing to think and to consider what we discuss. If your mind is closed to possibilities—I don’t mean to be rude—but choose another class. I will bring up things that will challenge what you might believe. I like to look at even the most “out there” beliefs because they shed—”

  “You mean like God was murdered?”

  Everyone looked around to see who’d spoken. It was Dexter, who felt the burn of everyone’s attention when it was directed in his vicinity, though of course no one could see him. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

  “His son was murdered!” Tory declared. “Everyone knows that!”

  When her brother didn’t saying anything else, Daphna weighed in, though she found it difficult to keep her composure. Did Dexter think their father murdered God?

  “No,” Daphna managed, turning to Tory, “I—I think some people think God was killed, The God.”

  “That’s horrible!”

  “Please, Tory, calm down,” said Mr. Guillermo. He’d been looking perplexed in Dex’s direction, but now he focused his attention on Daphna.

  “Well,” he said, “that’s not something I’d planned on discussing. But there certainly are philosophers who’ve claimed that God is dead. More than philosophers suggested as much after World War II. How could God have allowed millions of innocent people to be murdered? But God being murdered? I don’t know about that. I’m fascinated, though. Do you recall where you came across this idea?”