Basal Ganglia Read Free Page A

were grandiose strongholds. His bedroom became a blanketed womb mapped with tunnels and nooks. It went beyond a familiar childhood pastime and became a statement of intent. The structure longed to break free of Rollo’s bedroom and consume the entire house. Within the heart of this shambolic architecture resided Rollo himself. Whenever his presence was not required elsewhere, he was in his fort.
    School was important to Rollo. He was able to absorb many practical and theoretical worlds of experience that could benefit forts of the future. His hands were blessed with natural aptitude, able to solve puzzles of construction with detached dexterity. His mind was capable of deciphering the language of computation and engineering. The school environment was a source of potential danger that was outweighed by the skills it provided. Divorced from social concepts, his mind was given permission to focus on selfish improvement. His avenues of study extended far beyond the limited curricula students were expected to abide by. The structured imposition of learning was enslaved to equality, almost scornful of those who had hungrier minds.
    Fellow students formed indistinct patterns Rollo had no interest in. The students in turn regarded Rollo with confusion and unnamable fury. In groups people devolve and subsume into a malignant mass. The mass distills into collective will guided by the lowest common denominator. The mass exhibits the fury of its most furious. The confusion of its most confused. Negativity swells and bucks, growing with the ease of weeds, choking out individual traits into voiceless morsels, pathetic and weak. This mass feared what the possibility of Rollo said about them. Rollo, without casting a thought in their direction, had stripped each one beyond nudity and revealed the weakness beneath the skin. The horror of being ordinary. In their ordinariness, they combined to become something less than ordinary. As one, they wore fear as courage and directed increasing disdain toward Rollo. The atmosphere was thick with jealousy and self-doubt, but Rollo never noticed. There were more important things in which to direct his concern.
    Ingrid existed as a part of Rollo long before he became aware of her. She was often a member of the spiteful mass and knew she became a part of it with too much ease. When removed from the jumble she felt enriched, as if participation in the collective will diluted her as a person. Who was this Rollo that inspired so much weak rage? She moved in cycles of knowing and unknowing. Figuring the peculiar boy out and finding larger questions within her solutions.
    Ingrid divorced the mass when she could no longer cope with the weakness it made her feel. In this gesture, she inspired a lesser form of disdain from the mass. Rollo’s existence drained too much of the disdain’s resources to attend to Ingrid in a satisfying way. Unencumbered, she watched Rollo through her own eyes. It became important for Ingrid to understand who this boy was and why he inspired so much jealousy and fear. He was someone immersed in his own trajectory and whatever it was, there was an aura of importance surrounding it.
    This clandestine dynamic persisted for some time before Ingrid felt compelled to introduce her presence to Rollo’s trajectory. She engaged. He accepted and returned the engagement.
    “Hi,” said Ingrid. “I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Ingrid.”
    Rollo stared into her eyes, trying to understand what it was they conveyed. In possession of new feeling beyond words. Feeling that could only be understood via feeling.
    “Hi, Ingrid,” said Rollo. “My name is Rollo. It is nice to meet you.”
    They found words to share and became connected to each other. Rollo extracted a portion of himself and gifted it to Ingrid. She held it close and in turn allowed Rollo a portion of her. They nursed this portion of the other, allowing it to bloom within them. What they shared felt more than love.