The Time-Capsule for No One (On Hold)

The Time-Capsule for No One

       So many choices and so little time. Your teachers don’t start stressing about your future in forth grade; they talk to you all through preschool, kindergarten, first grade, second grade, and third grade. Every morning they ask, “What is “future” but right now?”

       I’ve heard that quote since the day I was born…everyone has. That famous quote was written by Arthur P. Keedler. He was the main person we used to talk about in our reading and literature discussions. He wrote that quote at age thirteen and died the day after he wrote it.

       I never quite understood why everyone looked up to him so much. I mean all he was to me, was just another average guy.  He could be a guy that walks past me in the market everyday or even my mailman…it still wouldn’t make a difference.

       He was famous, and to me, there was no apparent reason why. But because everyone else treasured his so called words of wisdom, so did I. Not because I was a follower, trust me I do things my own way, but because it was the law.

       Another thing I’ve never understood was our laws. They force us to honor a man who died over thirty years ago, even if we don’t agree with his ways. They have complete control over our houses, if you get someone from the government pissed off, there goes your house.

       Everyone thinks, “It’s the good life for me!” but I know something is up. I’ve felt uneasy about the government ever since… well forever. I see one of the smiling faces on a commercial saying how great life has been since the ISW was founded, and I just flip the channel.

       It’s something about their smile, their eyes, the way they hold themselves. Everyone takes them to be perfect angles, but I don’t. They make laws that aren’t any fair and they can change anyone’s life by the snap of a finger (and it’s not usually for the better).

       And with school, this one kid got a month of after school detention, and had to recite the ISW Pledge of Allegiance five-hundred times before he could leave. And just because he was mouthing the words onetime instead of reciting it. The ISW made it a law that, that be a punishment.

       You start learning the pledge in preschool, and if you don’t have it memorized by the end of first grade, you have to take summer school to learn it. You might be thinking, “Well big deal, a pledge are you kidding me?” but you haven’t heard this pledge. It is three pages long and you have to learn it in the official ISW language, Habono. Yes I know it’s not a real language, well now it is. It’s not the official language in any country in the world. But the ISW wanted a unique way of speaking.

       As you could have guessed, it’s my tenth birthday. Also, you can see I’m in forth grade. And now I only have about two more months to figure out my future. My teacher, Mrs. Tristy P. Calont, is really starting to push this whole decision thing on me.

       I mean she is like a second mother to me, but I hate it when she pressures me. I’ve known her for five years, and she has never said Keedler’s quote so many times in a day before.

       Tristy said that I don’t have homework today because she is assigning me a very special project. I’m sure I will like it because she always assigns very fun projects.

       One time she told me that I would have to make a diagram of the earth. We went up in space so I could study all the features. I’m sure who ever reads this won’t be able to know the joy I went through. Considering the future will be much more extravagant.

       My diary is actually a project itself. I have to write about how I feel about anything in here, and then when I’m older and there is no more room to write, I must burry it where someone, or something, else can read it.

       I’m not sure that this project will be a success though. I am the last generation. No one will be able to ever read it. Being the last generation also has its downsides like this project. A waste of paper and a waste of my time. Tristy said this has been a project for generations so I must do it as well, so here I am, doing the project.

       So as I was leaving class, Tristy told me about my new project. “This project isn’t one set in the curriculum already. I feel as though we have the need for it. I have checked with the ISW and they also believe this is a good idea also.”

       I was bracing myself for the worse. If the ISW wants it, it must be bad. That the conclusion I made when I turned seven. “Yeah, yeah whatever. Just give me the assignment so I can go already.” I was in no mood to be dealing with the ISW. “Now watch your attitude young lady. Do you want to stay after class?” I just looked down and shook my head.

       “That’s what I thought. Now to continue, your assignment is to think about the time where you had “butterflies” in your stomach. An educational time of course. Like was it when you were doing math, or speaking a different language.”

       I couldn’t quite figure out where this was going, “Ok…” I said in a suspicious tone, “But why?” I asked. She just shook her head, “I’m sorry; I have been informed not to tell you why.”

       Of course I couldn’t know why. It’s the ISW remember? Ugh, could this assignment get any stupider? When did I ever have butterflies doing something educational? The only time I could remember was when I accidentally invented a new technology for phones.

       I was trying to win the school science fair with my wireless charger, and wound up figuring out how to make it so you never have to charge your cell phones. And then another time was when we were in space.

       But I think I only got butterflies because I electrocuted myself and the sensation of being in space. I couldn’t have an attachment to the scientific world. Could I?

       I began to think I was crazy because I kept hearing my name now. “Jessica…Jessica…Jessica!” Tristy was calling my name, “Huh, what? Oh…sorry.” I’d been spacing out. “Ok well do you have any questions about the assignments?” she sounded like she thought I was crazy. And that made two of us.

       It took me a second to remember what assignment we were talking about. “Oh yeah, um is it a written essay or like…what?” I had no idea what was expected of me.

       It looked as though she didn’t know the answer to my question. “Um well get creative, make a diagram or something. It doesn’t really matter; you just need to get the message across.”

       So I nodded and began to exit the classroom. Before I could leave, Tristy stopped me. “And don’t forget about your time-capsule diary.” I turned around and smiled, “I won’t Mrs. Calont.”

Time-Capsule Diary Entry One,

Jessica Forma