For the Love of Money

Chapter 5

"That's what we're told from birth. That the hoodlums have no one to blame but themselves. That they are evil, greedy criminals who want to reap rewards without working for them. That you are all lazy and unwilling to make your own fortune. You'd all rather steal from each other than actually work for your own benefit. That's what we learn about you."

I stayed silent and absorbed what he was saying. How could anyone believe that? How could people honestly think that we'd be that savage, that animalistic? It was outrageous, completely insane. And so wrong that I could almost believe that they were just unaware, just lied to.

Then I remembered that they saw what happened every day, to us, to their own fellow man. And the anger and hurt flooded back. How could they let this happen?

"I know from my own experience that this isn't true. And I know you know too. Tell me, what did they tell you when you tried to apply to college, last year?"

I bit my lip and broke my gaze with him. I stared at the sheets.

"I already know, Devin. I know it all. Top in all your classes, so smart, so ready to learn and easy to teach. It was like the teachers just said something, and you already gotten the concept. Skipping grades in math and science classes, studying courses five, six years your senior. And it stayed that way, from kindergarten to grade twelve. Even though you snuck into the school and hacked your name into the records, people could only believe you belonged there, with all the knowledge you had.

And when you finished school, with your 5.0 GPA and all the praise from all your teachers, you went to apply for college, the end for you. And what did they all tell you? What did they all say?"

I didn't answer.

"Let's be real. I know what they said."

"Then why are you asking?" I murmured.

"I need you to accept it. So we can move on."

I didn't respond.

"Please trust me, Devin. We want to stop this. We have a very common goal here, whether yours is more grisly or not. Just, let's get all the players on the field--"

"They told me that I couldn't apply," I whispered.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't have the standard sufficient income."

The pain and disappointment of that day rushed throughout my body, followed by the urge to punch and wall and cry. I'd come so far, had studied so hard and worked so much to make sure that I stayed on top in all my classes. It wasn't supposed to go that far. I'd only managed to get onto the school database because they had been doing tests for their online security. It was a cheap trick that I'd gotten from a book. Once I'd added my name, I just sunk into the school on the first day and went with it. People didn't seem to notice, and I was able to come back every year because they'd shift the previous names to the next grade and go on from there. I lived in fear every day, thinking that they realize that I was a fake, but over time I began to love it. To make friends. To get smarter every day and apply my skills to my street life. When it was time to move from grade school to college, I saw no potential problems to my education. And then I applied.

I remember the lady, so cross, as she looked over my resume and applications. "No standard sufficient income? Come from that ghetto down near the creek, eh?"

I had nodded, so naive. "Yeah, but as you can see, it didn't affect my education. I graduated top of my class, valedictorian even."

"I'm sorry, but you can't come here, not to any college in fact."

I remember asking her why, why the hell she'd say that. And she laid it on me, like alcohol on a fresh wound. I was poor. I didn't come from a good background. I didn't fit the image they had set for the facility, not like the other students who came from riches, who lived in great, safe neighborhoods. Who had presidents and world leaders in their ancestry and lines of great-grandfathers and mothers who'd attended the same colleges. No, I would poison the other students with my hood-ness, and my savagery was not allowed in the colleges. I was a killer, not fit to be with them. I would never move on from that point. And then, as if were some dangerous beast about to devour her, she'd called security on me, and had me escorted out.

I can say that I cried that day, and I never cry. I can say that the bitter roots of hatred and anger started to mature in me that day. I can believe that that's when I started to lose compassion for the rich pigs.

"It isn't like people don't want to progress in their lives," the doctor said, snapping me back to the present. "I think anyone would want to improve their lives, not just live on the rock bottom like you are. But the government and current society don't allow you to progress. Change and progression would make the people in power lose money and influence. They don't want that. They want to keep you in their place in order to secure their positions, and that's where it gets morally corrupt. Because now they lie to the people's faces, twisting their own morals against their fellow man and making them hate those who are just like them. The rich think that you have the opportunity to change, but you choose not to. In truth, you can't change. And when you try to open their eyes, the corrupt eliminate you."

"So where do I come in?" I asked. "The college thing happened a year ago. It's a little late."

"You're a living example of our corrupt government," the doctor said. "If we can get your story out to the world, if we can make people aware, it will just be a chain reaction. People will react and try to fix this problem. But it all starts with a push, and Devin, you're that push." He gave a small smile. "My father always said that humans tend to dislike those who are just like them, but only because they themselves can't see the similarities. Let's make them see, Devin. Will you help me?"

I nodded firmly. It wasn't much of a challenge to decide. It was the greater good, for everyone's benefit. And even though my hatred for the rich was still as sweet, I was seeing from the poor's perspective: this way, people could move on and progress, be happy.

"Okay," I said, staring intently at the doctor. "I'll help you."