When the November winds were replaced with December snow, it enveloped the land in a deathly silence. The winter brought the earth into a sweet slumber from which only the most desperate awoke, to find food and warmth in the beautiful and silent white world. Russia called it that. He said that 'deathly' was too harsh of a word, and that winter was just the time when the earth goes to sleep, to work the next three quarters of the year. An interesting notion. He could be very smart when he wanted to be. I was currently sitting with him outside, in Pine College, where the trees would provide cover from the winds. It was the evening after the time we ice skated together on the lake behind the campus. Since that time, we've been talking with a less tense air, and I've learned a lot about him, some surprising and some not. He was busily flipping though a book before I flipped my schedule before his face.
"Do you take a culture credit?" He asked when I showed him my timetable for class.
"Yes, philosophy."
"Wait, really?" His eyes darted across the paper quickly until he found it. "I thought that Culture was like language...."
"It is," I agreed. "But it's also Literature, Ideology, Visual Arts and Historical Studies."
"Hmph, that's a new definition then."
"I guess. We also need an arts credit."
He growled in response. "Three, actually."
"Oh, so we actually need...nobody even told me. I got my information from a student."
"I asked U.K. what we have to complete. We need five mathematics credits, Five English, four Culture, three Arts, three science and one 'seminar'."
"What is seminar?"
He shrugged. "Probably a boring course where we have to talk. And these span through our whole four years actually. How about Majoring? I heard those take a certain amount of hours."
"Have you thought of a major?" I already knew his answer before I asked my question.
"Of course! Engineering and Calculus, but I'm going to minor in German Language."
"Minor?"
"Small degree. A major requires more dedication, a minor is just an extra cherry on the plate."
"Don't you mean 'extra cherry on top'?"
"Yes, that. I'm bad at comparing, you know that." He sighed. I stifled a small laugh. The frozen landscape all turned white when December rolled around. And even though the pressure started to come because of the looming midterm exams, they were only in late January. But I still started to rewrite my notes and look them over. Practice makes perfect. "What Arts courses are you taking?"
"I'm going to take Visual Arts next semester. I want to see how I fare."
"Anything else?" He looked out onto the woody area, fiddling with his sleeves. "Because I dropped Orchestra. I hate my violin very much. I'm to be taking Drama starting tomorrow. That will be fun...not."
"Now that you told me that we have to take three..." I groaned. "I have to take Visual Arts, something else and something else."
"Eh, I decided to do Drama, Dance and I requested a piano class. Nobody else wants to do it."
"I don't see you in drama," I joked.
"Better than Painting. I won't get dirty at least."
"I think I'll take painting. Sculpting and I'll figure something else out."
"Suit yourself. Drama and Dance might be stupid, but at least it's stupidity with movement. I've done ballet before."
"You've done?" I said. "Past tense?"
"Yes, it's more of a floor practice for me. Anyway, only my grandfather can prance around a stage with graciousness."
"How about your father?"
"What about him? He does it, enthusiastically and nicely but he's not my grandfather. Not light, you know. His last performance was caught on tape, and that's when he crashed though the floor. It was funny until you saw his face. He was angry and embarrassed and he vowed to never do it again. Well, not publicly."
"Oh, that must've hurt."
"His ego, definitely. Not physically, though. It wasn't that bad." He assured me. "He is a very good Ice Dancer. He's been competing for a while. Too tall for jumping and freestyle."
"I see." I really didn't. I just wanted to make small talk. Russia, as I found out, could be talkative if he knew you. And he would talk about what you wanted.
"So you have a philosophy next school day?" He asked, standing up and rubbing his arms from the cold.
"Yes,"
"Okay. Tell me how it goes. I'm interested." That was his goodbye. Another thing I noticed is that he ended the conversation. Sometimes abruptly. That might sound controlling, but I understood. Or maybe I just wanted to understand that.
"Bye!" I called to him.
"Oh, till tomorrow!" I heard his voice in the distance. Sighing, I trudged out of Pine College and walking back. Tomorrow, I felt, would be a tiring day.
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I never realised that I would have to think so much in philosophy...and fear for my own safety, either. We didn't get much done, I was more of a sit around and think sort of class. The class was actually held in the basement of the culture building. It was a dingy sort of room, with no windows and an old fashioned table setup, where three large tables could seat about four students at each, facing the old looking blackboard. There was only one lamp, on a string in the middle of the room, hanging from a simple wire. We didn't have that many people. About nine or so. Many of them were all occupied in staring at me. Probably thinking of if I will also start a murder spree.
At first, it went well. The professor, a dreamy looking woman was named Andorra. She wore a dark blue blouse with little yellow and white stars on it, and a long and light white skirt. An intricate flower headband was her only accessory. She said that she was a philosophy student professor and that we were her third class ever to be taught. The outline of the course didn't seem to be too hard and Andorra seemed nice, but she started off our actual class very wrong.
"So everyone, what I'd like to start of with is a notion." She was a soft spoken quiet woman. I strained to hear her speech. She scratched out her notes on the blackboard. "Good. And evil." Silence met her words. Even though I didn't turn around, I knew that everyone was staring. At me. I tried to only look at Andorra, and for now, my scheme worked. "So, any ideas?"
"Good is when you do something good." A student offered.
"What you do makes you good or bad." Somebody else said. "If you like, kill people, you are bad. If you help, you are good." I did not like where this conversation was going.
"Aha, so actions are what determine this good/evil outcome," Andorra was either blind, deaf or both. Literally everyone was whispering behind my back. She didn't even bat an eye when a girl whispered "how can we be so trusting and sit in a class with the son of a murder who doesn't even care that his father killed so many people?" It's not that I didn't care! It's just that it makes a bad introduction starter. 'Hi I'm Germany. By the way, my father's a dictator who marched people to their deaths. How was your day?' Seriously, I understand, but for an liberal arts and integration school, they have to be lighter about it.
Andorra shot an arrow though my thoughts. "Okay, now. We'll spit up into partners and discuss these ideas on the board." She wrote down a numbered list of ideas and looked around the class. Too bad for the last person, Croatia, who was stuck without a partner. "Croatia, why don't you discuss with Germany?"
"Okay," as if he was asked to go pick cranberries in a windy lightning storm, he moped to me with his things and sat down heavily next to me. His greyish blue eyes were reproachful as he looked me up and down. He had a red jacket on and didn't take it off, even if it was relatively warm in the class. His hands kept travelling to his neck, clutching his jacket's zipper. As the class started to talk, Croatia avoided my gaze and only when I spoke did he shudder slightly and his voice sounded cracked and shaky.
"So...ideas?" I tried to get him to talk. He suddenly snapped out of his trance and looked at me fearfully.
"Sorry?" He whispered. Again, his hands automatically crawling to his neck.
"Ideas," I was already getting annoyed. I didn't want to show that I was, since that would make Croatia freeze with fear.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he squeaked. "Yes, yes...um, well....good means um....charity and kindness...and um...evil is....ah.....umm....well...I don't know." He rounded his eyes and then looked quickly away. I guessed that I had to do the work this time. How I wished that I had Russia here with me. At least he wouldn't cower in fear and he might have interesting ideas. Too bad he was busy dancing.
"Okay, well, how about 'does knowing the balance between good and evil affect your choices'?"
"Sorry?" He said quietly again, as if I had waved a hand in front of his face. His eyes would repeatedly glaze over and he would stare into space. Only when I spoke did he come back into reality.
I had to ask him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He immediately lied.
"Okay then. What about 'do we chose between good and evil? How do we know what's best for us?' Croatia?" I tapped the desk so he would get back in touch with reality.
"Well....Okay, um we can choose because we know that good is...what we're supposed to do. And evil...not. Because we get punished for it in the end. Whether in life or after life."
"Interesting." Not. It is so hard to fish out an answer from him. And I can't even show that I'm annoyed, because then we'll get less work done. Fortunately for both of us, Andorra concluded the lesson and gave us an assignment to come up some of our own questions...with our partners. I heard a thump next to me and saw Croatia slide from his chair, clearly unconscious. He fainted. Andorra seemed unconcerned and just dragged him to her chair and fanned his face till he regained his consciousness.
"Don't forget! Please ask your partners to come up with questions...Oh no, Croatia!" This time he groaned and fell to the floor, crying. And of course, not only did my class see this, but everyone else in the hallway. Some were horrified, others thought it was funny and one girl even came up to ask if everything was okay. He looked at her with a desperate manic glint in his eyes.
"NO, NOTHING IS OKAY!" Croatia screamed. "I'M ALWAYS STUCK WITH SOME IDIOT OR MONSTER! WHY ME?!" He ran down the hall, sobbing and gasping for breath. Andorra, acting as cool as the weather outside shepherded her next class in and waved to me.
"Bye Germany, have a nice rest of the day," she shut the door behind her. As if nothing had happened. Now I had to do the homework assignment on my own. I didn't even feel like thinking about it. Since it was the break in between classes for me I walked over the salt and sand covered sidewalks and onto a little path that only had footsteps in it, though which I jumped to not get my feet wet. I actually wanted to go to the library, but with Croatia's scene in the hallway, I felt like gossip spread like wildfires here. To plainly speak, I would be in the obvious centre of attention there. I walked in a defeated manner towards my uncle's office when I saw somebody coming out. He didn't notice me yet. The ever present slight frown, grey ushanka and light purple eyes with their worried look. Russia. He was holding a binder in one hand and the door with the other.
"Oh, hello Germany," he smiled when he saw me. When I didn't answer he cocked his head and pointed to the door. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes...no," I switched my lie around midway. I figured that I trusted him enough. "Do you have a free period?"
"Yes," he nodded. "It just started. I needed to file something at the office," he answered my second question before I asked it. "Need something?"
"Not anymore." I sighed, and he walked back with me.
"What's wrong?" He asked, stretching his hand out but then left it hovering at my shoulder not sure whether or not to draw it away.
"Ah, I had that philosophy class today. How was Drama?"
His eyes lit up. "And, how did it go? I'm going to have Drama next period, actually."
"Well, fine at first. Then...not. Our teacher is a dreamy cloud who doesn't seem to notice that everyone is just staring at me. And then, she split us into partners to discuss...guess what, good and evil! My partner was Croatia, and he just didn't do anything. He was afraid of me,"
"Croatia, yeah he's a jumpy person. His policy is to run or faint, usually. But it's an interesting notion. What did Croatia do, lose consciousness?"
"Exactly what he did." I replied grimly. "Then, our professor assigned us homework to do with our partners!" Russia found a bench to sit on and waved me over. I sat next to him and recited the next part of my story. "Then, he fainted, woke, and then screamed out that he is always put with monsters and idiots or something like that.."
Russia cracked an involuntary smile. "Ah, he snapped. That shouldn't be funny, but go on. I know Croatia a little. He's always stuck with somebody he doesn't want. And he gets sour about it too. He bottles his emotions."
"So now I'm stuck with double homework!" I finished, burying my face in my hands. They were ice cold and I didn't stay like that long. "Because Croatia thinks I'm some sort of monstrosity."
"What is the homework?" He said calmly.
"Questions about good and evil."
"That should be easy for you!" He laughed. "You're a thinker. You should like this homework."
"It's a two person job." I sighed. "Croatia won't even talk to me."
"I can talk to you." He offered. "I might not be a thinker, but I can help."
"Thanks," I said warmly. "I just don't know where to start."
"Well...you can start with a definition. What is Good, what is Evil?"
"Oh, I've never thought of that...well...good is...hmm," I looked up at him and he smiled.
"Hard is it?"
"Without using those exact words, yes."
"Well...I personally, when I think about it, I don't think evil or good exist. I mean, can you define it? So do they exist? Or is it just a made up notion, something to keep people in line."
"Never thought like that." I took out a pen to write the questions down.
"Or maybe, how do we justify our actions using good and evil. For example you could be doing evil and not knowing it. So it it a crime? Something that people call Banal Evil, the worst kind. And why is it that we always think that 'good' is what we have to do? Do we really have that free will or are we afraid to cross the invisible boundary between supposed Blue and Red."
"How...long have you thought about this?"
"Not long. Just now. Really, don't look at me like that!" He straightened up and crossed his arms. "I really was."
"Those sound really thought out. I didn't even really think about starting with the definition."
"I always do. That's because I don't know many word definitions," he joked. "I speak plainly. Only when I know words do I use them. I've been asking U.K. for lists of words and I just memorize them."
"Oh, that's an interesting way of doing it."
"That's how my father learned English. By just memorizing words and sentences. No higher order thinking needed. Just time and motivation." He leafed though the binder in his hands. Before I could steal a look he snapped it shut before my eyes. "Only for me." He said playfully.
"Aw, can't I see?" I used my whining voice.
"Maybe soon. Not now." He replied cryptically. He placed it in his bag and folded his hands in his lap, looking out again. "To wrap up your philosophical thoughts, I think that each person has this theoretical good and evil inside each of us. There is always a balance. We just choose to show one side of it. Either the good or the bad. Like a mask. We can choose what mask we wear. The good or the bad one. Each day we figure it out. And each night we take it off."
"Sort of an analogy?"
"Yes, quite. I wouldn't get too worked up about it. It's a difficult class. After what you told me, I think that what I chose is a better match for me."
"Do you think I should change mine as well?"
He shook his head in disagreement. "No. You do whatever you want. It's not up to me. If I manipulate your choices you might not be happy with the experience you get. I'm just relating to myself. I cannot sit around and think. I am a man of action. I have to do something, and I have to divert my energy into either practical things or destruction. I took the calmer path." He pushed his ushanka above his brow. "You are, if I'm not mistaken, a man of theory. You can sit and ponder about the issues and ideas of the world and make plans and analogies. What you cannot do sometimes is act. That's where people of action come in. We create the plans that the Theorists make. It's a balance."
"Delicate balance," I conceded.
"Delicate doesn't always mean fragile." He finally looked at me, with his captivating lavender eyes. "Does it?"
"No. It doesn't."
He nodded in response and said nothing for a couple of seconds. "You're very interesting, but you have ideas that surprise me. Sometimes I feel that your quiet intelligence makes you blind to simple things. That's why I'm here. The simple proletariat to guide you." The gong of the clock sounded and he stood up. Turning to me, he did a quick salute and smiled. "You'll be alright. I know it. Holidays are coming soon and you won't need to worry that much anymore. I have to go now. It was nice to talk."
"Bye Russia."
"Bye Philosopher," he left me without any more words. I didn't turn to my own thoughts till I saw him round the corner. Man of Theory? What did he mean? He wasn't so proletarian if he came up with such complex ideas. Maybe he acted gruffly and cold on the outside, but inside he was understanding, helpful and a listener. An advisor. A heart. A friend.