Daniel rather thought that the degree to which most people denied their own self-interest was drawing up to shocking in the current day and age. Idealism had spread rapidly, enforcing the notion that to be a good person, one must embrace selflessness and care for others above themselves. Selfishness was generally frowned upon, and this was very strange because the society they lived in was almost entirely structured around self-serving action. The act of charity was wonderful, of course, but maintained almost exclusively by the rich who had a lot to give. Even the aforementioned rich must have at some point, he reflected, have been altogether selfish in their going about, or else they would not be as wealthy as they are in the present.
From an evolutionary perspective, this made absolute sense, as the primary goal of living was, in essence, to stay alive as long as possible. The continuation of one's existence was particularly self-centered, he thought, for if you would simply hurry up and die, that selfless act would provide a meal for someone further up on the food chain.
There were, of course, animals much further up on the food chain than humans, but the notion that their entire species were nothing more than complex animals seemed to be too difficult for most minds to stomach. Humans, or Homo sapiens, were nothing more than extraordinarily intelligent beasts, but beasts nonetheless, and as such he felt it necessary to remind himself that his selfishness was ingrained in him from his very being. Millions of years and thousands of generations had ensured that he felt the way he did today: particularly self-interested. There was simply no use in denying it: He was a rather selfish person, and that, he thought, was perfectly alright.
He stretched against the linen of his blanket, flipping over in a kind of wiggle to stare out of the window. He couldn't be much bothered to get out of bed, as it was still quite early and the sun was only beginning to rise. It melted languidly into the sky, bursting fiery pigment through the clouds. It had, he mused, a type of ferocious beauty that was reserved by nature only for sunrises and volcanoes. Perhaps certain types of whales, as well.
He knew that he would have no need to wake for at least two more hours, in fact, considering that his father was on a business trip somewhere in east Asia, and his mother would be leaving for work shortly. It was not uncommon that they left him alone; In fact, he had decided that he quite preferred it to the loud bustle of family life. He found that it offered him time to think quietly about things, as he felt that he was a bit of an intellectual type. His room alone proved that: books were strewn over the mahogany floor, drained cups of tea on almost every available surface, and a mountainous pile of school supplies that bordered on impressive lay around.
He had often wondered of considering himself an intellectual meant that he wasn't one: Once, upon being asked what his IQ was, Albert Einstein replied that he had absolutely no idea, and that only fools would bother with such things. Daniel had always bore a slight insecurity about this, as he felt that perhaps thinking he was clever invalidated any possibility of it being true. Perhaps he-
His thoughts were cut off by an unnervingly loud whistle from a passing train. This too was not an infrequent occurrence and had troubled him consistently since he had moved there at the age of seven. His family had evidently thought it a good idea to move directly near the central station. He could not deny that this certainly connected them to the heart of the city: indeed, he himself often found it a convenience to be relished when traveling. All the same, at any time he was not traveling, he found it a tremendous nuisance. He was very much looking forward to next year when he would finally be rid of the wretched noises.
At present, he was of course in London, staying with his parents, but his mind was in a place of an entirely different sort. Daniel was coming up on his fifteenth birthday, entailing with it the beginning of tenth grade. The ninth grade, he recalled with a sense of mild interest, had been easier than expected. Homework had been somewhat difficult, but manageable, and he had not felt any real need to make acquaintances or friends, as he would be departing to America the following year.
Ah yes- America, he thought with a sort of warm contented feeling in his stomach. Since he had been quite young, he could remember a constant nagging at the back of his head, to go somewhere. Not that London wasn't lovely; it was perfectly adequate in every way. Still, he had wanted to leave to somewhere more exciting, with more opportunities and things to do. Perhaps it was simply that innate yearning to be away from his birthplace, regardless of how central that place may be. At any rate, he was very excited to be departing Europe and studying abroad.
His mother had informed him worriedly the previous year of this change in plans, and he had been looking forward to it ever since. His mother, of course, was always worried, the kind of bustling sort of woman that would string your nerves out and leave you with an inexplicable feeling that you had forgotten something. Not to say that he didn't love his mother; Of course, he loved his mother, it was just that he found her distressed demeanor somewhat exhausting at times.
Such times were most pronounced when he was attempting to do simple tasks, such as iron a garment, or fix the undersink pipe that so often leaked. Some people were simply too bothered about all things in general, and his mother was definitely a member of that population. His father, by contrast, was not particularly inclined to be overly anxious, but was nonetheless always busy; Extensively so, in fact, to the point where Daniel did not see him much at all over the course of an ordinary day. He had heard some call his father "absent" but he did not think that was truly justified. His father was around enough to be included as a part of Daniel's life, and he was overall doing a relatively good job of being a parent, as far as he could see.
Some nights the entire family would come together for dinner, and this was his favorite kind of meal. There was something about the warm, family atmosphere that conveyed a certain sense of togetherness that he felt he lacked. Most days, dinner was just him and his mother in the kitchen, as his father was always flown off to some place or another. The silver counters and white walls of the kitchen did little to counteract the gloomy atmosphere, and he preferred to spend as little time there as possible.
He did not want to think about the kitchen, though, as a dark depressing atmosphere would not be well suited to his current purpose. He was revising for the following year, and poring over his new chemistry textbook. It wasn't difficult to understand, but he thought that some of the concepts would take time digesting. Electron shells were admittedly quite daunting, and he thought that perhaps it would be better to take a break; After all, he didn't really have to learn all of it right now, as that was what school was for. He could not be sure that he would have competent teachers, and he recalled that his eighth-grade teacher hadn't been as good as expected. Still: This was a top notch institution after all, and based on the prestigious reviews that colleges were giving, he gathered that he was not likely to have a teacher that was too terrible.
That being said, he always liked to be prepared. He settled against his beanbag and opened a world history textbook. 'The people of ancient Aztec traditionally sacrificed those who performed well in their ball sport known as pok to pok.' He wondered what life would be like in America. He wondered how quickly he would make friends, and if he would make them at all. He was studying precalculus over the summer, and he hoped that he could make his way into the honors calculus class for the following semester. 'The people of ancient Aztec traditionally sacrificed...' He tried to put it out of his mind, he knew that worrying would only make things worse. Worrying was one of his worst flaws, he knew, and it had become a real problem as of late. Worry had a way of worming its way into his mind at the worst of times, and nesting there like some kind of revolting insect. '...who performed well in their ball sport known as pok to pok...' But no, he was sure of it this time. He would not allow himself to be victim to the anxieties that his mother so often had, especially now that he was fully aware of their dangers. Anxiety, according to Health For Life: A Guide, constant worrying could even cause a person to die sooner. He most certainly did not want to die sooner; Death was one of those strangely daunting things that tended to linger in the back of one's mind. He was much too young to be personally familiar with it, and he understood the concept, but something about it was inexplicably uncomfortable. '...in their ball sport known as pok to pok...' He closed the textbook, letting it slide off his lap into the sheets. There was simply no point in studying anymore. He couldn't read a word more of it; He was much too excited to be going to school.
The summer was very nearly over, and just under a week remained before his departure. He'd be leaving before that, in America for three days before the start of school in order to get his bearings. He'd be staying on campus for the next three years, as this was the sort of fancy preparatory school where all of the young people attending would be staying there, he supposed, to not be distracted from learning by things like their families. He wondered if he would miss his family, and how it would feel. He'd never been away for that long before, so he was actually beginning to get quite nervous when he decided to put an end to his thinking. He would think about it tomorrow, tomorrow when he would continue his reading. He slid off of the bed, pulling off his socks and feeling the carpet against his feet as he walked to the bathroom to prepare for bed. Still, deep in the back of his mind despite tucking the thought aw he couldn't help but wonder: What would the following year hold for him?