Diaries
an excerpt

*notes: “commons” refers to normal Saint John’s students

Gilbert’s diary
November the first

I hate churches. They stand for everything I loathe, willing mortification, stupid indoctrination, sheepish devotion and silly superstition turned virtue. Saint John’s Cathedral is particularly horrid, it is all pointy and filled with bloody stained glass, inside it looks like a slaughter house, outside it appears to be a petrified bulging monster. I’ve always dreamt about smashing apart the altar, twisting the aisles into splinters as I go along and then burning down the whole thing and bring down. Of course it will never happen- not only have some the people from some Historical Association or other dubbed it “a monument of invaluable value” (goes to show they never actually bothered looking at the damned thing in the first place, otherwise they would have seen just how monumentally ugly it is) as plenty of commons are exceedingly fond of the whole absurdity. It makes me mad, it really does, allowing that carcass to invest the grounds of my school, casting a shadow of intellectual mildew that is far from harmless. Were it just a building I would simply be annoyed at its ugliness but there is much more to it, not that silly commons would know a threat if it struck them blind, they’re like the lambs this festering creed has so highly commended, weak creatures tittering and unable to support their own weight without the canker ridden crutch of God, Love, Pretty Flowers and other pathetic placebo-like myths.
Preaching insanity is comforting, it seems. At least that’s what they’ve told me on the rare occasions they were actually bold enough to confront me. Nowadays the theology wimps scatter like, well, sheep (it’s one of those analogies that is ironically accurate) as if I was about to club them to death. Which I am tempted to do, perhaps blunt trauma is the only way of awakening a glimmer of thought that might still linger under those thick skulls of theirs. Having to deal with their antics taxes my patience and I am by no means a patient man. I know for a fact that they did their best to sabotage the elections but too much incense and not a complete lack of common sense damaged their position considerably, I won as I expected to (there was never any real competition. Saint John’s is my playground and I’ll do as I see fit to assure that it remains my stepping stone for ruling something greater. Maybe I’ll settle for the nation, or take the whole continent. Why stop there, though. There’s a whole world to be conquered, waiting for those strong enough to claim and make it theirs. So much for the meek inheriting the planet, were they to do so civilization- no, reason as we know it- would wither away and die.) and they ended up coming across as a bunch of half mad zealots. Which suited me fine, in fact I insured that my public statements were as acerbic toward christianity as possible, the bait was bitten with all the relish of a waver and in less than a week I established myself as a reasonable albeit a tad extreme individual going against blind legions of clowns.
Saint John’s has gained the reputation of being too liberal and borderline extremist since I became President of the Student Council, I fully expected that this would happen. It sets the school apart from the likes of Barlow who are all too happy to be as conventional and boring as they can possibly be and then some more. Maybe it’s because I’m a Kingsley that I know just how dangerous entropy ultimately is. Revolutions only slay what should have died of its own accord aeons ago. Still, the commons have their role to play and can be very useful. After all to play chess there must be plenty of pawns in the game. They exist to be sacrificed and moved along the board, the trick is making sure is creating the illusion that they chose the square into which they are smoothly cornered. Allow the commons to believe that they have a choice and they’ll become clay and do whatever is required of them. In essence it does not differ much from managing a fiefdom only more subtle and considerably more interesting.
True human alchemy is this art of making others do your own will without their being aware that what moves them stems from the outside. Many dictators fail to see this and the consequences were drastic. I’ll run Saint John’s as an experiment, let the commons be the chemicals I mix to achieve my final concoction.
Still, there are those that are difficult to blend into the mix and that stand out. Two strategies remain to deal with these rare creatures: one is to coerce them into collaboration, the other is straight forward annihilation. Which one I shall use with John is something I’ve wondered at length. In many ways he’s something of an enigma. I had him investigated and still found almost nothing of his past. He lacks any family and as such does not even have a surname (a huge contrast with my situation, my full name, Gilbert Christopher Maddison Kingsley, is absurdly lengthy), there are no records of his until the age of eight and even afterwards the details are sketchy at best. I’ve considered talking to his Highschool teachers or sending someone to do it for me but for some silly reason I feel that it might be intruding on his privacy. Not that I should worry overmuch about that, I’m not going to let his mostly harmless aura fool me into thinking he’s just a pretty boy that just happens to be smart. Oh no, he might have the entire school convinced that he’s not dangerous (truth be told he does not look very menacing in the traditional sense. I’m pretty sure I could easily break him in two, and I mean this in the most literal sense possible, after all he’s lithe, mostly polite, extremely formal, casually negligent of what others think of him, extremely detached and full of cold suavity- that’s the best way I can describe it) but I’ve seen him wield a sword, his frailty is a very clever cover that falls apart at such times. There’s nothing fragile about this kid, even on a very basic level he is capable of sudden bursts of physical strength that can overthrow many a bigger person.
More, he has an uncanny sense of inner equilibrium. He sways to the rules of physics and uses gravity as if it were a tool. All this make him a very interesting specimen. With enough idiosyncratic traits to fill an entire psychology manual, even his polite manners are vaguely upsetting, he’s one of the few people who truly know how to turn etiquette into covert violence. Speaking of violence, the kid’s probably capable of slitting my throat one of these days. I wonder if the crowds that dote upon his every word have the faintest inkling of this.
This reminds me of the fabled duel I had to fight against him. The whole point was to set a common right: that feeble minded roommate of his that is given to hysterics was summoned to a fencing duel just so he’d see that I do not suffer fools. But John dragged out some obsolete clause or other and fought in his stead. Why is anyone’s guess, really. It could be that he cares for Palmer but I suspect his emotions follow different laws that those of most people (Snake Boy would jump for joy if he could but analyze him. Being Snake’s guinea pig is not altogether bad, venting keeps me keen and steady), at any rate he took the challenge when he didn’t have to. And to my surprise- I admit that it did not cross my mind it could happen- he did not lose. It was a month ago to this day, funny how time seems to slip when you’re having fun.
Being the vultures that they are, the commons filled the arena. That’s part of the game, of course: public appearance is always a necessary evil in effective leadership. I’ve grown used to it, casting a particular image is fifty per cent of the effort required to dominate. The arbiters were handpicked by the Council with a few apparent wild cards to give the impression of a completely fair contest. John chose a first blood match, pretty risky even when using fake swords (they go by the name of “foils” and I never understood the point of using them. Were it not for school regulation I’d implement the use of living blades on campus, there’s no point in shying away from force if the idea is to fight), he virtually forced me to hit him in order to win. It’s odd, I’ve lost count of the many poor souls who hated me enough to strike at my position but they all cowered from placing themselves in harm’s way. John differs in that he seems to either not care (which fits his general placid attitude) or to actually enjoy the potential for pain (which places him in a most intriguing light). He was methodically removed but there was no hint of leniency in him. The boy means business, that much is clear.
I recognized his stance as a hybrid force borrowed from Hawk’s lessons (I should thank Hawk one of these days, he honed him pretty well and it’s been ages since I’ve met anyone who could actually fence with me) and acquired from classical fencing manuals. He surprised me in that he was considerably faster than he should be and much more inventive than a newbie had any right to be. John fences as if he was waltzing, as such he should be very predictable once one gauges his rhythm but he introduces oddly suicidal moves that completely jar any pattern. He’s a natural and I don’t think he even knows it.
Even when I swindled him out of his sword (he still lacks experience and it shows) he insisted on staying his ground and re-stated his right to pursue the duel with a new blade. There’s something oddly…compelling, for lack of a better turn, in seeing him getting to his feet and requesting to resume the fight even though he was clearly exhausted. It’s not every day I come across such sport so I naturally took my time in tiring him out. Looking back it seems that through it all John was assessing me in a much more accurate way than I was processing him. That analytical mind of his is not to be underestimated, I should never forget that he is a genius of the perilous kind, sixteen years old or not he is uncannily intelligent and I suspect he hides a lot of his potential. Can’t say I blame him for that.
He’s very lucid too. The day before the duel I got to talk for him for the first time, before that I had spotted him playing his violin out in the fields at night. It was impressive, how unearthly he looked in the moonlight and how masterly he played, it was as if his whole being was contained in the music. It’s difficult to express it, John’s intimacy with music goes beyond mere love and borders on identification. At one time I played the piano and was reminiscing (something I hardly ever do, I have no time or disposition to go through the accidents of my past, despite what Snake boy might say I do not need dead emotional baggage from bygone days weighting me down) in the music room when he strolled in with the famous violin in tow. I asked him whether he truly believed that he could win the duel and he stated that it was highly unlikely, yet he reasserted that he could not lose either. No bragging here, I suspect John errs on the side of modesty if anything.
He proved true to his word. When I finally decided to give a coup the grace and just end the duel he anticipated my move, instead of dodging or in any way attempt to block my attack he simply slid into my defence by completely dropping his. The result was a technical tie, regulations were consulted and his pet clause, resurrected from remote ages to assist his whim, ruled him the functional if not the actual victor. A strange compound of calculation and abandon went into this tactic. It’s a shame that he did not lose, though. I don’t care much about winning, as things stands I am the better swordsman and John is very aware of this but it would be highly entertaining to see his reaction. Mayhap he’d be angry. I think I’d like to see that, there’s a lurking anger somewhere deep inside of him. I can tell because I’ve fenced with him. He has superb self control, he’s mastered this impulse and channelled it elsewhere, his violin and fencing are not contradictory aspects of the same person so much as they are different and complementing means of release. I suspect that if they fail to do so or if some hang-up were to keep his gears from spinning then he might turn into something extremely lethal. And that is worth pushing a few buttons.
John can go about with his perfect grades, his perfect charm, his perfect smooth ways, in the end I’ll uncover the truth beneath all sham glamour and see what it is that makes the boy tick. On a side note, Regina has taken a fancy to John. Trust sis to choose the emotionally crippled as love interests. But I concede to the point that he can very persuasive whenever he enters on a topic of discussion that is close to his heart. Being a tad naïve despite everything Regina is bound to be impressed by such flights of eloquence and devotion. Hell, even I am slightly moved when he decides to break the ice and rant about this and that. This only interests me in a most marginal fashion, I did not raise Regina to be a fool but I’m not her keeper either. Let her choose for herself. And let him choose for himself, too. Only it’s virtually impossible to see how he stands regarding my sister. People don’t seem to matter much to him, ideas do. Too much Hegel, I say. Coupled with touching but childish concepts about human nature, Existence, The Universe and Everything Else and a wonderful way of delivering such matters in a convincing manner, he was bound to catch Regina’s attention sooner or later.
Odd, it’s already midnight and I’ve wasted too much time writing about John. Talk about getting carried away. Snake Boy did tell me I’d find more than enough things to write once I actually tried gave this diary thing a go- of course his ultimate goal is to gauge some psychological rule of sorts. I was under the impression that these kind of surveys involved more or less large groups of people but Snake Boy is a sneaky one, he probably has a whole different approach to it. His “anatomy of genius” would be insulting were it not very useful- as I stated before venting does help- even if I have the nagging suspicion he’d gladly cut my brain if that would give him the answers he’s been hunting for. But that’s alright, all interactions are a matter of exchanging a currency and dealing with interest.