Chapter 27

I begin to learn the symbols that are on the pieces of paper that Linda has shown me. She says this is called reading.

At first I do not see how I may learn this, but Linda says it is much easier than I think, that even small children learn. And soon I find this is so. Each symbol is a sound of speech and there are only a few such, and with these symbols one may assemble all words that may be spoken.

After I understand this it goes quickly. Linda says that my memory is very good, and that I am quick in mind. I tell her that in the time when I live before there are no symbols to help, that all things must be held in memory and that there is no time to be slow in mind. Those who are slow and who forget will not live long and will not make children who may share their slowness.

“Natural selection,” she says. “I suppose that would have been pretty strong back then.”

Linda drives again to what she calls town, and this time when she returns she has a big smile. She hands me a paper that is not entirely flat as those I have held before, this one has parts that have been pushed out slightly.

“Look at it,” she says. When I do I see that one place has my name, the new name she has told me I will have. I cannot read all, but I think this may be the paper she has told me is to be sent to me. I ask if this is so.

“Oh, yes,” she answers. “It’s your birth certificate, the one I sent off for. It’s the first step in making you legal.” She makes kiss with me strong.

“Will I now receive ID?” I ask.

“We’re going to have to go get it,” she says, “but this is what you’ll need to show them. One of the things, anyhow.”

I still do not understand, but because Linda is pleased I, too, am pleased. It seems that soon I will have the ID that is needed for me to live in this place and to work for the money I must have.

Then is something that confuses me greatly. Linda tells me that before we go to get ID I must learn to behave as if I am slow in mind, very slow. I look at her in great surprise.

“Look, Hugo, you don’t know enough about this time yet to pull it off alone.” she says. “This thing says you were born here, but you don’t act like other people do and you don’t talk like other people, not yet. The ones who give out the IDs, they’re going to notice that and they’re going to wonder about it.”

It is true that my speech is not as Linda’s, or as those I see on teevee, and that I do not yet know many of the ordinary ways of acting here. I know this, it is as it was in my travels, those in the places where I went knew I was not of those places. Even more will those here see me as different.

“So I’ll have to go with you and help you, and that has to have some explanation,” she tells me. “I suppose there are other ways to handle it, but the simplest one is that you’re retarded.”