Chapter 4: Getting Foster Parents

Child Services finally picks me up. I’m not expecting much. This is the same offices that in two years will have two screw-ups that will be so bad it causes the complete overhaul of how our nation deals with child welfare cases. The first mistake was that a large group of children were taken out of their homes when there was no reason. If, for any reason, a child’s name came across their desk, the child was removed from the home. Most cases brought to child services are/were false alarms; either children getting back at their parents or nosy neighbours that misinterpret something. The second was the extreme opposite. I don’t remember the kid’s name. His parents were abusing him, and almost everybody in his life reported it to Child Services. They sent a social worker to talk with the parents and closed the case. Many more people came forward, and Child Services once again ignored it.

I know what you are thinking. The social workers got in shit for taking too many children out of their homes when it was unwarranted. Then they were gun-shy and became hesitant to remove children from their homes. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened. Like most government agencies in Canada, there was no accountability. The social workers were too lazy to investigate properly. They would remove children from their homes until there were no more resources for such things. When all the temporary housing and foster homes were full, they didn’t have any room for more children, and miraculously, all the child abuse cases became false alarms.

In the end, the kid died, even though many different people brought forth sufficient proof that the child should have been removed from his home. The sad thing is, every Child Welfare office within BC was given a bad name because of it. In spite of everything that happened having come out of the Fort Grand office, nobody was fired or charged with criminal negligence. As I said, there was no accountability. It is the same reason why the RCMP are/were so corrupt.

Mrs. Hamilton, the social worker that collects me from the police, is an extremely attractive woman. She is in her late 30s and is definitely a MILF. Most northerners are fat, which is needed for the winter. Mrs. Hamilton was born and raised in Fort Grand, but she sure doesn’t look like it. Her chest is slightly larger than you would expect for her small frame, but that is likely because she has three children. One of which is the best-looking girl at my school. There is a lot of physical resemblance between mother and daughter.

My conclusion that this isn’t a dream is reaffirmed as we walk out to her car.

If you look through history, you will notice the most extreme geniuses tend to have one thing in common. I’m not talking about lesser geniuses like Einstein. I mean people like da Vinci and Socrates, the real geniuses of all time. They tend to have fewer connectors between their brain halves. It is how da Vinci could paint with his left hand while writing a scientific paper with his right. The true geniuses were so because they typically had two thoughts in their conscious mind at any given moment. Imagine being able to explore multiple sides of a problem simultaneously, or if you are unsure about something, you could feasibly have each side of your brain use opposing ideas, and you debate with yourself. It is not like being able to read somebody’s mind or having two people in control of one body. Both thoughts come from the same mind, and you can consciously decide which side to let dominate.

Analytical people know there are times when thinking based on emotion is the intelligent thing to do; they just don’t know how to think emotionally. People who think based on emotion know there are times when thinking analytically is better. The greatest geniuses continually think both ways. You would think there would be more disagreements within such a mind, but there isn’t. More often than not, both sides of the brain come up with the same answer. Most times, when there is a clear disagreement, it is evident whether you should be thinking analytically or emotionally. It is rare when there is no clear-cut answer as to which side to listen to.

This was how I was before the military drugged me, and my organ failure poisoned my brain. Most books describe losing half your intelligence as if there is a fog that comes over you. I didn’t feel that way at all. When I was at my worst, I was extremely slow of thought. Sometimes, I couldn’t come up with words that were in my everyday vocabulary. Even when I got better, I no longer had the two concurrent thoughts in my head. I found that I was no longer always the first one to come up with an answer, nor did I always come up with the best one. My thinking wasn’t just slowed, it was flawed, and I was more prone to mistakes.

I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have the vast wealth of knowledge from before the military screwed me. My brain was still split, but I didn’t have the brainpower for each side to think on its own. With the clear split between the brain halves, the communication between my brain halves was slow. The only reason people didn’t realize I had become mentally retarded was all the knowledge I retained. Most problems had clear answers simply because of the knowledge I had or the decisions I made in the past. My friends did notice that, on occasion, it would take me a long time to come up with simple answers.

I didn’t notice having all of my brainpower back, because when you are relaxed or when one side needs to dominate, you often don’t hear the thoughts of the other half. From the moment I came back in time, my analytical side has been dominating all thought. I have been forced to think my way through a fucked-up situation where emotion would have hampered me. Since I haven’t had time to think, it isn’t until I get to the police station that I notice how much quicker and more precise my thoughts are.

I suppose calling myself retarded isn’t accurate. Post-military me was retarded compared to pre-military me. That is to say; once I was healed, I became slightly below average. To me, that was extremely slow and clumsy.

The first time I notice having my entire mind back, Mrs. Hamilton is walking me to her car. My mind is filled with impure thoughts of her and Heather, her daughter. At the same time, I am trying to think my way through dealing with Child Services. No one thought pattern dominates, and both are clear.

We get in her car, and she asks me, “What is with the smile? Even when it is a good thing that a child is taken from his home, he is at least sombre because he is unsure of his future.”

How am I supposed to tell her, I am ecstatic to have my mind back? I’m also in a 14-year-old body when I am 69. Sure, this body is fucked up, but I know everything I need to do to fix it. In my first life, I was at my physical peak when I was only 16. I am also elated, knowing how this life will be so much better.

It is common for a genius’ EQ to be inverse that of their IQ, meaning if you are capable of learning super fast, you are likely to be slow on picking up social cues. The smarter you are, the slower you are socially. I’m not going to have that problem; I’m 69-years-old. I have already made almost every social mistake a person can make and have learnt from them. You have no clue how much a true genius wants to fit in. The number one medical problem among the top 1% smartest people in the world is substance abuse. It isn’t a matter of being an addict. It is a matter of hindering the mind, so it is easier for people to relate to you and for you to connect with others. To always be the smartest person in the room is lonely.

Despite knowing all the horrors that await me, I have every reason to be happy. I have my mind back. I will have a healthy body, and I will not be alone. It is like winning the lottery after having the woman of your dreams confess her love. How am I supposed to not have a smile on my face? How am I supposed to explain that to her?

I’m forced to tell her a half-truth, “I’m used to dealing with change on my own. Unless you stick me in with a child molester, my life is about to get a lot better.”

“That is a good attitude. Hopefully, we will be able to help you so that you will not have to deal with things on your own.”

Believe it or not, that is all the time we had to talk in the car. Despite the Ministry of Children and Family Development being a provincial ministry, it is in the federal building, which is only a block south of the police department.

“If we were only travelling a block, why did we take a car? You look like you keep fit, so I doubt you are opposed to short walks.”

“Not every child comes willingly, and it is easier to drive a block then carry a kid, kicking and screaming.”

“Fair enough. I’m getting a bit hungry. When am I going to get lunch?”

“I thought the police would have fed you.”

“Why would they? I wasn’t in protective custody, and I wasn’t a prisoner. They were just holding on to me until your ministry got off their ass.”

“We will go inside for a quick interview, and then we will get you something at the hospital.”

“Have you been to the hospital? There isn’t a cafeteria, the only food in the gift shop is chocolate bars, and the chances are the gift shop is closed.”

“We’ll get you something after the hospital.”

“Given the extent of my injuries, they will want to do a little forensics to look for past injuries. That means a full-body x-ray. Since there is only a small x-ray machine, it means taking many smaller x-rays. We won’t start until the tech finishes with whatever they are doing. Then we will have to pause every hour or so for the tech to take care of their appointments. It will be long after supper by the time we finish, and we can grab something to eat.”

“There is nothing I can do about it now.”

“Bullshit, there is a reason there is a treasurer in your office. Let your boss know. Have him fill out the paperwork to release funds for a meal and have him send somebody over to McDonald’s to pick something up.”

“It’s not that simple. My boss is busy, and there is nobody to drive to McDonald’s.”

“You will never accomplish anything if all you ever do is look at the why not. Take care of the paperwork for my meal, then drive me to McDonald’s. We will have at least an hour’s wait for the doctor, then another hour with the x-ray tech. I’m supposed to have a guardian with me at the hospital anyway, so do my interview there.”