ЦАРЬ KAISER - A Race to Conquer (Countryhumans)

Friendship

This is Germany's point of view

"Have a good day, papa," I called through the window. Don't create a scandal, my inner critic muttered. He didn't seem to hear what I said, which was not out of the norm, so I didn't take it as unusual. 

I waited until the door shut behind him and only then did I drive up the freeway to my school. It was more of an advanced trade school which my uncle revered, but I felt that many of my peers were flat and dull, lacking personality. Not that anyone was slouching academically. Yet I had no friends there. Nor did anyone. It was just reality. 

The building compound that the school resided in looked like a foreboding monolith, but inside it was relatively pretty and quiet. The parking lot was underground, so I walked through the huge gates on foot. The large courtyard muffled the roar of the road and was dotted with several species of leafy trees and tall shrubbery.  Little flower beds lined the white chalk walkways stemming out to different wings of the school. The paths were different sizes in comparison to how they were used. I followed a larger path to the lecture halls and beginner classes. 

As always, silence reigned in the halls. Many windows faced the courtyard, so light flooded the building. The sunshine warmth could not penetrate the thick glass, and could only light the cold atmosphere that remained constant day in and day out. Class doors faced strictly to the left, and hallways right. Our classrooms were alight with bright fluorescent LED lighting, and tiny slivers of natural sunlight pierced through the rectangular windows a finger-wide. As per my first class, I walked precisely fifty steps to my lecture hall labelled Hall 3A. The auditorium was colder than the hall, and gooseflesh prickled my skin. The professor was already there, writing his notes on the board. We only acknowledged each other's presence with a quick greeting and fell silent. for this reason, I always had a book tucked in my bag somewhere. 

I started my training as a computer support technician a few months ago when I completed an interest internship with a large firm. Many of my old classmates were shocked when I announced my decision to transfer to a trade school instead of pursuing university. It seemed to be a good opportunity for me, as it was down to earth and, well, real. Many of my friends severed ties with me afterwards. 

Class began not a minute early and not a minute late. My class was smaller than average and was spaced out evenly across the auditorium. The professor started to talk about computing processing and bit data. 

"Bit data is a chain of binary digit data that is situated in ones and zeros. This corresponds to the electrical value off and on..." The professor talked on. Much of the information was found in the textbooks, and if you worked hard to read and wrote notes during the study, you didn't need to do much during the lecture. The professor never broke for breath, and I vaguely wondered how long he practised. 

After a long day of two more lectures and a lab class consecutively, I finally walked out of the bronzed gates and out of the compound. The school was located near a wide river on a hill, where if you walked down you could reach the embankment and walk down to a steel cable bridge made for pedestrians. I headed down to the bridge where I knew I would find someone waiting for me. 

We would meet at exactly three forty-five every day at the west foot of the bridge. I would probably describe it as the best part of the day. 

And everyone who knew me knew about my friend, Russia. The reaction of realisation would result in raised eyebrows to a shouting match. But we never challenged family points of view. That's how we remained friends so long. He was dressed in a white cotton shirt and dark denim jeans instead of a crisp dress shirt and black trousers I was used to. It took me time to adjust that we weren't in traditional secondary school anymore.