Chief Piece - Amiya

Since two o’clock, I have been sitting in the RTS (Real Time Strategy) room by myself. I keep myself occupied during my hour of free time by picking up people’s materials left behind from earlier that day. For the hundredth time this period, I look at my watch waiting for the big and to hit the two and the little hand to land on the nine. As it is two-forty-four right now, I stare at the door waiting for them to enter. Almost forgetting where I am situated, I immediately remove myself from the computer chair, and sit down on the couch chair nearest the back wall and farthest from the televisions and computers. A minute later, at two-forty-five, students begin filing into the empty room. One by one they all trail in looking optimistic and relieved and tired (4a). Almost like an instinct, several students took over the frail looking couch and turned on the video games with excitement. I sit quietly watching people amuse themselves with the school’s games and listening in the conversation between each group of people. About three o'clock, a girl waltzed in the room carrying cups of purple, blue, yellow paint colors in her arms (4). I watch her while she takes her time trying to find the perfect spot to start her work. Over and over again I hear the same intense screams of the students competing for first place against each other in the video games. The group of people situated on the unattractive couch burst into laughter, not even trying to stifle the laugh with their fists; that’s one thing different about the RTS room than at the ward, everyone wanted to be loud in their laughter and personal enjoyment. I just hope none of them are laughing at me and my act that I put on. It is now that I notice those people were not paying me any mind at all, they were all interested with something said by the guy in the middle of the couch. I focused my attention back to the girl painting and attempted to decipher what she could be drawing. For the first time since the school year began two weeks ago, it has occurred to me that this special room and the different people in it are unlike any Combine I have experienced before. The students here show no sign of similarities to each other, and have opportunities to explore their different interests, like deciding to complete assignments or playing games or even creating artwork for everyone to see. At the ward, all of the patients including myself preferred not to embrace ourselves mostly due to the fear of consequences handled by the controlling nurse, Miss Ratched. I view this organization of students as all different kinds of machines that benefit the society, whereas the patients back in the ward are supposedly machines needing fixing to contribute to society. As I got lost in my thoughts, one of the guys playing the game turned towards me and asked if I had wanted an opportunity in the pleasurable competition. I declined his offer since I seemed to be well fascinated with the girl painting her design on the white wall. Usually no one ever bothered turning their attention to me. I am so used to watching other people, not the other way around, and I did not plan to change that any time soon. . At three-fifty, I looked to where the girl painting stood now done with her art piece. She used the center of the huge white wall to paint an array of uniquely colored butterflies gradually spreading out, flying towards the ceiling. No two butterflies have the same color patterns, and eventually each butterfly ends up flying in different directions than the one next to it.  I glanced out the doorway to see if any teacher was on their way to the room to yell at her for marking up school property, but no one was in the hall, no one even paid attention to what anyone in the room was doing.