First Draft: Chapter 15

I'm not sure exactly when this next event occurred.  It was sometime the following year.  I don't think it was in the fall, maybe late spring.  I was still at the University, still undecided about what I wanted to study.  My father would ask me every time he stopped by.
"Jonathon, you're in your second year of college now," he said once.  "You need to choose what you want to study."
He was visiting me in my dorm room.  I hardly ever went home when I didn't have to.  I was sitting in the chair, looking up at his figure.  I was taller then him now, but his figure still looked intimidating.  Abel had stopped accompanying my father on these visits, preferring to spend more time with his school friends instead.  "I know, I know."
"Well what are you interested in?"
I shrugged.  Anything?  Everything?  Nothing?  Nothing that was taught here at least.
"Well pick something," his voice boomed out in frustration.  He leaned forward towards me, almost seeming apologetic for his outburst.  "Look Jonathon, it doesn’t really matter what you study.  I'm going to get you a good job no matter what.  The important thing is you just get your degree.  I mean study something useful of course, but just go into whatever you want."  I nodded.  "Okay, now what we don’t want here is for you to go an extra year.  The sooner you get out of here, the sooner we can get you started with some real work."
"Alright."
He straightened himself up and turned to grab his things.  "I'll be back sometime next week to see how things are going."  As he walked towards the door he asked, "How's FJC going?"
"Good."
At this point he knew better then to try and get more of an answer out of me than that.  He stopped to give me a hard gaze though in the doorway.  "Don't you mess that up Jonathon.  That's your future there."
I nodded and swallowed back whatever it was that was in my throat.  He turned away again and walked out.

But not that much had changed.  I had spent the summer at home and was back in the dorms for the school year.  I had my own room again to the envy of my friends.  I was still a loyal Cadet, and I still attended art guild meetings when I could.
Anyway, one afternoon sometime in my second year at the University, I was sitting in my room trying hard to concentrate on some piece of writing I couldn't have cared less about when Icarus burst in through my door.  David followed close behind him.
Icarus had a jubilant look on his face.  David was also excited.  Before I could ask what they were up to, a book was thrown across my desk.  "Check it out," Icarus exclaimed.
I gently turned the book over in my hand.  It was a small thin book, on cheap paper.  There was really no binding on it, instead there were holes in the pages and the twine rope tied the book together.  I looked up in confusion.  "Go on," David urged.  "See what it says."
I turned the book over to the tittle page (there was no cover), and leaned back so that the light from the window fell on the pages.  "The problem of the hungry in a city of plenty," I read.  "An analysis of the unequal distribution of resources in the city of Urbae and the resulting destruction of the poor."  The cumbersome tittle would have ordinarily caused me to loose interest immediately, but this was heavy stuff.  No way a book like this could be legally published.
I looked up shocked.  "How in the world did this thing get published?"
But I had missed what they were excited about.  "No, not that.  Look at the author," Icarus declared.
I held the book up in front of my face again, and my eyes scanned down to the end of the page.  "By Clodius."  I looked up at their faces, looked down at the book again, and then looked up at them.  "He signed his name to it?"  My voice was soaked in disbelief.
"Outstanding, isn't it," Icarus responded.  He punched the air excitedly as if fighting an imaginary opponent.  "Our boy Clodius is really hitting them where it hurts."
It had turned out that expelling Clodius from the University had been perhaps one of the dumbest decisions the duke had allowed.  Far from the cold taste of reality it was intended to be, the expulsion had only driven Clodius into the arms of society's outcasts.  Clodius quickly met up with others who shared his radical ideas, and he became even more radicalized.  Then he and his radical companions had decided to publish their ideas in a bold move that showed perhaps they were not thinking clearly about the consequences.  I have little doubt that among them Clodius was not only the most intelligent but also the most eloquent.  Surely this is why he was chosen to author the book.  And rather then try and hide from the furor it would no doubt initiate, Clodius had proudly attached his name for all to see.
The book obviously reflected their limited means.  I don't know where they found the printing press but it had apparently seen better days.  As I flipped through the book, very few of the pages were centered correctly, and some pages didn't even fit all the words on the paper.  Yet they must be given credit for distributing it.  I later heard that the campus was flooded with these little booklets before the administrators were able to clean them up.  Students everywhere were grabbing as many of these things as they could in an effort to collect and hide them from the fire.  Imaginations across the campus were excited by this public act of defiance Clodius had produced.
And back in my room Icarus blabbered on in excitement he could barely contain about how I should read this thing immediately, and what a great genius this Clodius was, and how insightful Clodius had proven himself to be.  David chimed in, and as I flipped through the book I saw snippets of what was a scathing attack on the duke and all of Fabulae's political system.
I closed the book.  If it had been a hard cover, it would have thudded close.  As it was the papers just fluttered loudly in protest at being so quickly pressed together.  "You going to read that thing or what?" Icarus asked.
I shook my head as I handed it back.  "I'm an FJC.  I can't afford to even be in the same room as this thing."
Icarus' jaw dropped.  "What?  What's with you man?"
David was surprised as well.  "Jonny?  Since when have you been concerned about following the rules?"
I sighed inwardly.  Anger still burned within me.  It had never left me.  I couldn't stand the duke, or the FJC, or any of this stuff.  But I felt beaten.  What's the use?  Besides, I was not going to get in trouble for reading some book.  What kind of an act of defiance is that?
"Things are more serious now," I said in a tone that betrayed even I didn't believe what I was saying.  They just kind of stood there shocked for a minute.  "Now get that thing out of here."
Clodius was immediately expelled from Urbae the next day.  Old Flash even prohibited him from setting foot anywhere in Fabulae, upon pain of death.  Everyone knew it was no bluff.  I can't help but wonder, reader, if Old Flash ever thought to himself, "Well, there goes that problem.  I won't have to deal with that kid anymore."