It's 1991. I'm 0 years old. I'm shouting, I'm wailing, being pulled and pushed from the warm darkness into the outer light. A dark little imp of a human. Eyes closed. Limbs flailing. Helpless, but for my mighty lungs and throat. Hear me roar.
It's 1997. I'm 4 years old. I'm weeping in front of the school gates. Just like I wept two years ago, only this is a different side of the school. A lady comes to me. She's nice. I'm following her. But this lady is not my mum. Where is my mum?
It's 1984. I'm 42 years old. Hah. Nothing like Orwell prophesied. Brighter, for one. Way too much light. But this is not Oceania. It's somewhere else. And the all-around surveillance is coming, all right. It's there, see, people just don't know about it yet. Maybe in 20 years or so, they'll gain popularity. Then the Party (or maybe Parties, I don't know, it's possible) will have a really easy time. I don't really care. I just need my pipe, and everything's right as rain.
2001. I'm 14. The towers fell down. I don't remember a thing. I'm too busy doing maths. Right, back to work.
It's 1995. I'm 4. Yesterday I had a dip in the plastic pool in our yard, in front of the flagpole. It was a nice, strong, iron pole. I was happy. I got hurt. My finger bled. If you take this band-aid off, you can still make it bleed, only not as much as yesterday. My blood is so red. I love red. My dad says it's red because it's full of iron. Now I understand why they taste the same, blood and iron. He is so smart and strong. We saw Lion King together. I love you, dad.
It's 2006 again. I'm only 7. I'm drifting everywhere. Oh, there's that money I forgot to spend. It's green now. And the bag also turns green. It's a strange green. Oh, I made one pigtail too many. Why are they laughing at me? Why are my eyes wet? And my nose? And when I try to laugh, why do they get wetter? I have to go out. I'll get more water to hide all this water on my face.
It's 1994. My brother is being born. I don't know where I am right now. It's all fuzzy and shifty. You can't expect a boy of only π years old to know all this stuff. I want my rainbow-colored brontosaurus doll.
Now it's 2007. I'm 11 again. Except when I'm in the library. There I'm 21, maybe even 22. The school library is the best place on Earth that I have found. It's quiet. It's fun. It's smart. It's safe. They don't come here.
It's 2013.
Can you tell me my age?
Please?
