The tour group reached a blue door with a sticker of a crescent moon and a baby sleeping on it. Some of the parents wanted to go inside, but the headmistress stopped them, asking them not to disturb the babies resting there. So the room could only be seen standing on the threshold. It was painted in dark blue colour. It was coloured dark blue, and only a dim night-light in the form of a starry sky illuminated the room. From there came the faint sound of crickets singing, which was meant to lull the babies to sleep. The space was quite large, about 40 square metres. On the floor there were many cots arranged lengthwise and crosswise. Some of them were close to each other, and some on the contrary – at a distance, forming small passages between them. On the frames there were several plates with children's names, as one and the same cot was used by three or even four children in a day.
Headmistress: ‘The second exactly the same rest room is upstairs. The bed linen is changed four times a day, per child. The room is regularly disinfected with ultraviolet light’.
Father of one of the children: ‘But how do they fall asleep so quietly strictly according to your schedule? I can't put mine to bed for hours!’
Headmistress: ‘The secret lies in the sounds of nature used to put the children to sleep. On top of that, we use special speakers that emit certain vibrations into the air, which also contribute to a successful sedation. Right now, you don't feel it because you're outside. But once you get inside, lie down in bed and immerse yourself in this atmosphere of calm and serenity for a while, your eyes will start to close as if you had taken a powerful sleeping pill.
The same worried mum who asked the question in the chemistry room and many others: ‘Isn't it dangerous? Isn't this music of yours going to affect the children's hearing in any bad way?’
The headmistress looked at the mum with a look that was both tired and incomprehensible. A disgruntled mutter ran through the crowd. This woman, always asking the most questions and fretting about safety more than anyone else, had become somewhat of a major annoyance to those around her.
Headmistress: ‘As I have said before, I repeat: the safety of children comes first for us. As well as their health. You can rely on us for that.
The mum continued to press on, obviously not fully understanding the answer, ‘So there is no danger?’
A rumble of discontent spread through the crowd again. The headmistress gritted her teeth, took a deep breath and exhaled, then answered the annoying woman in a steady and monotonous voice: ‘No, there is no danger to her hearing.’
The tour around the main building of the CEC took some more time, after which the group stopped near the office of the headmistress, which was located on the ground floor, and parents took turns to go inside to settle some formalities with documents. Finally, it was the Davels' turn. Lars sat his son on one of the chairs near the desk of the head of the Centre, and sat down next to him on the next one. The little boy, chattering with his legs began to look around. All the space around the perimeter was filled with bookshelves. They were cluttered with various fiction and educational literature, the names of which Theodore could not read yet. So he just admired the colourful covers.
Lars: ‘So, when can I give you the boy?’
Headmistress: ‘You say that as if you want to get rid of him.’
There was a short silence. The headmistress finished filling out some paperwork and took her attention away from them and continued to answer the question: ‘From tomorrow, Theodore and his other classmates will start their first day of school. We always advise parents to support the baby in the first week and attend his first classes, at least for a while.’
Lars (emphatically): ‘I think there's no need for that. He can manage on his own.’
Headmistress: ‘Again, it's up to you. You are his father. We are only giving advice. As the boy will have to face a new society, hitherto unfamiliar to him. Therefore, certain changes may occur. Both psychological and…’
Lars: ‘Do you have psychologists?’
Headmistress: ‘Yes, of course.’
Lars: ‘Well, there you go. Then they will do their job in case of such changes.’
The headmistress looked regretfully at Theodore, who was sitting on a chair next to his father and wiggling his legs back and forth, looking at the books.
Headmistress: ‘Okay, I understand you. Then sign here and here. And you are free to go. We'll be expecting you tomorrow at 9:00.
Lars signed the papers handed to him by the headmistress and lifted his son from his chair and said goodbye. The boy paused for a moment and turned to the woman sitting at the table and waved his little hand at her. She smiled and waved back at him. The father tugged his son's hand and they walked away from the room.
The next day came. Early in the morning, the parents took the children to the Children's Education Centre. Some on foot, some by car. Every now and then the transport stopped near the entrance to the educational institution, dropping off the little passengers with their mothers and fathers at its doors. The Davels approached the building of the CEC. The door was swinging open as back and forth parents entered and exited. Theodore's father was in a remarkably good mood, believing he was finally rid of the cursed child for most of the day. The Davels equalled the other boy and the man. The child looked fearfully towards the CEC, unsure of what to expect from this new place. His father held his back as if to encourage him to take that step forward. The man bent down and whispered in the baby's ear, ‘It's going to be okay. We're going to go in there together and see what's going on!’
The child smiled in response to his words and moved forward confidently, scrambling up the small ladder leading to the entrance with eagerness and unintelligible sounds. Theodore smiled as he saw the way his peer was rushing to get into the building. Lars pulled his hand out of his son's small palm. So much so that he lost his balance from surprise and fell to the pavement. After which the man said: ‘That's it, go. You know the way. We were here yesterday.’ Lars turned his back on his son and silently headed in the opposite direction, leaving the child alone. Theodore, dressed in a grey summer jumpsuit at first, didn't understand what had happened and looked at his father with bewilderment, who soon disappeared from sight. Parents of other children passing by him began to pay attention to the child and stop with questions: ‘Whose boy are you? Where are your parents? Are you here alone?’
One of the mothers helped Theodore up off the ground and took him inside the centre, where the group assignment and introduction to the teachers had already begun.
Right in front of the entrance, not far from the principal's office, were happy parents waving to their children, who had already been assigned to groups and assigned to specific teachers. A couple of metres away from the parents were three rows of newly formed children's groups, headed by teachers. Between the parents and children, on a small step, the headmistress of the centre stood on a small step, solemnly announcing the names of the newly arrived students and then assigning them to a teacher.
The mother who had brought Theodore inside the building squeezed through the crowd of adults and turned to the director, pointing her finger at the child and explaining that she had found him near the entrance to the CEC. The director descended from her low stepladder and bending over the lost boy said: ‘Say, what's your name? Remember, we saw you yesterday. And we were sitting in this office.’ She pointed her finger at the door leading into her small office. Theodore turned his head in the direction she pointed. He wasn't frightened or agitated. He just couldn't understand what was wanted of him. The headmistress straightened to her full height and began to glance cursorily at the long piece of paper from which she had previously sounded out the list of enrolled kids.
