The Community.  A word synonymous with working together.  The needs of the many.  It was comparable with a colony of Ants.  All beings working together for the cause and benefit of the colony; each to their set task, no questions, only instinctive duty.<br/>Marcus had never seen an Ant, although he had read about them.  As he stared at the blank white wall in front to his left, he imagines peeling away the layers of board and chip and mortar, imagining a world outside he had only ever heard about.  Was it desert out there? Jungle? A sprawling city filled with people?  Would there be Ant's crawling upon the ground?  He absent-mindedly drew circles upon his pad.<br/>Or Bees? Perhaps humanity was like a Bumblebee?  Something impossible, yet still being, working together.  Of course, both the Ant and the Bee had a queen- a heirarchy to give orders and order.  So question was: who was the human queen?<br/><br/>The alarm at the teachers desk sounded and distracted his thoughts.<br/><br/>He glanced at his passionate 'sister', the cause of the alarm.  Undoubtedly she had worked herself up again.  He could not blame her of course.  The teachers, the elders, all of them never ceased to fail to point out their superiority to the youths.  Constantly pointed out as imperfections, failures.  It often times became insufferable and suffocating- knowing that nothing was expected of them, that they would amount to nothing and that, he suspected, at the end of their lives, they would only meet the autopsy table- if not sooner.<br/><br/>The grand community was built upon perfection- perfect genes, perfect intelligence.  And here in this room were what they considered imperfection.  This room full of brilliant brothers and sisters; people filled with a spark and moreness than when he looked at the elders.<br/>He pitied the elders.  He did not know why, but he felt they were missing something.  something that they had.  Despite being labeled imperfect and failed...there was something more to his 'brothers and sisters'.  It was something he couldn't put his finger on.  The more he tried to grasp it, the more it slipped through his fingers- but whatever it was, it was important!<br/><br/>Marcus blankly stared at the board at the front of the class.  Gibberish.  Complete gibberish.  Nonsensical garbage and he didn't care for it.  It was unimportant, what was important was the moreness.