Pizza at midnight? Why, thank you.
Title: The Theory on TwentyEight
Prompt Number: 11 -- Jealous
Verse: G1
Rating: G
Summary: Every dog gets his day and it's about time Skids got his. 28 drabbles on the most forgotten member of the Ark.
Notes: I need to stop eating so much food before I go to bed...uhhhh...
Our envy of others devours us most of all. - Alexander Solzhenitsyn
He shouldn't have been bothered by it, really. It made perfect, logical sense, was actually a given, all things considered in their day and age. They were at war, after all. But still, he couldn't help the twinge of discontent mixed with envy that gripped him as he watched such young mechs, barely into their first century of life, line up for their daily training sessions with their combat instructor.
He continued to watch as the burly, old mech started out the session with a grandiose speech on what they were to practice this time while walking up and down the ridged line of pupils to look them in the optics one by one. They listened with rapt attention, audios drinking in every word that came from their teacher's vocalizer as if it were energon and they were all running on half empty.
Such juvenile younglings so eager to learn the art of inflicting pain and death on the Decepticons, a side that they probably didn't even understand much less even tried or wanted to.
Skids withheld a rumble of disgust at his latest reflection, unfortunately knowing it to be all too true. Rookie mechs, mechs created after the fighting had already swallowed the previous way of life, didn't care about the series of tragic events that lead up to their brutal civil war. They were onlined with the knowledge that they were on This Side and the only thing that mattered was to win against the Other Side. The educator in Skids shuddered at the thought.
But it also gazed in longing for the young minds the mechs possessed. When was the last time he had been able to teach his trade? To be able to help a willing mech understand how mathematical theories and various philosophies were actually tightly intertwined with one another? How quantum formulas and speculations could be easily understood and even sometimes implement under certain situations?
And what was the point of teaching warrior mechs such pointless things? They didn't need to know how philosophizers debated on the universal understanding of various geometries shapes when all they had to know was how to rip a mech's neck from their shoulder struts. Only things required: a clear window of opportunity and enough brute force to get the job done.
Skids's profession had been rendered obsolete by the war. He knew that, understood it, but it didn't stop him from wanting to be able to teach again.
He turned away from the sparing mechs, unable to watch them any longer while their instructor looked on with approval. Vorns long passed flittered through his processor, vorns when he was in the instructor's place and his students were seated in captivated attention as they listened to his lectures. Vorns that may never come again even if he did managed to survive the war till its end.
He threw one last envious glance over his door wing at the mechs oblivious to his presence before starting in the direction of his quarters. It would do no good for him to reminisce on such things. It only made his spark ache bitterly with emotions that were better left untouched.
Prompt Number: 11 -- Jealous
Verse: G1
Rating: G
Summary: Every dog gets his day and it's about time Skids got his. 28 drabbles on the most forgotten member of the Ark.
Notes: I need to stop eating so much food before I go to bed...uhhhh...
Our envy of others devours us most of all. - Alexander Solzhenitsyn
He shouldn't have been bothered by it, really. It made perfect, logical sense, was actually a given, all things considered in their day and age. They were at war, after all. But still, he couldn't help the twinge of discontent mixed with envy that gripped him as he watched such young mechs, barely into their first century of life, line up for their daily training sessions with their combat instructor.
He continued to watch as the burly, old mech started out the session with a grandiose speech on what they were to practice this time while walking up and down the ridged line of pupils to look them in the optics one by one. They listened with rapt attention, audios drinking in every word that came from their teacher's vocalizer as if it were energon and they were all running on half empty.
Such juvenile younglings so eager to learn the art of inflicting pain and death on the Decepticons, a side that they probably didn't even understand much less even tried or wanted to.
Skids withheld a rumble of disgust at his latest reflection, unfortunately knowing it to be all too true. Rookie mechs, mechs created after the fighting had already swallowed the previous way of life, didn't care about the series of tragic events that lead up to their brutal civil war. They were onlined with the knowledge that they were on This Side and the only thing that mattered was to win against the Other Side. The educator in Skids shuddered at the thought.
But it also gazed in longing for the young minds the mechs possessed. When was the last time he had been able to teach his trade? To be able to help a willing mech understand how mathematical theories and various philosophies were actually tightly intertwined with one another? How quantum formulas and speculations could be easily understood and even sometimes implement under certain situations?
And what was the point of teaching warrior mechs such pointless things? They didn't need to know how philosophizers debated on the universal understanding of various geometries shapes when all they had to know was how to rip a mech's neck from their shoulder struts. Only things required: a clear window of opportunity and enough brute force to get the job done.
Skids's profession had been rendered obsolete by the war. He knew that, understood it, but it didn't stop him from wanting to be able to teach again.
He turned away from the sparing mechs, unable to watch them any longer while their instructor looked on with approval. Vorns long passed flittered through his processor, vorns when he was in the instructor's place and his students were seated in captivated attention as they listened to his lectures. Vorns that may never come again even if he did managed to survive the war till its end.
He threw one last envious glance over his door wing at the mechs oblivious to his presence before starting in the direction of his quarters. It would do no good for him to reminisce on such things. It only made his spark ache bitterly with emotions that were better left untouched.