First Blood by S. Cedric Page B

children’s sacrifice to become divine. And...”
    Madeleine shakes his arm. He sighs. Around him, students exchange amused looks. They are all used to this kind of fuss. Constantin is putting on his show. The teacher doesn’t find it funny. He returns to his lecture without further consideration of his student.
    “It’s true,” Ismael says.
    Madeleine smiles. She hates to admit it, but she finds her friend’s way of fighting the entire world with his unbelievable ideas—true or not—to be terribly attractive.
    There is a half hour of class left. Ismael dives back into his book.
    He does, however, look up when the professor starts in on Judeo-Christian mythology. While the other students take notes without thinking, Ismael listens and dissects. He has no interest in accumulating knowledge just to pass an exam. He wants to understand. He is looking to find the thread of meaning in myths.
    “There is another very interesting case in the Bible,” Mr. Parme explains. “God asked Abraham to sacrifice his only son by fire. It was a way of testing his faith. At the last minute, when Abraham had gone to the mountain to sacrifice his son, God stopped him.”
    Ismael can’t keep quiet any longer.
    “That is the official version of the story. But nobody knows exactly what happened.”
    “What are you talking about, Ismael?”
    “Wouldn’t it be interesting to ask what could have happened—or perhaps what really did happen—had Abraham gone through with the sacrifice?”
    The professor looks at him, already on the defensive.
    “God stopped him. It was nothing but a test of faith.”
    “Exactly. Why would God have done that? He didn’t hesitate to kill his children in the flood, did he? Couldn’t it be possible that Abraham was looking to imitate him and that he did actually kill his child on the mountain? The text talks about a holocaust, a sacred immolation before God. At the time, the practice was very common.”
    “The very idea is ridiculous,” the exasperated professor says. “Ismael, we have already discussed this, and I do not think that your wild imaginings really interest any of your classmates. Mythology is not a game of supposition. You are here to learn the curriculum.”
    Ismael shakes his head and looks bitter.
    “Of course. As soon as there’s an idea that doesn’t fit into your conception of things, it’s ridiculous. Is your course so sacred? It’s true that you learned it by heart without understanding it, and you would like all your students to do the same, also without understanding it. Isn’t that right?”
    “I order you to be quiet,” the professor shouts, his face matching his jacket. “You don’t know anything. You’re just a freshman.”
    “This class isn’t what I thought it was going to be.”
    Murmurs that sound like a multitude of insect wings rise in the lecture hall. All eyes are on the young man with braided hair.
    “Enough. If that’s what you think, please leave immediately. I’ve had enough of you disturbing my class.”
    “You can’t do that. I’m a student like the others,” Ismael says.
    “Get out,” the professor shouts, his voice amplified by the microphone.
    In the tiers, other students start shouting their own opinions.
    “Ismael, he’s right,” one student yells. “You’re being a pain in the ass.”
    “We have an exam in a month.”
    The contagion spreads. The students are getting worked up.
    “Leave if you think you’re smarter than the teacher,” a girl shouts.
    Mr. Parme stands on the stage, his hands on his hips, smiling at the girl like a conqueror.
    Ismael Constantin stands up, his braids swirling around his neck like snakes poised for an attack.
    “You’re right. I have no reason to be in this ridiculous farce. Thank you for opening my eyes to that.”
    “My pleasure,” says the professor. “Now get out of here and leave me to finish my class.”
    Madeleine gets up with her friend while the man, who is trembling slightly, goes