Half-breed, half-breed, the voices shouted. They were screeching voices, their sound sharp and chilling, similar to the dangerous shatarrs, cunning and intelligent predators, cornering their prey. Half-breed, half-breed, they would continue, forever. He had kept his eyes closed, this he remembered. He had kept his back turned towards them.
He had tried, indeed, not to give them satisfaction, but it must have been his human blood that had started boiling in his veins. Now, after all this time, he could still remember every detail, though it had not been the case then. He had turned around, his head held down, but his eyes gazing up at the tallest of the children. He had approached the boy slowly, yet with resolve and had hit him with all his strength. Such an emotional outburst had not been expected and the others had frozen. He could still feel the softness of the young Vulcan’s face against his fists, but had been unable to stop.
This lack of control had scared him as well, for a long time after the incident. It had been one of the reasons he had chosen, unbeknownst to anyone, to undertake the kahs-wan with only seven years of age. In the end, he chose to follow Surak, to control his emotions and rely on logic, though it had been merely a childish illusion, for he was not Vulcan and he would not prosper in Vulcan society. At first he had thought that if he would repress his humanity, if he would mask it under layers upon layers of Vulcan teachings, he would be accepted.
He had been wrong.
One of the findings that would define him had been upon realising the difference between the wise words of T’Plana-Hath and most of the Vulcans. “Logic is the cement of our civilisation, with which we ascend from chaos, using reason as our guide.” This very logic, however, though the foundation on which Vulcan society stood, was treacherous, as it sometimes brought with it arrogance and blindness. He agreed with it, as any student of logic would, but he could also recognise its trappings. Perhaps it was his human side that had made him aware of it, perhaps not. It mattered little. What mattered and matters is that the two sides were now one, yet different.
Live long and prosper, Mr. Spock. You live forever, Leonard Nimoy!
ToTW 238 - Leonard Nimoy
Senator
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