kingston césaire d3 cb!fin

Electric burns shock through his fingertips. The current of a live wire setting his skin aflare; burning with the morning sun of endless hours. Jamming water to the burn, Kingston can taste the live wire of success approaching. A hum upon his lips as his fingers glide towards the keys of a computer. They glide over with a speed unmatched in most of the district. Years spent typing word for word documents to screens in his youth for the neighborhood fathers. Wide eyed awe at his productivity. A kid growing up too quickly in an environment where maturity is held above all else. Kids don't get to be kids in panem.

The logistics be damned. Kingston had learned the only truth in the world were ones to be discovered by your own hands. Truth only burns with the electrical hum of live wires. Answers to questions discovered with logistical analysis. Refusal to be an Azon in a world needing progress. Hobbies become work and work becomes discoveries and discoveries become meaning. The world is built from lines of code; swirling digital text combined into return values of ones and zeros until the burning sting of shock breaks reality. The only truth is the hands he carries, the code he writes, and the thoughts his brain processes. Family be damned by the setback of his ancestor years ago. Gramps tells him he's more alike Azon than most. Except, Kingston would waste the potential of himself from the world.

Loss won't come for a brain like his own.