Was Troy being phased out of his job? Looking at the big picture, there was a good chance of it. There hadn't been any change in the three last tests, yet it was only the last one where he was allowed to just… not be there. They did not need him in any capacity, and having him be present did nothing but impede the actual work.

Which was fair. Quite honestly, the young man had done little else but sit on a bench, and try to distract himself from imminent death by boredom. While there were some positions dedicated to self-mutilation, Troy was not sure that any with the mental kind being so focused on. The human mind being pushed to the brink of insanity might have had some potential in the research avenue, but the onslaught he felt was not on that level by any stretch. It was annoying, sure, but not enough to break any of the conventions set in place. Maybe, if he was a foreign dignitary, there could have been some repercussions, but he wasn't in a position high enough for that.

Being bored, not doing anything, and just working as a silent talker was not something anybody wanted to pay for. Troy had no reason to be around, when all Adam did could be done within himself. Before, everything had been contained inside the puzzle room, where the young man would put in all the data that Adam wanted. It was not the most advanced level of work for the mind, but it was more than enough to keep up with. It was a task that Troy needed to do because Adam would not be able to manipulate the physical world. He was the semi-automatic arm, only to move when Adam wanted it to.

That wasn't needed anymore. In the two tests done, there had not been a single thing pressed, thrown, or otherwise interacted with. Anything really done had been for the comfort of Troy, more often than not just him pestering Adamd into making someplace where he could sit comfortably.

Did such things need to exist in a scenario based on testing certain things? To Troy, he could not find anywhere to place it. The young man was slowly becoming unneeded. Were those panels in the puzzle room not made so that Adam would have some way to answer? If so, why had Dr Fidelis added another layer of hardship by making the controller into something physical, instead of just letting the AI answer into an interface directly?

It was almost as if it had been created in such an overcomplicated way originally, as a way to encourage Troy’s participation in the test. Maybe that had only really been needed in the first series of tests. Maybe he was being slowly pushed away from any responsibilities so there would be no losses when he was finally removed fully from the project.

…

And, maybe he was just overthinking it all, trying to make it into a massive conspiracy, ranging from Dr Fidelis knowing exactly what Dr Hale was up to to the moon landing being faked by Adam with the help of a time vortex. There were a few things that could stop the brain from drawing unwarranted connections when there was enough desperation to foster it.

That deranged way of thinking was what had allowed him to survive bouts of boredom before, and it would be what would save him yet again. As Troy had been let off several hours earlier than expected, he would be having his ultimate exercise of patience, staying in his room for just as long as the test would regularly go on. There was not much else to do, really. He had accepted the plan to head to the gym with Charlie while having the idea that it would be much later in the afternoon before he would be free. Knowing how that muscular man functioned mentally, there was little chance he would be around at his work-place at the current hour. There was nobody to talk to there, after all, letting the man have little point to stay in such a place.

Charlie had talked reminiscently about his work-ethic, not doing more than what was expected of him. Troy could somewhat understand that idea, now more than ever. Life was not always about becoming better and better, refining one’s skills to the point where one could be called a master at their craft. Few really had any idea of what that craft would even be.

Maybe it was that expectation of everything being figured out by a young age that made so many people hesitate to ever even start on anything as their main trait. Not something to do because it would bring the fortune, but something that would bring them happiness. It was a hard thing to come by. An action that required thought, precision, and experience to ever truly master, something deep which matched with one’s overall personality. It had to be something that brought some kind of positivity to one’s life. It didn't really need to be direct happiness of the product. Perhaps one could enjoy the satisfaction of others using it. Troy could still remember the small breadboards that a few of the neighbourhood kids got their hands on.

With the help of a few stolen motors, a circuit board, and a small solar panel, they had successfully put together a small toy car. It had been too complicated to make and had been anything but a fun experience, but the happiness that the smaller ones had shown when playing around with it had made it more than worth it. Made it all the more devastating, when the car had been sold off so that one of the adults got a little pocket change. Troy never did find the needed parts again, the idea to scavenge them for possible money having been taken from his act of goodwill.

He had worked hard to create that bit of happiness for those kids. The young man had done his best with the resources he had at hand, to create a toy he would never gain anything with. He developed skills that could be used for nearly nothing. Would Troy have chosen that path in life, if he had been given the chance? Would he have created toys so others could feel happy? Probably not, honestly.

However much he liked to criticized the expectation of having everything figured out from a young age, how much pressure was put on those young, immature brains, Troy had figured out his entire life by the age of ten. He had predicted himself to be a scholar of language!

… It sounded a little sad when said like that. The young man had felt an interest in those fancy sounds that people put out of their mouths on a daily basis. What made those sounds become words, how did people suddenly decide that a table would be called a table? Was it always called a table? If not, how did it change over time?

Those fancy language tree diagrams were something Troy was able to look over constantly when he was a bit younger. He would manually attempt to track a word over the ages, trying to figure out its older counterparts. It mostly turned out to have Latin or Greek roots, but who cared about such superficial points? It became much more fun when one attempted to go back further than that. Whenever he had the chance, a book about some dead language would be opened up. Akkadian would forever have a special place in his heart.

People didn't always know what they wanted to be when they grew up. Some never really figure it out, just going with whatever recommendations they got from those around them. That feeling of not knowing what to do with oneself never really manifested within Troy. He had dreamt of being a scholar, and damn well was he going to do it.

The education system did not mind people succumbing to job instability and had easily allowed Troy to fulfil his dream of educating himself in a language. During those last few years of education, the young man had thought himself to finally be achieving his life-long dream, and becoming the scholar of the past that he always wanted to be.

That idea had quickly evaporated when he learned of the so-called requirements for joining the job market. To get an entry-level job, there was a minimum of ten years in the business and an education that was, at a minimum, one level beyond what was needed for the position. Again, that was for an entry-level job. Troy had been dreaming too high when he wanted a job at all. His best chance would be to try making a business himself. Practically no firm made in the last ten years survived their first week, yet the chances of getting an average paid job in the scholar market were somehow still lower than that. Nobody even wanted him as an intern.

People did not take degrees in the language to use their knowledge for something good in society. They used it to have a degree, so their parents wouldn't reprimand them for not getting something related to business. Almost the entirety of that field were rich kids who got jobs through connections. Any postings to the public were only there to not break the law needlessly.

Troy had been screwed from the start. The thing he had loved his entire life, studied his entire life, and had gotten educated about his entire life was wholly meaningless the moment that he got out of his bubble. Without connections, no formerly poor person would be able to live the life of the rich. Upstarts were always bought out before they could achieve anything, left to work a tireless job.

Was this fairness? Should the system have stopped Troy from following his dreams, if he was destined to fail no matter how hard he tried? It should have, even if he loved every second spent learning. Others should not have to live the life of failure that he experienced himself. He had gotten too old for the government to pay for his education, too old for any establishment to want to accept him in the first place. Going back to the pen and paper was a privilege only given to those who had no need for it in the first place.

Maybe it was supposed to be a good thing. The system had spent massive amounts of money to educate a single person. Troy had never paid a dime on anything school-related. Going back for another round would be seen with distrust. If the first round paid back nothing to the government, why should they trust that another would do anything differently? By that point, letting go would be the optimal route. And it was a route that the system would not hesitate to do. It wasn't human. It had no compassion. It had no empathy. The sunk cost fallacy had no power over its choices.

If somebody had no more to give, then that person would be dropped from any support. If they had debt, however, there was no escaping the debtors. The government made sure of that.

What Troy would give to have realised that a few years earlier. Maybe he would have sucked in his pride, and chosen some of the physics-based degrees instead. There was never enough of those people around really. They were looked at as novelty, being more or less a straight-up tax removal tool. Researchers were important to have for the government, and there had to be some way to promote that to everybody willing to listen. That approach had been to advertise that branch of education as a near-instant job-giver. If somebody was above-average, they were pretty much guaranteed a job for several decades.

Thinking about it now, there was likely a reason that the best of the best never seemed to be that good. Those with actual talent were all cooped up in some facility, kept out of the bright limelight. It was those with the small success that one heard so much about, while those truly advancing their field never being shown an ounce of recognition.

Would that translate over to scholars as well? Was there some part of the facility dedicated to discovering the history of tongues? Probably not. Troy had a hard time finding ways to weaponize words. There most likely was, but it wasn't like he was going to ever figure that out. He wasn't the top of the crop after all.

No, he would be the one being slowly laid off from the job that wasn't needed in the first place. Instead of working for his share, he was being told to enjoy his free time for the day, left to hang out in his room.

An room that had Charlie sitting in front of it. Charlie, a man weighing closer to hundred and fifty kilos than he did a hundred, was sitting beside Troy’s door, looking to be having the time of his life, playing around with whatever gadget he had in the palm of his hand.

Life could truly never be predicted.