Dr. Astucia doesn't mix with his equals

Edmilson Panguana"

Every human being is born with the delicacy of someone who needs another to feel complete. Just as the sun rises for everyone, we all burst into tears upon first contact with the world. Yes, we are all born with the very same need for oxygen. But the truce of equality ends when individuals are given a badge, a sacred book, or a bank statement. Therefore, biology gives way to social weaving; the shepherds shear with elegance, and the sheep bleat in chorus, convinced that the sheepfold is, in fact, a gated community. It is precisely in this boastfulness that the pastoral class invented the system of precedence, a kind of code of passage for souls. An invention designed so that the elites do not mix their purified oxygen with the carbon dioxide of the bourgeoisie. The protocol would be simple, the queue would follow the rhythm of merit, but, as is known, merit is a timid entity, incapable of surviving in the light of day. In this sense, the prestigious Doctor Astuteness does not suffer from the affliction of explicit competence, that heresy that compels men to work seriously. For she was blessed with the divine gift of deciphering the instruction manual for pastors. Armed with superior intelligence, a technical term used to designate the ability to flatter the right people without losing composure, she realized that jumping fences required a specific trinity. First, it was necessary to seduce the architects of the Sheepfold. Gentlemen nearing middle age, bored by the very bureaucracy they had created, who spent their days stamping their own immortality. For them, validating the girl was a simple exercise in intellectual patronage. After all, such a brilliant mind could not be subjected to the dust of the common queue; it would be a waste of liturgical trappings. Next came the High Priest of the Latch, also known as the Caretaker. The man who doesn't dictate the laws, but who decides how fast the lock creaks. He, who knew the exact price of each silence and the value of a nod in the dim light of the secondary corridor, became the perfect lubricant for the gears of the Regime. And so the miracle of multiplying conveniences was accomplished. While the academic sheep and the lambs of righteousness remained disciplined in line, eyes fixed on the shepherd's manual and confident that their turn would come by divine right, our heroine was already having tea with the chosen ones in the back of the temple, laughing softly at the naiveté of those who confuse patience with virtue.

2025/12/3