Illustration by Lucinda Drake

I have just returned from Dewey watching, here are my findings;

—Dewey is quite indecisive. Does Dewey loathe himself? Before Dewey could take a few soft steps to the nearest desk and join his classmates in killing pointless time, he had to put himself through a laborious routine that can likely take no less than an estimated two minutes and seventeen seconds to complete. This process includes the following, in chronological order: Dewey leans back in his chair. Dewey sighs. Dewey runs his hand through his hair. Dewey stretches his arms. Dewey glances around the room. Dewey slumps down in his chair. Dewey bolts upright. Dewey nudges his chair the tiniest bit forward. Dewey stands up abruptly, stops halfway, pauses. Dewey sits back down. Dewey fidgets. Dewey sighs. Dewey stands up, a few inches farther than the first time before stopping. Dewey stands up. Dewey takes a step. Dewey looks very concerned. Dewey sits back down. And so on, and so on.

—Dewey is a revolutionary genius of the time! He has finally made up his mind. After many days and far too much contemplation, Dewey has taken his rightful place beside his peers. As he joins the group, the rambunctious boys part like the red sea to create a space for him to stand. Why does Dewey doubt himself? He is granted access to the innermost circles without ever saying a word. Perhaps it is not doubt, but decision. He would be easily swept into the fold wherever he goes, it is simply a moment of thought. Where should he go? Dewey is certainly odd. Why not go everywhere? He does not need to. Dewey appears to be a slight slacker. Dewey hardly ever has anything done quite on time, but his work is always of impeccable quality.

—Dewey has such a melancholy soul. He seems so happy on the surface. But his doofy smiles are masking a deep unrest. It must be a dastardly difficult life he leads. Dewey does indeed loathe himself. This is evidenced by the absurd mass of thought that collects in his head. Dewey fidgets with the papers wedged beneath his computer constantly. Absentmindedly. His quirks and random acts of unease are a sweet accompaniment to the chaos he lives within. Perhaps his fidgets soothe him. Does Dewey’s mind ache? It must. Dewey can comprehend concepts of extremely intricate nature. He views the world through the lens of one who truly appreciates the profound. Only a soul that is brilliantly profound in and of itself can bear such a thing. Dewey is a rare breed of intense. He himself does not know it yet. His thoughts swirl in and out too fast for him to catch up with them. However, Dewey is young.

—One day, Dewey will surely understand his potential. When he does, he will realize it. Dewey’s Day will be a fateful one for humanity. I cannot wait.