The evening sun cast a warm, golden light through the window as Alexander sat at the dinner table, his small hands wrapped around a steaming bowl of soup. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted vegetables filled the air, blending with the faint smell of soap from his recent shower. For a brief moment, it felt as if the outside world had disappeared, leaving only his family and the sprawling farm that stretched out before them. The mundane beauty of the simple life he was now living was comforting. Carter and Jane sat across from him, the soft clink of utensils the only sound that broke the silence.
"Alex, don't forget to do your homework. Tomorrow is Monday," Jane reminded him with a smile, her gaze warm and loving as she looked at her son. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes never leaving him.
Alexander looked up from his bowl, but his mind wandered, adrift in a sea of thoughts. He tried to recall his old school—the way it looked, his teachers, his classmates—but his memories were faint, like mist fading in the morning sun. They were there, but so distant that they were almost unrecognizable. It didn't matter. In time, he would relive it all again, or at least the parts that mattered.
Soon, dinner came to an end. The plates were cleared, and they moved to the living room, a space filled with the scent of wood and paper. Jane took the dishes to the kitchen to wash, while Carter settled into his favorite chair, pulling a thick book from the shelf. Alexander, on the other hand, grabbed the newspaper, its pages crinkling under his small hands.
It was an odd sight—no one ever expected to see a five-year-old reading a newspaper. Carter, though, didn't give it much thought. He assumed his son was just looking at the pictures, perhaps mimicking the adults. Yet, as Alexander flipped through the pages, he realized something profound about the state of Indiana in 1951. The state was largely dependent on agriculture. Crops like corn, soybeans, and wheat dominated the landscape. Livestock, too, played a vital role. He didn't need the AI in his mind to tell him this; it was clear from the articles he read. There were subtle, yet undeniable patterns. The balance of the economy rested in the hands of farmers, and though industries like mining and manufacturing were present, it was clear that agriculture was the backbone of the region.
The evening passed quietly, the shadows lengthening as the sun dipped below the horizon. Alexander's eyelids grew heavy, weighed down by the fatigue of the day. He finished his homework and completed his nightly rituals, brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas. After saying goodnight to his parents, he retired to his bed, his mind still buzzing with thoughts. He closed his eyes, feeling the softness of the quilt wrap around him like a cocoon.
---
The early morning light broke through the curtains, casting a soft, amber glow over the room. Alexander stirred, the weight of sleep pulling at his limbs. Jane's voice, gentle yet insistent, drifted through the door, "Alex, time to wake up! You've got school today."
Alexander groggily rubbed his eyes, blinking against the brightness of the room. The pull of sleep was strong, but there was something about the day ahead that pushed him to wake. With a sigh, he threw back the covers and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. The cool air nipped at his skin, sending a shiver through his body, but it was a reminder—this was his life now. He was five years old. He could feel it in his bones.
School was a strange place for him. The faces of his classmates seemed unfamiliar, and the names, well, those were just as elusive. Teachers' faces blurred into a fog of uncertainty. He couldn't remember any of them, and yet there they were, part of the world he had to navigate. He felt the sharp contrast of his old soul—the mind of someone who had lived decades—locked inside the small, fragile body of a five-year-old. It was like trying to hold a vast ocean in a tiny bottle. But, he decided, he would let things flow. It was just a matter of time.
As the other children chatted, some already calling out to one another by name, Alexander listened intently. Each conversation was a puzzle piece he had to fit together, a code he had to crack. He took mental notes, memorizing their names, their teachers' names, and the peculiarities of their conversations. It wasn't easy. Staying among children when his true self felt like an elderly man was exhausting. He craved the quiet space of his own thoughts. He couldn't stand the noise for much longer.
After a few minutes, he made his decision. He would slip away. He walked toward the school library, a quiet haven where he could escape the constant chatter of the children. The librarian, an elderly woman with thick glasses, glanced up from her desk when Alexander entered. Without missing a beat, he approached her and asked, "Excuse me, where can I find books about economics?"
The librarian blinked in surprise but quickly recovered, though she hesitated for a moment before leading Alexander to the section where the books on economics were shelved. She'd never expected a child to ask for such specific material, but she guided him nonetheless. As he walked toward the shelf, he immediately encountered a problem—the books were too high. Frustration bubbled up in him, but as he stood there, contemplating his next move, his eyes fell on a man sitting nearby.
The man, in his fifties, was casually flipping through a magazine in a chair a few steps away. He was older, graying at the temples, and looked like someone who had seen many days pass by in quiet contemplation. Alexander, choosing to ask for help, approached him with polite urgency.
"Excuse me, sir," Alexander said, his voice small yet firm. "Could you help me reach a book from that shelf?"
The man glanced up, surprised to see a young child asking for a book on economics. His eyebrow quirked in amusement. "A book on economics? For a young one like you?"
Alexander nodded, meeting the man's gaze directly. The man chuckled softly, both curious and entertained by the oddity of it all. He stood, retrieved the book from the shelf, and handed it to Alexander.
"Here you go, kid. Didn't think I'd see someone your age so interested in economics," the man remarked, still bemused.
Alexander accepted the book but didn't just skim through the pages like most children might. He absorbed each word with a deep concentration that seemed almost unnatural for someone his age. His small fingers turned the pages with deliberate care, pausing occasionally to look at a chart or a figure. The man couldn't help but watch him, fascinated by the way Alexander seemed to understand the material.
A moment later, the man cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly. "So, what's a little guy like you interested in the economy for? Shouldn't you be reading about pirates or dinosaurs?"
Without looking up, Alexander responded with quiet conviction, "Economics shows how things work in the world. It's about understanding how money, farming, and businesses help people. And the future. I'm interested in what makes a place grow and how people can help it grow."
The man blinked, taken aback by the depth of the answer. "The future, huh? Now that's a perspective I didn't expect from a five-year-old. Well, tell me, what do you know about the economy of Indiana?"
Alexander looked up from his book, his dark eyes unwavering. "Indiana's economy is built on agriculture. Corn, wheat, soybeans. It's the foundation—the backbone. The farms feed the people. Without agriculture, the state wouldn't function. But that's just the beginning. Over the next few decades, the future of Indiana will shift. Industry will start to grow, and farming will change. New technology, better machinery, that's where the growth lies. And it's going to depend on how the industries can adapt to those changes."
The man's eyebrows shot up, a little stunned. "And what industries do you think will grow here? You know, beyond farming?"
Alexander sat back, taking a breath before answering, his voice measured and thoughtful. "Well, Indiana has a solid foundation in agriculture, but that's only part of the story. Industries that process crops—factories that turn them into food, fuel, tools—that's where the future growth will come. And then, the auto industry. Indiana's already got a foothold with car manufacturing, and as the country modernizes, people are going to need more cars, more transportation. But the key is in innovation. The industries here will need to invest in new technology, better production methods. They'll have to expand into the global market. If they don't, they'll get left behind."
The man was now fully engrossed in the conversation, his initial amusement replaced with genuine admiration. This young boy was talking about the future of Indiana in a way that many adults couldn't. He hadn't just answered his questions; he had expanded on them, offering a clear vision of growth and change that the man hadn't even considered.
"Well, I'll be," the man murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really do have a sharp mind. I've been in this business for years, and I've never heard a kid explain things like that."
At that moment, the man introduced himself. "The name's Thomas. I run the local newspaper. We're here today to discuss some school advertisement ideas with the principal." He paused, glancing toward the hallway. "But I didn't expect to meet someone like you in a school library."
Alexander raised an eyebrow but didn't question the man's presence. He simply nodded, absorbing the new information. The man continued, clearly impressed by their conversation.
"You've got a real talent for seeing things clearly, kid. I don't usually meet someone with such insight. You've got a good head on your shoulders."
Alexander, who had been quietly contemplating his next move, smiled slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Thomas. It was good talking to you."
Thomas stood and extended a hand. "Well, son, I think you've broadened my horizons today. I hope we'll meet again in the future."
He handed Alexander a business card with the name of his newspaper company printed clearly on it. "If you ever want to talk again—or need anything—don't hesitate to reach out. I'd like to keep an eye on you."
As Thomas walked toward the exit, Alexander looked at the card thoughtfully. He slid it into his pocket and smiled to himself. This wasn't just a casual conversation. He had found a connection, a potential ally, and one who might prove useful down the road. The pieces were already starting to fall into place, and Alexander was determined to use this new acquaintance to his advantage.
As the door swung shut behind Thomas, Alexander's smile deepened, a calculated look in his eyes.