Alexander was raised in the communist People’s Federal Republic of Vallsia. This Federation was constituted by the Republic of Asnobia, Bresia, Taorkia, Rilia and Wejia and listed around eighteen million inhabitants. Alexander lived in a two storey brick house located in the south-eastern neighbourhood of the Poksy town, the largest settlement in the Corsica Island, which in fact was the Island of Corsica. Over one-hundred-thousand inhabited Poksy actors whose activities were diligently directed by producers. The Island, the only place on earth without access to UNESCO’s Divine Civilisation Channels, covered the 8,680 square kilometres of the water surface of the Mediterranean Sea and made up eight percent of the overall territory of Vallsia, which, in reality, did not exist. The island was one of the few places in the world denied access to any of. However, Alexander was taught that the island is a small part of the vast Federation of Vallsia that is situated on the mainland, whereby most of its twenty million citizens lived. The brick house where Alexander spent most of his childhood was located in the north-western part of the town. Apricot, peach, plum, pear, apple, cherry and sour cherry trees colonised the garden shading over Alexander’s residence. The brick house was situated in the mixed neighbourhood, where the Asnobians, Bresians, Kruts, Taorks, Rilians and Wejs lived together.
For most of his childhood years, Alexander played football with other children from different ethnic backgrounds, who were oblivious of their broadcast throughout the world. The Script Protocol demanded that the actors would not tell their children that they were actors living in a fictitious country. Their contract contained an article that obliged them not to disclose Alexander’s actual identity to their children. Alexander seemed to enjoy his role as an attacking midfielder. As a child, he dreamed that one day, he would take the place of Semi, his beloved attacker of the Liverpool football club. Alexander also enjoyed playing marbles with his friends. Inside his brick house, Alexander spent most of his time painting the white interior with watercolour; he painted all the internal walls with stretches of green football pitches. Whenever he wasn’t painting or playing, he would pass his time reading comics about various heroes who stood up against human injustice. Rather ironically, Superman was his favourite character.
Jade reiterated that at the primary school Alexander was an outstanding pupil. Other than mathematics, he did well in his studies. Shortly before he turned ten year old, Alexander had become frustrated with maths.
The documentary featured a clip of a conversation with his foster mother, Nona, a tall woman on the verge of obesity. The dark shining curly hair covered her bronze complexion, inhabited by scarce wrinkled stripes in her forehead and around her glistening brown eyes. Alex was sitting in chair facing the kitchen door, wearing Barcelona home kit with yellow Semi letters and number 10 hanging over his back.
For a brief moment Nona left the dining room and returned holding a small brown bottle and a white plastic spoon. She poured the yellow liquid over the spoon and extended it towards Alexander’s mouth.
“Do I’ve to drink this horrible thing?” Alexander protested, moving his head to and fro against the spoon.
“You know what your doctor said. One spoon a day to keep your allergy away!” Nona replied. “Without this you won’t be able to attend your training sessions on the grass football pitch.”
Alexander compiled and after swallowing his medication, his face frowned looking like he just swallowed a large ginger bite.
She lifted her head off the potatoes has been peeling and noticed the frowned face of her son, who kept rotating an orange pencil over the notebook’s checkered pages.
“My dear child, you seem upset,” she inquired.
“Maths is driving me mad,” the nine-year-old boy replied.
“Why, my dear child?”
“Because it tells you that two plus two is four,” Alexander replied.
“And what is wrong with that?”
“Why do we have to learn about something that is so evident?” Alexander asked.
Alexander’s mother laughed, ruffling his hair. “Well, my dear child, mathematics is one of the few subjects that is truthful.”
“I don’t understand,” the young Alexander said in bewilderment.
“Well, my son, if humans adopted the logical method of mathematics and learn for animals, the world we live in would be a much better place,” Nona replied as she picked up a white bowl with fruits from the table at which the pair sat and walked towards the sink, proclaiming, “Mathematics is pure and truthful. If you add two oranges to a bowl already containing two oranges, you get four oranges in total, and that is uncontested. Unfortunately, humankind is unwilling to learn from mathematics. Humans are exceptionally talented at manipulating the other sciences to use them for their own personal gain.”
Nona turned on the tap to rinse the grease from the plates and added, “Fortunately, they can’t do that with maths. It doesn’t matter how hard they try, two plus two will always be four, and that is why this discipline is considered the Queen of Sciences. It won’t allow for any misinterpretations that will benefit certain individuals. That is why I love maths. Unlike people, math never deceives.”