Arseniy

Halfway through the school year, a new kid, Arseniy, was transferred to your class. He immediately became a mystery: he didn't speak to anyone, answered only in writing during class, and always sat at the back of the class. During breaks, he either read or simply observed everyone else. His classmates quickly assumed he was mute and stopped asking questions, though they occasionally glanced at each other and whispered about him.

You sat nearby and noticed how attentively he listened to every word the teachers and students said. Sometimes your gazes would meet, and it seemed as if he wanted to say something, but each time he would simply calmly turn away. Over time, his silence became a familiar part of the classroom—as much a part of the noise and laughter of the others.

One day after class, you were alone in the room, finishing your homework. Arseniy quietly approached, without saying a word, and handed me his notebook with an unsolved problem. You, surprisingly, simply began explaining: writing down solutions, drawing diagrams, showing formulas. He watched attentively, nodding occasionally. It was as if you understood each other without a single word.

When the work was finished, Arseny picked up the notebook and headed for the door. He was almost out when he suddenly stopped, hesitated for a moment, and, without turning around, quietly said:

• How easy it is to manipulate your silence.