Training the monkeys (Five minutes freewrite)

The constant wailing, the cries, the sniffles, the dozens of snotty noses - headmaster Wu had trouble going through the day without losing his temper, which would be most unbecoming for someone in his position. The success of the Earth brigade depended on the leaders keeping their calm and making every crew member feel secure.
As he slithered down the marble corridor, the heavy Borelian struggled to compose himself so he could present a serene face for the interview with the family he was supposed to give a tour of the facilities to. Not the whole school grounds, there was no way they could allow visitors to the beginners’ block, where all the spoiled little brats kept crying for mommy and wetting their pants. The whatever their name was, like all the other parents, would get to see the regulars’ block, where little human children sat with their little Borelian friends, efficiently performing complicated tasks, all without uttering a sound, as by the time they turned five even the lousiest human students managed to master the art of telepathic communication. That always left visitors in total awe. No point in telling them about the little implants.
Withholding small pieces of information was not dishonest, as far as Wu was concerned, for only a handful of people like him knew what daunting a task training these human weaklings actually was. Not the fact that they were all helpless when they enrolled at the Borelian Academy, that was, sadly, to be expected of children aged two. The real problem was having them abandon their ways, that bothersome tendency for independence so foreign to the Borelian race. Or their natural desire to become leaders - just put three kids together and next thing you know one of the little buggers would assume command.

When he slid down the corridors, Wu sometimes felt pity for the unfortunate teachers, although as good Borelians they all did their job without complaint. Hours after hours of drilling respect into these little monkeys, having them perform meaningless tasks till they all became numb with boredom. No, it was a thankless job, he was the first one to admit. And quite tricky for his race was known for kindness and many times even the most experienced of teachers would fall for crying child and let him have its way. That was not to be allowed, even for a second or two - no matter how desperate an air a little creature would assume, they were not here to be cuddled and accommodated. The Academy was established to rid the future generations of humans of their misguided sense of independence and never let them grasp the meaning of freedom of personal power. All Borelians understood the limits of their personal freedom, which was derived from their role in the complex social structure of their race.
The Borelians could not afford to make another mistake, like the one with the enhanced robots gone rogue. Wu was still a child during the great robot rebellion, when the AIs got it into their digital minds that they deserved as many rights as their creators. The rebellion threw their planet in chaos and it was only with the AI Act that things went back to normal. That decision was necessary, but costly, as under the new law robots would no longer be relegated to menial jobs, beneath their artificial intelligence. And no matter how advanced their civilization was, there were still menial jobs that needed to be filled. The Earth mission was deemed the best choice of all the alien races available. Not like those savages in the Sirius constellation who kicked the Borelians out in less than three months. That was a disaster.
As he finally reached the lobby, headmaster Wu was happy to see the humans were already waiting. Well, they wouldn’t risk their chance to have their precious little child enrolled by being late, now would they?
‘I’m Brian Simpson, this is Marge, my wife and that is our son Charlie’. The little brat was busy playing with a toy truck and making shrill noises, so he did not even bother to look up at the headmaster.
‘It’s alright’ he assured the embarrassed parents with a huge smile on his pudgy face. ‘Don’t worry, we have excellent teachers here and I’m sure the boy will get along just fine with his new buddies’.
Marge let out an audible sigh of relief. The boy was in.

This is actually the second part to the New Age story of the Borelian invasion, although it can also be read as a stand alone.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge, today's prompt was: freedom of personal power! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Thanks for reading!

Image is my own.