Albert looked into possible opportunities to prolong his posthumous influence on the world. He considered music, but recalled his angry, compulsory music lessons as a child. He never could immediately master the instruments he was most interested in and, despite his teachers telling him that this was completely normal, for even they were no good when they started out, Albert would refuse to believe it and burst into violent, frustrated outbursts. These outbursts became increasingly more commonplace at school and were the main factor in his eventual expulsion at the age of 15. Since then Albert came to resent education and, ultimately, to resent those who remained in education beyond the mandatory school years. He would regard students as detestable vermin, and with their regular gatherings and protests against what they called 'social wrongdoings', Albert would grow to hate them intensely, to the point where he would turn violent upon seeing a student. He loathed hearing their voices and deeply resented that they were given exposure just because they remained in education longer than he did. The stress Albert felt upon hearing a student speak led to him concluding that students enrage everyone and should not be allowed an opinion.
Recalling this anger, Albert decided against trying to take on the world by becoming a famous musician. Perhaps, instead, he could write a novel. A classic novel, he thought, like all the dusty old books in the library. Dusty, boring and intimidating though they appeared, he'd read somewhere that the authors of those books were all dead yet still celebrated hundreds of years since. Albert wanted to be like that.
He sat down at his computer and began to type a story about a man looking for a killer. He started off well, coming up with a title and vague outline all by himself, but when it came to typing the novel, Albert began feeling stressed and shaky. He thought back to his last couple of school years before expulsion. He and his friends were playing football, when Albert spotted a boy off to the side, sitting on a bench reading. Sweaty, light-headed and pumped up from the game, Albert rushed over to the boy, laughing. He then began to verbally attack the boy with violent incoherences that terrified him. Eventually becoming restless and frustrated with the boy's lack of response, Albert turned physically violent and pushed the boy to the ground. He then proceeded to beat his unresponsive victim to near-unconsciousness. Drops of blood flew enthusiastically hither and thither with each pull of Albert's fist, and the child waved his hands in terror and useless defence, squealing with pain. Albert punched the boy in the chin repeatedly, causing him to bite into his tongue and dribble blood onto his muddied shirt. Growing tired of punching, Albert then began to kick the boy all over his body, revelling in the crunches and cracks about the bones that his football boots produced. No fatigue pacified Albert, and eventually two alarmed teachers had to tear the two apart, dragging Albert swinging and snarling away from his battered victim.
As he was removed from the scene, the boy sat up and shouted 'Just because you can't read, you big idiot! Just because you can't read!'
That afternoon, Albert sat gloomily in his parents' living room while they were out. He was happy that he hurt the boy, but gradually the boy's words began to eat into him. It was true, at that age Albert couldn't read as well as all the others. He picked up the nearest book to him and opened it, promising he would read a whole page. He struggled with most words and tossed the book aside in anger. He decided to try something simpler. The Sun newspaper, which was mostly pictures and only featured a few words, so that not only clever people could read it, was on the armchair. He tried that. He did indeed get further through the article about 'evil Muslims' in The Sun than he did with the novel, but it was still difficult so he gave up.
Recalling that grim memory, Albert decided to put the novel writing idea to bed and think of something else.
Eventually, Albert confided in Emma about how he was feeling. Emma reassured him that he will always live on, through their son and future generations. But Albert felt angry at this and called her stupid for missing his point. Emma cried and pleaded with her husband to cheer up, but Albert became irate with her increasing the stress in the environment and her attempts at reassurance reminded him of the boy that goaded him for not being able to read. A violent rage clouded everything around Albert's head and when it cleared, Emma was cowered on the sofa, her hands covering her face, weeping intensely. Albert quickly realised what he had done as he saw a line of deep red blood trickle through Emma's rigid fingers. Disgusted with himself, he went for a walk.
On his walk he thought deeply. He thought about how much angrier he was as a child and wondered if he would have made something of himself by now if only he had listened to his teachers and councillors and their offers to work so much harder to help him get better. Albert sadly concluded that this was not the time of his life to change who he was as a person. He would always be violent and good at nothing. But he still wanted to be adored and remembered. It was at this moment that Albert decided to join the army.
One thing Albert always had been was physically healthy. He spent many years at school playing football and beating up small children and that had given him a well-toned body and a lot of stamina. He also, despite his violent past, managed to avoid ever receiving a criminal record. As such, entry into the army was easy for him.
Albert thought back to all those pioneers and independent thinkers that have achieved legendary status beyond their deaths, and how he always ultimately wanted to be one. He punished himself for not realising sooner that he could achieve similar levels of immortality just by being strong and willing to do as someone told him to.
He soon went to war. He wasn't quite sure what the war was all about, but he'd read many stories of soldiers coming back from war and being celebrated as heroes. He wanted that so much. Albert soon gained the respect of a lot of well-wishers and friends he didn't know he had. Even Emma forgave him. All he had to do was spend some time in the desert, equipped with armour and a rifle, and he was achieving hero status. Even all those dusty old novelists were never referred to as 'heroes'. One day, while home for a while, Albert came across a group of what looked like students protesting against something he didn't understand. Muttering with venom and disdain, Albert began to walk on. That is until he spotted the words 'NO WAR' scrawled on a creased white sheet above the crowd. Albert angrily accosted the nearest student and asked what was going on. The student replied that an ill war was being fought and innocent lives were being lost. Albert replied that he was fighting in that war and the student, despite being half Albert's size, defiantly looked him in the eye and told Albert that he was fighting for a corrupt government and the presence of armed forces only exacerbates the conflict because all nations are too laden with angry testosterone to back down from a fight. The student went on to say that many years ago, men of Britain were conscripted against their will to go into Europe and fight off an evil fascist war machine that stood to demolish all freedom throughout the world and bend it to its own fascist will. He said that these men were heroes. People that willingly sign up to fight for the benefit of greedy politicians are not heroes, in his eyes. It was the first time that Albert had experienced this deviant attitude. Violence overcame him and he punched the student in the face, breaking his nose and loosening at least one tooth. The student cried out in pain and a good number of the others rushed over to aid him. In doing so, they realised that a large man had attacked the student so they fought off the large man.
The next day, The Sun told the story of a group of feral protesters that brutally attacked a passing soldier during an anti-war protest. With this story, Albert became adored and admired as a living martyr. His letterbox was flooded with letters of appreciation, strangers shook his hand in the street and he had never heard the word 'hero' so much in his life.
Albert always had violent anger issues. He had also always had a desire to be admired on a massive scale. By joining the army he had finally found a way to appease both of these things without sacrificing the other. He could feed his complex by walking around with a gun, demanding everyone call him 'hero' and turning violently against any who refused to. But the greatest thing about this was that almost everyone, wherever he went, unquestionably agreed with him.
