The numbers and statistics blended together in the Seraph's horrified ears, the Symphony chiming in with bland, unemotional 'Truth, Truth, Truth' until he wanted to cover his ears and scream.

With the role of a college student, Sociology had seemed an obvious enough thing to take to understand the strange humans and how they thought, because more often than not, they didn't seem to think at all, which he knew was investigator bias and simply a lack of understanding in the subject.

But he hadn't expected this. Not this horrible litany of facts about what humans do to themselves, do to each other, and never even care...

"...would be perfectly accurate to say that the number of people in this world who die of starvation each day would be approximately equal to if three hundredfull jumbo jets crashed each day, and half the passengers on each are children."

Truth, the Symphony murmured.

"And on that note," the professor said cheerily, "it's dinner time, so I'll let you go early! Eat up your greens, say your grace, and you'd better eat all of it, 'cause there's kids in Africa who can't. See you next week, kids, and remember to read your chapter on Race and Ethnicity!"

The room was loud with the sound of chairs being pushed back and the Seraph fumbled his way to the front of the class, shook. "How can people do these things?!" the Seraph demanded. "And how can you joke about it?!"

The professor smiled at him patiently. "They can do it," he said, "because it doesn't bother them. Over here, we've got food. They can't send most of it over to starving kids, and they have things they want to do with their money, so they don't give THAT to panhandlers. Besides, half the panhandlers are just lying to get more money anyway. As for how I can make jokes?"

The Seraph stared.

"They do it to themselves," the professor said. "Some religious folks blame it on demons, not noticing that they haven't said a thing to the government to try to get things changed. Humans kill each other off, then get hurt when they realize what it means to even live here in the West, shop here in the West, buy from places like Wal-Mart... and it's fucking funny. Because they don't even care that they're doing it, until it's pointed out, and then they keep on doing it anyway.

The Seraph reeled back as the professor laughed, then fled from the room, the Truth ringing too loudly in his head.

Kobal watched him go, then shook his head and began to gather up his lecture notes. "Kids," he muttered.