Aktamun had recently seen Pirates of the Carribean for the first time and he had found a character that spoke to him. Jack Sparrow was, of course, an emmisary of chaos. Self-absorbed, clever, but also, at his core, someone who could care about others. He had an admirable view of the rules, which was: they were meant to be broken.
Sure, society and systems functioned by rules. Don't kill, don't steal, don't stick gum on anyone's seat. But what if you had to stop someone who wanted to crash a train? What if you stole from the rich and gave to the hungry? What if sticking gum somehwere was really, really funny? At the Institute, he was slowly recognizing that even the acolytes of Seth functioned by laws and complicated rules. And maybe that was where chaos sprang from. One rule coming in conflict with another. A law coinciding with a contrary mandate.
Right now, Aktamun was disregarding one of the more silly rules. Juniors could not decorate the Oracle? Fuck that. He would. Who would even care, other than Kent?
Aktamun had woken up early, asked with the Groundskeeper - who, thanks to his many detentions, he was on friendly terms with - where he could find decorations and had went ham on the Oracle. Fairly lights, bough of holly and even two fairly big trees. They were now filled with shiny decorations, though Aktamun had not resisted the urge to add a crudely-shaped tinfoil hyena to it all. A signature of sorts.
Aktamun wiped off his hands on his jeans and looked around the room. Good job, he thought.