Page 11 of The Beta Test

80085 [Me]: Exactly! I can’t imagine this ending well, but I guess making money is more important than student grades.

55378: The siren call of capitalism. We’ll be sacrificed on the altar of Holden Lovell’s wallet. I will not volunteer as tribute.

80085 [Me]: I won’t either. But since they forced this on us, I will be giving them a heaping pile of feedback at the end.

55378: Oh, me too. Not that they will read it. Something tells me they don’t actually care what we think. It’s all about the bottom line.

A smile stretches across my face. I like this one. Unfortunately, class starts, and the conversation has to be shelved for now.

After the period ends, Jenna appears in the hallway with Amanda. Their arms are linked and their heads are leaning in close to each other–Jenna’s blonde hair contrasting with Amanda’s red curls. Amusement is splashed across their expressions as if they are sharing something terribly funny with one another. Something twists in my chest.

“Aves! Some girls from volleyball are coming over tomorrow after school to celebrate ending our first week. You in?”

“Yeah, you should come!” Amanda echoes with a bright look.

I smile stiffly in return. She means well, but for some reason it rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s the weird day I’m having. Or that I’m covering for my parents. Again.

“I wish. My mom’s working a shift so I need to be home with Hunter.”

Jenna pouts. “But you are coming to my birthday party next weekend right? If your mom’s work schedule ruins that I’m going to die. It’s my eighteenth. The big one.”

Yes, I’m aware. I’ve been hearing about it for months. It seems the main significance of the milestone for Jenna is that she will be able to date college guys. Or older, based on how she talks sometimes.

“No need to die. I cleared that day with my mom weeks ago. We’re all good.”

Jenna squeezes me in a quick hug. “You’re the best! See you at lunch.”

They're gone before I stop watching. Connection Services matched them. Of course it did. A small, stupid jealousy flares—like they've been stamped 'compatible' and I'm standing outside the door. Which is ridiculous. Matches are suggestions, not destiny, and judging by my own pairings, the algorithm is questionable at best.

After sliding into my seat in AP Calculus, I pull out my tablet and see a message from Mr. Pie.

31415: How’s your day going, 80085?

Seriously? How is it that the same AI that connected with me 55378, who seems intelligent and articulate, also connected me with this person? And why must everyone reference my unchosen and unchangeable screen name like that? Maddening. My fingers start furiously tapping a response.

80085 [Me]: Seriously? Still with the number? How would you like it if I called you boobs?

31415: I mean, I wouldn’t be mad. It would be a little weird since I don’t actually have that ‘equipment.’

80085 [Me]: Well, then you are misinformed.

80085 [Me]: Even if you are male, men have the anatomy necessary for lactation and given the right hormonal environment can produce milk. And what is that ‘equipment’ other than vessels for lactation?

Boom. Science. Who can argue with science?

A quiet snort comes from behind me. When I turn, Jake is sitting in the back of the classroom, clearly amused by something. He’s slouched in a chair with his sneakers casually propped on the empty chair in front of him. Before I can figure out what’s caught his attention, my tablet quietly dings again.

31415: Why do I have a feeling you did speech and debate club?

Uh, because I did. And I rocked at it. The only reason I’m not doing it this year is because it’s something Braden and I did together. It wouldn’t be the same without him.

31415: Well anyway, I still need a name to call you by.

80085 [Me]: I’m not telling you my name.

31415: I wasn’t going to ask you to. What should I call you… M&M? Feisty? S&D (speech and debate)? Snack girl?

80085 [Me]: I hate all of those, though Snack Girl would be the least offensive because snacks are life. And just so you know, since you seem invested in nicknames, you’ve become Mr. Pie to me.