Young Writers Society

It's a foggy Monday morning at Clarence Prep High. The date is February 2, 2088. A young male junior attending Clarence Prep, age 14, has asked for a private conference with Mrs. Botsky, the school secretary. His description of the reason for the conference was very vague, and boiled down to the category of "General Feeling of Endangerment". This is a transcript of that conversation as recorded by the surveillance camera in the upper left corner of the gray, symmetrical room. 

Sat down in a tall, red, reclining office chair is Mrs.Botsky, her back turned to the door. James Jones politely invites himself inside the dimly lit interrogation room's equally gray and discouraging door, closing it in a manner as to not alert anyone nearby. A solitary lamp sits on the thin steel table between Mrs. Botsky and James' significantly less intimidating wooden stool.

BEGIN TRANSCRIPT

"Greetings, Mr. Jones."

"I'll take a wild guess and assume that you not only believe I'll be intimidated by your tall chair and movie-cliche position, but that you'll also refer to me as "Mr. Jones" for the entirety of this meeting. Not that I mind."

"What was that, Mr. Jones?"

"Hello, Mrs. Botsky."

"Hello to you, as well, Mr. Jones. Care to explain the motive for this meeting today?

"Today is Monday."

"Okay. Fair enough."

"Do you know what a Monday is?"

"No, I believe I do not, Mr. Jones. Just what is a Monday?"

"A Monday, by definition, is "the second day of a standard American calendar's week. Typically consists of either an unshakable feeling of renewal, an undeniable lack of spatial awareness, or an intense feeling of dread and concern - its rationality left to unspoken question."

"I wouldn't state my opinion of Mondays as solid fact, but interesting definition nonetheless. Why'd you have to define Mondays?" 

"I can't begin to explain my feeling without you knowing what it is and why. This Monday seemed best to do so on."

"Why this particular Monday, Mr. Jones?"

"On this particular Monday, Mrs. Botsky, I can tell you with certainty similar to that of scientists as it pertains to the existence of gravity that I'm feeling the intense dread. More likely than not, my fear of today is irrational and shouldn't be acknowledged, alas, I'll tell you anyway. 

I'm afraid of the existence of a potentially harmful species living amongst us."

"That's a rather...unusual fear."

"Sounds like the typical ramblings of a conspiracy theorist, right? But the thing is...

Okay, look. I have a few hobbies. Video gaming, writing fiction, and studying people to the best of my ability as an 11th grade student with no psychological education. As this is the case, I've developed quite a few nonsensical fears of a government experiment or something to that effect escaping or being released to the public as some sort of way to test the public's reception of extra-species beings."

"How, exactly, could this be something wrong? I think it'd be a great idea for the government to test assimilation as opposed to just dumping it on us."

"This could be an issue depending on several factors, but for the sake of time, I'll limit the discussion to only two factors - the impressionability of the species - let's call it the Quartz - and the personalities of the environment it's placed in. For example, this school."

"What about this school, Mr. Jones?"

"This school, frankly, doesn't contain the accepting, logical vibe a new species entering the world could thrive on, and goodness knows what type of reaction something like a Quartz could have if faced with negative stimuli, and predominantly that."

"Well, then, Mr. Jones. What exactly are you saying? Are you trying to say an alien would feel threatened if they attended our school? I'm going to be honest here and say that most people new to society would and should be."

"I suppose what I'm saying is...provided a...hm...situation occurs at school, I'd like you to take a special interest in the quiet kids - the outcasts, the bullied ones, the ones from troubled homes who seek school as their refuge. Keep them away from the others. Rather, I want you to place me in with the other kids - the ones proven to be bad apples by statistics."

"What does this have to do with your fear of the "Quartz"? Just seems like you're trying to convert those kids into goody-two-shoes to get dirtied by life, not that that's an issue, provided it happens away from our facility."

"Simple. I'm either going to teach these kids nonviolent conflict resolution, or I'm going to teach them how to survive to the last breath. You see, for every 1,000 kind kids, there's 2,000 killer kids waiting for them - it's the way contemporary society works. However, because I study and imitate people, I know that they're not rotten to the core. 

Not that a Quartz would know that, anyway."

"Well, anyone with common sense can say that none of the children that attend our school are wholly evil. That'd be naive and foolish to assume. It'd take a special kind of emotional barrier to not see that, and the only people relevant to us with that barrier are any one of the over 35 kids I have to personally watch for weapons and weapon prowess on the daily in case they snap."

"That's perfectly reasonable. What I'm saying is, however, a Quartz - who likely hasn't grasped the full concept of the slightly more complex side to common sense - wouldn't understand that not all humans of any classification are bad or malicious. It has a chance to "snap" as well, but not in a way preparation and a close eye could fully stop. It'd take someone off extreme skill, both in combat and in articulation, to diffuse a situation between an alien and a group of adolescents."

"Fine. Fair enough. Back to a point you made earlier, about the kids being "killer" or "kind". Do you believe yourself to be either one, and if so, doesn't this, to a degree, make you seem hypocritical?"

"I myself am neither kind nor killer. I'm a pallet, just a white piece of old wood waiting to represent colors that aren't my own. I only retain traits optimal for social survival in certain situations. It's a trait most people never catch onto."

"Seems odd of you to attempt to convince me that you're some sort of all-seeing eye that can pick apart people better than others. Seems rather narcissistic almost."

"Yes, yes, I know, but just hear me out. A vital skill missing from most modern children is the ability to find people like myself and discern the real from the fake - the facade from the emptiness yet to be filled. Do you know why I haven't that many character traits?"

"If I remember your words correctly from last week, you spoke of your indifference to society's issues, as ironic as it may seem. Because you're highly resistant to societal influence, your personality is close to nonexistent, as you haven't-"

"Quite grasped the concept of making a personality out of thin air. Neither has a Quartz. If it's even close to the impressionability of, say, a small child, let one of these kids approach them with the intent of hostility. Not only will its void - unblocked by resistance to social influence, we're talking about 6-year-old levels of impressionability here - be filled with anger and resentment that it can't logically turn off, but its anger will not have a boundary set by societal norm, and will attempt to overshadow the anger of those around it."

"And the cycle of anger continues until...?

"Until it refuses to cap itself any longer and reverts to instinct as opposed to the limited thought capability it had. It lashes out violently, using everything in its vicinity to annihilate its immediate threat, its mindset leading it to the conclusion that the problem must be fully exterminated, lest it suffer under conditions it can't escape.There will be bloodshed."

"Mr.Jones! That is quite the bold claim to make! I can assure you with the same certainty you approached me with earlier that there are no extra-species people assimilating into this school, and there's nothing to worry about! I was fine playing along with it for a while, but the mention of our students' safety potentially being at risk is absolutely crossing the line! Do you know that if anybody hears you say that without context, they could misinterpret it as a threat from you?!" 

"Mrs. Botsky, I have the utmost faith in our ability as mature members of society to do away with shooting the messenger."

"No, Mr. Jones. Not mature "anybody". "Immature, childish, malnourished" anybody." 

"I must say I'm lost on what you mean."

"The kids, Mr. Jones. If they heard you explain that you know they could be the cause of unnecessary death, they'd shoot the messenger, not me. I understand what you mean, but with all of those kids and all of that immaturity and ignorance, do you really expect even one of them to ask questions before jumping the gun and getting themselves killed at the hands of your "Quartz"?!"

"I also have the utmost faith in every human's cognizance and sense of reasoning."

"I mean, if you believe they're really smart enough to, how would you even go about picking these people out of a crowd? Maybe if you tell them that as opposed to don't anger it or you'll die, they wouldn't feel threatened!"

"The same way you'd find me. Look for the one who reacts to everything instead of initializing it. Look for the one who doesn't go out of their way to make friends. Look for the one who questions every common trend or saying as if they've been living in the basement all of their lives."

"Congratulations, Mr. Jones, you've described the entirety of the kids who compose my stack of interest notices. I thought we were looking for extra-species, not school shooters! Come on, James, if lives are on the line, I need solutions!"

"Ah. That's the thing. There's one more requirement."

"What is it?! What could separate "Wen-Tatras" from "Zachary Davids"?!"

"They won't approach me. I have nothing for them. They'll notice my existence, but they won't note it."

"So what? Are you some special authority on Quartz just because you can watch regular people? You think that just because of how you treat people like yourself, you'll be treated the same? You don't know what they could do to you! If what you say is true, that alien will have no discrimination when it comes to getting its revenge! That puts you in jeopardy, as well!"

"No, madam. I'm simply a concerned student trying to raise awareness of something on the fringe of happening. Whether or not I treat persons like myself in any particular manner indeed doesn't affect my likelihood of not being noticed and noted by the Quartz. But I can tell you it certainly lowers my chance of getting into a relationship with it and getting tied into something I can't burn my way out of."

"So I ask of you one more time, Mr. Jones. What is the reason for this meeting?"

"I want you to implement an emphasis on peaceful conflict resolution and heighten the punishments for failure to comply under pretense of general safety. I doubt any thinking, breathing, cognizant high-schooler could argue against the protection of their being at the cost of a few dumb mannerisms. If we can teach kids how to accept and respect one another, than perhaps-"

"Okay, Mr. Jones. I hear you loud and clear. Your concern is well placed, and I trust you because you're a smart young boy with excellent vocabulary and the ability to mold yourself to fit with people as opposed to just forcing your way in. Sadly, however, there are two issues. 

If I were to try to make changes as large as the ones proposed by yourself because of the fear of something that unlikely with no proof to back it up, I'd lose my job in an instant, and probably be en route to the nearest mental facility within the hour. Second, it hurts me to say that you've only invented the most ridiculous and outlandish anti-bullying campaign the world's ever seen. "Stop being mean to each other or aliens'll fly down and scoop you up for dinner!" It seems more akin to something you'd tell to a...hm...impressionable small child. I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. As a thinking, breathing, cognizant person, I can't help you. Please unders-"

"That's quite alright, Mrs. Botsky. I do understand. However, before I make my way back to class, I'd like to remind you of one key rule of life: dramatic irony is the death of logic. No matter how correct what I say is, people won't believe it until it's too late."

"May I ask what that's supposed to mean?"

"It means...I've got work to do."

"Oh, you do, now?"

"Yes. You said a couple of things that stuck out to me. What they are, I'll keep to myself for the time being, as they'll be key in demonstrating the force of not knowing as much as the reader does."

"Wait a minute...what do you mean "the reader"?"

"The reader. The one who reads. You and everyone else here on the soil of Earth will learn the value of people like myself soon enough. The balance of our world's laws could be at stake, and logic will cease to apply. The imaginations of the world's most intelligent are being realized, and it's the job of people like myself to make sure those realizations don't go awry, lest I have to do something I've thought of doing but couldn't for a while."

"What's with all of these riddles all of a sudden? Why are you telling me this now? What does it mean?"

"That's for us readers to decide. For now, I've got work to do. We'll continue this conversation tomorrow."

James departs from the school campus as the bell rings at 4:30, walking down the cracked sidewalks through the gang-infested apartment areas, past the river connecting to the brightly lit beacon of hope, Canada, and across the poorest and most economically unsuccessful section of 2088 Detroit, reaching "his" house about an hour after departure. James lives in a house with both parents, both of whom are gone on business trips for the next 7 days. As James sits at the dining room table to do his homework, a question pops into his head that stops his pencil in its tracks.

"What if the government is testing experimental or newly discovered species on us? Who would they test them on first? It's a stretch, but I think I'll have to stay after school for a while. Mr. Trace and I have something we have to discuss. Meanwhile, I hope all those vague riddles keep Mrs. Botsky occupied for a minute while I get things situated. I may be limited in my time here."

Mrs. Botsky stays after school for a little while to repair the copy machine. Around 5:37, she hears the front door buzzer ring. A peek at the camera reveals a tall man in a lab coat, light blue pants, and a pair of tinted shades standing next to a roughly 5"9 girl in an all black men's suit and a similar pair of tinted shades. Her red hair is tied into a neat ponytail with a floral patterned-ribbon in a bow shape, the front adorned by a hibiscus. 

The two are allowed in, as school doesn't close until 6:00. A small conversation ensues, and as it turns out, the girl was enrolled in the school but had been out due to a car accident that left her hospitalized for a few months. Mrs. Botsky began to question why she hadn't heard of or seen this girl before, but the second she was going to, the girl removed her glasses to wipe her eyes. This simple act unnerved Mrs. Botsky, who then simply entered the absence excuse into the computer and proceeded to let the man and girl out of the building. On the way home, she was shaken. Only one thought remained in her head as her heart rate increased.

"That girl's eyes were...Were those special contacts, or...Slit pupils - blood red ones, at that - don't occur naturally in people, do they? I mean, it's not like I can ask her to remove them...the dress code doesn't prohibit it. I may ask her in person tomorrow."