I got my results back the next day. They were quick. I was summoned for a visit to the Game Master’s office. What a neat title. What a neat guy.
His office was OCD heaven. Everything was labelled. Everything was in ramrod piles, on painted squares on his desk. He looked up from his computer the second I walked in. “Mr. Piedstock?”
“Nate.” I said, holding out my hand. “Nice to meet you Mr. Piedstock.”
“No, my name is…you’re being mean, aren’t you?” He finally caught on. He didn’t shake my hand. I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t.
I shrugged, and retracted my hand. “Maybe. Are you going to be?”
“Yes.” He said flatly. “I have some of the worst test results ever on my desk, and a perfectly fit adolescent male sitting before me. The stats do not compute.”
“I’ve lived the last four years of my life in front of a computer screen.”
“That is no excuse for dropping a dumbbell on your foot.”
“Hey, if you guys didn’t wipe those down every time they wouldn’t be so dang slippery.”
“Mr. Piedstock.” He carefully scooped up a single piece of eraser dust and deposited in an exactly half-full trash can to the side of his desk. He shook his hand once, and then wiped it on a handkerchief he whipped out his pocket. “You are an unconvincing fraud.”
“Hey, I flunked the tests.” I said. “What else do I need to do to convince you I’m not going to be part of your stupid videogame Olympics?”
“So this is about not wanting to play?” He raised a superior eyebrow.
“I mean, I actually did drop a weight on my foot, but yeah, I had little motivation to excel at those tests.” I said. “I mean, can’t I just take a PE credit or something?”
“Government mandate.” He said, and slapped my folder closed. “Your group assignment will be processed shortly.”
I felt like yanking my glove off and waving it in his face. I really did. But I hadn’t seen a cyborg yet here. And I didn’t feel like getting booted, not just yet.
I got my results back the next day. They were quick. I was summoned for a visit to the Game Master’s office. What a neat title. What a neat guy.
His office was OCD heaven. Everything was labelled. Everything was in ramrod piles, on painted squares on his desk. He looked up from his computer the second I walked in. “Mr. Piedstock?”
“Nate.” I said, holding out my hand. “Nice to meet you Mr. Piedstock.”
“No, my name is…you’re being mean, aren’t you?” He finally caught on. He didn’t shake my hand. I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t.
I shrugged, and retracted my hand. “Maybe. Are you going to be?”
“Yes.” He said flatly. “I have some of the worst test results ever on my desk, and a perfectly fit adolescent male sitting before me. The stats do not compute.”
“I’ve lived the last four years of my life in front of a computer screen.”
“That is no excuse for dropping a dumbbell on your foot.”
“Hey, if you guys didn’t wipe those down every time they wouldn’t be so dang slippery.”
“Mr. Piedstock.” He carefully scooped up a single piece of eraser dust and deposited in an exactly half-full trash can to the side of his desk. He shook his hand once, and then wiped it on a handkerchief he whipped out his pocket. “You are an unconvincing fraud.”
“Hey, I flunked the tests.” I said. “What else do I need to do to convince you I’m not going to be part of your stupid videogame Olympics?”
“So this is about not wanting to play?” He raised a superior eyebrow.
“I mean, I actually did drop a weight on my foot, but yeah, I had little motivation to excel at those tests.” I said. “I mean, can’t I just take a PE credit or something?”
“Government mandate.” He said, and slapped my folder closed. “Your group assignment will be processed shortly.”
I felt like yanking my glove off and waving it in his face. I really did. But I hadn’t seen a cyborg yet here. And I didn’t feel like getting booted, not just yet.
Or, y’know, he could go a step further and slap him with his glove after taking it off. He’d kill two birds with one stone, showing his cybernetics and giving him a slap or two.
How long do you keep it? 
