"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world: the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."

-- George Bernard Shaw.

In English class, there is only you and the clock. The clock ticks slower and slower until you have to be sure it's a trick. It's a trap and your freedom is when the little hand hits the three and the big hand hits the twelve and you haven't got anyone's attention.

My top 50 performance last year meant that this particular analog clock was attached to the wall of a private school. A private school that found analog clocks and actual wood furniture quaint. One that had no interest in my academic future until my exploding body splurped all over the coliseum and I made the Happy Fifty.

"Hey Splatter." A whispery voice came from behind me. I took a deep breath and thought about trying to ignore her, but I knew that it was pointless. If I ignored her, Kaydence would get louder, probably pinch my neck or pull my ponytail. Then her minions would make things worse. I was just getting over their last attempt at social homicide. I couldn't even look Irvin in the eye and he had been at least a neutral lab partner for most of the year.

"Are you ignoring me Splatter?"

"No," I said quietly but didn't bother turning around.

"Good. So. Did you remember what today is?"

I wanted to sarcastically shout at her that of course I remembered what the day was. Sign Up Day. I had hoped to quietly sneak out of class at the bell and find a corner where I could fill out the form by myself, but I had a feeling that Kaydence wanted to do something to make my life a living hell and possibly interrupt my submission. We had an hour to fill everything out, submit the questionnaire, and get our number. I needed that hour.

Despite the private school, I had no money for lawyers and a public relations firm to help draft my submission. The past three years I'd gotten in mostly based on my rankings and the sob story of my mother's cancer. This year, my mother's cancer was cured by a ReBirth paid for with all my Top 50 winnings. My dad, well, my dad was a liability so I didn't want to even put him on the application. I also wasn't good at English or Media classes. Poors don't have the best tech to create content.

I'd accepted the scholarship to the private school funded by the same machine that ReBirthed me because my mom said she wouldn't let me pay for her cancer treatment unless I did it. As the summer break ended and the school year arrived I had even convinced myself it was going to be an adventure. Excitement and hope had died in the first week of school after I learned that being a token scholarship kid who exploded on screen was just a great start to a year of torment.

I tried bargaining with my mom to let me go back to my shitty-assed public school but she refused to sign the paperwork. Even though I knew I would be forced to see Luke, my old school would have been better than this hell hole. Frasier Products Academy had all the semblance of money with the corporate bullshit of something run by one of the ReBirther corps. Still, they trotted me out to all kinds of things this year as their token scholarship kid.

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Kaydence kicked the foot of my chair. She hissed, "Are you ignoring me again Splatter?"

"No. I'm listening."

"I know you think you're hot shit. Well, you're not. If I hear that you've signed up for Assassin I'll make sure to add a bounty on you so that everyone will want you dead."

I wanted to tell her to go the fuck ahead and do that, but I didn't need her getting it into her head to delay me from running from the classroom. After filling out the form today, I still had a few more months left of private school bullying before I finished out the year. If she assumed I wasn't interested in filling out the form, then maybe they would all leave me alone. The less she assumed I would then the better.

I didn't say anything and so she added, "You're going to promise me that you aren't signing up." She clicked a button and I heard the soft whirr of a tech device start up. She gripped my shoulder with something metallic under her hand and I felt the prick of a sensor as it ripped through fabric and skin. "Know what this is? I can tell if you're lying."

No, she actually couldn't tell if I was lying. Lie detector tech was bullshit at best, but if she even felt my pulse speed up from nervousness, I wasn't going to leave the hallway with all my parts intact. She'd beat me to a pulp and merrily allow the rest of my classmates to stream it.

At the site where the sensor entered my neck, coolness trickled as biochemical nanodes spread out.

I took a breath through my nostrils, willing my body to be calm. I tried to speak evenly. "Why would I sign up? I don't need the money since my mom's cancer is cured." That was truthful. I had no obvious reason to sign up this year. Rich kids in this school only seemed to understand obvious reasons.

"Then promise me you won't enter this year."

"Absolutely. I promise." I added silently in my own thoughts to the end of the sentence, "that I'm lying to you about this you stupid bitch."

Her hand left my neck. The pinprick of whatever applicator tugged out, pulling at my skin. When it was gone, the spot on my neck throbbed a bit, but I didn't want to touch it despite the strong urge to do so. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction to see that it actually stung.

Reporting her for using semi-illegal technology would be pointless. I highly doubted that the nanodes would be permanent and my immune system would do its own number on them so within a few hours I'll be sick with some kind of fever or flu. I'd have to go to the school nurse right away for a blood workup in order to even get evidence and I had plans.

Other students began to pack their things, letting me know that it was close to the end of the day. I didn't dare. I just studied my tablet extra hard as if I could glean more understanding out of the short story assignment that we'd been given. Finally the clock chimed for three o'clock. Students rushed out of the room. Submissions started at 3:30.

I did not deviate from my usual routine: I walked at a typical pace, put things away in my locker and hefted my bag over my shoulder, walked the long overly manicured pathway from the front entrance of my school to the gates at the street. I exited at the door by the guard tower. Nobody followed, not even a drone. I could hear the expensive vehicles swoosh past up in the sky above, but none of them swooped lower to harass me. They were probably all submitting their Assassin forms from the comfort of their luxury craft while using third party writers to beef them up.

I walked to the bus stop where there were a few gardeners and some of the maintenance workers waiting to catch the ground-level core city bus. I'd be on it for an hour to get to the hub where I'd take my train home. One came almost right away. I pushed my way to the back and found a seat at the far corner so I could sit. I only had about fourty-five minutes left.

Typing from my archaic tablet in a cramped seat at the back of a bus, I filled out the Assassin form and submitted it with only seconds to spare.

I also opened a new text file and typed in my list:

Luke

Kaydence