“The Senate has just voted, 96 to 4, to lower the minimum age to IHO from eighteen to thirteen. This change came about after increased lobbying and record political contributions from the IHO industry. Lawmakers claim that the lowered age will allow high school students to better invest in their future, and make college admissions more equitable by allowing lower income students to afford better resources. Critics like Paula Oberdeen here say it’s exploiting our youth. Paula what do you have to say to the Senate after their momentous ruling?”
The camera panned to a middle aged woman holding a sign that read “IHOpe that IHOs get banned!” She looked like someone who wasn’t used to their voice being heard, but was damn ready for that to change.
“These IHOs, they’re, they’re a noose. They're at, what, like sixty, seventy percent of the country IHO'd but that’s not enough for the bloodsuckers who run Whitewater, Paxian, Aeron, and the rest of them! Now they’re going after our kids. Our kids! And we have to say, we can’t let them do this, enough is enough. Kids can’t handle that kind of stress. They aren’t responsible enough, mature enough, to have to put on airs for some corporate suit to justify their ‘value.’ Let kids be kids, write your senator to raise the age back to 18!”
“Thanks Paula.” The camera panned back to the practiced smile of the reporter. “Now back to you Jaime.”
Damian tapped on another video with one hand and poured some almond milk into his cereal with the other. “Crazy” he said to the dingy kitchen. He ate his cereal as his classmates digested the news.
“Lmao wtf is going onnn”
“Newest yearbook category - most likely to MOON”
“What's the exchange rate between TikTok views and Cap??”
Damian finished his cereal and got ready for school. He tossed his things into his bag, ran his fingers through his hair, was unimpressed at the result, and left the apartment. He locked the door since he was the last person to leave; his parents had both left hours ago. As he went down the flights of stairs he wasn’t exactly excited - he found it harder and harder to get excited about things - but he was curious to see what would happen.
He trudged through the heat on his way to the train. As he descended the whirrs and groans of a too-old air conditioner fighting what might be its last, hopeless battle filled his ears. He turned on his personal air conditioner, the myopic societal response to the constant heat waves. The waves of cool air felt flaccid, felt like they fell short of his face, instead forming an idea of cold six inches in front of him, all the while the tiny little engine in the unit ejected hot air the opposite direction into the station. The personal air conditioner, as a condition of its use, necessitated its own existence. Induced product market fit. What a business model.
Such thoughts sloughed off his reflective veneer as Damian’s face began to stretch and fluoresce. He became a bubble, adrift at the mercy of the wind. The rest of the world dropped away in soapy irrelevance.
A swampy bellow gently guided the bubble onto the train.
Harsh gusts of wind battered the bubble from all directions. It almost popped but was able to ride an air current higher still, far above the cyclone.
It floated past a battlefield; the cold blasts from above fought the hot blasts from below to a standstill, an uncomfortable, humid equilibrium.
A furtive band of wind spirits danced around the train, weaving between the wheels, riding the momentum in the front, hanging onto the back. One waved to the bubble inside, its precious cargo. The bubble tried to wave back.
At one stop a playful fae breeze drifted in and lazily enveloped the bubble as if to ask him “Why? Why float here, among all this” it said disdainfully, “when we could have so much fun far, far away from here?”
The bubble’s surface shimmered bluish-purplish-reddish gold. The glimmering coalesced into a soapy caricature of Damian. With some effort Damian was able to communicate to the breezy pixie.
“What…is…your name?”
“You can call me Truahnsi. I believe we’ve met once or twice before, no? Come, let's play again Damian!” It flew around Damian. “Paxian Plaza is full of adventure today!”
Damian didn’t budge.
“Aww Damian you bore,” the pixie fake mocked, “what could you possibly have planned that’s more fun than hanging out with me? Just move your right leg, whereupon sits your right foot, to take the right step forward and do something fun with what little time you have left. Seize the day! Carpe Diem! Take control!”
The pixie wrapped itself around his right foot and tugged so hard it almost fell backwards, like an old cartoon character. To his surprise his foot began to move. It landed, back in the subway car, practically another universe now from the pale blue expanse the rest of Damian was in.
“I can’t!” Damian blurted out.
“Hmph. Well, I’m sorry for you.” the pixie pouted, then left dejectedly.
And eventually a strong, stern wind, borne of habit, flavored with fear and loathing bore the bubble out of the train and up the stairs, through the doors, and into a desk.
POP!
Damien came to in his seat.
He thought about the playful breeze as his teacher droned on.
“...and finally, about the IHOs, there’s going to be an assembly in the auditorium tomorrow morning. We’re going to have some people come and present the pros and cons to you all so you can make a more informed decision.”
Damian’s boyfriend Erik reached over and grabbed Damian’s hand.
“You ok? You look a little out of it.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just zoned out for a bit there.”
Erik frowned. “You’re not *just* zoning out man. You’re dissociating. Call it what it is. And you’ve been doing that more and more recently. You sure you’re ok?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
The bubble floated in place until the assembly.
Damian reconstituted in his seat in the auditorium. Erik sat to his right, with a look of concern cut with irritation carved into his face, folded into his presence. The principal was at the mic.
“First of all we’d like to give a warm Paulson High welcome to our two guest speakers today who were gracious enough to come share some information with you all about the IHO process. We have a mister Joseph Andrews, all the way from New York, here to talk about how you can use the IHOs to advance your academic career. We also have local celebrity Paula Oberdeen, all the way from Main Street here to tell you about some potential things to look out for and consider before IHOing. Mr. Andrews, the floors all yours.”
Joseph walked up to the mic and shook the principal’s hand. He was slick and spick and span, his appearance unimpeachable. Hair slicked back, nice suit and tie, well groomed stubble, but still he exuded pushy salesman energy. Damian thought it was in his smile. Too many teeth. Like a snake trying to sell you the antidote to its bite. “Thank you Principal Jefferies. Paulson High how’re we doing?” he yelled. He got back a sleepy acknowledgment of the question. “C’mon, we can do better than that! HOW! ARE! WE! DOING!”
Damian groaned. A few cheers went up in the crowd, just to speed things along.
“That’s what I like to HEAR! Today I want to talk to you kids about the benefits of IHOing. As many of you know college is EX-PEN-SIVE. Even applying to college is EX-PEN-SIVE. You need to pay for the privilege of taking your exams, the privilege of sending your scores to the school you’re applying to, the privilege of submitting an application so THEY can bother to take five minutes out of their day to do their job and look it, just to reject it because you haven’t cured cancer at fifteen. That’s where IHOing can come in.”
A lone “WOOOO” cut through the crowd. Joseph turned on a smile and a slideshow and flipped through it, landing on a page full of dollar signs.
“You don’t have to go it alone. There’s plenty of people out there who would love to help out, to lend you some money. All you need to do is ask. They know that college is, say it with me now, EX-PEN-SIVE.”
He got some angry assents from the crowd.
“And then when you’re older and are making some good money because of the job they helped you get you can pay them back, with interest of course. It’s a win-win.”
Paula scoffed. Joseph beamed a flashy smile. Damian reached for Erik’s hand. His aura and his hand receded.
“The beautiful Mrs. Oberdeen over here would disagree with me. She would call this exploitative. To that I say is it any worse than the current system? IHOs level the playing field. They turn things into a meritocracy again. The real affirmative action in this country has always been along class lines." He flipped to a slide of the monopoly man.
"The rich can afford to work unpaid internships for experience on their resumes. The rich have the best tutors, the best extracurriculars, the best schools. The rich get legacy admissions. Daddy went to Harvard? So can you, no questions asked. At least now you all have a fighting chance. If you’re smart then the investors are gonna be breaking down your door trying to give you money. And I say, take it.”
There was some applause among the crowd. “Thank you Mr. Andrews” Principal Jefferies said, shaking his hand. “Now, Mrs. Oberdeen, the floor is yours.” She walked up to the podium with a nervous bravado. She dressed much plainer than Joseph; a worn-out beanie and an old coat atop faded jeans. Frizzy locks peeked out from behind her ears.
“Thanks, I’ll be quick. If I’ve learned one thing in my life it's to follow the money. For example, just who the heck is this Joseph guy? Someone flies in from New York in a suit worth more than your parents make in a month just to talk to a buncha nobodies like us? The day after high school students are allowed to IHO? I took a peek at his calendar. He’s speaking to three more schools, TODAY. What, was he grown in a petri dish til it was time to let him loose on the world? Nuh-uh, something seems fishy. This guy was bought and paid for long ago. He AIN’T doing this out of the good of his heart. Now think about who paid him and why. It’s the Whitewaters of the world. And they’re definitely not doing it to help find the next Einsten. Those billionaires and their armies of number crunchers and algorithms calculated that having a bunch of high schoolers IHO would make them a FORTUNE.” She paused to take her first breath.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“He talks about evening the playing field against the rich but who do you think is buying up your shares if you IHO? The rich win either way. Follow the money. The solution to this whole mess isn’t some, what would you even call it, neo-serfdom? You have to get at the root of it, college prices, income inequality, wage stagnation.”
“All big and valid problems, sure," Joseph interrupted. "But how do you propose these youngsters get at the 'root' of them Mrs. Oberdeen?” Joseph interrupted.
“I-I don’t know but I know the answer AIN’T what you’re sellin’."
"At least I'm offering a solution."
She ignored him, while he sat into a satisfied slouch. "Look kids, you’ve had every major decision of your life decided by your parents or guardians so far. The people who only want the best for you. And yet I bet each and every one of you can’t WAIT til you’re free to be on your own, make your own decisions, live your own lives. But you won’t be able to do that if you take the deal Joseph is offering. You’ll have your decisions made not by someone who, ultimately, even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time, cares about you but by a corporation thousands of miles away who cares about how much money you can make them. Look, it doesn’t matter how you do it; get a summer job, apply for every internship under the sun, or take out a loan, but don’t sell off a part of yourself. That’s a decision you CAN’T easily take back.”
Light clapping percolated from the audience.
“Thank you Mrs. Oberdeen for your time.” the principal said.
The bubble drifted gently until lunch.
“That was some bullshit.” Damian heard Erik saying to the rest of the table. “Work a summer job? That might’ve paid her tuition 50 years ago. Must've been nice.”
Other students murmured their assent between bites.
“I don’t think I agree with you E.” Damian heard himself saying, to his surprise.
“Oh hey Damian, nice of you to join us.” Erik responded.
“Ha ha.”
“Thank you, I’m very funny. What don’t you agree with?”
“General concept? I don’t know, I think there’s something intangibly sad about giving up a part of yourself. Something that’s hard to measure in dollars or APRs or whatever.”
“Yeah, sure. But here in tangibility I need tangible dollars to pay for my tangible education.”
“I guess. It’s scary thinking about giving up control. If you don’t even have control of yourself what do you have?”
“Is it really worse than having to go to school or work a job?”
“I think so. Instead of one person, your boss or your teacher or whoever, having control over you its everyone, your shareholders or whatever. You’re basically a puppet -- right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot” he pantomimed, moving his right and left arms up and down “to thousands of strings. It sounds awful.”
“What, are you talking from experience?”
“No, just trying to put myself in someone else’s shoes I guess.”
“I think I agree with both of you.” their friend Sam cut in. “Like, I’ll try to figure out other ways to pay for college but if worst comes to worst then I guess I’ll have to do it.”
“Y’all’re wild. While you’re busy working your three summer jobs or applying for scholarships or whatever I’ll be living large,” Erik laughed. “Might even turn a profit from the whole thing. I’m smart, the hedge funds are gonna be breaking down the door to get to me.”
“I really don’t think you should.” Damian said.
“I don’t think you know what’s best for me.” Erik replied.
Damian’s periphery began kaleidoscoping again.
“Oh no, there he goes again.” Damian heard Erik say. He sounded muffled, as if he was in a different room.
“No damnit!” Damian thought. His reality became a rapidly shrinking pinhole against a backdrop of a pale sky blue nothing. He tried to kick towards the pinhole, to throw his hand inside so as to keep it open as if it was the elevator in his building but like the elevator in his building it closed on his hand and disappeared.
“Dude, Erik didn’t mean that,” Sam said to Damian.
Damian grunted.
“Yes he did, that asshole.” Damian thought.
“Yes I did.” Erik responded. “Don’t bother though, when he gets like this it’s like he doesn’t even existttttt.” His voice trailed off.
Damian felt his body going through the motions; chewing, swallowing, spitting monosyllabic responses.
In his head Damian was surrounded by, well, nothing.
Pale blue as far as the eye could see.
PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE. PALE BLUE AS FAR AS THE EYE COUL
Damian drifted along; eventually the data feed from his nerves, his eyes, his ears, his mouth, stopped coming in; his body was running on autopilot.
He was drifting nowhere fast until he found a strong breeze, an undercurrent of thought, that picked him up and flighted him somewhere only he knows.
His father and Damian, laughing, blowing bubbles on their building's rooftop in the hot August air.
Overhearing his parents arguing about money.
Sneaking up to the roof of his building and peering over the edge.
Placing the cherry on top of the sundae and handing it to the customer.
“Was that the last problem for today?” Damian asked.
“It was” Erik responded.
“Cool, guess we’re done.”
“Thought we’d never finish.”
“So, uh, you have any plans?”
“Not really, why?”
“Would you wanna watch a movie or something?”
“What, are you asking me out or something?”
“Actually, yes. Is that ok?”
“Oh, uh, hmm. I’m actually straight. But I’m flattered.”
“Oh shit this is so awkward.”
“Yeah I guess this is really awkward for you.” Erik said before pulling Damian in for his first kiss.
He tried to escape the stream of consciousness but found that it had control of him. It carried him, for how long he didn’t know, to another updraft, a first draft of things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite put into words.
“Hey Joseph, I think you’re a natural salesman, and probably a nice enough guy who doesn’t want to be pitching, what did she call it, 'neo-serfdom', to a buncha impressionable kids. But grow a spine. You can’t justify causing so much harm to so many so young just because you need a job.”
“Nah, not aggressive enough.”
“Hey Mrs. Oberdeen, I can’t speak for the rest of my classmates but I think I really get what you’re saying. I can see the frenzy and the fear in your eyes. We’re used to not being in control, more so than most, and I just wanna say I appreciate you shaking your fist at the storm, futile as it may feel.”
“No that sounds stupid.”
“Hey Erik, I don’t know where we went wrong. You always reminded me of a rose, thorns and all, but lately it’s been all thorns; the petals have all fallen off, and I think they settled on ‘He loves me not.’ I’m sorry I’ve been dissociating so much lately but I wish you’d try to understand. It’s scary, it’s lonely, it’s surprisingly blue, and lately it feels like there’s less and less for me to return to when I get out of one of these states.”
“Sounds like the preamble to a breakup. But I think I still love him.”
Suddenly Damian found himself in front of Truahnsi.
“Oh!,” Truahnsi said surprisedly, then, feigning an air of indifference and a motion of filing fingernails, “look who came crawling back.”
“Well I wouldn’t say crawling. Moreso hurled out of a bunch of narrative devices moonlighting as gusts of wind.”
“Sounds fun! Well, the offer still stands. Lunch should be ending soon. You can go back to class or you can leave through the side exit and carpe a diem or two.”
“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
Truahnsi’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Yeah, let’s have a little fun.”
“Oh wow, you have no idea how excited I am. I have so many plans for things we can do! We can go bowling! Do people still go bowling? Maybe VR bowling? Or play one of those World War 1 games! That could be fun! I think there’s a growhouse market in the plaza today! We could get some fresh fruit! When’s the last time we had that? Aghhh I’m so excited!”
Slowly the blue gave way to the various blacks and whites and grays that made up Paulson High’s lunchroom. Damian saw Erik’s mop of ringlets throwing out their trash. Damian chased after him. Erik saw him coming; a look of surprise flashed over his face.
“Hey E. Uh, sorry about zoning out there before. Thanks for throwing out our trash!” Damian leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek.
“You didn’t zone out. You dissociated. Again.” Erik said, leaning away.
“Yeah, I guess I should call it what it is. Um, but anyway, I was wondering if you wanna cut class and go to Paxian Plaza with me?”
“What, seriously?”
“Yeah! Let’s be a little spontaneous.”
“No!” Erik threw back at him, a little too loudly. “Sorry, that came out stronger than I meant it to. Come here.” He led Damian to a bench.
“Look Damian. I don’t know where we went wrong.”
“Wait what-”
“-I think we just don't see eye to eye anymore-”
Vision pinholing.
“-I don’t want to cut school, I don’t want to always take the path of least resistance, I want to get good grades, IHO, and get out of this dumpppp-,” his voice trailed off.
Pale blue, a little paler than usual.
“-I know you’re going through some stuff right now and I’ll be here for you if you need someone to talk to. You’ll always mean a lot to me but I can’t be with someone who doesn’t want to help themselves-”
“No no no no no no no no no no,” Damian whisperthought.
A faint rumbling in the distance.
“Oh come on. Have you been 'zoning out' this whole time? Did you hear a word I said?” The words echoed all around Damian.
The pale blue began to collapse in on itself, stretching and tearing and ripping holes from nothing into nothing until it only barely extended past Damian, leaving just emptiness behind. All around him the newfound void began to populate with valves, pipes, screws. Massive gears, the size of a city block materialized out of nothing and linked together with other even more massive gears turning shafts that stretched on into forever.
A small pinhole opened up in Damian’s little patch of blue. Damian lunged towards it, could see Erik sitting there frustrated.
Various mechanisms, through some arcane banality, created a sound wave that bounced around until it sounded like... Damian.
“No, no I’m really okay. I was just thinking.” Damian heard his mouth say.
“No I'm not!” Damian thought.
“Oh. You sound a little different. You sure you’re okay?”
“I think I might be. Um, I think you might’ve knocked some sense into me. Look, I’m not gonna ask you to not break up with me or anything but can we still be friends? I’m might need someone to guide me through the IHO process after all.” A giant shutter clicked his eye closed in a mechanical facsimile of a wink.
“What? No!” Damian thought. He ran out of his pale blue enclosure. A gust of boiling hot steam from an unseen exhaust pipe knocked him back onto the pale blue. He writhed around in agony.
Erik wore his incredulity on his face. “What? Where did this 360 come from?”
“I just think that what I was doing before wasn’t working. I probably knew that deep down but I needed someone to just sit me down and tell me that. And thank you for that. Now I just want to try something new.”
Erik looked at him quizzically. “You promise?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not going to cut class, you’re going to pay attention and study, you’re going to go to college even if you need to IHO?”
“That’s the plan.”
Inside his mind Damian tried to leap from the pale blue to a nearby valve. A piston shot out and flung him back inside the pale blue.
“Well I can see myself dating someone that impressive. IF you do it.”
“Hold me to it.”
Erik grabbed Damian’s hand. They walked together to class.
In the pale blue Damian curled up into a ball, nursing his wounds.
“That’s not how I expected that to go at all,” Erik said.
Damian called for Truahnsi. The whirring of machinery responded.
Around him the machinations ran constantly. They tore themselves down, built new, different, differently flawed, endlessly enigmatic machines to keep things running.
Damian paced around the pale blue. He couldn’t escape; some hitherto hidden gadget would always push him back.
He eventually sat down in front of the pinhole. He watched, through someone else’s eyes, as Damian IHOd, as he got accepted to his dream school, as he graduated high school and walked across the stage to get his diploma, as his parents and Erik cheered.
Eventually the rattles, shakes, fizzes, whirrs, and all the other noises slowly fell away.
Tears streamed down a fluorescent face. Light refracted through his soapy visage; his face seemed to oscillate between smiling and frowning.