by D. S. Murphy
Brad went over to David and started waving the plastic dick in his face. I felt a protective sort of urge rising in me, but I squashed it down. We were seniors in high school. He didn’t need anybody to stand up for him.
“Hi I’m David, I love my books so much I get a hard-on every time I crack one open. Sometimes when I’m alone I even use them to jerk off, like this.” Brad picked up David’s book and folded it around the dildo, moving it up and down and making moaning noises. I felt bad for David, but Brad did this kind of stuff all the time. It wasn’t my problem.
“That’s enough,” said a voice calmly. I thought it was Mr. Leister at first but he was still ignoring us. I looked around and realized it was Greg Masters. My Greg. Although of course he wasn’t really mine, he’d been dating Melissa Riley, the queen of our high school’s popularity chart, since Freshman year. And they were a perfect match; even though she was a total bitch and Greg deserved someone better. Melissa was unquestionably the hottest girl in school, and Greg was the gorgeous captain of the basketball team. Neither of them had as much as looked at me in almost four years. I’d never seen Greg stand up to a bully like Brad before. Not for someone like David. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t remember anybody standing up for someone like David before, which I guess explained the stupefied look on Brad’s face.
Brad hesitated and I saw him calculating his options. Even though he had a reputation as a badass, with his ripped jeans, black T-shirt, messy dark hair and eyebrow piercing, and even though Greg was pretty much the nicest guy on earth, he was still built like an athlete. Plus he had that sense of invincibility that kids from money always carried around with them. The whole class was watching now, and I realized I was holding my breath with them.
I wanted to start chanting, “Fight, Fight, Fight!” like they do in the movies. There are very rarely real fights in our school. But the glint in Brad’s eye told me he was in a daring—or self-destructive—mood.
“Oh, sorry Greg, I had no idea that David here was your secret lover. He must be if you’re going to defend his honor.”
“I’m just sick of listening to your voice,” Greg said, standing up. “It’s getting on my nerves.”
“What are you going to do, get all your basketball buddies to gang up on me?”
Greg sized him up with a smirk, slowly rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. Even his forearms were sexy.
“I don’t think I’m going to need any help with this,” he said.
“Guys, this is stupid,” David said, standing up also. “It’s no big deal. Let’s just sit down.”
Suddenly Brad tossed the dildo at the front of the room, where it just missed Mr. Leister’s head and smacked against the chalkboard. Then he sat down quickly, so when Mr. Leister turned around he only saw David and Greg.
“So this is where the taxpayer’s money is going,” Mr. Leister said, picking up the dildo. “Does this belong to one of you?”
“It was Brad,” I said, before I could stop myself. Greg and David nodded.
“That’s ridiculous!” Brad shouted. “It was totally David. You know how clever he is with coding and stuff. Bree is just protecting her boyfriend Greg, because she’s so into him.”
My cheeks burned red. Was my crush that obvious? I was mortified, but I covered my embarrassment with anger. I kicked Brad’s desk as hard as I could. He flinched when it hit him in the knee with a satisfying thud.
“Only my friends call me Bree,” I said. “You can call me Brianna.”
“Are you asking me to call you?” Brad said. “Sorry, you’re not my type.”
At this point I was ready to murder him, but Mr. Leister clapped his hands and yelled, “Everybody, sit down. Now.”
I sat and crossed my arms together, frowning. Amy shot me an are you crazy look and I shrugged back. Mr. Leister liked me anyway—science was the only class where I got straight A’s, mostly because Mr. Leister valued practical application and demonstration projects. So instead of just taking a test, I could build something or make something work.
“I was just thinking about how to divide you up into teams for this year’s science fair,” Mr. Leister said, adjusting his glasses. “I appreciate you making it easy for me. Brianna, David, Brad and Greg—you’ll be on one team.”
Wait, what? My blood was already pumping with adrenaline from the incident, and now a deep panic was settling into my bones. The science fair was months away, and teams would have to cooperate with each other on a project. I would have taken any other punishment, but the science fair was something I actually cared about. It was an opportunity to get noticed early, maybe even a get out of jail free card if you got an early entry into some internship or college program. I didn’t know what I wanted to do yet, but I sure as hell didn’t want my project jeopardized by shit-for-brains Brad. Plus, unlike Greg, my family didn’t have the money to send me to some fancy school.
Amy raised her hand but didn’t wait to get called on. “Excuse me, Mr. Leister, but Bree and I need to be on a team together. We’ve already got a project in mind we’ve started working on.”
I was grateful for her quick lie, but my face fell when I saw Mr. Leister clench his jaw. We’d pushed him too far this morning, and he wasn’t going to be forgiving.
“In that case, Amy, you can join Brianna’s team. I’m sure they can use all the help they can get. And remember, your science fair project is mandatory and will account for 30% of your final grade. I want to see creative, forward-thinking projects: but big ideas aren’t enough. You need to have a working prototype in time for the fair.”
I gripped the edge of my desk as the rest of the class divided themselves up into teams. I was still in shock. At the time, I was just worried about my future. I didn’t realize then that our little team would soon topple governments and kill nearly everyone in our high school. But that came later. First came the announcement.
2
“What just happened?” Amy asked me after class.
“I have no idea. I’m such an idiot, I should’ve just kept out of it.”
“It’s not your fault, it’s Brad’s. I can’t believe we’re being punished just because he’s such a miscreant. It’s totally not fair.”
“It’s too bad we actually don’t have a project already,” I said. “That would make things a lot easier. I don’t know how we’re going to get anything done with those three.”
“Are you kidding? David’s probably the smartest kid in the class. I’ll bet he gets first place. And Brad is a jerk, but he’s not stupid. You saw how he hacked the 3D printer.”
I scoffed, looking at my nails. “Child’s play. It’s an open network at a public high school, not the CIA’s private servers.”
“Whatever, I’m just saying, it may not be that bad. Plus…” she eyed me wickedly, “Now you get to spend some time with Greg.”
I punched her shoulder. I’d been crushing on Greg Masters for years, but always from afar. Now we had to work together, which would probably include actually talking and stuff. My throat went tight just thinking about it.
Just then, a couple of guys passed us in the hall. One of them stuffed a flyer into my hand and whispered, “Bot fight after school in the back parking lot.”
I raised my eyebrows. Sweet. For kids who got bored watching organized sports events, bot fights were a break in the monotony of high school. There hadn’t been one for almost a month. I made a bot once, but the damn thing was useless, and it got absolutely obliterated. I’d learned a lot since then though, and had been thinking of trying it again.
After last period, about a hundred people gathered in the back parking lot to watch kids try their luck. I was pretty sure gambling on school grounds was against the rules, but most of the teachers didn’t stick around to supervise us.
“Standard rules,” said the organizer, a lanky kid named Jeff, as he drew a large chalk circle on the ground. He was wearing a white hoodie and holding a tablet. “$20 to enter, winner takes all.”
Bo
t fights were tricky, because everybody put their bots into the match at the same time. So kids could make alliances and gang up on you, then split the cash. But there were always at least a dozen entries, so trying to pair off one by one like a traditional tournament would take forever, and we didn’t have time for that. This way it was quick and brutal—and so much more entertaining. I saw David hand his money to Jeff, then pull a bot out of his backpack. Some of the kids laughed when he set it down. It looked like a little metal box on wheels. It didn’t have arms or weapons or anything. I felt a protectiveness in my chest, like he was a little brother who had no idea what he was up against. We weren’t exactly friends, but I hated seeing other people get laughed at.
“This should be fun,” said Brad, passing by close to me and swiping his phone across Jeff’s tablet to transfer his entry fee.
“Brad and David?” Amy said. I widened my eyes and nodded slowly. It would also give us a chance to see what our new lab partners were capable of.
“Fifteen bots enter, one bot leaves!” yelled Jeff, starting the match. Most of the bots looked like little humanoids, some with legs, some with wheels. Brad’s looked like a scorpion, with an electric drill built into the tail. When the match started, Brad waited until two bots were facing off, and then rammed one from behind, sandwiching him against the other and drilling straight through it. Sparks and a puff of smoke announced its demise.
Bots were counted as disabled when they were pushed out of the circle, could no longer move, or when the power died. Jeff’s bot was built like a double mousetrap; but instead of an iron bar it was holding two heavy meat cleavers. They’d both release at once, hitting the ground so hard it caused sparks against the pavement. It worked well the first couple of times, hitting with enough force to send the other bots flipping to the side, outside the circle. But after each release, it took about ten seconds to crank the knives back up into place. Brad’s scorpion just dodged to the side, then drilled through the body of the Jeff’s bot before it finished reloading.
“Brad is totally going to win this,” Amy whispered next to me. I was keeping my eyes on David’s bot. So far it had taken a beating, but without any extra parts it stood up to damage well. It was mostly just circling around, avoiding conflict. But David didn’t look scared. He looked smug. When there were only five bots left, Brad started nodding and gesturing to the others to go after David.
They circled around David’s bot and started moving in. David looked like he was trying to keep a straight face, but had trouble holding in his smile. Then he pressed a button on his remote, and a little red light lit up on the top of his metal box.
“Oooh, is that supposed to scare me?” Brad taunted. His bot charged and rammed into the side of David’s metal box. But as soon as the drill made contact, Brad’s bot exploded into a shower of sparks. Then its light turned off.
“What the hell?!” Brad yelled, hitting the buttons on his unresponsive remote. He stepped into the circle and started reaching for his bot.
“I wouldn’t do that,” David said. “500 volts of static electricity isn’t very pleasant.” Brad stepped back and scowled. David pressed another switch on his remote and the red light started flashing again, just as his box started playing the tune to Pop Goes the Weasel. When it stopped, four blinding bolts of electricity shot out towards the remaining bots and fried them, too. The blackened remains smoked as the crowd broke out in applause.
“That’s bullshit!” Brad shouted, “You can’t do that, it defeats the whole point!”
“The point is to render the other bots inactive by disabling their power supplies, right? I never heard any rules about not using a short range EMP to fry contender’s circuits.”
“It’s cheating!” one of the other players yelled.
David shrugged and looked at Jeff, who was smiling and shaking his head. “I don’t think it can be cheating if we never prohibited it,” he said. “Now that we know it’s possible, we can put a ban in place. But since David’s bot is the only one left, I don’t think we can deny that’s he’s the winner of this match.” He handed over the pot of money; a jar full of bills.
“That’s three hundred bucks,” I whispered to Amy.
“Not bad for a geek,” she said, “though I bet he’ll pay for it later. Brad looks pissed.”
“Serves him right. Did you see the way his bot exploded? That was awesome.” Just then I made eye contact with David. He smiled at me and I smiled back. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened, but I didn’t drop my eyes. Maybe this science fair project wouldn’t be so bad after all.
***
That night I was listening to music and trying not to think of what it would be like to sit next to Greg in class and work on this stupid project together, when Dad shouted up the stairs.
“President’s on! Bree, you should watch this.”
I’m not political, and I couldn’t imagine what the president could possibly say that would be of interest to me. As far as I could tell, people with the most money bought favors from candidates of either party, and politics was a bunch of old white guys in a room trying to stop the other half from getting anything done.
But then I started seeing chatter on my social media feeds. I had all the main networks merged together in one stream that got projected against my bedroom wall, so I could see if there was anything interesting going on. People were saying things like “finally” or “this is insane” and tagging it #therabots. When I saw someone say “end of cancer” I jumped up, clenching my fists. I got a text from Amy a few seconds later, U watching this?
I ran downstairs and joined my dad in the living room. Megan was sitting on an easy chair with a blanket over her, one hand buried in a bag of chips. The president was standing in a press conference room, with the presidential seal behind him.
“As you know, one of the major goals of my presidency has been to improve healthcare for all American citizens. This month, a project that has been in development secretly for over a decade has been approved to roll out on a larger scale. This is an amazing advance in medical technology that will allow America to not only catch up with other nations, but far surpass them. Imagine a world where sickness, disease, and pain can be improved from the inside, with no invasive procedures or harmful medications. I know what you’re thinking, it sounds like science fiction. And I know there will be naysayers who warn of dire consequences. But I’m absolutely certain that this new program will not only save billions of dollars in healthcare related fees, but will also improve the quality of life for Americans of all ages, from all backgrounds. Here to tell you about some of the more technical details of the program is Dr. Ted Kastler from the NHTC.”
“NHTC?” I asked my dad.
“National Health and Technology Center,” he said, without taking his eyes off the screen.
The president gestured offstage to another man, who was wearing a white lab coat over his suit. His gray hair stuck out in tufts, and his arctic blue eyes jumped out from beneath a pair of thick, dark eyebrows. Creases framed his mouth and eyes from the deep frown on his face.
“Firstly I’d like to thank the president, and the law makers and investors who saw the promise in our research at the early stages. Secondly, let me assure you that this is not some fancy, half-baked technology. At this very moment, there are over 10,000 microscopic nanobots moving around inside my body. They are, in effect, very tiny, very simple robots. They are not at all harmful. They are small enough to pass through cell membranes and move to different parts of my body as needed. And they can be programmed with reparative tasks by a certified doctor.”
No way, I thought, sitting down beside dad on the couch.
“We have already mapped the human genome,” Dr. Kastler continued. “While much of our DNA remains a mystery, we’ve also made great progress and discovery. Soon these nanobots—therabots, as we call them—will be able to look for disease markers of common genetic disorders, and eradicate familial predispositions to certain d
isease. In the meantime, they can already remove cancerous cells and increase white blood cells to boost our immune system.”
I glanced at my father and he met my eyes. He was thinking the same thing I was. It’s too late.
“They can attack viral or bacterial infections,” Dr. Kastler continued. “They can fix cataracts or improve vision. They can locate and repair damaged nerves. They can even measure the levels of specific compounds in your blood, helping diabetics, sufferers of anemia, and a whole host of other Americans in need of a new means of managing their health.”
A quiet ballad was playing behind him, so low I almost couldn’t hear it, but it built towards a crescendo as his speech picked up speed. The scientist punctuated his sentences with precise hand movements he’d probably practiced in the mirror.
“If not set to one of the 270 different preprogramed medical functions, the therabots can be set on a basic maintenance program that will assist the body in renewing itself and monitor any instances of misfolded proteins or irregular cells. All in all, the therabots should add at least a decade or two to the average American’s lifespan. Within fifty years, that may double. This isn’t just a miracle drug or a cure, this is truly the world’s first real panacea. This is not only the future of medicine. This is the future of the human race.”
The president came back onstage and put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. They shook hands and smiled as the camera flashes went off, holding the pose in the flurry of bright lights. There was a moment of silence, before the press began shouting questions. The president held a hand up to quiet people down.
“We won’t be taking any questions right now, but I’ve been assured that the technology is cost-efficient and effective. It is also harmless; there are safety protocols in place, and the nanobots can be turned off at any time and flushed out of the system in as little as 24 hours. Now, because this is such a new program, for the first several months it will be limited to patients with life-threatening conditions. Anyone enrolled with a national health care insurance plan can ask their doctor if they meet the initial requirements.”
