Gifted Education Project (GEP)
The rest of the lesson was a thorough lecture from Boobies as to how the school functioned, basic pointers as to expectations, as well as what the itinerary of orientation included. In summary:
1. The school ranked all students from first to last within each grade. Boobies suggested that almost every single facet of your school life was dependent on this, so it was extremely important to maintain a good rank.
2. “Subjects” weren’t a thing. The school didn’t teach Literature, Economics, Biology or Mathematics. Students were encouraged to study those subjects on their own if they really wanted to (though the implication was that it’d be a waste of time), and apart from Orientation, there were no mandatory exams or classes. What the school cared about instead were our “Affinities”, though Boobies wouldn’t explain what those were.
Essentially, the school was a meritocracy pushed to its logical extreme. The class assignments were based on a strict division of the students’ ranks — numbers 1-40 would be placed in A, 41-80 in B, and so on. If the student rankings were to change due to fluctuations in our abilities, then so would the rosters of each class. Orientation was meant to determine our initial standings.
Boobies also stated our monthly allowance would be determined via this method. However, since we were all considered equal at the moment, the school gave each of us a blanket sum of 1000 Points — an amount meant to cover for “until the end of Orientation”.
Just for reference, a Big Mac in Singapore costs $2.50 as of 2056.
This was obviously an irresponsible amount of money for kids to handle. I guess it depended on how the pricing system in the school worked, but I assumed it adhered to the norm outside based on how Boobies presented the information. More importantly, if they were providing lodging for free, catering free gourmet meals planned by nutritionists and absorbing the cost of electricity, then I didn’t see what the point of motivating students with allowance was. There was definitely a catch to this system, they just wouldn’t tell us what it was.
I wondered if Erica knew.
Also, I noticed Sakura Emi very intentionally used “last” instead of “240th”.
When the bell signalling the end of homeroom sounded, Sakura Emi called me to stay back in class. The rest of the students dispersed for their break before the next period of diagnostic tests, most of them smiling and laughing (at the “retard by the window” as whispered by someone during class. I thought it was rather mean to Erica.) To my great pleasure, Marie smiled and waved at me as she left, and then I mentally calculated the cost of 30 flower bouquets and a box of chocolates as she rounded the door.
The retard, on the other hand, refused to make eye contact with me.
That SJW aside, I still had to deal with another woman. Since I was certain Ms. Emi was still angry over the pounding I’d dispensed to her earlier, I adopted a non-confrontational approach to our meeting — I smiled, I exhibited natural body language, and of course, I didn’t ogle… but you know, she was pretty well endowed, and celestial objects generate significant gravitational pull… and before I knew it, my eyes were bouncing back and forth between a certain place and the ceiling as I tried to slow down my pulse.
She definitely noticed, but surprisingly she didn’t seem to care. In fact, the mellow tone she used to address me was gentler than I could’ve ever imagined from a teacher who’d swear at a student.
“Hey. How are you coping so far?”
“Thanks, you too.”
I couldn’t think straight. Something was very wrong about her. Those are silicone, right? No way those things are real. No no no my friend. You listen to me. Not that I wasn’t thinking “straight” per se — I definitely was doing that. You see, if I weren’t thinking straight, I wouldn’t have been confused, but because I was confused, you could tell I was straight. Am straight. Like if I were gay, then I’d be thinking straight, but because I’m not gay… I need a better analogy for this.
The way she called my name silenced my thoughts.
“Don’t be stressed,” she said. “I didn’t call you here to scold you or anything like that.”
“I just wanted to apologise for yelling at you in class earlier.” She bowed so fervently that her ponytail flipped onto her head for a brief moment. “You see, it’s important for a young teacher like myself to set the tone straight on the first day… otherwise, the more recalcitrant students will think it’s okay to question my authority. I’m sorry that I used you as an example, but there really was no one else.”
She bowed again.
Darren Jr. lost interest.
“H-hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it really isn’t. It was unprofessional, and I apologise for that.”
THEN DON’T DO IT?
“Well, you’ve clearly been teaching for a while, right?”
“Huh? Yeah, I guess I have.”
“Then I trust your experience. Even if you’re a young teacher.”
I arched my brows as hard as I’d ever arched them. Intensely, even.
“Anyway, apology accepted. If that’s all, I’ll be going for my break.”
I immediately tried turning around, but—
—she caught my wrist with her hand.
“I-Isn’t there anything else you want to talk about? Questions you want to ask?”
I thought to myself, No. I clearly have a femdom kink, but now you’re being nice. You are no longer sexy. Your boobs are wasted on you. BIG SHAME!
“U-um, probably not,” I ended up saying.
“How about your head? Is your head okay? No migraines, nausea, pain, anything like that?”
“Is Erica being mean to you?”
I broke away from Sakura Emi’s grip and faced her.
“What are these questions, really?”
“She’s supposed to help you get settled. I just want to know if she’s doing her job as her teacher… and yours.”
When my eyes met hers, she glanced down at her feet.
“A-actually, don’t answer. You should go for your break.”
“I’m sorry. Just pretend like I never said anything.”
She was acting less like a teacher and more like a girl on the verge of confessing something.
Now that I was taking a closer look at her, I realised that description wasn’t far from the truth. She didn’t look like a teacher, that much was obvious. But I wasn’t talking about the way her dress combined with her makeup to give the impression of an artsy college—
I snapped my eyes shut.
The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain. The pain.
“T-tilt your head forwards!”
Don’t listen to her. Don’t listen to her. Don’t listen to her. Don’t listen to her. Don’t listen to her. Don’t—
Ȯ̴̻v̸͙͌e̶̞̓r̵̙͝c̸̛̣o̵̹̾m̸͎̆ē̴̜ ̵͙͝t̶̲̂ĥ̵͇e̷͖̽ ̸̩̅í̷̩n̸̛̲e̵̝͐r̴̮̕t̸̲̐i̸̯͊ȃ̷̝.̸͍̾.
It felt like there were needles everywhere. Behind my eyes, down my spine, in the middle of all the places it hurt most.
Oh, I should just die right now.
A sound like a knife piercing flesh.
The cool rush of liquid enveloping my brain:
A faucet turning on in my skull,
blanking out my mind—
silencing my thoughts.
When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by the familiar visage of my homeroom teacher. Her ponytail was a bit dishevelled, on her face was an expression of worry, and judging by how I could see the ceiling — as well as how far away it was — I surmised I was on the floor. She was kneeling next to me as if she’d been dispensing a dirty massage.
“Hey gorgeous,” I said.
She did a double take.
I didn’t really care. “Would you like to have sex right now, Sakura-sensei?”
Emi’s worry morphed into disgust.
“I… see you’re back to normal.”
Her heels clacked on the floor as she stood up, and then she offered me a hand.
“About time you got up,” she sighed.
“How long was I out?”
“Ten… no, fifteen minutes?”
I quickly noted down the time using the digital clock in my peripheral vision. Emi wasn’t lying.
“Hey, are you gonna get up or not?”
“No thanks. The view’s better from here.”
My second upskirt for the day. Awooga! Three more mental snapshots and I’d have Cum-Exodia.
Emi retracted her hand and pulled down her skirt with it. How unattractive. She should’ve stepped on my body with those heels of hers instead — that would’ve surely taught me a lesson. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
“Anyway, if you could be serious for a moment…”
“I wasn’t joking about the sex, but okay.”
“…Listen, Darren. I know it’s frustrating that you have gaps in your memory, but I promise the school did it for your sake.”
“You were barely functioning as a member of society beforehand. Something traumatic happened when you were 13, and you were never the same after that according to our reports. It was a waste of your genius intellect. So, we decided as part of your enrolment to wipe your memories — that way you’d have a shot at new beginnings instead of constantly trying to make up for what happened in your past.”
She took a deep breath.
“Also, you consented to the memory wipe.”
She didn’t look like she was lying. It looked more like she was guilty. But I wasn’t supposed to dwell on it.
“I… guess it makes sense, actually.”
I sat up and held my hand to my forehead. I didn’t want to look at people’s faces for the rest of the day if I could manage it.
“Listen. Try not to think too much, and enjoy yourself here instead. Okay? There are a thousand students in and around ASEAN trying to get in every year, and we chose you specifically. Don’t waste your potential.”
She ruffled my hair a bit.
It felt nice.
Before I could thank her, she click-clacked towards the door. After a few moments, though, she changed her mind and scampered back.
“You know what? Screw it, pass me your phone.”
“Huh? H-hey, what are you…”
I didn’t quite get her instructions in the moment, so she took it upon herself to squat down and start aggressively feeling up my lap. After what couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds, she tossed my phone back to me.
“I gave you my number. Text me if there’s any problems… but nothing personal, okay? I’m your teacher, not your friend. And strictly no texts or calls after 8pm.”
“And make sure to eat during your break! There are exams next period!”
I stared at my phone as the sound of her high-heels slowly dissipated into nothingness. Dr. Sakura Emi. I selected her contact and changed her display name to Boobies. Much more fitting. Also, she never told me she had a doctorate.
Eventually, all I heard was air-conditioning blowing aggressively in defiance of the Singapore heat. It sounded very tuneless.
“She’s a good person,” I concluded to myself. “Fine, I’ll stop trying to remember.”
***Gifted Education Project Database
(Updated on 6 November 2056)
Name: Park Jiwoo
Mode of Entry: Recommendation
Memory: 74 (B) [45th out of 240]
Kinetic: 78 (A) [41st out of 240]
Logic: 71 (B) [55th out of 240]
Mentality: 90 (S) [5th out of 240]
Interpersonal: 22 (F) [240th out of 240]
Creative: 73 (B) [48th out of 240]
Aesthetics: 84 (A) [12th out of 240]
Combat: 81 (A) [19th out of 240]
Overall: 70.50 (B) [73rd percentile within Batch 8]