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2. Graduation and a Class
🕑 Added 2021-07-04 13:47:51 +0000 UTCThree Months Ago
Rowan stood atop the stage and smiled at his fellow graduates. Excitement boiled in his stomach. Today. Today is the day I stop being a Student, and become… something greater.
“As I stand before you today, as your valedictorian, I encourage you all to consider the infinite possibilities before us. In a moment, when we turn our tassels, we will become something else. Something greater. A part of the System, each assigned to the role that suits us best, in which we will contribute the most to this world and its precious System. No matter what class you become, whether combat, to protect us from the mobs and raids, intellectual, to advance our civilization, or support, to make the lives of those who work hard a little better, remember: the System chose that class for you, as the one single role in which you would best advance the world.”
A smattering of applause. Rowan bowed, backing away from the mic.
The principal took the podium. “Thank you, Rowan. If the graduating Students would rise.”
Across the field, black gowns wrinkled as the high school graduates stood. Rowan beamed out at the crowd. Hannah, where’s Hannah?
Blonde hair glimmered in the sun. Hannah threw it back from her face and smiled at him, giving him a little thumbs up. He shot one back, unable to stop his hand from trembling a little. When this is over, I’ll ask her out. Officially, at last. This semi-official stuff has gone on long enough!
“Graduates, please move your tassels to the left side of your caps.”
Rowan moved his. In the same instant, the System interface appeared before his eyes, a pale green interface only he could see. All across the crowd, students’ eyes blurred as their own Systems appeared.
Combat, please, combat, or at least intellectual! Please, please, c’mon, System!
In the center of the green interface, classes scrolled past, one after another, blurring so quickly he couldn’t read them. Behind his back, he clenched his hands tight and held his breath, waiting for the surge of power, or intelligence, that either combat or intellectual classes would bring.
Ding!
Congratulations! Your class is: Gardener.
The world went dim. Rowan paled. A support class? No. Please. This can’t be right. He poked at the interface, numb. A support class. I can’t be, I’m not a support class. I’m valedictorian. I’m captain of the soccer team. Support? Not me. Never.
The interface beamed back at him, cheerily. He read the word over and over, not sure he read it right. Gardener. Gardener. Gardener.
Stunned, Rowan stumbled back. It felt as if the floor fell out from under him, and all around him gaped an abyss. All those acceptance letters… useless. No college accepts support classes. All my hours studying. All the extra time on the field, running, sweating. All useless. All pointless.
“Congratulations, Graduates!” the principal said.
In the crowd below, people cheered and shouted, punching the air and running around. A few, like Rowan, stared blankly at their results, unable to process. He blinked at them, not knowing what to feel, how to act. James, quarterback of the football team. Annie, the chemistry whiz who spent hours in the labs after school, studying college-level classes. From the looks on their faces, he knew: They got support classes, just like me.
Hannah. He searched her out. A part of him, dark and horrible, hoped to see the same blank look on her face, the same defeat he felt.
Elation. Hannah bounded over the seats toward her family, her arms stretched out for a hug. “Scientist! I’m going to college!”
He wrenched his eyes away. Betrayal coiled in his gut, although he knew it wasn’t her fault. He stumbled back, off the stage.
A hand caught him. The principal beamed at him. “What class did you get, Rowan? A star student athlete like you—”
“Gardener.” He wrenched his arm free.
The principal’s face fell. “You… surely not…”
Rowan turned away.
“Rowan, listen. It’s not the end of the world, it’s just another class. Everyone is limited by their class. I’m an Educator—I thought I hated kids at first, but the System knew. You just need a moment to adjust. Try it out.”
Educator is an intellectual class. You’re already leaps and bounds higher than I’ll ever reach. Rowan stared at him, uncomprehending.
The principal’s smile turned gentle. “If you need a little help, I’ve got some flowers in the back garden, if you could come over and—”
Rowan whirled away. He stormed off the stage and ran.
Another hand caught his shoulder in the crowd, this one softer. Breathless and excited, Hannah burst out, “Rowan, Rowan. I got Scientist, you, what did you get?”
“Gardener.” He pushed her away.
Hannah stared. “You’re joking, right, Rowan?”
“Ha, haha, a support class, so funny,” Rowan snarled. “That’s right. I’m trash. The System looked deep into my soul, and the only thing I’ll ever be good for is—fucking—messing around with plants!”
“Rowan, I never—I didn’t say that—” She reached for his arm, gentle.
He shoved her away. “Everyone laugh at Rowan, the valedictorian. Guess he’s not so smart after all, because he ended up as support trash!”
“Hey! Don’t you touch Hannah,” a low voice warned him. Terry, a skinny slacker who’d spent his whole life playing on his phone in the back of the class, pushed his shoulders.
The force knocked Rowan onto his ass. He stared up, disbelieving. Terry couldn’t move me from a running start if he tried. How…?
Terry smirked down at him, arms crossed. “That’s right. I’m a Hero. A combat class. Nothing like your support garbage. Gardener? Ha! I didn’t even know that counted as a class!”
Hannah turned to him, big blue eyes brimming with tears. “Rowan—”
He jumped up and ran. Face ducked so no one could see the frustrated tears burning at the corners of his eyes, he ran, and ran, and ran, until he found himself in a dead end. With a grunt, he ran at the cinderblock wall and threw a punch. His knuckles split open. Blood ran down his hands. Another. Another. All the rage and pain inside him, all the frustration, the shattered dreams, splattered over the wall in blood, one blow after another. Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit!
--
Two months ago
It took a month. Only a month. Looking back on it, it was almost frighteningly easy to get his hands on everything. A computer from before the System, a hundred years old, coated in dust, gray plastic casing yellowed. Pieces and parts to fix it up and get the dinosaur running. A black market digital-System converter. A cable, and a port to link into what little remained of the Internet so he could find the instructions.
All I needed to screw my life over forever.
The screen shimmered. Green buzzed to life on the old monitor. Black blocked out parts of the interface, but enough shone through to make out the familiar layout. Rowan smiled broadly. The System.
He pecked at the keyboard, copying the instructions. Holding his breath, he hit Enter.
The screen changed. Class: Scientist.
He punched the air. “Yes!”
Putting his fingers back to the keyboard, he pressed on. Come on. Just a little more. Just a little more, and I can go home and call it a day. Tell everyone my class evolved, or something. A little cheat to make up for my troubles shouldn’t be too much to ask.
One keystroke. Two. He licked his lips. A blinking cursor appeared in the EXP field.
Rowan grinned. His fingers flew over the numpad. 100,000. Is that enough? Too much? Hmm… better not to draw too much attention to myself. I can always add more if it works. He hit backspace once. 10,000.
Triumphantly, he smacked Enter. His EXP bar zoomed upward, rapidly filling. Giddy, Rowan giggled aloud. Damn! Who knew it was so easy?
Red blared on his screen. A thousand pop-ups appeared, crowding his screen. Panicked, Rowan jumped to his feet.
Illegal Access!!! the System shouted, loud enough to be heard across the room.
“Rowan, honey? What’s going on?” his mom called from downstairs.
“Nothing!” he shouted. He grabbed cables and pulled. Sparks flew. The computer screeched and cut off. The screen went dark.
A green spark dashed across his vision, then expanded to the System interface. Before his eyes, the EXP bar froze, halfway full. A lock icon appeared over it, and a red pop-up blared out at him: Illegal Access! Penalty applied.
“Penalty? I didn’t—I barely did anything!” He searched the System interface. Where is it? What is the penalty?
In the bottom, close to the right hand corner, a small line of red text caught his eye. No EXP gain for ten years.
Rowan sagged. No. It can’t be.
He jolted back to life. My class. Please tell me, at least my class change stuck. I can’t be a support class. Not me.
Class: Gardener
Defeated, Rowan sagged to the floor. It’s over. My life is over.
