Chapter 3
Tam
I’m nervous on the way to class. I’ve read the material, but my palms are sweating inside my gloves. You’d think that after three weeks of this, I’d be getting used to it by now. But, it seems that no matter how much I prepare, whenever I have the potential to speak in front of a group, I get stage fright.
I remind myself that it’s only a maximum of sixty seconds, but I still feel my heart rate increase the moment Mr. Giles begins opening comments.
I pick my usual spot and plunk my backpack down next to the desk before sitting down. Only about half of the students have arrived, with the rest continuing to file in sporadically as we approach the start of class. I whip out my notes and begin reviewing the material, anxious to avoid a total fail if I get called on.
I’m deep into my review when Brad, who sits directly to my right, plops down in his seat.
“You know,” he says, “it won’t be the end of the world if you don’t ace the answer.”
We’ve discussed my fear of public speaking a few times after class.
“Yeah, well, the better-prepared I am, the more likely I’ll be to do well,” I respond.
“If you don’t die of a coronary first.” He throws one hand to his chest and the other out dramatically to his side, gasping as if he’s about to fall out of his chair. I laugh.
“I’m working on it,” I say.
“The coronary or your phobia?”
“Very funny. My phobia.”
Mr. Giles enters the room, walking to the front and putting his briefcase down on the desk before popping it open to retrieve his tablet.
“Okay, class,” he begins, “by now, you know the drill. A few lucky students will be called upon at random to answer questions regarding the Equality Revolution. Remember, this is just supposed to be an overview, so don’t get caught up in the weeds with elaborating too much on specifics. Just the high-level, please.”
He scans his tablet for a moment, and I feel a lump in my throat, praying he doesn’t call me first, or at all for that matter.
“At least one of today’s questions only requires a brief response, for which some fortunate student will no doubt be thankful. Philip, you’re up first. According to the textbook, what happened in the early twenty-first century that began the Equality Revolution?”
Philip jerks their head up from their tablet and begins to speak. They sit midway back, and I haven’t so much as spoken to them since the first class.
“Several identity groups began campaigns to protect their identity rights. Women’s, LGBTQI, and anti-racism groups, among others, began pushing for governments, corporations, religious organizations, and other social groups to become increasingly involved in protecting their rights. This became broadly known as the Equality Movement. In the decade between 2020 and 2030, an increasing number of laws passed to protect gender, race, and sexual identity rights. The events of this period officially begin what is known as the Equality Revolution.”
“Thank you, Philip. You obviously prepared for your assignment and are indeed skilled at reading directly from the textbook, which reminds me that I forgot to turn on the blocking app.”
Several giggles emit from around the room as Mr. Giles walks over to the big blue button mounted on the wall behind his desk and presses it. A blue banner appears across the top of the main screen, indicating that the blocking application is now on and the ‘notes only’ option is enabled. This app prevents any of us from accessing any internet resources or textbooks during tests or oral quizzes like this. Thankfully, for this assignment, we’ll still be able to access notes we compiled ourselves as long as they’re in our own words and not copied directly from the textbook.
“Sadly, Philip will be the only student during the Q&A who will have direct access to their textbook. Janiya, what is the Beauty Index, and how did it affect the Equality Movement?”
A voice from the back of the room speaks up.
“The Beauty Index is a way to scientifically measure how attractive a person is perceived to be by society as a whole. It was developed in . . . 2028 by a group of scientists called the Scientists against Discrimination in Society. And . . . what was the second part of the question again?”
“How did the discovery of the Beauty Index affect the Equality Movement?”
“Oh, yeah. A bunch of laws were passed to help get equality based on how attractive people were or were not . . . and that caused a lot of problems, or something?”
“Is that your final answer?”
Janiya tilts her head down and hunches her shoulders a bit as she fiddles with her tablet.
“Yeah… I guess.”
Mr. Giles looks down at his own tablet and taps several keys, doubtlessly giving Janiya a less than stellar score for her answer.
“Cynthia, can you tell us how the discovery of the Beauty Index affected the Equality Movement?”
“Sure. After the Beauty Index was established, a number of scientific studies demonstrated how biased people are when it comes to giving preferential treatment to people who have higher ratings on the Beauty Index. The beautiful woman would get the movie deal even though she couldn’t act nearly as well as the person who was a supporting actress, the newsperson with the great haircut and the good-looking face would be chosen to anchor the prime-time news show. Alternatively, the person with equal talent but a lower Beauty Index score got the weekend update slot. So . . . basically, once all these studies were done, people started demanding beauty equality in a bunch of industries, a bunch of laws were passed to make this happen, and there was a big shake-up and a lot of lawsuits during the early 2030s.”
“Very good.”
There’s more tapping on Mr. Giles’ tablet. I feel a gurgle in my stomach. I’ve yet to be picked during this pre-lecture ritual, and with each passing question, the chances that I will be next increase. Based on the professor’s chronological progression through the material, I feel confident I can probably answer the next few questions. But, will I fumble in my presentation, make a bad impression on the other students, or possibly blank out entirely from sheer stage fright? Maybe.
My inner turmoil is prolonged as the teacher calls on Jerry to answer the next question.
“What is intelligence discrimination, and what landmark court case paved the way for the intelligence discrimination law of 2035?”
“Intelligence discrimination is when someone is denied a job or is passed over for a promotion or something like that because another person is smarter than they are.”
“And the name of the court case in question?”
Jerry exhales forcefully, which makes a weird, staticky sound come out of his voice modulator.
“Ah… the Junior versus… Cala.. Calamaaari case?”
“Close enough. In the future, please don’t phrase your answer in the form of a question. This isn’t a game show.”
The teacher taps in Jerry’s grade and then proceeds with the lecture, the tension that’s built up in my shoulders lessening significantly as he begins. I’ll live to face this torment yet another day. It’s illogical, really. I should want to get it over with, so I can relax while everyone else in the class has to answer questions after me, but I guess emotional reactions aren’t always logical. So, instead, I’ll probably go through the same routine two days from now. It seems . . . well, stupid.
Class ends, and everyone begins putting up their things and filing out into the hall. I make a decision that I’m not going to let my emotions rule the day. I’m going to buckle down on my studies and fight back against my nerves. Cynthia is already on her way out of the classroom when I turn to ask her if she wants to study together. Hurrying to gather my things, I catch up to her on the steps going down to the lobby.
“Hey, Cynthia.”
“Hey, Tam,” she says, turning in my direction.
“Good answer in class today.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t get picked.”
She knows how nervous I get when I even think about speaking in class.
“Hey, do you want to meet later and study or something?” I ask.
“Sure. When and where?”
I tap the shortcut button on the forearm of my suit to bring up my schedule on my inner viewscreen.
“How about four o’clock at the library? I can meet you in the lobby.”
“Okay. That sounds good.”
“Cool. See you then.”
As Cynthia turns to leave, someone bumps into me from behind and I almost tumble down the stairs.
“Sorry,” someone says as I grab the handrail to steady myself. I turn to see who it was, but no one from the group of students who just passed by looks my way.
Back in my dorm room, I grab a quick lunch of re-hydrated ramen noodles in the common area before heading into my cubicle to change for a run. I took up running my freshman year as a way to help pass the time between classes and get out in nature. It kind of grew on me. So, now, especially when I’m in school, I run three or four times a week.
As I place my helmet on the stand by my bed, I’m surprised to notice a black envelope on my pillow. I’m a bit creeped out, wondering who put it there and how they got into my cubicle. Usually, after school starts, no one but the assigned student enters a cubicle unless maintenance staff needs to come in to fix a busted pipe or a clogged toilet or something like that, and they always send a notice first. I check for a text from the school maintenance staff, but don’t see one. Next, I review the entry log for my room, but it only shows my I.D. for the last few days.
I turn my attention back to the envelope sitting on my bed and debate whether I should open it up or notify security that someone entered my room without my knowledge. But curiosity gets the better of me, so I pick up the envelope and open it.
