Alone is the Norm

X312 was walking down the hall of Pendleton High to it’s locker. It was listening to a new song it had downloaded just last night to its phone: “01001000 01101111 01110111 00100000 01100100 01101111 01100101 01110011 00100000 01110011 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111…” X312 looked like the majority of the other students at Pendleton High with just a few differences that made it stick out like a sore thumb. It’s skin was slightly pinker than expected with absolutely no blemishes or beauty marks. X312 never had acne or pimples or even a hair out of place. It’s black-brown hair was styled into a pixie cut that made it almost impossible to establish whether X312 was male or female, which it was neither. Like it’s mother and father before it, X312 would decide its gender upon graduation when it received its next code upgrade. It was tradition -- just like it’s clothes, it’s name, and even the way it walked -- but it just made X312 feel more alone.

“Look at what he’s wearing,” X312 heard someone say to a friend. “It,” corrected X312 under its breath. “I know, right?” replied the girl. X312 kept walking. “Why is his skin so pink?” said another student to his friend. “Is he sunburned?” “Hey,” shouted one of the football stars. “Go back where you came from, Computer!” His football friends let out some uproarious laughter and started chanting, “Computer! Computer!” in strange accents, trying to guess what X312 would sound like. The monotone that they settled on reminded X312 of its grandfather, using outdated monotone speak. X312 laughed despite itself. That stopped the bullies’ chanting and cleared the path to X312’s locker. 

X312 didn’t even need a locker, or books for that matter. The books were easily downloaded amongst its synapses every system where it could recall information and make connections at will. But it was expected American practice that high school students need lockers for all their books, so X312 kept its books in its locker, taking them out as needed for classes. 

X312’s classes were...challenging to say the least. Before this year, X312 had done the traditional schooling method for its kind, downloading new material periodically and applying the new knowledge to performing menial tasks for humans. Now, it had to show steps to simple math problems and state which method it was using, tasks that X312 had been programmed to skip over. It had to write opinion pieces on books. (X312 would often get a C- on these because it would mostly focus on the writing style and the consistency of the story line, etc. instead of actually stating how it felt or the themes located in the material.) It had to create stories, poetry, and share ...feelings… At least Chemistry was fairly easy as it involved mixing things at precisely the correct amounts to make new substances.

The worst was P.E. X312 was NOT programmed for physical sports. Hand-eye coordination had not been a priority when X312’s parents had had it built. The P.E. teachers were often frustrated with how poorly X312 performed. But nothing seemed to aggravate them more than when they divided up the class for team games. The very first day X312 was in P.E.:

 X312’s class was told to divide up into two lines (boys and girls) to be divided into teams for floor hockey. X312 didn’t get into either line. The male teacher yelled at X312 to “Get into your line now!”, but X312 didn’t have a line to get into. X312 shrugged its shoulders and raised its hands palms up as it had seen actors do on TV when they didn’t know what to do. 

The teacher got right up into X312’s face and said in a hiss, “You think this is funny, Boy? Get into line, or it’s to the principal’s.” 

“Umm, I’m not a boy.” X312 whispered. 

“The girl’s line then.” 

“I’m not a girl either.”

The teacher’s face turned red with rage.

“THEN IT’S OFF TO THE PRINCIPAL WITH YOU, SMARTASS.”

He went to his office to grab a referral form while the female teacher divided the class into teams.

“Now, what’s your name, Boy?”

“X312.”

“Don’t be smart with me, Boy.”

“My name’s X312.”

“THAT’S IT! Take this and go NOW!” He yelled and shoved the blank referral form into X312’s hands.

The principal found X312’s name in the system and called in X312’s parents for a meeting that very day. He explained the problem in gym class --which the teacher had identified as refusing to cooperate-- and asked X312’s parents to reinforce the necessity for cooperation and obedience towards teachers. X312 knew better than to interrupt, but it didn’t know what else it could’ve done. 

When the --12 family arrived home, BK912 and GT412 sat X312 down to logically solve this problem. Clearly, the male teacher had a problem with X312 not choosing a gender line.

“Maybe you could try sticking with the female teacher?” suggested his mother, GT412.

“No, the female teacher was there, too, and said nothing to me.”

Deliberations went back and forth for a while. Finally, BK912 said, “You’ll just have to choose a line.”

“But how can I do that, Father?” X312 asked, flabbergasted. “I cannot choose a gender until graduation. It’s tradition.”

“Don’t think of it as choosing, but as...practice...for whatever gender you’re thinking of choosing,” said BK912, but it sounded as if he didn’t believe the choice would be worth it.

“I haven’t thought about it that much,” said X312 hesitantly. It thought for a moment. “Would it be okay if I switched every day or so?”

BK912 and GT412 laughed with relief. “I don’t see why not!”

Now, X312 switched lines every day or so. The male teacher still looked daggers at X312, but at least he didn’t yell. 

One day, about 3 months into school, one of the other students at X312’s lunch table asked X312 what it would be doing for the upcoming holidays.

“The what…?” X312 replied confusedly.

“Y’know… Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa…” the boy said with long pauses between each word, moving his right hand’s fingers in a circular motion as if to say, “Come on…”. 

X312 shook its head. 

The boy took it further. “What holidays do you celebrate?”

“I’m not sure what holidays are,” X312 replied quietly, embarrassed. 

“They’re things that you celebrate.”

“Oh! My family celebrates Android Day every year.”

“When’s that?” The boy clearly had no idea what Android Day even was. 

“Android Day is celebrated on March 2. It’s the day Congress ratified the Rights to Life Act that gave Androids many of our basic rights: like getting paid, procreation, and the right to not be turned off right away if we start to break down. We still don’t have the right to vote or procreate with humans, but we’ll get there someday.”

The boy looked like he didn’t know what to say. 

Eventually, the boy looked back up X312. 

“I’m sorry you don’t have the same rights that I do. Just because you’re built differently doesn’t mean you’re not important.”

Is it okay to be different? 

X312 asked itself that question many times over the next couple of weeks. It sat at the same table as that boy several more times during lunch. It had several more conversations with the boy and a couple other students at that table. X312 started to notice that these students were different from a lot of the others at Pendleton High. The boy had a different-sounding name (Finatu) than most of the others X312 encountered. Finatu also had darker cinnamon-colored skin where most of the other students had lighter shades of vanilla pudding- to wheat-colored skin. Fatima wore a blanket-like thing over her hair that she called a hijab, and she also had peanut butter-colored skin. Jamal, Abdul, and Malika ranged in skin-colors from dried corn kernels to acorns to the color of dark sodas. X312’s name and rose-colored skin also made it stand out from the other students. Hearing Finatu,  Fatima, Jamal, Abdul, and Malika talk about how other students treated them made X312 feel like there was a kindred spirit at this lunch table. Other students commented rudely on their dress and skin colors. Other students said, “What kind of name is __________ anyways?” to Finatu, Fatima, Jamal, Abdul, and Malika just like they said to X312. 

X312 was learning more at the lunch table about human thinking and behaviors than in the classroom. Humans seemed to value lighter colors of skin more than darker colors of skin, as they seemed to value conformity while preaching uniqueness. It was very confusing. X312 made mention of its findings to the other lunch table members one day. Finatu and Malika stared at X312 without speaking. Abdul and Jamal looked elsewhere, looking anywhere but at X312. Fatima held X312’s gaze for a few silent seconds that went on for way too long. Then she spoke:

“X312, it doesn’t matter what other people say about your skin color or how different you are then they. All that matters is what you think of you.”

That changed X312’s life forever. 

X312 spent more time exploring its own culture congruent with other people of color’s cultures. It learned a lot about how slowly POC earned basic human rights and how they fought for those rights for years. X312 decided to join protests and sit-ins but was still a little nervous about how much its pink skin stood out in the crowd. X312 didn’t know what a difference one android could make when all androids were treated as third-class citizens.

Finally, high school came to an end and Graduation Day arrived. Most students received their diplomas scrolls as they walked across the stage in horrible fitting flat caps and robes. X312’s parents, BK912 and GT412, had spoken with the administration weeks before the ceremony about the importance of being able to choose the gender code that would change a young android’s life forever. X312 grew more and more nervous as the time grew closer. It was a big decision. What if it chose wrongly? Should X312 be a she or a he? 

The ceremony arrived. The caps and gowns were put on. The people strolled to their seats to some solemn music. Speeches were said. And finally, students began to be called across the stage.

X312 clapped for its friends that were graduating: Fatima and Jamal. And finally, it was X312’s turn. (It was almost the last student.) The principal paused the name calling and scroll giving to make a brief statement about what X312 was choosing and how this was a big moment in an android’s life. 

Time seemed to slow as X312 glided across the stage. It received its scroll, shook the principal’s hand, received the upload of adult data to happen later that night. Then, it went to the Table of Genders. X312 took a deep breath, looking briefly at the two gender assignments on the Table. Then X312 turned around to face the crowd to name its choice.

“I choose…” X312 gave a very pregnant pause to increase suspense. “...neither.” 

X312 heard its mother gasp. 

“I choose to remain as I am: Different and NonConforming to Human Norms. I choose freedom. I choose me.”