Out of Ten

Utterly abhorrent fashion sense. Black socks with white shoes AND he has the audacity to think sideburns pulled directly out of the 19th century are hot. 2/10. 

Vanessa sent out the critique with a smile on her face. She was doing some of her best work recently, and it showed in her reviews. Surely, she would be promoted soon. 

As of now, she was only a volunteer critic, using her talents for the greater good. Her reviews, sent through her mind’s database directly into the public sphere, were viewed by strangers before they interacted with another person. Everyone’s critiques were accessible in the public sphere, although no one could view their own. That was probably for the best for the sideburned stranger she had just admonished. She saw his score plummet down to a six in her database. She grinned wickedly at the thought of herself bringing down the average. Luckily, every review was anonymous, or else she would surely see her own rating plummet. But she sat comfortably at an eight, because no one knew it was her sending out harsh, but honest, reviews. 

Of course, there were some exceptions to the rules. The board of judges could see every review and who wrote them. Vanessa never critiques them, of course. Call her a kiss-ass, but she knew no one liked anyone who gave them a bad review, even if it was honest. And Vanessa depended on these people for a promotion. That way she could get paid to send out critiques, and her reviews would be given more weight. She could quit her miserable day job and do what she loved full time. 

Speaking of… 

A tall, dark, handsome stranger walked into the café, the bell chiming in delight as he opened the door. Vanessa didn’t usually use such stereotypical terminology, even in her private thoughts, but even she had to admit the descriptor fit him perfectly. He had to bend his head down as he walked through the café door. Tall. His skin was medium brown, his eyes were hollow and black, his hair curled in dark brown swivels. Dark. He was built, but not aggressively so, and his smile shined brightly as he greeted the barista at the counter. Handsome. Objectively so. Vanessa crossed her legs as she watched him, trying to assess if his behavior was fitting for his looks. Only then would she send out a review.

She listened closely to his order, and noted that it was not a pretentious drink like black coffee or an overly-personalized one like her sister’s double shot vanilla espresso with a dab of whip and a sprinkle of mint. Just a simple caramel frap. Looking good so far. 

She watched as he pulled his card out of his wallet, and frowned slightly when he didn’t tip. But then he pulled a fiver out of his pocket and tossed it in the jar, and Vanessa’s smile returned. He was doing everything right. Now to watch where he sat. 

To her surprise and slight embarrassment, he turned directly towards her, looking her in the eyes. He tilted his head as he noticed her watching him, a slightly wavering smile playing across his face. Vanessa steeled herself and resisted the urge to look away. She sat up a little straighter in her chair. 

“Like what you see?” He asked. She noted that he didn’t wink. That, of course, meant that although he was a flirt, he wasn’t a womanizer. Good. 

“I haven’t decided yet,” Vanessa said, taking on a slightly teasing tone to her voice. She could play games with him to determine his worth. That was the kind of thing guys like him responded to. 

He smiled and took the seat across from her, meaning he approved of her playful banter. She folded her hands in her lap as he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. 

“Let me try to convince you,” he said. “Since you make it rather obvious you’re a critic.”

“Only a volunteer,” Vanessa corrected him. “My words don’t hold much weight. Though I’m hoping that will change soon.”

“Wanting to become a professional?” He raised one eyebrow, a feat Vanessa could never accomplish, despite many hours of her youth attempting to do so. “That’s bold. I like it.”

Vanessa didn’t need his approval. After all, he was not on the board. She had all their faces memorized. But the compliment still washed over her in pleasure. She smiled politely. Her genuine smile rarely crossed her face. It was something she reserved for truly joyous occasions, like her sister’s wedding to Marissa last month. Even then, it was only brief. 

“I’m Vanessa,” she said. She usually didn’t give out her name to just anybody. After all, it was her job to get to know the objects of her critiques, not the other way around. But this one was obviously different. He had recognized her as she was. Saw her for all that she wanted to become. 

“Gray,” he said in return, his own name. “Now, since I know you’ll be critiquing me, I’ve got to see you in action.” He looked around the café, searching for prey. He pointed across the way to a middle-aged woman sipping tea and scrolling through her phone. “Critique her.”

“Very well,” Vanessa said. She focused her gaze on the woman, analyzing everything about her: how she held her cup, how her eyes moved across the screen, how loudly she placed the cup back on the table. When she had finished gathering the intel she needed, she went into her database and began to draft a review. She pushed it into publication without much thought. She had done this a hundred times, after all. 

A control freak and an overprotective mother, though her intentions are good. She disturbs those around her without meaning to or even noticing that she is doing it. Do not sit too close, or she will likely spill something on you. 6/10. 

“That was fast,” Gray said. Vanessa could tell when he went into his own mind’s database. He wasn’t very good at concealing it, practically rolling his eyes into the back of his head. Vanessa had learned to be much more subtle. 

She waited patiently for him to finish reading her review, tapping her fake nails on the wooden table. Her own coffee she had long ago finished, simply staying afterwards to people-watch and give out reviews. The more she did, the more likely the board would notice her.

“How could you possibly know all that?” Gray asked, his eyes focusing back on her. “You haven’t even talked to her. How do you know she’s a mother?”

Vanessa shrugged. “When you’ve been watching people for as long as I have, it’s easy to pick up on these things. You, for example, have recently been dumped by a partner.”

Gray sat back, his spine straightening. “How did you know about Jake?”

“I didn’t. But your behavior very clearly demonstrates the signs of a break up, particularly that of a dumpee. You’re seeking immediate approval from a stranger, one you correctly assumed to be a critic. It reeks of post break-up funk.”

She folded her hands in front of her. Gray nervously examined her more closely now, realizing the power she held. Vanessa genuinely smiled. This was a game she would always enjoy playing. 

“Lucky guess,” Gray said. She was surprised he was not running for the hills by now. “But just because you got something about me right, doesn’t mean you know everything about everyone else.”

“It’s just an educated guess,” Vanessa said. “A practice I’ve perfected in an attempt to get a professional critiquing license. I’m no genius.” Vanessa lifted her eyes as the bell to the café chimed again and a teenager walked in. She watched as he walked over to the table where the middle-aged woman was sitting. She got up to greet him, accidentally spilling her tea on his sweatshirt. He laughed and patted himself down with some napkins, as if it had happened many times before. 

“You must have downloaded the psychic infrastructure,” Gray said, referring to the highly illegal practice of downloading software into one’s database in order to predict the future.

“And ruin my perfect mind with a virus?” Vanessa asked. She laughed dismissively. “As if.”

Gray gritted his teeth uncomfortably. She could tell from the set of his jaw that he wanted to leave without seeming rude. She could give him a bad review, after all. She tapped into her database and began to form the words. 

Gray is a shameless flirt, but a harmless one. Do not attempt to have a real conversation with him or--

“How are you not a professional already?” Gray interrupted her review process, and Vanessa was surprised to look up and see him smiling. She had thought he was going to leave. Was it possible she was wrong about him?

“I suppose the board does not agree with my assertions,” Vanessa said. She saved her review as a draft in a corner of her database and focused her attention back in the café. “They may like the people I do not, and dislike the people I do.”

Gray shrugged. “Shouldn’t that be the point? To find people with different opinions. That way the scores are more balanced.”

“A balance to the scores?” Vanessa asked. “Why, there is balance. Have you looked at the distribution lately?” 

Vanessa pulled it up in her mind now, just to reassure herself. She noted down the percentages as she looked at the spread. 

1-3: 33.57% 

4-6: 48.62% 

7-9: 17.01%

10: 0.8%

Yes, everything was as it should be. The masses were balanced with middle scores, and there were more lower scores than higher scores. It kept people aspiring to be better. Vanessa herself was not satisfied with her 8, although she knew it was almost impossible to get a 10. She would settle for a 9, but she believed she could rise all the way to the top, if she could only get her lower scores discredited. It was possible, of course, if her low reviewers moved down in ranking to become 2s or 1s. 

“But they never change, do they?” Gray said. “It’s always the same people on top.”

“Well, those people are simply better. Do you not think I deserve to be on top?”

Gray shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m sure you’ve worked very hard.” He pauses, looking up at the ceiling as if he were searching for the right words. “But don’t you think others work hard too? Perhaps those at the bottom?”

Vanessa had never really thought about it before. The critiques were her livelihood, her everything. Who was she, if her critiques weren’t accurate? She was no one, that’s who. 

“You’re wrong,” Vanessa said defensively. Just who did he think he was? She pulled up her review again, typing away in her mind, rushing to finish. 

“Don’t do anything hasty, Vanessa,” Gray said. “I think you could be a great asset.”

She paused in her rush, looking him up and down suspiciously. 

“Asset? What do you mean, asset?”

“The system is flawed,” Gray said. He leaned towards her and kept his voice low so no one else could overhear. And a good thing, or he could be arrested on the spot. Ideas like his were dangerous. “We need someone on the inside to help bring down the higher ups. Those who are decide who is high an who is low without question.”

“And just who is we?” Vanessa asked. “Surely you don’t mean to say--” she stopped herself before she could finish the thought. Had she run into a rebel? And had she intended, at one point, to give him a high score?

But Gray nodded, understanding what she had meant. “Yes. I’m part of a group trying to rewrite the system.” Gray said. “It is not as revolutionary as you might think. But we have an understanding that how ratings work now is flawed. How the lower scores are treated is abhorrent. You haven’t seen it, Vanessa, but I have.”

“And you want me to help you with this mission?” Vanessa asked, baffled. “You must be insane. I wouldn’t dream of helping you.” She grabbed her purse and her finished coffee cup and stormed away, tossing the cup in the trash. The chime of the bell sounded like danger as she stepped out of the café. 

She paced the sidewalk as she grappled with what Gray just said. What course of action should she take? She could contact the enforcers, let them know she had just encountered a rebel. But what if they thought she was an accomplice? She couldn't risk being associated with criminal activity if she was going to be a professional critic. What to do?

“Vanessa,” Gray called out her name, following her out onto the street. “Wait, please. I can help you.”

“Why would I need your assistance?” Vanessa asked. She faced away from him, trying to get a grip of herself. For possibly the first time in her life, she could hear the pounding of her heart over the humming of her database. 

“We have people who could boost your rating, help you climb to the top,” Gray said. “Surely, they can help you get the attention of the board.”

Vanessa hesitated. He could make her a professional critic. It was all she had ever wanted. But at what price? She would have to assist in a rebellion, one she didn’t believe in. 

“I am a woman who does anything for what she wants,” Vanessa whispered to herself. It was in a review from a previous teacher. Her sister had told her about it, although it wasn’t technically legal. The teacher had meant it negatively, giving Vanessa only a 6/10, but Vanessa had taken it as a compliment. And this was a test. To see if she would really do anything, cross any line, to make her way to the top. She looked firmly at Gray. 

“Very well,” she said, holding out her hand. “If you get me to the top, I will do what needs to be done.”

He shook her hand firmly, grinning all the while. “You won’t regret this,” he said, but she already was.