The Assigment.

Written in response to: Write a story where hard work doesn’t pay off.... view prompt

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Science Fiction

Whenever you turn seven, you get an assigned number, one through ten. The higher your number is, the higher your intelligence is. It is not a test. It is just a number and you get it at some time during your eighth birthday. The moment you get your number is the moment you were born seven years ago. It's government assigned. One person will spy on you for a day and then give you your number based on that day. You don't know which day it is, so you have to be as smart as you possibly can. People can put their scores in a private mode. Most people don't because you can't fit in with any on if you do that. Everyone just assumes your are dumb. Or really smart.

I am a perfectionist, and I have been since the day I was born. If one thing got out of place I was sure to be on it, making it perfect. Doing whatever it would take to make it perfect. It was a crazy amount of perfecting everything. Every single thing. Anytime it felt like I was being watched, I was extra perfect. My mom was a germaphobe, through and through. Her intelligence is eight. My dad is a nine, but I don't see him that often. Only on special occasions. He's really into his job. He's part of a very elite class of people, known as the government. As I was saying earlier. But you have to have a nine or above to be in the government. I want nothing more than to be just like my dad.

Well, my seventh birthday rolled around. Mine kept loading. And loading and loading. But mine never came. Maybe I'm a late bloomer I kept telling myself. But I never got my intelligence. My dad said there were glitches with loading. But he kept insisting that someone was put in charge of my number. He said that the number was definitely coming. But years passed and passed. I was 14 before my number started to do something and not load. At least be something other than loading. It was the morning I turned 14 when My number quit loading. Instead, it was an exclamation mark. I went to my dad. He stared at it. He then took me to his car with a dark expression on his face. We drove for a very long time. I had never seen my dad so very intense. He kept looking in the mirror back at me.

I wondered what the exclamation mark meant. Eventually, we came to a dirt road. And then a large white building with no windows or doors. My dad parked his car. He led me to the building, and then type a code in. The building made a beep and excepted him in. Eventually, we came to a room with a bunch of cubicles. We then found one. He pressed a button on one of the desks. Immediately a person appeared. Like they evaporated. "Why does she have a mark? We discussed her number. You know how important this is. You said you had sent it that day, seven years ago. Now, seven years later, this mark is here, with her. No wonder why it took it seven years. Now change it to the number. Now. I told you not to experiment." But the worker was amazed at me. The worker examined me closely.

I was uncomfortable at this point. Then, the worker spoke. "In all my time, I never imagined it would work...You see sir, the same mark her soul mate will have. You must find her soulmate. Then her number will be found. It will be the same for both of them. But the only day that it can work is her birthday. Try hard and you will succeed. Then she will have her number. Good luck, good day." My dad looked horrified. Oh my goodness. I need to find my soul mate. I will get to meet my soulmate! Then I will get my number. I was glad this could easily be fixed. The entire day, I went from door to door meeting men of all ages. Almost all of them had a number. But one had a question mark. He was very old.

Nope. This man was very old and had a question mark. But then I started to think. This guy could be anyone on the planet. But then we got to a wall. A wall that looked like the building my dad worked at. Luckily, at the end of the day, I got back to my house. I was exhausted. But then there was a knock at the door. It was the cake delivery boy my mom had ordered to come. And he had an exclamation point. And my number changed. So did his for that matter. He was a seven. He was thrilled. I got a perfect ten. At first, I was thrilled. Higher than my parents. But then, I realized. Tens were going extinct. I had to hide this. People killed to be a ten. I had to hide it so I wouldn't be harmed.

I knew this took a risk. But in private and around my mom and dad. I learned how to be part of the government from my dad. And once he died, I took over as governor. I did eventually marry the delivery boy. My soulmate. Our child has an eight. But it doesn't matter. An assignment is a number. It doesn't decide who you are. I was smart, and when mine was loading, I found ways to higher my intelligence. Even if I were to be a two, I was going to be high in regular intelligence. I wasn't going to care. Being perfect is impossible. Having my number only loading for so long taught me that even without my number I was perfect the way I was. That's the way I see not only my soul mate but also my daughter.

March 11, 2022 14:31

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