Story Idea

[Troy Spiral (13)]

Everyone is born with 1-100 tally marks tattooed on their arm. The higher your number, the more valuable you are and the more successful you will be. You bully a kid because he is obviously hiding a low score. One day...

[Troy Spiral (13)]

He was infuriating. So quiet and judgmental, always looking off in the distance whenever I was talking to him. A 99 was never supposed to be ignored.

 

I was born gifted, I was born to become president of the free world or lead the UN, to do anything I set my mind to. Everyone followed me, everyone tripped over their own feet to be in my good graces, knowing there would be benefits in only a matter of time. Even complete strangers moved out of my way, being able to tell I was a High Tally from the marks that made their way from my left wrist to my right. Many had thought I was a 100 when I was first born, the marks had been so close together, the nurses had needed a magnifying glass to count them all.

 

“Where did you go? No one gave you permission to leave.” I asked him as he yet again ignored me. My voice didn’t work on him. The voice that only those above a 98 had, Compel. It was a side effect of having such a high number, there was an innate amount of charisma that would always flow out of you. For some reason, extremely low numbers weren’t affected by Compel, as if their brain wasn’t capable of recognizing power and authority. Everyone had placed a bet on this kid’s number.

 

Steven Han, probably somewhere between a 0 and ten based on how unpopular he was with people. You would know if you met people as low as him. They could change the mood in the room for the worse merely by showing their face. They didn’t even need to talk, people knew that Low Tallys had nothing to bring to society.

 

He was silent again, looking at the road behind me, past the parking lot of the school. Sometimes, I pitied people this low, they couldn’t help it. But you could usually tell the plain stupid ones from the lazy Low Tallys, there was usually something about the eyes.

 

He had something in his brain that turned on at least, and he refused to use it. People that lazy needed to be set straight, it was my duty as a leader in society.

 

“Hey, I’m talking to you. You can’t just leave in the middle of gym class!” The teacher had sent me after him, being class leader and all that. Especially for kids as unruly as Steven who didn’t even wear the proper dress code. T-shirts and gym shorts were the only things students were supposed to wear, but for some reason, teachers had long given up on trying to get Steven to change out of his daily long-sleeved button-up and long pants. As long as I remembered, I had prided myself on my ability to keep order.

 

For the most part, I did. Our class had 90% straight A, never tardy students, people trying to put their best foot forward, for me. As leader of the senior class, I was in charge of any failing and troubled students, and knowing that I was a 99, people did all they could to keep in my good graces.

 

Except for him.

 

“What loser fails physical education? It requires absolutely no brain work, which I know you’re quite short of.” I taunted, giving in to the mean spirit that I tried to suppress for the greater good. Even if I was a capable leader, I tended to be irritated by the stupidity that surrounded me in this place. To keep my image up, I had limited showing my emotions to the one person no one would listen to.

 

Not that he had much to say. To this day, no one had ever heard him speak. That was where some people had confidence in betting on him being a 0, maybe he was actually incapable of formulating speech. I knew if that was actually the case, he wouldn’t be capable of formulating the complex thoughts that were required to pass AP Calculus like he did freshman year. It was quite unbelievable that this was the same person who had been getting straight D’s in physical education for the last ten years.

 

He just ignored people. He was just lazy. One of the leeches that would contribute nothing to society, ever.

 

“No defense? Figures for someone not-“ I was cut off as the breath was knocked out of me. Steven had barreled into me, knocking me to the side. A second later, a truck raced pass us, heading straight for the football field where our gym class was going on.

 

My head hit the hot concrete and bounced slightly from the force of the impact. Steven was over me, but still looking at the truck. My vision was spotty, but I was still awake enough to get a hold of myself.

 

“Get off of me,” There was no way I was going to be seen touching a 17, what I thought he was. Capable of intelligence but no social skills. I pushed a hand against his chest, but he didn’t move.

 

I paused for a second, and then put actual power into it, putting some Compel into my hand as well.

 

He still didn’t move, not even an inch.

 

I looked closer at my hand, it wasn’t touching him. I was pushing on air.

I must have a concussion. That was the only explanation, I was seeing things. I looked up at him, his eyes were scarily focused, intensely looking at the truck.

Without thinking about it, I followed his gaze to see the truck moving back from the field. The tires squealed loudly, trying to go forward towards the class of unsuspecting high school seniors, playing soccer.

 

I looked back at Steven, and then at the truck, connecting the pieces together even though I knew these kinds of things weren’t possible.

“How?” How was all of this happening? It must be the concussion, this wasn’t possible.

 

Telekinesis was an old skill, something that only the Pure Tallys had been capable of when people were born with numbers higher than 100. It had been centuries since a Pure Tally had been found. They had been hard to miss, with so many Tallys they would stretch past any article of clothing they wore. Many of them wore gloves and head coverings to prevent people from being able to see their true number, to prevent people from knowing the true amount of power they had.

 

Wordlessly, Steven sat up just to enough to free his hands and pull up his left sleeve.

An 8.

 

His arm had no marks, only a single digit number.

“Eight?” I asked I had never seen a number before. But it was black, and in the exact spot that Tally marks usually started.

 

He rotated his arm, still looking at the truck, and said one word.

“Infinity.” The Compel from his voice was so strong, it knocked me out.

[Troy Spiral (13)]

Wow, did that piss away a lot of time.  Hah.