They Are Here to Study Us

She falls quiet and almost visibly strains to hear whatever “secret” I’m about to reveal. At the end of the day, sex with Wendy is still far from a goal of mine: I’ve got way hotter targets and way hotter Girls already. I also can’t imagine her becoming a source of sexual tension or release to others, not without those insanely-priced options... so for now, I just have to make sure she doesn’t make a scene or give anyone else the idea that I should be looked into.

“The secret is that we are evaluating humans through observation and... physical probing... to determine what should be done with them all, and so none of my actions should be interfered with or else the... conclusion drawn... will be wrong... and possibly deadly for mankind?” I neglect to drop the questioning tone at the end, but in the end it sounds like I nailed it in one. I suppress a proud smile at the cockamaney scheme I designed on the spot.

Her brow furrows in naked doubt... for the split-second it takes for the app to kick in and slowly turn it into wide-eyed horror. “You’re... oh... oh!” Wendy suddenly panicked. “T-Then you possess technology capable of... oh no, h-have I... have I ruined-?”

“Did you tell anyone else of what you learned?”

“N-Not yet... though I do have those automated messages that will soon fire off...”

“For the benefit of your species, I recommend stopping them now and interfering no further.”

In a hurried panic she pulls her phone out—really?—and starts tapping nervously onto it. We stand there for a good three minutes, me evaluating her and her tapping away, until finally she drops it on the nearest table and takes the same seat. Her eyes are wide as she sighs with relief, “That was... close.”

“What did you do?”

“I... well, I delayed the leaks. They’re not cancelled yet,” she hastily adds, “but as long as I’m still alive and... myself... it won’t get out.”

So she’s keeping her chips... well, all in due time I guess. Not like anyone’ll believe whatever craziness she’d publish. “We shall run the experiment, then.” Her head perks up with a nervous furrow on her brow. I don’t make things any better by monotonously commanding, “Remove your clothes.”

“W-What? If Ms. Lia returns, we’ll get suspended... I’ll get suspended! I’ve never been suspended, ever!”

I open my mouth to correct her... and think to Ms. Hatts. There’s no telling how such an encounter might pan out, so I slowly rephrase my objection. “Your concerns are very... amusing.”

“That’s-! W-Well,” she shyly tells the floor, “academics are one of the few subjects I excel in... something I would expect is evaluated as being valuable in terms of your survey.”

You know... in the right light, shy and small, from here I dare say she’s almost... cute? Adorable? Pet-like, I decide, and immediately struggle to dismiss. “Our, uh... for evaluations will be discussed at a later time... once you have proven trustworthy, Ms. Peppernickel.”

“Okay... w-well, I don’t want my permanent record to be ruined, so... can we please just engage these experiments elsewhere?”

Ms. Lia’s quiet return finds us fully clothed and awkwardly silent, clearly against her expectations; her silence returns the awkwardness right back before we’re **** to eventually admit we’re done there. We break the details down a bit after that: our phone numbers are exchanged (because my “device” does also function as a human cellphone, I assure her), and we agree to sort it all out over lunch tomorrow.

“This sounds... suspiciously like a...”

“Like a what?” I egg her on as we stroll past the string of cars coming to pick up their kids—loitering freshmen and sophomores, mostly—as the school continues to empty itself of these last dredges.

“N-Nothing. There is a human ritual of... Nevermind. It is not that.”

With nothing left to establish or say for now, I wave her off to go find her parents (who still pick her up at 18, yeesh). I myself skip the waning car queue to get to the student parking lot... and there, angrily waiting for me, is my dear sister.