You agree that it is incredibly hot in here.

Hey, you hear from down in your general crotch area. Hey, I have an idea.

Oh, I'll bet you do, you respond to your id. {if smita_panty_flash == true}Need I remind you, the last time you had an idea, {if smita_dating == true}I ended up in a relationship with someone whose name I don't even know{else}I caused a complete stranger to flash me, and had to desperately fix it before something happened{endif}!{endif}

Look, just "suggest" to her that it is extremely hot in here, even hotter than usual, it suggests.

What, do you think she's gonna just strip down in front of the class? you reply, rolling your eyes.

No, of course not, it continues, but she might decide she can cool off by removing her bra...

That's the dumbest thing I ever heard, you think, and yet even as you do so, you know you're gonna give it a shot. Because GONADS.

What was that thing the changelog said? A specific subvocalization of my intent? You look briefly at Emily, who for the moment has her attention on her computer screen as she logs in, and think: It's so hot in here that we should just remove our underwear.

And she bursts out laughing. "Look, dude," she says, eyes still on her screen. "You can do that if you want, but there's a limit to just how much I'm willing to show to everybody."

Your brow tries to furrow and rise simultaneously as you process this extremely disconcerting response. "I... uh... what?" you stammer.

She looks at you, still amused. "These rooms are warm, yeah, but I think stripping naked is a bit excessive of a response, don't you?"

"I... b-but... I didn't say anything." The words stumble past your tongue as you try to process what's going on, and her amusement is replaced by her own look of puzzlement.

"You didn't?" She eyes you for a moment, decides you're telling the truth, and makes a hmph noise. "Sorry, then... must be hearing things. That was weird," she muses, then once again turns back to her screen.

Meanwhile, once again your heart is racing; you swear that this whole ordeal is going to give you a coronary before you turn 20. That wasn't supposed to happen is all you can think, over and over, like a skipping CD. It hasn't happened with anyone else. Shit, I couldn't stop people from obeying my wishes until that damned update.

You have to figure out, for sure, whether this was some sort of crazy, one-off fluke, or something more. The note never said anything about people hearing your thoughts, only about you being able to control them, and if there's a chance that this can happen again, you damned well had better know about it. So you devise a simple test, one that she won't get pissed off about, but which can't possibly be misinterpreted.

"Hey Emily," you say, looking at her.

"What?" she replies, still staring at her screen. You say nothing, and keep staring at her, deliberately, to catch her attention. Finally, she turns to look at you, a bit creeped out by your glare. "Dude, what is it?" she repeats, slightly annoyed. You focus, and think at her: You dropped your pen.

"What the heck are you talking about?" she immediately responds. "I don't have a--" She stops, mid-sentence, as she realizes that you never moved your mouth, and made no sound. She gasps, and her hand flies up to her mouth briefly in shock. She remains silent, her eyes wide and fixated on you. You hold your breath, thinking that perhaps this was a colossally stupid idea after all. Glancing at her chest, you can tell she's holding her breath too.

Then, as though someone ripped a hole in a hot-air balloon, a fantastically loud interjection escapes Emily's lips.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" she screams, causing you to jump, and the entire room to swivel around and look at the two of you, including the teacher.

"Miss Mah... Miss Marsh...uh... um, Emily," the teacher stumbles, "is everything okay?"

Emily frantically glances over at the teacher, then back at you, and you try to subtly mouth "yes", nodding your head. She must be able to see the frantic fear in your eyes as well, because after a moment she turns back to the teacher. "Uh, I'm sorry, everything is okay," she replies. "I, uh, forgot that I left the microwave on at home and have to go shut it off, bebackinabit," and with that she stands bolt upright, grabs her fluffy anorak from the coat rack, and heads out the door, but not before glancing a very pointed look in your direction -- a look that says, you, get up and follow me, right now.

You turn to look back at the class, all of whom are still definitely looking at you instead of their computers. Well, this is extremely uncomfortable. Naturally, at that precise moment, the bell rings, announcing the start of class.