You panic, knowing this is going to have consequences.

Your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest, and you can feel your forehead get clammy. As much as your libido is screaming for you to stay right where you are, riveted to your seat, transfixed on the little peep show laid out before you, the butterflies in your chest are threatening to transition into full-blown nausea.

In one swift move, you push your seat back and stand up. You are keenly aware of {if female == true}the two extremely visible nubs showing through your shirt{else}the extremely noticeable bulge in the front of your pants{endif}, but you at this point you don't particularly care; you just know you have to get out of there to think.

"Excuse me," you croak, your voice {if female == true}oddly husky{else}cracking a bit{endif}, and swiftly walk out of the door, down the hall, and into the {if female == true}ladies'{else}men's{endif} bathroom. Thank goodness, it's empty, you sigh. You open one of the stalls, lock the door, take a seat, and just think for a bit. Flashes of what just happened shoot through your head like lightning: those pink satin panties, the tiny little black bow, the alluring and mischievous smile on this girl whose name you don't even know... you sigh again, raggedly.

Way to go, Sam! your id shouts. Made it to second base! Wait, is that second base? What are the bases again? How does looking at stuff work into them? Are you, like, part of the crowd watching, or--

Oh my god, shut the fuck up, you snap at it. I just made a total stranger flash me.

Yeah, and it was awesome, it says. In your head, you envision your id wearing a little mortarboard, standing in front of a chalkboard depicting the outline of a woman, and holding a pointer. Of course, it's your id, so it's also naked and has its other hand between its legs. Although, technically, it wasn't flashing, as you didn't see any skin. I'm afraid what we have here is a "semi-flash", as it were. Long ago, your overall loneliness combined with your penchant for imaginative storytelling to result in this image of your id personified as some sort of perverted teacher. You've had these sorts of internal dialogues all your life, giving these aspects of yourself their own personalities and forms, and it helps you make sense of both your own feelings, and the world around you. Right now, though, you're just finding it really fucking annoying.

Look, you tell your id, who knows what the hell my meddling with her brain will end up doing to her? I could've given her brain damage or something! I don't want to just use people as I see fit. I may be lonely and horny, but I'm not that sort of a person.

Your id stares at you, and raises an eyebrow. Hmmmm, it replies. Are you absolutely sure about that?

This angers you more, as the last thing you need right now is self-doubt over whether you're a good person. You're about to craft a witty reply to yourself when the Manipulator on your arm suddenly starts buzzing, causing you to let out a little yelp of surprise. Once again, you're relieved that there's nobody else in the bathroom to hear you.

You roll up your sweatshirt sleeve and take a look at the Manipulator. A new symbol has appeared on it; below the glowing green circle on its largest segment, there appears a small checkmark. It glows too, but in a cool white instead of a color. As you look at the checkmark, it fades out, and the buzzing sensation does as well.

What the hell was that? you think. Some sort of "okay" indicator? No sooner do you think that than you get your answer.

You can't really describe the feeling of having thoughts just appear in your brain, thoughts that are definitely not your own and yet somehow are. You wonder if this is how a psychotic break feels, this weird dissociation from your own ego. The thoughts are words, but it's not like you "hear" them or anything -- they're just there.

The thoughts in your head read:

Changelog
Version 1.4.1 - decreased activation threshold of telepsychic interface due to excessive inadvertent triggering of functionality. Interface now requires specifically subvocalized commands to activate.
Enabled alternate power consumption algorithm.

It's extremely odd, knowing something while also knowing that you didn't know that thing only seconds before. But here you are anyway.

It makes perfect sense, you think. This device can alter the minds of those around me; of course it's also capable of altering my mind. You realize that what happened was a software update -- that you no longer have to worry about accidentally scrambling the brains of whoever you look at. It's such a relief that you once again let out a long, ragged sigh, followed by a strange ****-sob-laugh as you realize the irony of this "update".

Gosh, you think to yourself, your mind absolutely dripping with sarcasm, what fantastic timing. If it had just happened a half-hour or so earlier, you could've avoided this whole thing. You may be off the hook for the future, but you still have to deal with your present situation.

Look, your id suggests somewhat resignedly, why not just manipulate her again to forget the whole thing? Doesn't that solve the problem?

I don't want to risk doing something to her again, you reply. No, I made my bed here, now I've gotta lie in it. I don't know what's gonna happen, but I'm going to have to deal with it as best as I can. While you're still holding onto this tenuous little bit of courage, you stand up and leave the stall. You straighten yourself out in the mirror, trying your best to make it look like you weren't just having an extended crisis of conscience. Then you walk over to the door, pull it open, step through... and are immediately grabbed by the wrist and pulled into an adjacent empty classroom. Your assailant closes the door behind you, and turns to face you: it's the Indian girl.