The Intelligence Test

Epilogue

Academics are not the only measure of intelligence.

Riiiight. Fat chance.

It's the only measure of intelligence I've ever known, and I already failed.

I don't think I need to think about that any more.

I return home late at night, moonless sky dark as ink.

I wake up the next morning in my bed, Mynx buzzing around. "What would you like for breakfast today?"

Alright, this I'm familiar with. I can handle this. "Scrambled eggs would be nice."

Mynx is opening the door when they say," Your parents have heard the news, Varolen."

Nice.

I stand and stretch, brush my teeth, change, and basically go about my day.

The stairs creak a little louder than they usually do. Or is that just me?

My parent's heads swivel towards me, and their indistinct conversation cuts off.

"I always knew you were special," my father claims, charging towards me and...

Giving me a hug?

My skin crawls. Absolutely not.

"You're not as clever as you think," my father whispers into my ear as he lets me go.

On the TV, I spy a picture of me and Skylar in that dark room. The headline is titled "The Creativity District Rises Again."

My neighbors are crowded outside the door.

"They've been waiting for you," my mother says by way of explanation.

I'm wondering what would happen if I refuse to open the door when she opens it for me, dashing away the need for thought.

"Varolen! How are you feeling?"

"What's it like?"

"Do you have any words for the press?"

Oh wait.

They weren't neighbors.

They were reporters.

I glance around the room frantically, searching for a way out of this. "May I meet with you all later?"

"Varolen, we insist, tell us about what it was like during the Test!"

How about.... No?

I elbow my way through the crowd to lead them out of our apartment. From there, I sprint down the stairs, with the muffled curses and footsteps of the reports behind me.

The blue sky greets me, as I continue to run away from my so-called destiny road to one of the 'Greatest Omniscernians to ever exist'.

Or something like that.

I turn into an alleyway and nearly skid into Skylar.

"Hey," he says. "Reporter problems too?"

I nod. "We're going to be flushed out once they come here."

Skylar kicks open a sewer grate below his feet. Where a river of waste should be is a dry, metal tunnel. "I bet our parents were bribed into it. Get in!"

The sound of reporters is bustling near now.

I climb down the dusty ladder, Skylar behind me.

The Creativity District might be dead. It might be fabled.

But Skylar and I, we're part of it now, whether we like it or not.

We'll deal with the reporters later. But for now..

Skylar smirks as he leads the way through the tunnels. "City Hall, here we come."

For now, I'll just enjoy my time with my friend.

We'll rebuild the district.... Later.

Thank you for coming along this journey with me, reader. I hope you learned something from this weird experience of mine.