Grace Henry, July 30, 9:36 AM…
“Hey, Dr. Frances, do you have my score yet?” I asked, poking my head into her office. She looked up at me and put down her pen.
“Grace Henry, you made me lose ten bucks.” I frowned, trying to decipher why I made her lose money. “I bet it would take you a week at least.”
“I’m lost,” I said, stepping into her office.
“Me and a few others made bets on how long it would take you to ask to take the exam. Only one person bet two days. I lost five dollars.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Wait, but didn’t you say it was ten dollars?” She smiled now,
“I also bet you would get less than full credit.” Dr. Frances handed me a paper. I looked for the number at the bottom.
“Eight hundred points out of eight hundred possible points?” I gaped.
“It was nice having you as a student,” she held out her hand. I shook it and thanked her, preparing to walk out of her office to rush off to training, I stopped at the door,
“By the way, who won the bet?” She picked her pen back up and glanced between me and the camera high in the corner of the room,
“I think you know who.”
YOU ARE READING
The Fabricators
Science FictionFabricators: the new line of defense for countries all around the globe. Fabricators are people with whole worlds in their minds that are completely under their control, and it's a race among nations to be the leader in Fabrication Defense. Grace H...
