Note: Hey! Do you want to know how my morning started? Well, I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing, only to figure out that I'd slept TWO ENTIRE HOURS PAST MY ALARM. I had to hop out of bed, throw on a sweatshirt and slipper, and run across an incredibly cold campus to deliver a camera, tripod, and a clapperboard to another student. I hadn't even brushed my teeth.
So basically, to make my morning better I decided to go get breakfast at the cafeteria, only to find out that ALL THE FOOD WAS COVERED IN SARAN WRAP AND WOULDN'T BE OPENED UNTIL THE EXACT MOMENT MY CLASS STARTS.
Life's got me like:
EVERYTHING IS SO GREAT.
So basically, that's how my life has been going lately. I'm so sorry for missing Friday last week. I promise to make it up to you.
I finish my classes at around 1PM today, so I'm going to take a few hours to write a whole extra chapter and post it for you today. Sound good?
PREVIOUSLY ON THE CLASSIX: Emeray and Cartney got coffee. Wow! Inventive!! We also brought up Marlon and how he, like, totally fell off the face of the earth.
DEFED
What's our next move?
This question is the main focus of today's group meeting. It's been months now since we've had any real contact with the Famoux, and the radio-silence on our end has long since lost its suspense. It's time to get a move on. It's time to get the ball rolling. And so here we are, the whole group gathered together, throwing out ideas left and right as Rinna copies them down neatly in my notebook.
We work best this way: In collaboration. Unlike the Famoux, we actually believe in the power of sticking together and using one another's strengths. It's not just something we implement when the going gets too tough for us to figure it out on our own.
"Maybe we should start with sending one of those cryptic notes," suggests Dome. "You know, the usual. Something expected."
Dome is a nickname, and it doesn't have much of an exciting explanation. Instead of saying his actual name, somebody once blurted out, Dome! and it stuck from there.
We like our nicknames around hereââespecially Finley. Since before I ever arrived he's made it a tradition for every person in the office to have one: Dome, Rinna, Carl, Leyton, me. We do this both for fun and for privacy reasons; there's nothing like a jumble of nonsensical names to confuse anyone who might be trying to uncover who we are.
Most of the time I feel like Finley should be the one in charge here. With everything he's made possible for us over the past few months, I've found myself thanking him for his work a hell of a lot more than he's been thanking me.
But the old boss didn't pick Finley as an heir.
From an armchair across the room, he shakes his head at Dome. Like he does with every suggestion, he begins with a small agreement before playing devil's advocate. "I see what you're suggesting here. I see it. I understand it. But, c'mon, do we really want to be expected? After all that's happened? I think we need to do something else."
"Something else?"
"Yeah. Something that actually shows them who we are."
"You want us to change our course?"
Finley chuckles. "Uh, in order to change a course we need to make one first."
"Have you been paying attention for the last few months?" Dome asks. "It doesn't matter what it is for usââthe course is very clear for the Famoux."
"Yeah, butââ"
"I date to say it, Finley, but Dome's right," says the new kid . . . the newcomer . . . the newbie. I haven't quite figured out what's the right nickname to give. People aren't new for long, I know, but I guess the new kid will just have to do at the moment.
As I start to think up a few good codenames for replacement, Finley gives the new kid an incredulous look. "Dome's right? Are you kidding me?"
"The course is made, and we can't change that so soonââespecially since we don't know everything that's going on."
"That's what you're here for, to find out what's going on."
"And I'm trying my best."
At this, the new kid looks to me for confirmation. I nod. "Right now he's doing the best out of everybody here," I say. "But we can all do better in some waysââstarting now with these suggestions. So far we've only gotten opinions from three people. Carl, Leyton, what do you two think? What's the next move?"
Leyton perks her head up from a notebook. "You know, it'd be kind of cool it we brought back the . . . the Marlon clone."
Carl snorts. "Who even is Marlon York anymore? Useless."
Everyone laughs a bit at that, at the fickleness we've found is attached to being anything but a Famoux member. Cartney Kirk is certainly lucky for his consistent association with the groupââotherwise he'd be buried under the newer, better versions of himself that have come and go over the years.
"Well, since Marlon York is so out," Leyton starts to Carl, "why don't we just make a new clone?"
The room lights up at once, except for me. I go instantly dim.
"Hell yeah," says Finley. "Of who?"
"Maybe one of theââ"
"Oh, no," I interrupt. "We are not using it again."
"But bossââ"
"No."
The Fissarex, in my opinion, is one of the most terrifying machines ever made. I lived a long and moderately happy life watching the Famoux and not knowing it existed, and despite what they tell you, ignorance truly is bliss. When I got this job the gritty facts about their world came with it, and out of all the things I've heard, nothing beats the fact that they can take a personââyoung, old, whateverââand make them something completely different. New hair. New eyes. New skin. New build. New full on chemical makeup of the body. They're irrevocably skinny. Their tans are always even. They barely even get catch a cold.
It's something else.
It's unprecedented.
It's unreal.
That's the part that really gets me. There is so little about them that is real. But yet again, when you really think about it, there is so little about me that's real too. Do I even have the right to judge them that way?
It's a hard line to draw.
Anyway, I don't like the Fissarex. I might've been excited about yielding that power once or twice, but if my decree actually could make it happen, I'd take a hammer to it as soon as I could. But the office figured out how to make one of those contraptions long before I stepped into power, and had been testing it out accordingly. It's no easy machine to make, with all its screws and features and facets. They'd had the help of someone very close to the inside to get the exact information for construction.
Noââthat's the wrong way to describe her. This person wasn't just very close to the inside, she was the inside. Finley says she was the best spy they'd ever had.
Bree Arch.
All she had to do was become well-liked enough to pull her own strings without anyone noticing. The favorite with Norax, she got to spend extra time with her and hear things usually left confidentialââhow the Fissarex works, what they're thinking about doing in the next few months. Whatever she heard, she'd take back to the office for us to use. It was a glorious, glorious system.
And then we did what we had to.
"What's the harm in making a few more clones, boss?" Leyton asks.
"Other than the fact that there'd be a few more clones running around Delicatum?" I sigh, feigning nonchalance. In actuality, just the thought of the Fissarex makes my hands clam up. "Think about all the factors that would go into that. Who's going to change themselves? Who are they going to change into? How do we get that member out of sight long enough for our clone to even make a difference?"
They start up with their debates, but Rinna stops them, complaining that her hand is too tired to write it all down. We're dismissed into silence for a few more minutes before I look around and realize no one's actually thinking.
"Hey, stop daydreaming and picking at your nails, people!" I exclaim, getting up from my chair. "I know we have long term plans, but we need a few short term plans too. So what are we doing? What is the next move?"
"You keep asking us that," Finley says, "but what do you think? Got any thoughts for yourself, chief?"
Their eyes fall onto me in unison. I scratch the back of my head, searching for some kind of general idea someone hasn't suggested alreadyââsomething that'll spur more discussion from the group. It's hard to think on my own; I prefer thinking with everyone.
"If I make a proposal, it'll be though of as a command," I tell them. It's probably not true, but the way I say it makes it feel so valid. "I don't want to command everyone like we see Norax commanding the Famoux. We are a democracy. If we take someone down, it's because the group decided on it together. If we make a new member, it's because we had a unanimous agreement to do so. This is why we gather together at the end of everyday on couches and armchairsâânot so we can unwind, but so that we have a comfortable space to collaborate."
These are things everyone knows. These are things we've established. Putting them in a lofty speech is just me trying to sound like I have some kind of a plan for all this. And as I look at each of my people individuallyââfrom Rinna, to Finley, to Dome, to Carl, to Leyton, and finally to the new kidââI hope down to my soul that none of them can see how unprepared and dependent on them as I am.
Because I am not prepared. I do not have a plan. But so long as the office thinks I do, and so long as the Famoux thinks I do, that's a good place to start.
xxx
I want to hear your DEFED theories. Tell me your thoughts.
Thank you for being patient with me. Thank you for existing. I am so happy I have you.
Now, have an wonderful weekend, Wattpad. Go see a movie or something. (OR, SEE A CURE FOR WELLNESS NEXT WEEK AHHHHHH!!!!)
So creepy. So excellent.
Remember:
Sticks and Stones may break your bones, but haters make you famoux. Stay classy, stay classix.