[ WP ] In an alternate reality , a student 's GPA value floats on top of their head as a large number . All your professors , fellow students , friends , and parents can see it . How does this affect on campus relationships and day to day interactions ?

I could n't breathe. I can not believe Danelle was breaking up with me. Dannelle, of all people. 
 
 Just two years ago, she was a freshman with a 2.0 hanging over her head. Her GPA was so low that people did n't even bother laughing at her. She had a pretty face, and her father was rich, but everyone knew she was nothing. The moment her father passed, she would have no move to the lowest caste neighborhood. Sure, she could have gotten married - but who would want to procreate with her? Pretty faces were so 21th century. Today, twenty years after the publication of the new social contract, the number over your head was all that mattered. And, Dannelle, at the beginning of our sophomore year of college, did not. 
 
 It was because she was stupid. She just did n't try. And when she did, she gave it her all. 
 
 The first time I noticed her was at a party. It was n't really her I saw, but her shadow, extending from behind me. A perfect figure with curves in all of the right places and a silhouette that screamed turn around. 
 
 So I did. Everything I saw was more than I expected, but that glaring red 2.0 turned me off faster than a naked picture of grandma. I quickly passed my glance behind her, while her eyes locked on my face. I could n't be associated with a 2fer. I had a perfect GPA and knew I was on track for an A+ life. Why was she even in the same room as me? 
 
 My friends pushed me around, telling me to go for it. Why not? Just remember to wear a condom. They laughed. 
 
 She tossed her blond locks over her shoulder and I bit. Why not? 
 
 The sex was good. Like I said, she give it her all. When I was done and about to leave, she pulled me back. At some point, the music outside had died down, then it was dark and quiet. I could n't see her number in the darkness. It was the first time I ever had the lights off, but when the eyes stopped seeing, everything else became more intense. When I finally rolled off of her, for what I thought was the last time, I did n't really want to leave. 
 
 She was intelligent. She was funny. We laid in each others' arms, cuddling, talking, falling asleep. 
 
 When I woke, she was still sleeping. The number projecting awkwardly against the wrinkled pillow. I wished it could have been different. I wished we did n't lived in a society where the number existed... but I just put my pants on and tiptoed my way out. 
 
 I saw her more in the school afterwards. It turned out she was actually in most of my classes, just always in the back with the 2fers. She did n't smile or laugh much. She had a sadness that haunted me. 
 
 I called my brother about it. He had just gotten out of college at that point, with a perfect 4.0, and working in a corporate job. The number over his head had changed to an B. This was his grade in term of his contribution to society. He was an B class citizen who was making some contribution, and given his age, was going to move to A in the next few years. I asked him did it matter - should I go for it. 
 
 `` Is it love? He asked. 
 
 `` I do n't know, but I can not stop thinking about her.'' 
 
 `` Why not change the number.'' He replied, wisely. 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` Tutor her, teach her, show her how the game is played and help her raise her GPA.'' 
 
 `` But she is a sophomore, even with a year of 4.0, she would only be at 3.0.'' 
 
 `` But in two or three years, if she keeps a 4.0, she will hit at least 3.75.'' 
 
 `` I do n't know if she can get 4.0s.'' 
 
 `` 3.75 then. The beauty of Dad's system is that there is always a chance to improve.'' 
 
 Yes, my brother was right. She could improve and who better to show her the way that the son of the man who wrote the Second Social Contract and designed the System? 
 
 I ran across the campus looking for her. My heart pounded. I could n't breath. When our eyes locked, she smiled. 
 
 We were inseparable for two years. With every report card, she became more accepted by my friends. She laughed more, walked taller... and had began to stop taking my calls. 
 
 So, here we sat. At a random party like the one where we met, a glowing 3.5 over her head and a 4.0 over mine. I could n't really hear her. Maybe that was one of the things she cited as why she could n't be with me anymore. I did n't listen. So I tried. I tried to push back everything that was flooding into my brain, to listen. 
 
 `` I wish things could be different. But they are n't. I can do better.'' She got up just as I started to process her words. 
 
 `` Better? What better? I am going to live a A+ life. You- you are just a Bfer if that. Without me, you are nothing.'' I tried to pursued her. 
 
 `` Hey, you ca n't talk to my girlfriend that way.'' A jock stepped between us. 
 
 I looked up at his number, 3.27. 
 
 I laughed. `` You are dumping me for a 3-light? Are you for real? You guys going to make J-fer babies? You are stupid Danelle. You are that 2fer and will always be that 2fer. You are just going to be with your own kind.'' 
 
 At that point, he punched me. I blacked out. I spent a few weeks in the hospital to take some tests. During that period, my GPA dropped to a 3.9. The look of disappointments on my father's face after he finally visited was worse than anything that Danelle's 200 pound gorilla could have hit me with. 
 
 No matter how hard I tried, I would never have a 4.0 at graduation. 
 
 My brother never visited me, but he always called every week. We chatted about thing. He told me to never give up. Yes, I would start at a much lower place than he did, but that just meant I had more room to move up. 
 
 It did n't make me feel better, nothing could. 
 
 When I went back to school, I changed my major. I was going to go into business like my brother, but I decided to change to administrations. Specifically, I wanted to go into the Organization. 
 
 The Organization was designed by my father and collected every type of data imaginable of each individual. It was the foundation of the System. Before an individual entered into society, they had a 1-4 weighting system over their head to reflect their GPA as school was their contribution to society and the higher the GPA, the greater their potential for contribution. 
 
 Once in society, the number changed to letters. A to J. 10 letters, 10 levels. What fed into the Letter was more complicated than the calculation of a GPA. We all knew the factors, and I obviously knew more than most due to the influence of my father, but I never asked why. 
 
 It was Andrea who first asked me this. 
 
 I knew Andrea for years. We went through high school and college together. I was pretty sure she was the one who called the ambulance when I got knocked out. 
 
 She was also the only one who visited me in the hospital, on the day when the report card was distributed. 
 
 I knew I got an A- in math. I knew it. My guts told me so. 
 
 We sat facing each other because it was impossible to see your own number. 
 
 We counted down with the clock. It was strange to think that once a quarter, at the exact same moment, millions of students and parents, were holding their breath. A second before, all could have been right or wrong with the world. But the second later, all could have changed. 
 
 I never noticed before because I always got A's. But that day, I joined the millions in the countdown. 
 
 We did n't need the clock to tell us when the Number was distributed. Outside, there were screaming and crying and laughing and jumping. 
 
 I looked at the number over Andrea's head, 3.93. It moved up a little from the 3.9 before. 
 
 I looked at her face, hoping to find something, anything that told me I fucked up. 
 
 But she did n't look disappointed. She just smiled, then stopped. 
 
 A few months later, as we laid in bed, chatting about random things, she confessed about the smile. 
 
 `` We were finally closer. I always thought you were unattainable with your 4.0. So was it okay for me to be a little happy that you are not perfect?'' 
 
 `` I am far from perfect.'' I said as I kissed her neck. 
 
 `` Now, you are not.'' 
 
 `` I was never perfect. The System, it is n't a reflection of perfection. It is just an evaluation of how much contribution we can or are making to society so society can provide equal reward.'' 
 
 `` Why?'' 
 
 `` Why what?'' 
 
 `` Why is our contribution to society the only that gets measured and displayed?'' 
 
 `` Oh, there are many other things that get measured, like how much sleep you get, how long you have to live, how many gifts you give each year, how many times you poop.... they can all be displayed. But the one thing that matters is our contribution to society because it creates a better society.'' 
 
 `` Does it?'' She brushed the hair away from my eyes. `` Does it really?'' 
 
 So to answer her, I switched majors, graduated a year later, and entered the Organization as a C+. At this point, I had lost all contact with my brother. He had dropped off the face of the earth when he got demoted to an E class. E class. My father had a heartattack and died because of it. My brother did n't show up at the funeral. My mother, now a C class citizen moved out of the home that she built with dad. 
 
 Standing there, in the rain, the little red letter over her head shifted from A to C. She wailed. People comforted her, it was like it was her funeral too. They spoke of her in past tense because she was no longer the same woman. 
 
 As a C+ citizen, I did n't get the glamour positions, but was an assistant for Dr. Fowler. I knew him as a child because he was my father's mentor. Ever since I could remember, he had silver hair and a red A over his head. He personally chose me, and because I was assisting him, I got a +. 
 
 Our days were simple. I helped to make his tea, we talked about various calculations and inputs. We took walks. In someways, we were both old souls with an expiration date that no one else saw. He knew a world before the System, and I dreamt of one. 
 
 I was walking home one evening, holding hands with Andrea, who was a B doctor at this point. We had strange looks from people, but she just held my hand tighter. 
 
 I was 25 when I broke up with Andrea. We sat facing each other, the same way we did many years ago, counting down to the next distribution of grades. She said `` I Love you'' before it changed. 
 
 She had an A. I was still C+. 
 
 `` I am breaking up with you.'' I said. 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` I am breaking up with you.'' I left without another word. 
 
 A year later, I was downgraded to an E as I was rushed to the hospital. Somehow, they kept me on as Dr. Fowler's assistant, except now he brought me tea and held my hand as we took our walk in the afternoon. 
 
 It was countdown day again, many many countdown days since the one that I cared about. I was taking a walk with Dr. Fowler as the moment approached. The air was electrifying with everyone's anxiety. I felt peaceful. 
 
 I had told him about Andrea many times, repeating the same questions she asked me. 
 
 `` What should the number be?'' I asked him wondering if he can see me through the fogs over me eyes. 
 
 `` I think we both know.'' He replied, winking while holding a silver box in his hand. He handed the box to me and kissed me on the forehead. 
 
 I put on my finest clothes and tried to walk straight. I stole some flowers and went down to Andrea's floor. She wore a white lab coat, and I suddenly remembered the first time we met. It was chemistry lab in high school. She wore a lab coat and handed me a pair of goggles. 
 
 She had tears in her eyes when she saw me. 
 
 We sat, facing each other, on the hospital bed. As they counted down, I opened the box. 
 
 It was a button. She looked at me and I nodded. 
 
 When it was time, she pressed the button. 
 
 Over her head was 14965:12:34:01. I smiled. 
 
 Over mine was 0:00:00:00. 
 
 I could n't breathe. 
 
 

