Ten Percent Off

A warm glow came over Theresa when she saw the sign at the counter. It was very simple, but for Theresa, it was confirmation. If you play the game well, you get seen, you get rewarded. “Today, 10% off your coffee with a score above 600 pts,” she read aloud. She looked at Angel and saw that, with her score, Angel could forget about getting a discount. “Do you really think this is okay?” Angel almost whispered. “I think it’s totally okay!” Theresa said a little too loudly for Angel’s liking. If you just behave normally, you get rewarded for it. Exactly as it should be. “Jesus, if we have to live by your rules, we all have to be ‘pure.’ That’s the road to cookie-cutter conformity!” Angel snapped. But Theresa was no longer listening; the smell of fresh cappuccino filled her nose, and she was perfectly happy. “Finally, I belong,” she thought. “I understand this game.”

Angel looked at Theresa, who was already accepting her chai latte with shining eyes. Discount applied; no digital gate was needed, since everyone’s score was clearly visible to everyone else. Theresa beamed as though she had just received a medal from the king.

For Angel, the mood suddenly turned cold. She felt the barista’s gaze resting on her—not even hostile, but judgmental. As though she were less than everyone else; she couldn’t tell whether she saw pity in the bartender or simply a form of contempt. Angel swallowed. Her comment about ‘cookie-cutter conformity’ still hung between them like a gray cloud. Her HUD briefly flashed red in the corner of her field of vision: Linguistic friction detected -10. “Fuck,” she muttered, too quietly to keep anyone from hearing it.

She broke out in a sweat. 420. If it started with access to her lifeblood, coffee, where would this end? The walls slowly began closing in on her. Her rebellion suddenly no longer felt like a cool, intellectual act of resistance. It felt like suicide. In slow motion.

Theresa walked to a table by the window with a triumphant smile. Angel followed her, her own black coffee in her hands; she had paid more for her coffee, and it felt like something less.

She sat down, looked at the perfect layer of foam on Theresa’s drink, and felt her anger give way to pure, raw fear. The rebel inside her was tired. Completely exhausted.

“Theresa?” she whispered, and this time there was no mockery left in her voice, only a tremor she couldn’t suppress.

Theresa looked up, her gaze serene and frictionless. “Yes, Angel?”

Angel noticed her fingers drumming restlessly on the table and immediately saw Theresa’s disapproving look at her “disruptive behavior.” “How.., can… will you help me?” The words tasted like ash, but they had to come out. “Those six hundred points. I’m trying, I really am, but every time I think something stupid or say it out loud, that thing punishes me. That score is driving me crazy, the pressure of that goddamn score. Just tell me… what’s the secret? How do I play this stupid game?” In her HUD, she saw points disappear again. She didn’t know who was rating her, but swearing in public cost nothing yet was punishable. Theresa felt good; she had just properly corrected Angel for coarse language according to GRACE’s standards.

Theresa calmly took a sip of her chai latte, set down her cup, and looked at Angel with a mild, encouraging smile.

“It’s actually very simple, An. You just have to stop fighting,” Theresa said softly. She opened her HUD log and looked Angel straight in the eyes. “By the way, I just gave you a demerit for that ‘fuck.’ Did you see it come in?”

Angel straightened her back, anger immediately flaring in her chest again. “What?! You just—” She wanted to lash out, the word betrayed on the tip of her tongue, but out of the corner of her eye she saw her HUD nervously lighting up again. She pressed her lips tightly together, swallowed the rest of her sentence, and breathed in deeply through her nose. Her knuckles turned white from how hard she was gripping the edge of the table.

Theresa nodded triumphantly, as though she had just taught a puppy to sit. “Look! See that? You’re holding yourself back. By giving you that punishment, I’m actually helping you. If I don’t do it, some stranger on the street will, and they’ll happily take off thirty points instead of ten. I keep you sharp, Angel. That’s what friends do in GRACE. We protect each other’s score.”

Angel stared at her black coffee. It was bizarre, but through the sheer exhaustion in her head, Theresa’s twisted logic was almost beginning to sound logical. “So… I just have to keep my mouth shut?”

“No, not just keep your mouth shut,” Theresa said as she leaned forward and lowered her voice to a friendly, conspiratorial tone. “You have to blend into the crowd. Look at yourself. You’re sitting here drumming on the table, you’re bouncing your leg, your hair is a little messy as though you just got out of bed… All of that gives off ‘restlessness.’ People walking past see that and think: that girl isn’t comfortable in her own skin, she has friction. Beep, demerits.”

Theresa discreetly gestured toward her own perfectly styled clothes and her calm, symmetrical posture. “The first rule of GRACE is: make sure you look well-groomed. Always. A neat appearance is half your score, because it conveys respect for the community. And rule two: don’t stand out. Don’t talk too loudly, don’t laugh too loudly, and if you have criticism about something… think it, but don’t share it. Match your pace to the people around you. If you simply move with the flow, you don’t even have to try all that hard. That’s when you truly understand the game.”

Angel looked at Theresa, who did indeed look impeccable and frighteningly calm. It felt as though she were being given a manual for erasing her own personality, but when she thought about the peace of a stable score above 600… maybe it was worth it.

“Well-groomed appearance, don’t stand out,” Angel repeated softly, as though reciting a mantra.

“Exactly,” Theresa smiled, sliding her hand across the table and giving Angel’s an encouraging squeeze. “And tomorrow, we’ll take a look at your eyeliner together, okay? Then we’ll start working that score of yours up, step by step.”