It was just another boring day for Mary. Another drive to work, another long day at the office, another drive back from work, another meal to cook for her family. She had recently been forced to watch her coworker get the 10% raise, moving to California with the extra money. It had been 15 years since she had been happy back in high school, with friends and boyfriends and not a care in the world. Now all she had was a husband who had lost interest two years into their marriage, a new home that was hours away from her friends, and a kid already off for college. She had even felt ill for the past year and had gone to get checked out. Lonely, tired, and bored, the only reason she stayed in Wichita was for her best friend.

Her best friend was the polar opposite of her, a carefree Target employee who had little else going on. She attended those big community center pool parties every Saturday, and she had always been Mary’s way in. Mary lived for those weekends, trying to get the same rush of excitement that had been flowing through her the night of her high school graduation.

She reminisced of those days back at Palm View High, with only her friends and her boyfriends she cared about. [No one had any creativity anymore.] Now, her life was chock-full of robots. Robots and her husband, her co-workers, and even her own son! Shaking her head, Mary slumped over an armchair in her home office, about to start another spreadsheet. 

Then the phone rang.

“Hello, this is Mary, who’s calling?” Mary asked, unsure who this was. She only had three contacts on her phone, and she didn’t recognize the number.

“Mary, Mary, have you heard!”

It was a voice that Mary barely remembered. It was one of those extras from her 10th-grade poetry class. Meghan- something or another? 

“Heard what?” said Mary.

“I think you better sit down.”

Mary went upstairs, threw open a closet, and flung her suitcase on her bed. Her only tether to Wichita was gone. She’s done. She’s finally free. Her heart pounding in her ears,  Mary stuffed a few shirts and dresses in her suitcase, sprinted out of the house, hopped into her car, and sat there gripping the wheel. She was finally ready to go back to her happy place.

Arriving in sunny Las Palmos, California, Mary arrives on campus. She headed to the front of the school and waited for the bell to ring. While sitting down on a bench, a fluffy-haired student in a Beatles T-shirt came up to her. 

“Hey, where you from?” he asked. 

Mary looked up, brushing her platinum-blonde hair aside from her face. Her face had not one single blemish. Her teeth shined brighter than the moon, and her teeth looked frighteningly straight. She was rocking an oversize sweater and too-short shorts, getting the immediate attention of all the boys around her.

Walking down the hall to her first class, Mary took a breath of sweaty high school air. She took a seat at the back of the class and was immediately greeted by the bark of a 70-year-old math teacher, with a potbelly so large he probably couldn’t see his own feet.

“IT APPEARS WE HAVE A NEW STUDENT” the math teacher yelled, apparently a little deaf too.

Everyone immediately turned around in their seats to stare at this new kid. One kid in the back even started to drool. The girls looked terrified that any social standing they may have had with the other girls was now gone, and met the new girl with a blend of glares and tucking their eyes behind their books.

Mary waved hello to everybody. This was going to be fun.

*A Few Months Later*

Mary trudged out of the locker room, exhausted after another day of practice. She was the head cheerleader and represented Las Palmos High at all football and basketball games. Every twirl, flip, and the kick was worth it. The crowds consistently seemed to pay more attention to her than the games.  Walking out to a waiting car, one of her boyfriends–this was the one that clearly never washed his shirt–eager to pick her up, she passed a few sophomore girls. They didn’t seem to be able to unglue their eyes off her. She even caught one pointing directly at her face. She had also noticed a recent blonde-dyeing trend amongst the girls in the last few weeks, not to mention several other girls attempting blue and purple eye makeup too.

Somehow, she had fit in. They had believed it. The surgery was convincing. She had managed to recreate the vocal tics of today’s kids somehow. They actually had believed it. Not only believed it, but she’d managed to get three eighteen-year-old seniors to date her. At the same time!

Why in the world had this gone so much better than her first time through? How could she be more authentic the second time? Were kids simply more in awe of raw visual presentation now? She had decided to primarily focus on feigning good looks rather than verbal feats in class and the cafeteria to prevent herself from having to do too much intellectual and vocal improvisation. And shockingly, she hadn’t just fit in, she was the queen bee. 

A blue blur whizzed past her. Wow, some kid was rich. Then she saw the flash of [some item]. It was Josh. How in the world did he find her way out here in California? What was he doing hundreds of miles from home? How long had he been here? 

She rushed out of her boyfriend’s car, rushing into her apartment before her son caught up to her. She didn’t look over her shoulder, knowing that eye contact would be her doom. But she heard the screech of tires, and heavy steps brushing the ground as they ran. She tried her best to scurry away but to no use. A hand reached for her shoulder. 

“Mom?”

“I’m sorry, you have the wrong person,” but she stared at her shoes, a dead giveaway. 

Her son gaped at her in disbelief. “Where have you been?” he almost whispered, as if he was talking to someone on their deathbed. 

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not her,” Mary replied hopelessly, still keeping up the charade. 

“Mary, are you ok,” her son asked desperately, “do you feel ok?” 

Mary found this remark surprising and a little insulting. Did her son miss her so little that he wouldn’t even hug her? Then again, he had always been a robot. 

“I’m fine, why,” Mary replied coldly. 

“You don’t know?” her son questioned in utter disbelief.

“Know what?” Mary asked, confused.

And for the second time in a year, she heard the phrase,

“I think you better sit down”