Long Story #20: Aptitude and Ineptitude (R-18)(P1)

Long Story #20: Aptitude and Ineptitude (R-18) (A commission for Anon.) (Content Tags: Brain drain, somewhat sci-fi, status loss, tooth loss, serious messing, bad ending, special ed, rival antagonist, blowout, masturbation and arousal) At some point in time, after taking issue upon issue with the state of the public education system, there had been a series of large scale adjustments to the way that the schools functioned. This came upon the same back as a labor crisis, where the country had suffered a generational 'brain drain' of their top talent either leaving or professional roles that had been outsourced for cheap. Some changes seemed obvious, such as investing in mandatory preschool programs for the youngest of the future generations, or making sure that schools were adequately staffed and paid for the serious undertaking they were to be tasked with. Free school lunches, hardline grading systems that made sure no child advanced without knowing everything required of them, et cetera. Some changes were less obvious when the plans had first come together; one of which, which was one of the largest undertakings, was streamlining career planning. Other nations had been doing that for decades, but now it was time for this country to catch up. Students took aptitude tests in specific grade levels, and those aptitude tests would help to decide which educational track they would be on until their next round of testing. The first was in Kindergarten, then again in: third, sixth, ninth, twelfth, and then right before graduation. The final one decided the trajectory of their career path the most, whereas the one in twelfth would decide what the final length of their education would look like. College was now the same as public school, and effectively that meant that children were in school from their toddler years up through their early twenties, with the bill being handled by the state instead of the students. Once a student had that last aptitude test at graduation from twelfth grade, they were then tracked directly into higher learning that made the most sense for each individual one. For some that was the traditional route of higher learning, for some that was vocational training, and then there were those who didn't have the aptitude for anything except 'unskilled' labor; there was technically a fourth track, but that was little more than special ed at a 'college' level. With education becoming more lengthy and far more compulsory, the age of majority had seen changes too. This tracked with other trends that the population had followed in the recent decades, where 'childhood' effectively lasted longer and people retained their youth more effectively at every age group; where maturity had become something not expected until later and later ages. This wasn't only a sociological phenomenon, but a biological one too; the microplastic crisis that'd been identified decades ago, had only just started to be solved, and the damage left in its wake had shown itself in the endocrine system. Puberty was starting later and later, because everyone's hormones were so thrown out of whack. For some unfortunate individuals, it never came, and for others it was lackluster. The needle had ticked upward in other areas too, with things like pottytraining, bedwetting, thumbsucking and the such happening later and later. Six was effectively the new three, and it'd become more common for seemingly neurotypical children to still struggle with their toileting near the end of elementary. Brighter students were in underwear by four or five, much to the ire of the exploitative diaper industry that had been pushing the acceptable training age higher and higher. These brighter students excelled in hitting all these milestones at more appropriate ages. Bright students like Ryan. Ryan was an honor student nearing the end of twelfth grade. He'd been an honor student since early elementary school; pottytrained by his fifth birthday, dry at night by his eighth, and exceedingly proud of these facts. Always straight A's, always on time, and always in the more advanced classes. He had neat brown hair and a decidedly unathletic build; at eighteen, it was obvious that his puberty hadn't been as impressive as his test scores. He still had a 'baby face', his stature was unimpressive and his musculature had never quite broadened; no facial hair, no definition, no true sense of manliness by traditional standards. He could just as easily be mistaken for a freshman. Fortunately he had the brains and charisma to overcome anywhere he fell short; conventionally handsome enough, he'd never had much trouble finding a date to take to a school dance. The only real turn-off was the unrepentant arrogance that he exuded, the cocky sense of mental and creative superiority that came part and parcel with being such a fantastic student. His passion was music, from both an artistic angle and from a historic one. The evolution of music and the various facets of musical theory over the ages, this was something that filled him with great intrigue; he played a few instruments as well, and had always had a leading chair all throughout his many classes. It was the other half to his sophisticated exterior, where he showed that it wasn't simply raw intelligence that made him so great. Ryan had recently turned eighteen when he'd started to have to study up for the evaluation. The second-to-last aptitude exam that would decide how he spent the rest of twelth grade; the last one was more important for fully deciding his future, but this semi-final one would also be a key to what he'd be groomed to become. The final leg of high school was pivotal for readying a student for their final evaluation, to decide what kind of higher education would be in the cards for them, if any at all. It was the difference between 'college prep' and 'remedial work'. For as haughty as Ryan was, he was still a bundle of insecurities at his core. He had anxieties about his academic future, about how he was perceived by his peers when it came to his intellectual prowess. It was deep seated within him, from a childhood experience that'd painted his perspective on intellect. It was why he'd always had a revulsion to those who didn't have two brain cells to rub together. Ryan was pretty openly disgusted by the SPED kids and he just about always had been, since early elementary school when he'd seen the star student of his second grade class have a horrible descent into sheer retardation. It'd been a nerdy boy named Timothy. Ryan had been friends with him, and at least at the time, Timmy had always seemed so much smarter than him. Perfect test scores, he always knew the answer, and he never seemed challenged. Until he became mentally challenged. After nearly drowning, by a happenstance mistake of standing too closely to a lake on his family's vacation, Timothy had come back to school very different. He'd been deprived of just enough oxygen to cause serious brain damage, while still allowing him to keep his life; if it could be called a life. Their friendship had been more of a rivalry, so Ryan hadn't mourned the 'death' of the old Timmy like a friend would, but he had been disgusted by seeing the new Timmy. Timmy the Tard, or Tardee Timmy, as he'd been known after. That disgust had been born out of fear. A fear for seeing how fragile human intelligence was, and how a random event could so miserably impact the rest of a life. Timmy had been reduced to such an abysmal state: permanently diapered, tongue hanging out of a drooly mouth, being known for playing with his own shit after he grossly defecated on himself. Ryan still saw Timmy around the school, being led by his SPED teacher; usually with a big, smelly bulge in the back of his pants. He'd long been liberated of anything that would point to him once having a functioning brain, such as his teeth or a normal gait. Ryan saw the other retards too, and each one filled him with more fury and disgust than the last. That fear had morphed over the years, until it was psychologically buried so deep, that it was instead represented entirely by revulsion, rage, and spite. He had been vocal about what he thought about the intellectually challenged boys of the school, ever since elementary school, and he'd fruitlessly petitioned that they shouldn't even be in the same building as the normal kids. He spoke of them like they were filthy subhuman animals, as if their very presence was a huge burden. His peers had likely seen it as a part of his attitude from his academic superiority, like a king who was appalled by the peasants in their hovels. Over enough time, Ryan had come to think the same; he'd forgotten his own fear and happily let it turn to a vile bigotry, where he would mock and besmirch the less fortunate. His extreme attitude would be what set the stage for him to have his own fall; for Ryan to join his old friend Timmy in the retard room. It would be a karmic nightmare from which he wouldn't be able to wake; it would be a full paradigm shift for his entire existence and the way he was perceived by the peers he'd worked so hard to gain the adulation of. There had been less than a week left before the aptitude test and Ryan had been stressed out. He shouldn't have been worried, since he was so proficient, but he had lofty expectations of the heights he could propel himself to in this last year of the 'high school' level. It was important for him to do better than he'd done ever before. Finding his rigorous studies to be insufficient, or at the least, inefficient, he'd turned to a shortcut, and he'd had to debase himself a little bit to do it. The only kid who he could call a rival was a boy in his class named Ludwig. Like Ryan, he was both intelligent and interested in music, except Ludwig was a prodigy who had skipped a couple of grades and who excelled to far greater heights in certain key subjects. His greatest being biology, with a specific interest in genetics. Ludwig was more capable with his CRISPR assignments than anyone else in the school, and while there were hardline restrictions on how to use such powerful technology, Ryan knew Ludwig liked to push the envelope. Which is why he'd had to ask for his help. Ryan explained that he needed a 'brain boost', that he needed to exceed the limitations of his own biology to put himself in all the programs he dreamed of. Ryan had expected pushback, since he was technically competing with Ludwig for spots in some of those programs, but the boy had been accommodating. He said that he saw it as a challenge, and that he'd cook something up to give Ryan the gene therapy that he 'deserved'. Perhaps Ryan should have been more suspicious of this altruism, or that Ludwig would so readily go against his own interests, but Ryan's ego had blinded him against what should have been obvious to anyone with his IQ scores. Three days before the aptitude test, Ludwig had come and given Ryan what he'd asked for. A unique formulation to manipulate Ryan's genes and manipulate the smallest building blocks of his physiology. It came in the form of a small pill and Ludwig said it would take about a day to fully take effect. Caught in a state of such arrogance and insecurity, Ryan hadn't thought twice about swallowing that pill. He hadn't given Ludwig's smug smile a second look, and he'd even thanked the prodigy for his help, with a statement about how the better man would win in getting those class spots that they were both vying for. Ludwig had just chuckled and given a cryptic response about not wanting the same life path that Ryan was on and that'd been the end of it. It had felt so exciting, to think that he was about to become even smarter than he already was; to become even more proficient in all the fields that he held so close. His dreams of becoming a legendary composer, trained at the most prestigious program in the country, felt less like dreams and more like an inevitable reality. But they were doomed to just be dreams. Unattainable dreams. Forgotten dreams. The scope of Ryan's future was about to shrink by a magnitude that was unthinkable; by a margin that would seem impossible. Ryan the honor student, Ryan the intellectual, Ryan the suave musician...All titles that would cease their circulation in favor of ones more accurate. Ryan the pants-shitter, Ryan the booger-eater, Ryan the retard. The process would be swift. It would only take a few days to wipe away the last sixteen or so years. Ryan would never have a chance to confront his rival over the treachery, or rather, he'd never get a chance to be on the receiving end of a 'villain speech' that he could understand. The short of it was that he'd been screwed by his own arrogance, if not by naivety. Ryan had been so trusting that Ludwig would give him a brain-boost, that his longtime rival would have a sense of honor. It was exceptionally appalling with the measure of power that he'd put into Ludwig's hands; to ask for and receive a gene therapy cocktail from outside a doctor's office. No way of checking the details, the safety, just taking it without question. Perhaps it was a symptom of the sick way that he categorized people's worth by their IQ score; he just took it on faith that Ludwig had his best interests in mind, because Ludwig was a smart person. That made him trustworthy and ethical; it meant that they were like two peas in a pod. The reality check would be brutal, at least for as long as he could understand it. That pill he'd taken, formulated by Ludwig's CRISPR, wasn't going to enhance his intellect by cleaning any genetic impurities. Just the opposite, it was going to dirty things up like the diapers that Ryan would soon be filling. A folded protein here, a shifted gene there, and Ryan's entire neurological system would rapidly change for the worse. It was the kind of damage that could only hope to be fixed if someone knew to look for it, and nobody was going to guess the proprietary blend that Ludwig had cooked up. Within hours of taking the pill, the changes were already beginning to take place. Ryan was feeling tired, and it gave him a headache; he would end up feeling like he had a mild head-cold for the evening. And then he woke up the next morning covered in piss. Soaked boxers, soaked sheets, and still with a mild throb in his noggin. Thoughts felt a little more sluggish, which he would come to find as he couldn't keep focused in his classes. He tried to remember what Ludwig had said about side-effects, but he was having difficulties with recollection. The haze would only continue to become thicker throughout the day, where class periods seemed to go by with nary a note jotted down. He started to find himself losing track of time, and certain words that he was so sure he knew, he felt less confident about understanding. It was like he was moving around half-asleep. Things would again accelerate whenever he had gone to his math class about halfway through the day. He'd been staring at the first problem on his worksheet for at least twenty minutes, with him desperately trying to recall how he was supposed to solve it. "Mr. Norton? I think you should go to the nurse." Had come the confused yet stern voice of his teacher. Looking around him, Ryan saw bewildered expressions from some of his classmates, and then he realized why. Ryan had pissed his pants. He was sitting in a warm puddle and it'd trickled underneath his desk. The teacher looked upset, but also unsure his to react to one of their best students acting this way. So without much discussion on it, Ryan took the nurse's pass and awkwardly shuffled out of the classroom. First his bed, and now his pants? What was happening? Why hadn't he even noticed? The nurse didn't have any answers for him. What she did have was an irritated expression and a solution that he found lacking. He would trade out his soaked bottoms for some sweatpants out of the lost and found, as well as an adult Pull-Up from her cabinet. He argued against it, but not very well. He was fumbling over his words and actively losing the plot as he droned on; he knew it was an outrage to expect a clever boy like him to traipse around in something that belonged on a retard, but he couldn't find the words to dissuade her. So he had to spend the rest of the school day in training pants, which would actually be welcome whenever he went to his penultimate class of the day: musical history. It was one of the few periods he shared with Ludwig, and a class where he exceeded the prodigy by a large measure. He thought to ask Ludwig about the drug that he'd gotten from him, but decided it could wait until after class. Unfortunately, there wouldn't be time for that. While discussing the finer points of early French composition, Ryan had felt a peculiar sensation in his tummy. His gut felt heavy, like he was too full, but he had eaten lunch hours ago! His frazzled mind pinged around for a few moments before he remembered that he hadn't taken a dump since he woke up. By then though, it was too late. While sitting there with a vacant expression, he'd mindlessly pushed on the pressure and squeezed a sizable serpent into the backside of the pull-up. It hadn't come quietly either, and now everyone was looking his way at the rude noise he'd made; the class was laughing, but they didn't even know the whole story. The teacher tried to settle the class down and Ryan knew he needed to be proactive. He raised his hand fervently, knowing he couldn't just sit in a pile of his own shit for the rest of the period, especially when he could already smell it. "Yes, Mr. Norton? Are you done disrupting my class?" "Can I be excused?" The teacher frowned, "No, Mr. Norton. The lesson has hardly begun and if you needed to use the restroom, then you should have done so before--" Brazenly, Ryan interrupted him to inform: "--I shidded my pants." The class lost it at that, but Ryan was hastily excused. As he waddled down the hall again, he wondered if he'd handled things right. He had always been so concerned with his own image, so it was a bizarre twist for him to so openly admit something so shameful. Truthfully, his impulse control had deteriorated faster than his reasoning skills, so he could still understand that it was degrading to admit he'd soiled himself to the whole class. He just hadn't been able to help himself, in doing the act and in verbally confirming it. Another trip to the nurse's office, this time in a shit-packed Pull-Up, and the woman wasn't about to be sanctioning this buffoonery any further. Her nose wrinkled whenever he came bowlegged through her door, and it only took moments to recognize the earthy scent. (Continued in part 2)