"Oh she’s PERFECT, Jon," Brittany-Lynne gushed.
"I just knew you’d make a good decision. It’s like you’ve taken all my lessons to heart!"
Jon timidly glanced to his left, sitting at the makeshift desk set up for, lessons? In the career center? He wasn't quite sure.
“Tell me about her. More importantly, tell me about YOU. Tell me what you liked, what you admired, what you desired. She wasn’t the first one you noticed, but this cheerleader was the one you couldn’t take your eyes off of. She drew you in."
Brittany-Lynne was wearing thick rimmed glasses, red lipstick, and her hair was pulled back. She had an outfit for everything, Jon absently mused to himself. Had he ever pulled his hair back like that before? He rubbed his thumbs together, the baby pink polish catching the light for a second. Had his gym shorts always been this short?
Jon thought about the girl. And her spark.
"She looked, uh, cool?"
Brittany-Lynne laughed a little too hard for the situation. "No, Jon, I mean, what made you pick HER? There were at least 20 out there, and you knew this was the one. Your model!"
"Well, I don't know..." Jon was a little embarrassed. "She had a kind of...look?" He was afraid to say more. While he wasn't an outcast, Jon had always prided himself on being someone who had a more alternative view of the world. He and Karyn, together, rolled their eyes at things that were popular. Music, movies, people. He didn't actively dislike those things like Zoe did, but he'd much rather discover the new band than follow along to whatever everyone else was doing. And this girl he picked wasn't that. Arguably she was the complete opposite. Not so much that she was cliche, but if a casting director was looking for America's Next Top Cheerleader, it would be her. She was so...basic? He wished he had noticed someone more original.
Brittany-Lynne sat expectantly, with a sheet of paper in front of her and a pencil in one hand.
"She's kind of basic, Brittany-Lynne," he said. And immediately regretted it. "...but not in a bad way" he said, correcting himself.
"Basic. OK. Tell me more." She scribbled a few lines on the paper.
A few minutes later, Jon had forgotten all about his misgivings. By the time he was finished, he was surprised he had noticed so much. And that he had such strong opinions about his model cheerleader.
Tan, bleach blonde, semi-short, smile that lit up a room. No stress. Happy. Talked a lot. Bubbly. Dazzling. Glad to be herself. Flirty. A touch vain. Probably liked Pumpkin Spice Lattes, but who could hold it against her? Bama Rush meets California Dreaming. Quintessential American Pie. He shook his head. "of course...none of that in a bad way."
"Any last things before I feed the machine?" She asked. "Oh my goodness this is so exciting. Your model! Here, help me put it in."
Jon walked over to Brittany Lynne. The sandals flip flopped against his heels. The tank top and shorts were a cute idea when he left the house in the morning, but it was cold in here. They had a training session next so it wasn't like he had other options for better attire. With his new weight distribution, Jon had to wear another smaller tank top under his actual tank top. It was annoying, but the extra support felt nice. Its neon hue peeked out slightly from under the round neckline of his top. He took his half of the paper from Brittany-Lynne and started sliding it into the machine. There wasn't much to it - the box was chest height, black, and had a few lights on top. One small readout window. No branding anywhere. Just smooth black hard shell plastic. Kind of like one of those ballot machines he had seen before when his Mom brought him along to vote. They seemed finicky. Is that why Brittany-Lynne asked him to help?
The machine whirred to life as the edge of the paper made contact with the slot.
"So what's this thing do, market research?" he asked.
"No silly, this locks you in." She replied.
"Locks...what?" Jon thought he might have misunderstood what Brittany-Lynne said.
"Yes. It writes to your permanent record, and starts adjusting you to meet your chosen, assigned career. Physically and mentally of course. Over some time period. We're never really sure!" She smiled like a cat that just ate the canary. "In your case, I think it'll be faster - you're at least halfway there! At least, from the outside looking in. Who would have thought we'd get to this point!"
The yellow light on the machine buzzed.
"Hold on. I thought I got to choose!" Jon said, slightly exasperated. "I was just trying this out. You know, humoring you guys. But I'm not sure if I really want to go through with it!"
"But, wait Jon. You did choose. Just a few minutes ago. You're even helping me put the paper in the machine? It's your model now." She said dryly.
A whooshing sound started, pulling the paper quickly out of both their hands.
Jon looked down. He couldn't move fast enough to pull the paper back out, and as the last of it disappeared into the box he made out just the last bit of text on the form.
"...but not in a bad way"
A green light on the top blinked silently.
