text: Alexander threw his legs over the left side of his bed with a yawn. He did so with calculated quietness as to not disturb his neighbors in the apartment below him. He was a loud yawner he'd discovered, and apparently a heavy stepper for a young man weighing only 150 pounds. He walked across the sunlight-striken bedroom to the bathroom, conscious of the gravity of his steps. After his shower, during which he resisted the familiar urge to sing his favorite songs loudly, he exited the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes remained low and in need of rest; he hadn't slept well. Another night of nightmares. Floating above his head, written in golden font, was his score: 1468 out of a possible 2000. It kept him in the top 10 percentage of people rated in his neighborhood. As a plus, it had unexpectedly gone up sixteen points since he laid his head to rest the night before. It was rare when it happened but always a pleasant surprise. Someone had been thinking about him fondly, and that made him happy. Ready for the day, he walked the concrete sidewalk leading to the parking lot of his complex. A warm smile - his best feature, authentic but accentuated for the sake of presentation - was on his face. His eyes tried their best to adjust to the lasting sunshine. The lawn was perfectly manicured, save for a small patch that hadn't yet been gotten to. A yellow potato chip bag was resting noticeably on an overgrown stretch of grass. Alexander, an advocate for keeping the community tidy and always looking for ways to improve his score, veered slightly from his intended path and bent to retrieve the bag from the ground with two fingers, making sure to keep his smile as he dropped it in a nearby garbage bin. A landscaper along the outer edge of the grass rode by on a lawnmower. He lifted a hand to say hello. Alexander raised one in return, his smile never wavering. The freshly cut grass irritated his allergies and made his sleepy eyes water, but he knew better than to complain. There was a friendly, familiar beep from his pocket. He fetched his phone. The score illuminated on the otherwise blank screen had gone up by 2+, putting him at 1470. Alexander couldn't say he had ever considered himself a people person before the new socially-moderated world came into effect, or even someone interested in what others thought of him. In fact, he couldn't remember much of what life had been like before this. Everything was wrapped in cloak of pleasant rather than true, and the truth, whatever that meant, didn't seem to matter. What appeared good was good, simple as that. He climbed into his car, turned the AC on blast, and pulled out of the parking lot. His watering eyes soon dried. He dabbed what remained of the moisture with a tissue at the red light of an intersection. His stomach twitched and he noticed for the first time that he was hungry. A coffee shop, one he frequented often, was only a few blocks ahead. He knew his order by heart and very much looked forward to his cream cheese blueberry bagel and cup of coffee. He finished blowing his nose just as the cars in the left lane began to trudge along. An Audi SUV sat stagnant in front of him. He looked up at the stoplight and saw it was green. From the side mirror of the car ahead, he could see a teenage girl staring blankly at her lap, her other hand distractedly gripping the steering wheel. Alexander caught his hand as it crept up to the horn. His lips pursed tightly and he tapped his fingers impatiently on his steering wheel. He did not honk, nor did the cars behind him. Their restraint, as well as his, was appreciated; Alexander knew how quickly a sensible situation could untangle. It was best if everyone behaved. He watched with quiet, building rage as the green stoplight turned first to yellow, then to red. He threw on his left turn signal, and drove into the empty adjoining lane. Several other vehicles followed suit. Maybe it was his hunger, maybe it was because of his irritated eyes, but he looked over to the SUV beside him. His smile was gone, and for the first time in a long time, he hadn't noticed or cared. The teenage girl behind the wheel felt his gaze and turned her head towards him. She was maybe sixteen, still two years exempt from the score rating that dictated the life of adults. She was noticeably delighted by the quiet irritation in his eyes and smirked. "What, stalker?" he saw her mouth from behind the raised car window. Alexander returned his attention to the road ahead. She sneakily flipped him off once his head was turned and went back to her phone. He pretended not to see it and didn't retaliate. To his relief, the light turned green and he sped away. He checked his rearview mirror after a few seconds; the Audi still hadn't move. Thankfully, neither had his score. Alexander pulled into the packed parking lot of the coffee shop, his hunger nearly forgotten. All he could see was the raised middle finger of the girl in the Audi, the black fingernail polish faded unevenly. He unconsciously swung into an open spot just as the door of a car next to him was thrown open. The distance separating a collision was less than an inch. "WATCH IT!" he was surprised to hear himself say. From the backseat of the old red car, an elderly woman emerged slowly. She raised a hand to apologize. Grumpily, he raised one in acknowledgement. The look in her hurt eyes said everything. He let out a troubled sigh as his score dropped -2 back down to 1468. Another woman exited from the vehicle's driver seat and gave him an added look of disgust as she and the other made their way to the coffee shop door. His score ticked -2 down to 1466. He rubbed his tired, red eyes and got out. Just that quickly, it felt like all his energy had left him, floated off into the wind like a helium balloon in the loose grip of a careless child. The image of the girl's black fingernail polish reemerged in his mind with startling clarity. He fought it to no avail. He just wanted coffee and a bagel. With effort, he pulled open the door of the coffee shop. The comforting scent of coffee beans and pastries were lost on him, as he wasn't able to comfortably breathe. What little smell he had left was overwhelmingly freshly cut grass. The line reached all the way to the door, and he knew it would be twenty minutes or longer before he was serviced. The other customers chattered quietly in front of him. The woman who'd exited the red car was sitting at a large round table nearby with the elderly woman and a few others. Alexander could feel his blood run cold as she leaned closely to the huddle of women at the table and gestured to him. There were four other women seated with them, and his score dropped again by -8 points as they turned in their chairs to look at the impatient man who'd shouted at their mother. That put him at 1458. He thought about offering a friendly wave, but decided that they were past that now and that it might make things worse. A few minutes passed, and the women seemed to lose interest. Alexander was grateful; he knew how quickly things could escalate. He retrieved his phone from his pocket to help distract himself, knowing it would be a while before he would leave. He had just unlocked it when a feeling of dread suddenly overcame him. He turned around and saw a gangly man standing far too closely to him. He was at least fifty and had Alexander beat by eight inches in height. The man's eyes, though focused and watchful, looked glassy with thought. Why hadn't Alexander heard him walk in? How long had he been standing there before Alexander noticed him? The man pulled his right hand out of his pocket and pointed a long, thin finger at Alexander's phone. "Had one of those just like that one," he said conversationally, his voice bassy and battered. "Got rid of it because I couldn't turn off the noise. Won't let ya." "Oh yeah?" Alexander said. He didn't comment on how closely the man stood to him, or how little he felt like talking. And he didn't admit to himself how suddenly afraid he was. The man, still seemingly lost in thought, continued. "Every waking moment, morning or evening, just chiming away. Telling you all about your blessings and your sins. Reminding you to open that door for Grandma or buy those girl scout cookies you know you won't enjoy." The man scoffed. "Like we're children. Everyone, so delicate and needing their hand held. A little negativity mixed into their paradise, and people start to lose their minds. When everyone pretends to behave, you can't see who they actually are." Alexander turned back around and pretended to search for something on his phone. The line couldn't move quickly enough. His hunger had dissipated, but the tall customer behind him was making him nervous. His eyes, while dry, started to sting again. The man gestured with his left elbow at the table of women, who had gone back to their discussion but still turned to Alexander every so often. "You piss one of them off?" "What?" Alexander asked, as though he hadn't heard. "It was nothing, just..." "That little bitch in the SUV flipped you off." Alexander caught an escaping gasp and checked his surroundings. The others in line hadn't seemed to hear the man, but was this guy insane? Using language in a crowded area like this? There were at least 30 people nearby. His score could easily drop by sixty points in a few seconds and it was only 9:30 in the morning. Wait until they told their friends. And then wait until they posted online about it. You'd lose everything. You could always lose everything, at any moment, in this place, even by association. What worried - or maybe terrified - Alexander most was the man didn't appear or sound crazy. These weren't the frantic ramblings of an untethered lunatic. The man spoke with a calm freedom that was alarming. Worse - contagious. "Say it," the man said. "I saw what happened. Sat there at that light twice because some kid couldn't focus." He took a pause. "Mighta not even been the first time today. Don't you wonder what it'd be like to react? I wonder a lot, you know. How good it would feel to just roll down the window and yell 'Fuck you!'" A few heads turned. They seemed to quickly lose interest. What was this guy's problem? He uttered a low, humorless chuckle. "I wonder what would happen if someone just rammed a crowbar through that expensive window and slapped some sense into her. Don't you ever wonder that?" He clapped Alexander on the back. His hand, though bony, was still strong. "No," Alexander lied, fighting off the image of the black fingernail polish again, and the anger that it inspired, "and I would appreciate it if you didn't talk like that. You sound crazy." For the first time, the man seemed offended; still, Alexander's score didn't budge. "Ya can't even take a piss too loudly in a bathroom stall without some sensitive asshole having his day ruined, and I sound like the crazy one? Don't you miss free will? Doing shit for the sake of doing shit?" He reached a bony hand forward and grabbed a fistful of Alexander's shirt. It was sudden but gentle. "Jesus Christ, honking your car horn? What CAN you do anymore?" Alexander pulled his shirt free. He was terrified of the man, but his peaking impatience gave him courage. "YOU can do whatever you want, okay?" Thankfully he was the next in line, and used it as an escape from the conversation. He mustered a fake smile for the cashier that felt heavy on his face and placed his order. As he paid and turned to walk to the counter at the other end, he noticed that the man was gone. Later that night, Alexander sat in front of his TV with a glass of vodka. It was not the first. His tired eyes, even redder, were now glued to the screen. Throughout the day, at odd intervals and regardless of how pleasant he was, his score had ticked down. 1458, then down to 1430. Then 1430 to 1390. The biggest and most sudden leap had happened around 2:00 pm, and took him down to 1100. He currently sat, drunk, at 978. Anything lower than 850 and his apartment complex could deem him as a hazard to the community and evict him. If he were to reach 500, he could be imprisoned without trial. Things unraveled quickly, he knew this, and it never took much. Your impact was powerful, and created waves. He watched as the news covered the murder. "Police have taken Malcolm Tate into custody, a man responsible for over a dozen charges of theft, aggravated assault, and at least one murder," the news reporter said. "The murder victim, sixteen-year-old Patricia Summers, was found dead this afternoon in her parent's SUV." They put up a picture of Patricia on the screen, smiling with a group of her friends, but all Alexander could focus on was her dark nail polish. "The parents say Patricia drove herself to school this morning, like always. After they hadn't heard from her after dismissal, they called the school and her friends to determine her location. The parents were able to use the vehicle's GPS system to locate it. Police arrived at the scene late this afternoon and discovered Patricia's body in the back seat. Police say they found several wounds on the victim's head and body, likely caused by a crowbar found lodged in the driver side window. When police inquired about a motive, Tate said, 'I met a man today who told me I could do whatever I want.' More coming as the story unfolds. This is KGTV reminding everyone, be nice. Or else.