Dear Future Somerville Academy,

I'm sorry if my last letter came off as distasteful, as it certainly wasn't intended to. I have the utmost respect and admiration for educators, as do all intelligent people. It is a sad reflection of our society that we do not recognize you as the heroes you are. Without your contributions, we would have no future. I am a rich person and never needed to go to school myself but I have met several people who have and they all know multiple facts which is impressive.

Again, I implore you to consider renting out to me your students. I do not see what is so bad about having children try to solve one tiny computer riddle for me. Children today love computers and I would be sure to feed them and give them water and whatever else they need to stay alive while they work. You will get them all back and can even send a teacher to watch them although they will need to bring their own water.

You don't even need to send me the slower children, which is wonderful really because you could give them special attention while the others are away. You don't need to tell them the truth, and they won't figure it out themselves since again they are slow.

You're being very rude about this. Shouldn't teachers be more open minded?

Sincerely,

Billionaire Manny Billsanbux.

Dictated but not read. (He can't.)

W

"Mr. President. You're looking confident today."

Kalan Kare-Amil walked into the Cabinet Room, which was filled with the vice-president, along with all the secretary leaders of all the various departments of government.

Both of them smiled at him.

Kalan had decided within his first week as president to dissolve almost all executive sub-branches of government. Since he was confident he could handle everything himself, it made the most sense.

He allowed one branch to stay, the Department of Anti-Astronomy: We Really Hate Stars and Related Things. He was as confident in his ability to manage space-hating as he was in his ability to manage education or energy or "interiors", whatever the hell that meant, but he had promised he wouldn't and they had been really nice to him, not counting that one time (and it had only been once) when they had threatened to murder him.

The man who pointed the gun at him was the newest secretary, sitting on the left side of the now pointlessly-elongated table. His name, coincidentally, was Gun Gun.

Gun waved, hating space. Kalan waved back, confidently.

The man sitting to his right was the former president and Kalan's opponent in the election, Fay L. Yurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. He was unconfident, which was good. Kalan realized there might - as unlikely as it sounded - come a day where sheer confidence would not be enough to fix a situation. In case that day ever did come, the newly created Department of Nonconfidence would handle it.

Fay waved at him, unconfidently. Kalan waved back, confidently.

Straight ahead, all the way across from where Kalan had entered the room, stood the vice president, Nalak. It did not wave at him. Kalan forced himself to stifle a giggle.

Due to his overwhelming confidence, Kalan hadn't seen the point in choosing a vice-president, so instead he decided to have a little fun. He had a large picture of himself printed and stuck inside an ordinary frame which he glued on top of a pair of wooden legs. He drew a mustache on the print and somehow had absolutely confidence that it would work.

It did. Everybody thought that the vice-president was incredibly confident and liked the idea of him as president almost as much as they did Kalan, even if they thought he needed a good shave. Even the secretaries couldn't tell.

"Thank you, Fay. And good morning to everyone! Now, to business. Mr. Gun, how are things with the Department of Anti-Astronomy: We Really Hate Stars and Related Things?

"The Department of Anti-Astronomy: We Really Hate Stars and Related Things is doing very well. Almost everyone still hates space."

"What about the people who don't?"

"They will be killed."

Kalan clasped his hands together, turning to Fay.

"Wonderful! And with you, Mr. Secretary?"

"I am extremely unconfident."

"Are you sure about that?"

"No."

"Excellent, excellent. Well, I think that about covers everything, unless anyone has anything else they'd like to bring up?"

Fay raised an unconfident hand.

"Yes, Mr. Secretary?"

"What about the Department of Education? Are you having any trouble handling everything they were responsible for?"

"A little, but I'm always learning."

"And the Department of State?"

"We have fifty."

"The Department of Agriculture?"

"We did a study and discovered that plants have very little culture, surprisingly."

"The Department of Transportation?"

"Progress is moving all over the place."

"The Department of Energy?"

"There's a lot of potential."

"The Department of Defense?"

"We have many fences. You will have to be more specific."

"The Department of the Interior?"

"Again. We have many."

"The Department of Health and Human Services?"

"I'd give it a clean bill."

"The Department of Labor?"

"I'm working on it."

"The Department of the Treasury?"

"It's giving me a run for my money."

"The Department of Justice?"

"I don't think any of it is melting."

"Wow, Mr. President. You've really got this down pat."

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I see now that you are even better at being unconfident than I previously thought."

"Thank you too. I think."

"Wonderful. And you, Mr. Vice President? Speak up if you think you have anything worth discussing."

The Vice President was speechless.

"Splendid! I take it that we're finished, then?"

Mr. Gun spoke up.

"Is that definitely everything?"

Kalan smiled, and then didn't. He realized that he wasn't confident of that being everything, which meant that it is wasn't everything. What was he forgetting?

"What about the Department of Preventing Those Terrible Genetically Modified CHOCOR Babies from Starting Another Horrible Baby War: Please, We Don't Want That?"

Kalan frowned. He had forgotten that one.

"I am having trouble recalling," said Kalan. "Please remind me, Mr. Secretary. What did the Department of Preventing Those Terrible Genetically Modified CHOCOR Babies from Starting Another Horrible Baby War: Please, We Don't Want That do?"

"Well, I wasn't the one who created it. It was the president before me."

"President Definitely-Not-A-Sentient-Table?"

"Yes."

"She was something, wasn't she? There was a woman with four perfectly rectangular wooden legs to stand on."

"Indeed. She was a policy wonk too, and an excellent one at that. I don't think we'll have a bill as impactful as the Coaster Act for a hundred years."

"But why did she create it?"

"Well, some people were leaving an awful mess behind when they put their drinks down, and-"

"No, no. The Department of Preventing Those Terrible Genetically Modified CHOCOR Babies from Starting Another Horrible Baby War: Please, We Don't Want That."

"Oh. It's a long story, but it was all because of the King of Wonkaland. He invented a technology that let people edit the genes of babies before they were even born."

"Doesn't he make candy?"

"I think."

Kalan was confident that he was going to go insane.

"What does any of that have to do with candy?"

"CHOCOR worked through chocolate. If an expectant mother ordered a CHOCOR kit, a big box would come filled with several billion teeny-weeny pieces of chocolate, each one the size of a molecule, changing the baby's DNA in a specific way. It came with a long list of instructions explaining which ones to eat in order to make the baby come out the way the mother wanted."

"And this worked?"

"Yes. Suddenly all over the world, there were many smart babies and strong babies and polka-dotted babies. Everyone was very glad for it, since babies are famous for being dumb and weak and fashionably-challenged."

"Good!"

"Oh, not at all. The smart babies were too smart. They all fought each other in a long series of horrible baby wars, using the horrible baby technologies they invented."

Kalan frowned.

"Darn."

"A truce was eventually established, and all the smart babies were banished to Madagascar, where they still battle amongst themselves, often in mini-wars that may or may not have something to do with astronomy. I'm surprised you didn't hear about any of this before, Mr. President. Several hundred million people died."

"I'm not a history expert."

"It was three years ago," said Mr. Gun.

"I don't get out much. But we're good now, right?"

"The babies have been isolated, and CHOCOR is now illegal in most countries, and even the exceptions have intense restrictions on when and how it may be used. There is no reason to fear a recurrence of the Great Tantrum of Shanghai."

"So why bring up that department in the first place?"

"Wonkaland began selling another product with a remarkable similarity to CHOCOR several days ago. He calls it CHOCOR-2. It works very similarly to how CHOCOR did. Almost exactly the same, apparently, although the current laws wouldn't apply to it. We were thinking maybe we should change that."

"Does it have any differences?"

"Yes, according to my sources. It's more effective, but the packaging now comes with a note explaining how misuse could lead to global catastrophe. It's also tastes like peanut butter."

"Oh," said Kalan, confidently. "So why are we worried about it?"

No one had an answer.

"Then we have nothing to fear. Meeting dismissed!"

W

SupaMani: Oh wonderful. This again.

SupaMani: My best friend from high school became involved with these people.

the_ladwhocan: Sucks.

the_ladwhocan: What's that like for them?

SupaMani: Um. I don't know?

SupaMani: Her neck probably hurts.

btuffshield: whatever you want to say about tide and her cult, her mother is unironically the greatest english language fiction writer of the last 100 years

catayarn: ^

yatch: god yes

yatch: i know it's a meme in literary circles by this point but Small Matador is the best fucking novel i've ever read

yatch: one of the few times a book has ever made me cry

yatch: no spoilers but that ONE chapter, fuck

yatch: anyone who read it knows what i'm talking about it

Kahn Feel: Oh, don't get me started on Small Matador.

Kahn Feel: So good.

Kahn Feel: I was Kahn Not Feel before I read that

XxX_Blakin_XxX: it's okay i guess

XxX_Blakin_XxX: the villains are too exaggerated for me to take seriously

XxX_Blakin_XxX: also that one part where the lady drinks the shot of vodka with the dead lizard in it made me literally vomit

btuffshield: everyone, look! just out and about in the wild like this

btuffshield: a terrible opinion

David104558984858201110385212111: hey I don't remember who it was or even the context but somebody here mentioned a claustrophobia support group last time

David104558984858201110385212111: if anyone has any more information on how to be a part of something like that please message me privately

David104558984858201110385212111: when i was five a mall santa accused me of stealing his hip flask and i'm still trying to emotionally process it

gremlin_guard: I'm sorry to hear that.

the_ladwhocan: Did anyone else hear about the livestream of that kid who tried staying awake for four days while refreshing the WonkaWeb?

GW: Wasn't he hospitalized?

XxX_Blakin_XxX: i guess the real golden ticket was the pulmonary embolism we gave ourselves along the way

snozzwanger69: what a fucking dumbass

gremlin_guard: He's only seven.

snozzwanger69: i wasn't that fucking dumb at seven

snozzwanger69: darwin award for that kid, hope he doesn't make it

gremlin_guard: I hope you're joking, dude. Not that you're being funny.

snozzwanger69: nope

snozzwanger69: i'm sincerely praying that the kid bites it

snozzwanger69: same for you, gazztromple

BBQbae: WOAH

yatch: dude

the_ladwhocan: MODS MODS MODS

SupaMani: You're a fucking loser snozz

snozzwanger69: we'll see who the loser is you fucking gazztromple fuck

gremlin_guard: Sad.

[snozzwanger69 has been permanently banned from chat.]

GW: Sad that it even needs to be said, but zero tolerance for slur usage on this chat.

GW: The same goes for wishing death on anyone.

BBQbae: he didn't even hesitate on that

BBQbae: hard L too

5Gpants: sigh

5Gpants: every group, chatroom and message board i go to has started to turn to trash in the last month and a half and i 100% blame this contest for it

5Gpants: i was onboard at first, but fuck it already

5Gpants: so sick of this shit

BBQbae: maybe i'm sick of people who actually type out the word "sigh"

the_ladwhocan: It's because we've gone weeks without another winner.

the_ladwhocan: Estragon's First Law.

gremlin_guard: Haven't heard of that, let me look that up.

gremlin_guard: "Any community created or reclaimed for the purpose of discussing a single topic of interest will inevitably suffer a decline in quality once new content relating to said topic is no longer in production."

BBQbae: not sure I get it?

GW: If you tell people to talk about chocolate and then give them chocolate to talk about, they'll do it.

GW: If you decide to stop giving them chocolate, some of them will still keep talking about it, but they're also going to start flinging shit at each other.

gremlin_guard: Hey, Lad, BTW. Remember when you gave me that long writeup about Wonkaland's history?

the_ladwhocan: Yeah?

gremlin_guard: We were talking about CHOCOR in school today and nobody had ever told me that was a Wonka thing before. Is there any reason you didn't mention the connection?

the_ladwhocan: Just wanted to focus on the important stuff.

catayarn: the thing that directly started a world war wasn't important?

the_ladwhocan: meh

W

The last time Ned Brillbusker had been in Shanghai, it had been on fire.

The Great Tantrum of Shanghai was the worst day that humanity ever experienced, so it made for a fantastic news cycle. Ned had also covered all three of the other Great Tantrums: at New York, Novosibirsk, and Lima, but none of them lived up to lofty expectations his first time had set.

Ned had never gone back to those other three cities, because there had never been anything to go back to. They were still rubble. Everybody in those places died horrible deaths, and nobody ever went back to try and build something new(sworthy).

Shanghai had been different. Everybody died, but then new people came and built a brand new Shanghai. It wasn't as nice as the old one, at least it wasn't yet, but it was okay. They had three buildings with over five stories, and for a spot of land that had recently been completely atomized that was fine progress and everybody needed to stop being so judgemental about it, seriously.

Ned wasn't there because he cared about any of that. He was there for the fourth Golden Ticket holder.

On the highest floor of the most impressive condominium in the city, which wasn't saying much, Ned and his crew entered the apartment they had been sent to. A woman, Mrs. Lau, bowed in their direction.

She was wearing fancy glasses and had a large stomach. As they began to speak in front of the rolling cameras, Ned thanked himself for having had the foresight to learn every dialect of every language to have ever existed, discounting the ones with umlauts. At BBC headquarters, a room full of bee-powered robots quickly typed live subtitles that would pop up on the bottom of the screen for everyone watching at home.

"Good evening, Ms. Lau. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She smiled.

"The same to you, Mr. Brillbusker. I apologize for the absence of my husband. He wanted to be here very much, but he is at work."

"And Question-Mark-Question-Mark-Question-Mark?"

Question-Mark-Question-Mark-Question-Mark Lau was the name listed on the WonkaWeb as the fourth winner. There was no one with that legal name listed in any of the birth records the BBC could find, so they had needed to wait for the winner to contact them.

It took some time, but they eventually did later in the week. Ned and his crew showed up ten minutes later, ready to meet Question-Mark-Question-Mark-Question-Mark.

Ms. Lau pointed to her stomach.

"Oh."

One benefit of CHOCOR was that it allowed for rapid intellectual development in children as young as several months old. CHOCOR-2, it appeared, had only improved the process.

"Lim is due in one month, although I only began to take CHOCOR-2 four days ago, which is when he started to speak with me. We solved the puzzle together about an hour after that first happened."

Ned slowly inched the microphone to her belly-button, prompting a laugh from Ms. Lau.

"Please, Mr. Brillbusker. He can't speak to you. That would be ridiculous."

"Of course. I apologize."

She adjusted the glasses she was wearing.

"I was sent these eyeglasses by a prominent scientist who invented them for me upon request when I wrote to them explaining my situation. CHOCOR-2 is a wondrous invention that allows for even the unborn to excel... still, it has a natural limitation. Some mothers are content to allow their children to laze about in the womb free of stimulating intellectual content, but these glasses allow Lim and I to communicate through thought and share limited amounts of sensory data, letting no second of developmental potential go to waste. It is an umbilical cord for the mind... he reads what I do and so on. I can even beam classical music and various audiobooks directly into his head. As we speak, he's listening to Chopin, his favorite composer."

Mrs. Lau clutched her stomach and bent over. Ned reached out a hand to try and support her, but she smiled and waved him off.

Are you alright?

"Lim is currently being unappreciative of my efforts. He's at the age when all young men start to foolishly clamour for independence... right now, for example, he believes that Chopin isn't his favorite composer, which is incorrect. This mistake will be corrected in time."

"I see. About the puzzle..."

Mrs. Lau bent over again, laughing through the pain.

"He is desperate for me to tell you, and were the circumstances any different I would. But if I did there would be two undeserving children at the factory with him, and he wouldn't be sufficiently challenged. That wouldn't do. He's a very lazy boy and he doesn't understand that no one will ever love him if he does not shape up and improve which is quite sad."

The kicking seemed to stop. Mrs. Lau stood up straight again.

"I understand."

Ned did not.

"The ticket?"

Mrs. Lau walked over to a nearby table and pulled it from underneath a stack of intimidating textbooks. She let Ned take a look at it before bringing her hand back to her stomach and putting it back.

"I'm sorry, but Lim is misbehaving right now and we need to begin our next mental development session anyway. You know how rebellious children can be in the third trimester."

Ned did not. He turned back to look at the camera, speaking again in English.

"I'm Ned Brillbusker with the BBC, signing off."