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their
places up front and explained their computers in the most mundane voices I’d
ever heard. It was bad enough that their computers sucked, but their sense of
arrogance and know-it-all attitudes were even harder to bear.
    They have access
to the best technology in the world and this is the best they can come up with?
    “Very
impressive!” The professor clapped. “To everyone else in this room, you have
quite the competition if you’re going to get an A. Does anyone have any
questions for George, Lindsay, or William?”
    No one raised
their hand.
    “No one? No one
has a question about how they developed their processors? You’re just going to
let them walk away with the top grades? I can only give out a certain number of
A’s you know. There is a very steep curve in this class and I will be
putting it to use...”
    I raised my
hand.
    “Yes, you.” He
pointed to me. “What do you want to ask?”
    “Those aren’t
really the best computers, right? You’re just using those three as an example
to make the rest of—the rest of us work harder, correct?”
    The room erupted
into murmurs. Everyone looked back and forth between me and the professor.
    “No. I’m not,”
he said. “These are indeed the best computers in the class, and seeing as
though you didn’t bring yours to critique today makes me feel like
they’re definitely better than whatever you built. But, since you seem to think
that—”
    “George’s
computer will crash in six weeks.” I crossed my arms. “He’s over-compassing the
ram drive with unnecessary wiring. One too many shut downs and it’ll never turn
on again. Lindsay’s computer, if you want to call it that, is using all the
wrong materials. Unless everyone else in this class is using sticks and stones,
a computer with recycled coils and used wiring should never be considered a good computer. Technology isn’t up to date enough for eco-computers yet. And
William’s computer, though impressive to look at, is—actually, he pretty
much copied Dell’s earliest model and re-drafted a few mechanisms. Any
high-school student with half a brain can do that.”
    The room fell
silent.
    The professor
took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. “Class dismissed.” He shook his
head and the students rushed out of the room, as if they were scared he was
about to explode.
    I stood up and
walked down the steps, ignoring the intense glares that were coming from the
three computer clowns who were putting their toys away.
    “Wait, you.” The
professor waved at me. “I want to talk to you for a second.” He waited for
everyone to leave the room. “What’s your name?”
    “Bill Gates.”
    “Your real name...”
    “Jonathan
Statham,” I murmured.
    “Mr. Statham,
you’re not a student in this class are you?”
    I shook my head.
    “Do you even go
to this school?”
    “No...”
    “So, what made
you come here today?” He motioned for me to sit in the front row. “You look
like you’re still in high school. Are you still in high school?” He waited for
me to say something, but I only blinked.
    “Okay then...” He
sat down next to me. “Tell me how someone randomly shows up to Harvard and
knows more about computers than my senior honors students.”
    I sighed. I
thought about coming up with a lie, telling him that I really was a student and
just wanted to drop in on a high level class, but I was tired of lying, tired
of running.
    “My parents used
to—” Accept electronics for the meth they sold sometimes? “They used to
um, leave electronics around the house and I would look at how all their parts
worked...And I would steal—I mean, I would borrow books from the library and read
about computer mechanics...”
    “You never went
to a tech camp?”
    “No.”
    “Hmmm.” He
rubbed his chin. “So, your goal is to sneak into Harvard?”
    I rolled my
eyes. “If I wanted to come here, I would’ve accepted the offer.” I realized he
was probably going to call the cops on me for