Undercover As Geek

The Revelation

The entity of homework for typical highschoolers is usually accompanied by a sense of dread and a serious problem with the practice of procrastination. I never quite understood why it was so shunned before; to me it was as trifle as brushing your teeth-- boring, but necessary if you wanted good hygiene (or, in this case, a good college application). I normally would just take it home, finish it, and be done with the whole ordeal. Procrastination was just silly, in my opinion. It wasted time, and most teenagers never even did anything productive in the time they spent shying away from the approaching due date.

Right now, however, as I sit in front of my desk and fidget with a charm bracelet that Asher had given me for my birthday, I can almost-- almost-- identify with the stereotypical procrastinating teenager. I just... don't want to do the unconstructive history assignment lounging on the wood top of my desk. The questions are just review and... ugh, I just feel like there's no reason for me to be working on it.

Here I go, I think. I'm already turning into a Plastic Person. Thanks a lot, Asher.

After another lazy minute of detached observation of the half-finished paper, I fetch my laptop from its hiding place beneath my bed. It takes only a few seconds to sputter on and load my home screen, an old picture of my mom, dad, and me when we were actually a happy family with meaningful lifestyles. I automatically open up my web browser, then pause when I realize that I have no specific reason that I'm on the internet. I have no facebook, twitter, or whatever social media website that is currently controlling every young person's mind today.

Sighing, I sign into my email. And-- surprise, surprise-- the only messages I have are spam mail from... a retirement company?

I groan and open a new tab. The Google search bar blinks at me, and suddenly, I'm struck by an idea.

In the search bar, I write, "Noah Green". Within a split-second, a list of links are pulled up. The first website displayed is a recent article, mentioning something about an accident with Joshua Green, and his relatives including Caleb Green, Laura Green, Noah Green, and some other people I didn't recognize. Quickly, I scroll past the article and read the next suggestion. It's also mentioning the motor crash. As well as the next one.

Not quite at the bottom of the page, I find yet another news article, but this one isn't about the shocking death of Joshua Green. The date tells me that it was written about seven years ago, in another state, for another county's news. The headline reads, "Noah Green, the Green Machine, Quits the Court."

Curious, I click on the link. The outdated article isn't too lengthy, and my eyes scan the page hungrily. When I finish, I am at a loss for what to do next. My hand quivers over the mouse and I have sucked in nearly my whole bottom lip. Deciding I must have read it wrong, I pick apart the account once more, only to leave myself even more bewildered than before.

I am attracted to a paragraph in the conclusion of the article that burns itself stubbornly into my retina.

                Noah Green, commonly called America's Green Machine, has made his mark as a young basketball prodigy by setting the record in numerous areas and inspiring thousands upon millions of children his age to get up and get active on the court and in their community. His unbelievable reputation as a highly skilled athlete has astounded other professional and non-professional overseers of the sport and roused national, and even worldwide, interest over his extraordinary abilities. These achievements combine to give the Green Machine's public abjuration from the sport a heavier and more severe blow to all the many citizens who respected and supported his exceptional ability. The talented ten-year old has not commented very much on his resignation to quit the sport, but reporters claim that the child has mentioned that he had 'finally had enough'.