“Well, maybe the announcement seems more extreme than it actually is,” Nina offered.
“They just told me that, solely because of my string, I can’t be a soldier or an FBI agent or do some NSA-level shit. How the fuck can they do that?” She started pacing the room. “It’s like we’re moving back in time. What’s next? ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ about your string?”
“I honestly can’t believe it, either,” Nina said. “But technically it’s not that you can’t serve in the military or the FBI, it’s just that you’re limited in terms of what you can do in those roles.”
“Seriously, Nina? Are you trying to defend them?”
“No, of course not,” she said quickly. “It’s horrible.”
“Everyone’s been saying that what’s happening in those other countries could never happen here,” Maura said. “And now look!”
“It’s probably a stupid, knee-jerk reaction to the bombing,” Nina said. “And they’ll call it off once they realize it was a mistake.”
But Maura sighed and shook her head. “That’s not the way I see it.”
Maura loved Nina, but she was always trying to comfort her, to point out the path to the bright side. Being with Nina may have been Maura’s umbrella, but it didn’t stop the rain from bearing down, and sometimes she just needed space to get mad.
All her life, Maura had been aware of the loathsome stereotype, never letting herself appear too angry, too loud. She knew that the world liked to praise the saintly, those who accepted their hardships with peace, rather than rage or complaint. But when something felt this random, this unfair, how could anyone be faulted for feeling pain and expressing it?
In the confines of Room 204, at least, Maura could bathe in that anger, surrounded by those who shared it.
The Sunday after the press conference, she walked into the classroom, where several others were already discussing the news, and dropped her bag on the floor. “Is everyone else pissed?”
Murmurs of “Fuck, yeah,” and “Of course” echoed throughout the group.
“I’m sure that emotions are running high, and I’m happy to discuss everyone’s feelings in turn,” said Sean, wary of his session devolving into disorganized rants.
“Maybe we’re all overreacting,” Nihal said.
“I think there’s only one way to react,” said Maura.
“What do you think it means for us?” Lea asked, her eyes searching among the group for an answer.
Hank met Lea’s gaze. “Unfortunately, it means that things might get worse.”
“I don’t see how it can get much fucking worse than it already is,” said Carl. “It’s not like they can make our short strings shorter.”
“But we don’t even have time anymore to feel badly about our strings, or angry about our own lives,” said Maura. “Not when there’s so much other crap going down in the world that we need to get angry about.”
“And it’s not just the government,” said Chelsea. “It’s everyone. I heard about a new dating app that’s only for short-stringers, called Share Your Time. You can even filter by string length. They’re selling it as a way to find people who are similar to you, but clearly it’s a ploy to get us off the regular apps, so god forbid long-stringers don’t accidentally fall in love with one of us.”
“Like some sort of deranged Darwinian attempt at exclusion.” Terrell shuddered. “It actually reminds me of a pretty disturbing story from some friends of mine trying to adopt. Neither of them opened their boxes, but the agency was apparently pressuring them to look. It sounds like they’re up against couples who are touting their long strings as part of their qualifications for being good parents.”
“That’s beyond fucked-up,” said Chelsea.
“My guess is that short-stringers looking to adopt are like the new gay couples,” said Terrell. “It’s not impossible, but it sure won’t be easy.”
“Well, I’d like to believe that people will see how wrong all of this is and demand a change,” Lea said, anxiously rubbing her growing midsection.
“But this is what humans have always done,” Maura said, her anger swelling inside. “We segment ourselves based on race or class or religion or whatever fucking distinctions we decide to make up, and then we insist on treating each other differently. We never should have allowed them to start labeling people as ‘long-stringers’ and ‘short-stringers.’ We made it too easy for them.”