April sat at the kitchen table across from her obnoxious brother. Charlie, aged not nearly enough, slurped milk from his spoon. A stray flake of cereal slid down his chin.

 

“You're disgusting,” she said.

 

Charlie bobbed his head back and forth as he repeated the task with the same results, seemingly unaware of the world around him.

 

“What'll it be?” asked her father from beside the stove.

 

He spoke in a sing-song way every morning that irritated April to no end. What was he always so happy about anyway?

 

“I'm making my world-famous scrambled eggs.”

 

April doubted anyone outside of her immediate family had ever heard of her father's “world famous” eggs. She also doubted anyone other than her father liked cream cheese mixed in with their eggs either.

 

“I'll have coffee,” she replied.

 

“I still can't believe you're already drinking coffee. I didn't start until I got my first job. Can't live without it now, and I don't even have to work anymore thanks to your mom's new promotion. But that'll change by the end of today. No more coffee for me. Don't forget, we're getting our chips implanted after you both get out of school today.”

 

He bobbed his head back and forth, like father like son, as he spoke in song.

 

“Your mom got us on the list. We'll be among the first to get these chips. No more fatigue, no more stress. You'll be sharper than an arrow when you head to college next year.”

 

“That's not a phrase, dad.”

 

“It's not? Sure sounds like it should be. The point,” he turned to her and winked, “still stands. I'll be there to pick you both up after school.”

 

* * *

 

April doodled in the margins of her history quiz.

 

“All done?” asked the stern, sleep-inducing voice of Mr. Long. “If you’re bored you can get started on your homework assignment.”

 

She handed her quiz over to Mr. Long.

 

“I hope none of these stick figures are supposed to represent me,” he said. “They all seem to be meeting untimely fates.”

 

April's cheeks warmed up. She'd zoned out while doodling and couldn't remember what she'd even drawn.

 

“None of them are,” she said. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.”

 

“Homework.”

 

She nodded.

 

* * *

 

After classes let out, April walked out to wait alongside her brother. On the way, she spotted her friends Rachel and Shelby getting into a bright red convertible. She twiddled her fingers in the air at them and they waved her over.

 

“New ride?”

 

April dropped her bookbag to the ground beside her feet.

 

“My dad's,” replied Rachel. “He's going through a midlife crisis. He says I can drive it whenever he works from home. We're going to catch a movie. Want to join?”

 

“Eh,” said April. “I'm supposed to do something with my family today.”

 

“Don't be lame,” said Shelby.

 

April looked over her shoulder at her brother standing alone, his gaze locked into his phone.

 

“Screw it,” she said. “What movie are we seeing?”

 

* * *

 

April returned home after midnight. Following the first movie she and her friends had snuck into two more.

 

Her stomach churned with all the salt and butter she'd consumed from two giant buckets of popcorn. She craved an actual meal but was too tired to prepare anything. Besides, her dad always liked to cook a big breakfast on the weekends. Even his famous eggs sounded semi-appetizing.

 

* * *

 

April scratched her head as she went down the stairs, trying to think of a good excuse as to why she hadn’t been waiting alongside her brother after school. Volunteer work for extra credit? She had to retake a test? Spilled something on her jeans? One of the steps creaked under her foot.

 

“April,” said her father. “Is that you? Boy, I sure hope it is.”

 

She heard her brother laugh.

 

“You’re hilarious, father,” said Charlie, his tone robotic.

 

She entered the kitchen. Her dad stood at the stove, nothing out of the ordinary there, while her brother sat at the kitchen table, a napkin stuffed into the collar of his shirt as he carefully brought a spoonful of cereal up to his open mouth. He then paused, chewed, and swallowed. No mess in sight.

 

“Good morning, April,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“Are you feeling okay? I don’t recall us ever having small talk in the morning.”

 

Charlie laughed again. It sounded even more disingenuous than the first time.

 

“You’re such a kidder. Father, are the eggs ready yet?”

 

“Almost.”

 

“Your ‘famous’ eggs again?”

 

“Not this time,” said her father. “Just regular scrambled eggs. No more trying to do things out of the ordinary. From now on we’re going to live just like everyone else. Which reminds me, your mother left early to make sure there was still a slot for you to get your chip installed today.”

 

He didn’t speak in his typical morning sing-song manner.

 

“My… oh, right. About yesterday. I had to stay late to get extra credit.”

 

“Good job, Sweetie. I’m proud of you. A message from your mother just popped up.”

 

She watched as he stared blankly at the wall instead of taking out his phone to check the message.

 

“She says we can leave to get your chip implanted as soon as you finish breakfast. Which reminds me, no more coffee. The chip regulates your energy for you.”

 

“It’s wonderful,” said Charlie. “I can see everything.”

 

“What’s that mean?”

 

“It’s kind of like having your smartphone in your brain,” said her father. “Except, instead of distracting you, it helps you sort out your thoughts.”

“It tells you what to think,” said her brother. “I’ll never be bored again!”

 

April felt a bead of sweat drip down her brow.

 

“That’s right, kiddo. Eggs are almost done.”