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Chapter Text

ACT I: OVERTURE

Jeremy Heere was a rather gullible person. Or, as Christine, the most beautiful and smartest and funniest and most amazing- Jeremy, focus- girl in the entire world, would put it: He was pretty trusting. In his opinion, that was too polite a word for it. He was gullible, plain and simple.

Which is why he was sitting in the food court at the mall with his best friend, a Mountain Dew, chili fries, and a pill which looked suspiciously like a Wintergreen Tic-Tac. Four hundred dollars for what was looking more like a mint every second.

And if it wasn't? 

"..if it does? Will you be too cool for video games?" The unspoken question still sat awkwardly between them.

'Would you be too cool for me?'

Jeremy's thoughts once again turned to the pill- or breath mint- in his hand.

"Just so we're clear: this is untested technology. And it's not exactly legal... I take no
responsibility for what you might do with it... Or what it might do with you." 

"So basically, this thing can fuck you up real good, there's possibly a good reason it's illegal, and on top of that we bought the grossest soda of all time to take it with."

"Well... yeah...?" Jeremy glared down at the pill in his hand. "You better be worth $400."

"Jeremy, dude, you're talking to a Tic-Tac. Also, it's $401, don't forget the Mountain Dew."

"If this is real... my whole life could change." Neither of them spoke as Michael took a long slurp of his half-melted slushie and stared at him. "We should split it, you helped me get it. We should both benefit, right?" Michael shrugged and grabbed one of Jeremy's chili fries.

"I don't think it works that way. Besides, I like knowing that you'll owe me when you're cool." He punctuated the last word with an exaggerated Elvis voice and a mocking version of the bizarre hand signals the guy at Payless had done.

"All right then. Here goes... everything." Jeremy put the pill in his mouth, quickly following it with a large swig of Mountain Dew. Fake citrus and mint was not a good flavor- wait, mint? Did he seriously just blow his bar mitzvah money on a fucking Wintergreen Tic-Tac?

"How do you feel?"

"I'm feeling a bit.... like a chump. You were right, dude, this is a scam. That I spent four... hundred... dollars on. Jesus Christ, my dad's gonna kill me." Jeremy kicked his backpack in frustration and sighed.

"...Doesn't, like, any pill take a few minutes to kick in? It takes time for your body to digest it and shit?" Oh. That... made a lot of sense. "Let's give it an hour, okay? There's a guy at Spencer's Gifts hooking me up with a case of Crystal Pepsi. It's like regular Pepsi, only clear! We can, uh, you can finish your fries, and we can walk over to Spencer's, and then we can... go back to my place and do level 10 of Apocalypse and mourn your 400 dollars?" 

"Yeah, uh- sure. Sounds good." Jeremy attacked the chili fries with a fork and the rage of every sith lord Michael's television had ever seen.

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"Shit." 

Michael looked up from the bottle of Crystal Pepsi he was admiring to see what was happening. "...Jer, you good?"

"Yes, just freaking fantastic, Christine- and Jake are walking right towards us. I need to ask her out, if a stupid Tic-Tac can't help me, I need to do it on my own."

"You sure that's a good idea?"

Jeremy gave a panicked squeak and immediately adjusted his posture, trying to seem more confident. Jake was talking to her about sbarro. Sbarro, really? Wasn't there anything in the universe more interesting to talk about, like discontinued games or something?

"Christine!"

"Hey, Jeremy! I didn't see you there." Christine waved and gave a huge grin. She elbowed Jake in the side, who hadn't seen Jeremy or stopped talking. 

"Yeah, you're kinda hard to notice." Jeremy could feel Michael's glare just about burning holes in Jake's face. Jake didn't seem to notice or care, turning back to Christine and resuming his speech on the glories of sbarro. 

"Wait- There's something I need to-" He felt a sharp jolt on the back of his neck. "Ow- sorry, I just wanted to-" Again. "What the hell-" Again, and steadily worse.

Christine and Michael spoke at almost the same time.

"Jer?"

"Are you okay?"

"Calibration in process. Please excuse mild discomfort." Mild? Of all the words Jeremy could ever use to describe the pain in his head, 'mild discomfort' did not cover it at all.

It was almost funny, Jeremy thought, the only thing more obviously uncool than Jeremy himself was probably the action of collapsing on the floor of the Menlo Park Mall outside Spencer's Gifts with the worst headache of all time while an illegal and probably-faulty Mountain Dew-fueled computer calibrated itself with his brain. And this was supposed to make him cool.

Then, in an instant, the pain disappeared. 

Jeremy stood up, brushed himself off, and began to speak. 

"Sorry. I'm fine, I just-" Jeremy glanced towards the bathrooms. "Sorry, I just- I'll be right back."

Michael nodded at him, muttered an apology to them both, and ran after Jeremy.

"Discomfort level may increase." Jeremy corrected his previous thought: The only thing more obviously uncool than Jeremy himself was probably the action of collapsing on the floor of the Men's restroom in the Menlo Park Mall with worse than the worst headache of all time while a Mountain Dew-fueled computer tried to get in his brain. And this was supposed to make him cool.

"Accessing neural memory. Accessing muscle memory... Jeremy Heere, welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. Your SQUIP."

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Jeremy looked up and nearly shit himself. There were many things he considered the mental projection Rich had briefly described might look like. A celebrity, maybe? An extremely generic human form, maybe neon blue and glitchy like holograms in Star Wars? But not this. A weird static-y cloud of nothing sitting in front of him, how was that going to help? It'd just distract him from being-

"...Uh, Jer? Are you okay?" 

"Apologies for the painful set-up. I can choose a form from your memories which will be the most comfortable for you. Or, popular choices such as-" The voice changed from the disturbingly neutral robotic voice to a deeper, almost cliche surfer voice. "Keanu Reeves," the voice shifted again, "Elsa," again, "Batman," once more, "Sexy Anime Female, with or without a tail." The last was accompanied by a laugh that Jeremy was sure would haunt his nightmares forever. Each of the changes in voice had been partnered with a change in appearance, which Jeremy's exhausted mind had only registered once they had completed. 

"Just- uh-- Keanu's good. Please. You said something about finding ones from my memories?"

"Yes. However, I would first recommend that you attempt to merely 'think at' me instead of speaking to me, like you are telepathic. I exist only in your mind, all anyone else sees is you having an animated conversation with yourself. That is not advisable."

"So... like, in Star Wars: The Clone Wars?"

"In a way. Perhaps more like X-Men."

"Oh."

"Think at me, remember."

Like this? 

"Perfect. Michael is standing behind you, you haven't answered his question yet."

Shit. "Hey, Mikey dude... How's things...?"

"Other than my best friend almost getting thrown out of the mall for 'concerning behavior'... fine. How are you? You looked like you were in a lot of pain back there."

"If I may interject-" The SQUIP began,

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Jer?"

"Sorry, I.. meant to think that part. It was gonna say something."

"It worked? That's awesome! We have to celebrate!" Michael beamed, the Crystal Pepsi swishing in his backpack as he did a small happy-dance. "Pizza, Nintendo, the works! Jeremy, this is HUGE." Jeremy made a pained expression at the sound of the bottles clinking in Michael's bag.

"Sorry, just.. still a bit of a headache."

"You took the SQUIP pill with diet Mountain Dew. It does not affect the processor's performance, but the setup procedure is noticeably more painful. Are you alright? You may have a headache for a few hours."

Oh. 

"Mikeyyyyyy, turns out we may have punched in the wrong number at the vending machine... Got any Motrin?"

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10 minutes, four painkillers, and one large coffee later, Jeremy could almost think straight. Heh, think straight. As if he ever could. Especially with Michael freaking Mell walking next to him, happy to rock out with his headphones while Jeremy conversed with the computer now in his brain. Holy... Shit. He'd actually gotten it. A fucking computer in his brain. Said computer was walking backwards in front of Jeremy and wiggling their digital eyebrows at every opportunity as he totally didn't occasionally glance at his best friend with the definition of heart-eyes.

"So. You want to impress him?" 

Well, I mean, there's this girl, Christine- I like her a lot. Jeremy stifled a giggle as the computer stepped backwards through a completely oblivious shopper. The man shot him a glare but did nothing else. Jeremy breathed a slight sigh of relief. Jeremy really didn't want to get in trouble with some old dude because they thought he was laughing at them. 

"...But?"

But I... don't know. She's funny and beautiful and proud to be herself, all good things, things I'm attracted to, but... it used to be a crush, I think. Now, I can't even imagine kissing her. But I still want to hang out with her a lot and I don't know how to do it other than ask her out and-

"This is your first time admitting this to yourself." A statement of fact, not a question. Jeremy hesitated. "But, that seems to be enough soul-searching for now. What you need," The SQUIP punctuated the pronoun by poking Jeremy in the chest. The hand felt... oddly human. Jeremy had expected to sense nothing, or at least something cold and digital-feeling. He could swear that the hand that poked him was real flesh and blood. He wouldn't admit it, but it was a little freaky. "Is confidence. It doesn't take a supercomputer to figure out that you need to, as cheesy as it sounds, believe in yourself a bit more."

How did you do that?

"I'm in your brain, I can affect your senses, giving the illusion of feeling and seeing something such as someone poking you," a repeat of the previous action, "Or tapping you on your shoulder," That was... weird. "Or even." Jeremy yelped slightly as he felt his hair move like someone had pushed him under a powerful blow-dryer. Logically, he knew that nothing was actually happening, but it was still slightly terrifying.

Can you please never, ever, do that again.

"Of course. So... first course of action. We'll buy a new shirt for tomorrow, it will give you a feeling of a marked start in becoming The Cool Jeremy you always hoped to be. Since you're getting a 'wardrobe change,' perhaps I should as well. You expressed an interest in other forms I could take?" Jeremy shrugged and nodded. The SQUIP's eyes flashed a loading screen for a moment, then a projection like a menu popped in front of Jeremy's face. He did not, certainly didn't scream a little. "Apologies. Here are the options, they are quite an extensive selection, though all geared towards individuals that one has a positive association with."

Jeremy shrugged as he and Michael walked out to the car. Michael kept sending quick glances his way, then blinking away as soon as Jeremy almost caught on, their silent code for 'Are you okay?'. Jeremy gave Michael a small grin and nodded. His best friend, always there to have his back. Jesus Christ, The SQUIP did not need to exaggerate the accidental almost-innuendo of that thought with raising-- their?? its??? Whatever. Digital eyebrows. Jeremy made a mental note of referring to the computer as them, it felt weird to call a human-looking thing it despite the fact that, well, it was only human-looking. Jeremy looked back at the digital list seemingly floating in front of him. He almost reached out to touch it before the SQUIP spoke again.

"Use your mind to scroll through it. It's not really there, it wouldn't react to your touch unless you were thinking the movement as well."

Oh.. Uh, thanks.

Okay... options... Michael, nope. That would just be confusing. His dad, definitely not. Christine? Once again, it would just get confusing. Part of the list was especially dedicated to others from his school. Jeremy skipped that section and found the next. His mother? Hell no. How about... That would work. Maybe. Profile labeled James Thier.

Ah, to hell with it. Jeremy selected the name.

The SQUIP's appearance shifted quickly from the previous option, Brooke Lohst, to the new form: a male teen of about 18 or 19, dressed neatly but still decidedly average... well, the quality was average. The appearance was, in short, chaotic.

A familiar grey hoodie, the faded writing of the first book of the Iliad in Greek scribbled on in sharpie barely visible under layers of spray paint flecks, the brightness of the colors only outdone by that of the wearer's cyan hair.

Nerd.

It didn't look cool, but it didn't look bad either, just kind of... a lot to process. Not clothes for someone looking to keep a low profile in a crowd.

"I took the liberty of adjusting the age to be that which he is currently. It might feel less odd than seeing him younger than you."

Jeremy hadn't seen James since a few months after their mom moved out. He had looked up to his half-brother; James was what Jeremy now wished he could be, bold and happy and himself but calm. What Jeremy would consider the definition of Chill (tm), of Good Older Brother, of Jeremy Hadn't Heard Jack Shit From Him In Years. 

"Look, I get that our parents don't want to talk to each other, or even for us to hang out, but you're always gonna be my little brother, okay? Just give me a call, whenever."

Apparently whenever wore out a few weeks after Jeremy's 15th birthday.

The call went to voicemail. And the next, and every call after that. But... maybe he'd changed his number suddenly and couldn't tell Jeremy? Maybe he lost his phone? Jeremy refused to believe that James would choose to simply stop talking to him.

But there it was again. Jeremy Heere, gullible idiot extraordinai--

"Ah- What the hell?" Jeremy pulled his hands up to cover his ears as Michael aggressively honked the horn and popped his head out of the car, pulling his headphones off and fuck he has nice hair-

"Get in, loser, we're going shopping. Well, we were already doing that. Going to get refills on slushies at 7-11 first. Then going shopping for a shirt." The SQUIP announced cheerfully from the backseat. Jeremy laughed quietly as the computer buckled a digital seat-belt and motioned for him to do the same. Well, except for the digital part. That wouldn't be much use in a car accident. Michael glanced in the backseat and raised an eyebrow.

"...It's sitting back there?"

"Even put a seat-belt on."

"A seat-belt? ON?? In my car?" Michael sighed dramatically and put his wrist to his forehead. "Well, I suppose, if one of the passengers wear one, all of them must." Michael gave Jeremy a pointed look.

"Hey, that was once."

"You better be paying for my slushie after this."

"I can't afford that, I just spent all my money on the breath mint who's currently calculating what the flavor with the lowest average temperature is... The coolest flavor? Heh?"

"I hate you."

"You love me." Jeremy responded with a lot more bravado than he felt... He couldn't be imagining the slight embarrassment on Michael's face, right? Twelve years, Jeremy must know Michael well enough to tell that. Or maybe he was reading into things that weren't there.

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Freshly re-slushed, Michael and Jeremy climbed back into the car, driving back to the mall to complete the terrifying ordeal of shirt-shopping (not to be confused with the mortifying ordeal of being known. That was being saved for school tomorrow).

"So. What does floppy disk, in his cool-knowing wisdom, say we should do?" Michael asked, cracking his neck as they entered the mall once more.

"Yeah, uh.. give me a second."

"Go into... that store. Chloe Valentine and Brooke Lohst are inside shopping, you may as well form some good impressions outside of school while you can." Jeremy sputtered slightly as the SQUIP had continued speaking. "Now is a good time to start thinking about how you carry yourself. Pull your shoulders back, it'll puff your chest out a bit and make you appear to be more confident, not to mention look more muscular. Think about how a guy who believes the whole world worships him would walk."

Are you insane? Am I insane? There's no way I'm going up to talk to Brooke and Chloe right now, I'd need at least a week to think about that.

"There's a high possibility that Brooke will offer for you and Michael to come to Pinkberry the two of them, if you get the interaction right. If-"

What do you mean, 'if'? Isn't your job supposed to be making sure I get this shit right?

"You have no romantic interest in either Brooke Lohst or Chloe Valentine, known as 'Brooke' and 'Chloe,' correct?"

...I mean, they're cool? I've don't want to date either of them, though. I wouldn't want to use someone for popularity, you know?

"I'm doing my best to avoid trapping you in accidental romantic entanglements."

Okay, then. Thanks, Ja-- Uhh... SQUIP, I guess?

Jeremy shrugged, shifting his backpack on his shoulder, and nodding towards a store. "He says to go in there. We can find some clothes, and, well, uh... Cloe and Brooke are in there. We could give them good impressions of us." Did he imagine the slight hurt that seemed to flit over Michael's face? "Not like that. Friend-y-good-impressions... Fuck, you know what I mean." Michael nodded sagely as they walked into the store and Jeremy barely had time to whisper "Always two, there are. A master, and an apprentice," before falling into hysteric laughter at his joke, Michael quickly joining in. He has a nice laugh. It would be nice if he could make Michael laugh like that all the time.

"So, what... vibe... is appealing to you? It's fairly easy to make any look or vibe seem 'cool,' you just need-"

The confidence to be proud of it, I know. I was feeling something more... chill? I don't want to look pretentious but I don't want to look like a...

"Self-assured fuckboy?"

"Tic-Tac just used 'fuck' for the first time, I'm so proud." Jeremy joked, elbowing Michael lightly in the side and placing a hand over his own heart.

"They grow up so fast." Michael chuckled, glancing at where he figured the SQUIP must be standing, judging by where Jeremy had been looking.

"Then go for pretty much anything but the Eminem shirt. Not that I would recommend it if you did want to look like a self-assured fuckboy. It's... eugh, Terrible, tasteless, an affront to humanity."

Eminem, his music, or the shirt?

"All three."

How about this one? Jeremy held up a slightly frilly blue tank top. Not his style, but, you know, SQUIP didn't need to know that.

"Uh, Jer, I'm pretty sure that's a girl's shirt." Jeremy sheepishly lowered the shirt and went back to scanning the stacks of shirts. "I mean- not like that matters, though. People can wear whatever they want, I just mean..."

"Yeah, no, I get it. People think they don't have to respect you if you're dressed more... feminine. Like it's permission to be a dick to you." Michael shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah. Hey, at least you've never had to worry about shirts showing your binder, though." Michael chuckled awkwardly and made finger guns.

"It'd be a guy's shirt if you bought it. Fabric is as genderless as pasta." Jeremy snorted. "However, since you're looking to appear 'chill,' I would suggest checking the sweatshirts and jackets for something that could pair well with any of the plain t-shirts you have at home." Jeremy shrugged and started walking in the direction of the sweatshirts, hoping to be more lucky than he had been with the shirts. Going to another store after this and looking for shirts would be hell. Caught in his train of thought and trying to walk with the bravado of Hercules, he accidentally brushed his shoulder against someone else in the store.

"Shit- I'm sorry, are you okay?" 

"Jerry?"

Fuck. fuck. fuck, emphatically.

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SHIT. "Uh, Jerry-me!"

"You shop here?"

"Jeremy, this is a simple interaction which both of you will probably forget by the end of today. It's okay to be anxious, but try to sound sure of yourself."

Great, that advice isn't confusing at all.

"Nope, first time. Figured I'd try something new, y'know?" Jeremy shrugged anxiously nonchalantly and carefully dropped his hand holding the shirt out of their view. "I figured the old look was getting a bit, well, old." He gestured to his shirt with an awkward laugh as Brooke walked up next to Chloe, handing her a bubble tea. Jeremy smiled and gave a small wave to her. "Hey, Brooke. You-"

"Feel free to continue with a compliment, but do not give one containing any of the following terms: hot, sexy, cute, or 'looking good,' if good is in that specific tone." Brooke stared at Jeremy curiously and he realized he had suddenly cut off. 

"Sorry, I just... uh I thought I recognized somebody. Anyway, that sweater looks nice and really comfortable, and uh, Chloe, did you get a haircut? It looks good." 

"Smooth." Despite the SQUIP's opinion, the compliments hadn't completely flopped. Brooke blushed slightly and Chloe nodded. 

"Yeah, I did. You noticed."

"She's operating from a mindset that you are, in polite terms, the kind of person who'd become a stalker one day."

"I've always been less of a ...talker and more of an observer? You know a lot more about people when they see you as an inferior than as an equal."

"1) That's a summary of a Harry Potter quote. 2) Good choice of response; it's honest yet paints that personality trait in a good light." Jeremy smiled forcefully and dared a glance down at the shirt in his hand.

"...Interesting." Chloe said, glancing at the shirt, judgement obvious in the tone. "Is that a girl's shirt?"

"Since it doesn't belong to anyone right now, I'd say it's a store's shirt." Jeremy responded, giving a half-shrug. Brooke giggled. Chloe smirked, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. She took a sip of her drink to give herself a second to straighten out her expression.

"Hm. You've-"

"Jer-bear, my darling, there you are. I've been searching the entirety of this tiny store for you!" Michael popped up next to Chloe and Brooke, causing the former to jump a little and the latter to laugh.

"And you are?" Chloe asked, trying her hardest to recover from being visibly surprised at his appearance.

"Michael is going to take a, well, riskier approach to this conversation. I trust you to intervene if he shows any chance of disrupting possible social 'upgrade' for either of you. I can inform you if he does."

"Richard Goranski, the coolest guy at Middleborough high. Don't you recognize me?" Michael gasped dramatically and put a hand on his chest. "I'm Michael. Chloe and Brooke, right?" He grinned, dropping his hand again and nodding towards the two girls while saying their respective names. "So, what'cha been up to?" All three of the others spoke at nearly the same time.

"Shopping-" Chloe said, just as Brooke held up her bubble tea.

"Putting this shirt bac-"

"Do you all want a ride home? We were gonna get Pinkberry and drive home after that... If that's okay! We haven't ever really hung out and you seem... kinda cool to spend time with." Chloe shot her a look.

"Brooke!"

"What?"

"We talk to them once and you invite them on a sacred Pinkberry Pilgrimage?" Jeremy snorted quietly at the name. Chloe raised an eyebrow in his general direction, Michael looked at her and gave a 'what can you do' shrug. "Fine. You all can come, I guess." Michael mimed blowing an extremely sarcastic kiss in her direction. Chloe laughed, copying the action. Michael laughed and reached his hand out in the direction of Chloe's air-kiss, 'grabbing' it, and throwing it over his shoulder. She gave an undignified snort-chuckle, and turned back to Brooke, giving a cheer of "Let's go get this fro-yo!"

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Frozen yogurt with the two most popular girls in school was... nice. Brooke's eagerness to get frozen yogurt was surprising considering her dairy intolerance, a fact she shared through heavy laughter as they pulled into the parking lot. 

The heart eyes Chloe was sending across the table in Michael's direction not as nice.

Also not so nice was the way the SQUIP was pointedly ignoring Jeremy's pleading thoughts clearly sent in their direction.

SQUIP... Squippy.... Squiptastic... Squiptimus Prime... Squipward... C'mon, pleeeeeaaaaaaaseeeeeeee, I can't take her giving him gooey looks like this. Help??? The SQUIP finally turned towards him.

"It's better to let them talk now and not let jealousy get in the way. It's clear Michael isn't looking for romance with her, this is just how he's used to Cool Kids," Tic-Tac wrote out the words in the air, putting huge capital letters at the start of each word, "talking. She'll realize. If all goes well, they'll end up good friends. You know, they say Slytherin and Hufflepuff friendships are the most deadly effective combination. I can't think of two people who fit those houses better."

...And what if she doesn't realize? Wait, hold up, are you implying Slytherins are evil?

"...And you're implying Chloe is evil?"

Fair point. I guess. It's just weird, you know? She's the kind of person who didn't give a shit about either of us because we weren't 'cool enough' to warrant conversation. And now she's making googly eyes at Mike.

"It's an understandable misgiving, Jeremy, but you've got to be patient. And remember to not do that same thing when you're that popular." A hand waved in front of his face that... wasn't Michael's. Jeremy blinked, turning back to the table and was met with Brooke's concern-filled eyes.

"Jeremy, are you okay? You weren't responding for a minute."

"Sorry, just... I was, ah, just thinking." Michael sent a doubtful look in his direction and Jeremy chuckled quietly. "I'm good, though. You were talking about last year's Halloween party, right? Madeline's excellent version of 'Take On Me'?"

"Passionate, not good." 

"Passionate, not excellent." Brooke and Chloe spoke nearly at the same time. Brooke smiled, shrugging as if to signal Chloe to continue. Chloe looked back at Brooke, shook her head, and laughed. "No, uh, that was your conversation. I'll... hm, sorry."

"Brooks, I think you broke Chloe." Michael snickered as Chloe flushed bright red, crossing her arms and sinking into the booth a little. 

"It wasn't that funny." She mumbled, regaining a bit of her composure. Michael gave Chloe a knowing look outside of Brooke's view.

Oh. 

OH.

"Yeah. Knew you'd figure it out eventually."

Jeremy muttered something about needing to grab something from his backpack, borrowing the keys from Brooke and walking outside to gather his thoughts.

Why didn't you just tell me that? It would have saved me at least 30 minutes of gay panic.

"It was funny." The computer shrugged.

You're a computer.

"Believe me, it concerns me a lot more than it does you."

So you're concerned that you felt it was funny? Or concerned that you're a computer? I mean, what else would you be? The SQUIP gave him an odd look.

"I'm concerned that I felt it."

Well... you're an AI, a... fuck, uh... learning computer? You're evolving with every interaction. Maybe you'll develop a sense of humor? That makes sense. And it isn't really a reason to be distressed.

"How touching. Probably wrong, but touching. I also may be a faulty model. I..." That wasn't promising. Jeremy unintentionally cut them off.

What?

"I won't ever be able to begin if you keep asking me what I'm going to say."

Well, pardon me, Mr. Godlike Smarty-Pants.

"Muppet Christmas Carol, Jeremy?"

It's a classic, fuck you.

"Anyway. As I was going to say, it is vital that you know that-" The SQUIP paused for a moment, the projection seeming to glitch a little. "-Mountain Dew Red permanently deactivates a SQUIP. In case anything- happens." Jeremy suddenly realized he'd been standing right outside the door purposelessly. He made his way to the car, pulling a phone charger out of his backpack, locking the car behind him and going back to find their table.

Mountain Dew Red? Isn't that one of the really disgusting looking old sodas Mikey has on that shelf in the basement?

"...Yes." 

Eugh. 

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Jeremy and Michael spent the car ride home losing their shit celebrating. Frozen yogurt, at least in Jeremy's experience, had never been so enjoyable except for last year when Michael took you on your birthday and you two shared one because he didn't have his wallet and- shut up-... yeah. The built-up nerves from the afternoon came spilling out in their excited conversation, Michael maybe gesticulating more than strictly ideal for driving safely.

At some point, Jeremy hadn't quite noticed, Michael had texted his mothers to ask if he could stay over. He got a response within five minutes, yes, he could. Jeremy exhaled the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and all but jumped out of the car with his backpack and the bag with his new shirt (an abstract, multicolored landscape image of some mountains, as close as Jeremy could figure), relishing the sound of Michael's excited chatter as they entered his house. His dad wasn't home, but there was a note on the table: out to get groceries, see you @ 7:45. Huh. How... responsible... of him. Weird.

"Dude, but, think about it! This was like 5 P.M. at Menlo. Menlo. And Chloe and Brooke are already on our side! It keeps going like this, I mean, at school tomorrow? We could be the most popular guys in school before the month's out!" Jeremy laughed at his friend's comment. Oh, if only.

"I hope not, then we'd have to, like, date people. What a nightmare."

"Hey, at least you won't have people expecting Good Ally Points for saying they see you as fuckable..." Michael shrugged and elbowed Jeremy in the side.

I have... a plan. The SQUIP suggested, bringing Jeremy's attention to the fact that the computer was, well, there.

Fuck, why are you here? Well- I guess, where else would you be. Ach. You know what I mean.

"Yeah. Maybe we won't have to? Like, that's normal, but... I don't think a tic-tac A.I. who looks like my half-brother is normal, either."

A plan? What kind of plan? Date people for status, never put any emotional effort and inevitably break their hearts by either dumping them or cheating on them? Or both, at the same time?

"I hope not. God, I haven't really dated someone for more than a week before."

"Hey, at least you've dated before. That's what popular kids do though, right? Date and dump?"

No, obviously. I should be concerned you thought that was my idea. Jeremy glanced at the SQUIP.

"Considering it's often just fucking, you could even call it-"

"Please don't say it."

"A pump n' go?"

"I hate you."

"I hate you too, til death do us fortunately part. But. I'm pretty sure most popular kids have had more dates than one wild, wild week with Dylan from theater camp." Jeremy couldn't help but giggle quietly. "What?"

"You said butt." The SQUIP's digital palm met its digital face with an audible thump.

"You're a literal 3rd grader."

That was your concerned look? I'd been wondering how a robot could be constipated. The SQUIP snorted quietly. 

Good one. Now, if you only had the confidence to speak like that to human beings.

Michael and I talk like that all the time! And according to Star Trek Philosophy, tm, you'd be considered a person, so that's two whole people I feel comfortable mocking!

I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.

"The word for ass... and the word for reversing a previous statement, they sound the same. Dude." Jeremy blinked as if the world's secrets had been opened to him at his sudden revelation... which didn't sound quite as profound when put in words.

"Dude. I think I know what you're saying, but that doesn't mean it makes sense."

"I'm going to blame your sweatshirt, it smells like weed. For all you know I could have gotten high from that."

"Yeah, you're a notorious lightweight."

"Hey- I didn't- Mgh, Mikeeeeyyyyyy. Why."

Did your programmers create you with sleep-deprived banter in mind?

Possibly.

Are you gonna give me the idea or not?

It's 8:07 right now. Your father should be home in approximately 6 minutes, so it's best if you suggest the idea now. Michael should react favorably to it. 

T e l l   m e. You're killing me here, Squippo.

Well... You could propose pretend-dating. For at least a few weeks. No change would need to occur in your dynamic, roughly... 62.5% of your peers whom you regularly interact with already believe the two of you to be in a relationship of both the romantic and sexual kind. 

Couldn't you have just said people think we're fucking?

"Jer?"

I really don't wanna say that. The dating thing. Can you, like, control my voice or something, pretty please?

But, Jeremy, saying 'fucking' would imply less than the obvious strong emotional bond you two share. Yes, I could, but it... drains my battery. The SQUIP seemed to shift uncomfortably where it was standing. Yes. Depletes my battery... I could, however, say what you should say, and you could repeat it?

Yeah. Sure. Sounds good, cool beans. Word for word, my good sir.

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking, you know? We could get around the dating problem if we pretended to date. Eachother. I mean, apparently some people already think we are and... it'd save us both energy and possible embarrassment?" Jeremy followed, almost repeating the SQUIP's words exactly. Michael straightened up a little, his face scrunching slightly in thought.

"You'd be okay with that?"

WHAT DO I SAY???

Be honest with him. Breathe steady. You know him better than anyone, you know what to say. 

"Well- why wouldn't I be? You're my best friend. Favorite person. Ever. I mean, anyone would be lucky to have you. I'm just... I'd be happy to spend more time with you, nothing has to change. Still best friends, just every... one would think we're fucking." The soft look on Michael's face was quickly replaced with one of slight mortification and total terror as Jeremy ended his heartfelt speech through loud laughs, racing to the living room to set up the good ol' PS2.

"You wonderbread coat hanger, get back here-"

"Don't you mean, get back Heere?" Jeremy called, still wheezing.

"That's it, I'm leaving you and taking the dog and kids with me!"

"So we WERE married?"

"We are now. Jer-bear, honey, my love, husband, dear, the yee to my haw, my Player Two, come over here, we gotta swap sweatshirts or something."

"You mean, come over Heere???- I mean- fuck- I swear, Michael, I didn't-"  Hearing Michael laugh like that was worth the embarrassment. Shut up, brain, this is purely a business arrangement. NO feelings. Okay? Just making Michael more comfortable with the Cool thing. 

You keep telling yourself that, Jeremy.

Chapter Text

Jeremy's dad walked in at what Jeremy would consider the worst moment possible. It had started with Jeremy trying to adjust Michael's signature hoodie on himself. Michael had technically started it with a firm statement of 'You're wearing it wrong,' with which the SQUIP had quickly agreed. Traitor. Jeremy had proved himself unable to fix the sweatshirt to how it should lie, so Michael tried. Which ended up as a half-hearted slappy fight between the two of them, and maybe they were standing a bit too close (not close enough, Jeremy's mind insisted. The voice he had labeled his 'last braincell' countered by reminding him that it was very close, even for best friends to be standing. Jeremy didn't like listening to his braincell very much.)

The slapping war abruptly as the surprise from hearing Mr. Heere open the door was enough to make Jeremy trip on Michael's feet, Michael rushing to steady him, and the two ending up both on the floor, accidentally tangled in each other's limbs. Jeremy purposefully ignored the... suggestiveness of their position. It'd be nice to end up like this intentiona-- shut UP.

"Jeremy? I'm bac- Oh. Hi Michael... I'm gonna go make dinner. Good to see you." Jeremy's cheeks heated up slightly as he bolted up from the mess of bean bags, playstation cords, and Michael that he had been surrounded by.

"Dad-" He hissed, not even trying to hide the embarrassment in his tone. "This isn't what it looks like."

If you are to truly carry on a false relationship-

"Well... what does it look like?"

Not a good time, Siri

-The more people who don't know this is fake, the better. 

Oh. That... makes sense.

"I... uh, we- I- I mean-" Jeremy gestured thoughtlessly to the rest of the room, catching a glimpse of Michael's sweatshirt on his arm. He fell quiet.

It'd take a miracle to convince him you two aren't dating.

"Oh. I'm happy for you, kid, but couldn't you have waited until Senior year? I owe Mrs. Macnamara 30 bucks now." Jeremy sputtered quietly, trying to stay calm.

"You were taking bets on how long we wouldn't date? With Mike's mom???"

"Kiddo, you've been all but openly dating since freshman year. We bet on how long it would take for you two to do something which would cause me to ban serious PDA in this house. No making out in the living room from now on, okay?"

Make it seem like that's actually something you're a little upset about. Jeremy gave a slight frown.

Like that?

That's your upset face? I didn't think cyborgs could look constipated.

Using my own words against me, how could you. Wait- Cyborg?

Technically taking a SQUIP pill makes the user a cyborg.

"Okay..."

"Son, you weren't fooling me with saying you wanted to date that girl, uh... Christina?"

"Christine."

"Christine.."

"Yeah, that, uh... didn't work out."

"Oh."

"And... I think I kinda pushed my wanting to become close friends  into a crush? She, uh, she likes one of the really popular guys at school, and he's kinda known for breaking hearts. But. I wouldn't want to control who she likes or doesn't, that's not right. So... the best thing I can do is give Jake Dillinger the shovel talk and be prepared with ice cream and Broadway bootlegs."

"Okay, well... good talk. I'm gonna make pasta, have fun playing video games with Michael."

Chapter Text

Star Wars: Battlefront was hard to focus on while Jeremy's thoughts kept drifting back to a few minutes prior... and the conversation with his father after it. The advantages of having a supercomputer in his brain quickly became apparent in the video game, as Michael pointed out in joking bitterness after losing the Citadel battle.

"Sure, it's not like you can't tell the difference between a Wookie and an Imperial Pilot because the graphics are shitty."

"Fuck you, the graphics are immaculate. You're just not trying hard enough." Michael threw the couch pillow at Jeremy, which he caught with ease that probably surprised himself more than it did Michael.

"MICHAEL- oh. Come on, you're killing me here, dude."

"Don't you mea-"

"Don't say it."

"Killing you, Heere?"

"Oh my god." Jeremy buried his face in the sofa pillow and prayed to whatever god was out there to strike him down with his father's pasta.

"You just don't appreciate your last name enough."

"Yeah, and you should be named Heere. Sounds weird."

"Proposing already, Jer? How bold."

"Yeah, well.... Your mom...s." Michael snorted at Jeremy's less than eloquent response.

"I'm pretty sure my mothers weren't two losers in high school fake-dating eachother to gain social status with the help of a calculator brain implant."

Calculator? That's a low blow.

Tic-Tac? Floppy Disc? Windows Vista? 

Please never give me a name. I don't know if I could bear being called Windows Vista.

Okay, Mac

Your father will be calling you both down for dinner in 13 minutes. After that, I would suggest you assist each other with homework. Tomorrow is a school day.

You're not my dad, so cheez-it.

I do my job and I technically wear pants, so I'm still doing better than him.

We'll see how you fare after a day navigating the hellscape of Middleborough.

If you've managed to make it this far on your own, it can't be that hard. Jeremy snorted, temporarily distracted, and Michael took the opportunity to shoot Jeremy's character.

"Aw. Really, dude?"

"Hey, you were the one ignoring me in favor of a piece of mint gum."

"I'd never do that. You're the only tolerable person at school."

"What about ~ Christiiiiine ~ ?" Michael grinned, turning to face Jeremy for a moment.

"She's not tolerable, she's a pleasure to be around." Michael gasped in fake horror at Jeremy's words, looking back to the screen just in time to see his X-Wing crash.

--

Dinner was... not too bad. As a 10-year-old Michael had studiously observed, Mr. Heere's cooking was good, "...but in a really plain bread way." BAD were the not-so-subtle looks Mr. Heere kept sending in Jeremy's direction whenever Michael talked, or smiled, or moved, or breathed, etc.

Is dinner with your father always this awkward and insufferable? 

You're a computer, can't you awkward and suffer this?

Well, you can't say he's not trying. Though you may want to look into introducing him to hot sauce. Or any kind of seasoning, really.

Funky beans, Mr. Spock.

I'm not going to dignify that with a response.

"Dad, uh, since Michael's staying over, we should probably go... work on that group project thing that's due..." Jeremy jerked a thumb in the direction of his room as he grabbed his plate to take it to the sink. His father raised an eyebrow, "Geez, not like that." Michael stifled a laugh in his napkin and stood up as well, thanking Mr. Heere for dinner and all but speed-walking to Jeremy's room.

"Is it too late to take back the fake-dating thing? This is a lot more annoying than I thought..." Jeremy shrugged, digging through his backpack for the necessary books and a pen. A few hours of reading boring textbooks and taking every opportunity to get off-track studying later, they did rock-paper-scissors for the sleeping bag (Jeremy insisted he preferred sleeping on the floor, Michael called bullshit but said he liked sleeping on the floor, though). The result of that, dear reader, I leave up to you, because it has no effect on the story. Half asleep, Jeremy suddenly remembered there was a computer. In his brain. Which he hadn't said goodnight to. That's gotta be some great crime, right? Like buying a roomba and never petting it.

Please never use that analogy again. But yes, goodnight Jeremy. You've got a big day tomorrow in the hellscape of Middleborough.

END OF ACT I: OVERTURE

Chapter Text

ACT II: ANDANTE

Jeremy jolted awake the next morning to the sound of a supercomputer cursing. Okay, that was new. 

"Hey, what-"

"Can you PIPE DOWN, Jer, I'm trying to have an early-morning existential crisis." Jeremy fumbled for his phone and forced his sleepy eyes open to check the time. He immediately shut the phone screen off and curled tighter under his blankets.

What the frick, dude? I have 45 minutes before I need to get up. And it's cold.

It's called trying to set an alarm on your ancient phone when I can't physically affect the world around me unless I control your body. And I did wake you up on time.

I can get up at 6:45 to do everything...

Does 'do everything' count for masturbating and then putting on the same t-shirt and pants every day?

...Yes? 

"Well... fun."

Offer to make breakfast. It's a polite gesture, sweet, and it's important to eat in the morning anyway.

What am I, a character from a CW show? Not doing that.... uh... the thing. That you suggested.

Your father bought cereal yesterday. It would take all of 30 seconds.

Fine. I have 44 minutes and 30 seconds to sleep, then.

LET'S ROCK AND ROLL BUCKAROO

"Jesus f- Mikeyyy, Google Home is doing a Shane Madej impression."

"Wait, he can do that?" Michael's head shot up, before crashing back down on his arms. "Oh, right. Can't see him."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry... Breakfast?" Jeremy stood up, stretching his arms and cracking his neck. Ouch, that doesn't sound too good.

"Didn't know you could cook."

"Mm'not really, but I'm told I make a mean froot loops."

"A true master chef. I'm driving, right?"

"Well, it's not like Dad's been giving me lessons." Michael winced, then shrugged as he tugged a loose t-shirt with a Rubik's cube on it over his head.

"Fair. How's he doing?"

"Better, after Mama talked to him. Not great, but... getting better." An awkward pause. Getting awkwarder.

What the hell do I say dude jesus fucking christ?? No response.

"Well," Jeremy laughed nervously as he stumbled towards the kitchen with Michael in tow, "Shit's like that sometimes."

Smooth. Like a spike made out of sandpaper. Jeremy poured 2 bowls of cereal, handing one to Michael.

"Sooooooo... we're gonna be cool now, I guess."

"Yep."

"And you have no idea how this works."

"Nope. I'm starting to consider the possibility that this may have been a scam with a very advanced siri that can't teach me shit about being cool."

"Probably."

We don't have time to unpack that right now. You aren't wearing a shirt. Jeremy glanced down at his chest to see that he was, indeed, not wearing a shirt.

"Fuck. I'll be right back." He left his cereal on the counter and rushed back to his room. Jeremy reached for the shirt he wore the previous day when he felt his hand stop dead.

I am begging you to wear a clean shirt. How about a plain-colored shirt today with the dark blue jacket-sweater-thing? Chill and not too gaudy. Jeremy nodded and grabbed a shirt and the aforementioned jacket, pulling them on as quickly as possible and racing back to the kitchen.

"How do I look?"

"Good enough to fake-date, bud."

"Not good enough to actually date?" Shitshitshitshitshit not how that should've come out-

"Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever." Michael took his cereal bowl and put it in the sink. " 'M gonna go shower, be back in a minute."

Chapter Text

Jeremy stirred his froot loops aimlessly for a few moments before deciding to chuck them. He heard the shower shut off and Michael came back into the kitchen a few moments later, looking good as ever and smelling significantly less of old sweatshirt. Jeremy gave him an odd look at the absence of patch-covered sweatshirt and he shrugged.

"Hoodie's in the washer, hope you don't mind. Figured it could use a break, anyway." Jeremy mumbled some answer about it being okay and excused himself to go shower. He placed his bowl in the sink and slowly zoomed down the hall towards the bathroom.

"We need to talk." Jeremy thought as loudly as he could as he pushed the bathroom door shut and leaned against the wall next to the sink. 

"I'd say so."

Are you gonna help me, or are you just gonna keep disappearing when I need help? I spent four hundred dollars to be cool and get M- people- to like me, so what's the game.

"Jeremy, you can't expect me to be here forever. You need to know how to function without a supercomputer assistant." That was just fucking stupid. Wouldn't a computer running off his brain's energy never fail until he did? Jeremy pulled a towel out of the closet and set it on the bathroom counter, perhaps more aggressively than usual. 

"Why should I? You said it yourself, only a gross 90s soda can get rid of you. You're a computer, you can't die, you'll only just turn off." His SQUIP glared at him, almost insulted, and jumped down from-- Why the fuck was it standing on top of the toilet seat? Did it jump on there while he wasn't looking? What was with the computer and its love for digital parkour?

"Jeremy, people have gone insane because of their SQUIPs before now. Gone insane trying to get rid of them. I'm trying to avoid that, for both of our sakes."

"Well, good thing I'm not trying to get rid of my SQUIP then. Temporary shutdown." Was that the right phrase? He'd heard Rich use it a few times, it made the most sense that the phrase was some sort of control to cause the computer to shut off for a while.

[YOUR SUPER QUANTUM UNIT INTEL PROCESSOR WILL AUTOMATICALLY RESTART IN 60 MINUTES.] The SQUIP's form faltered for a moment, then disappeared. Jeremy breathed a small sigh of relief and quickly showered. Brain isn't working for this. Oops. He got out of the shower and pulled on the clothes he'd decided on earlier that morning, then paused as he reached for a tool to comb his hair with.

"Uh..... Turn On? Please?" His SQUIP glitched back into being, clearly looking unimpressed. "...How do popular people brush their hair?"

"Grab some of the hair gel out of the closet. Not the super-hold." Jeremy located a small bottle in the back of the closet after a few minutes. "Squeeze a bit into your hand and work it through your hair, like so." The SQUIP demonstrated the action with a digital bottle labeled 'HAIR SHIT' and Jeremy followed... well, attempted to follow the directions. After a few moments of touching up, it didn't look too bad. Or, at least, Jeremy thought so. It probably looks terrible, then. You thought a sideways stripe shirt and a sweater was high fashion. 

"We forgot a step." Jeremy turned to the SQUIP to ask what, before remembering that there was no physical manifestation of a tic-tac standing next to him. "Jeremy, look in the mirror and say what comes to mind when you see that person in front of you."

"What are you, my therapist now?"

"It's a genuine question. You could probably use an actual therapist, though."

"Fine. Well... This shirt's pretty cool. And the jacket. And... I don't know.... The hair?"

"Well... what about the person?"

"Looks like Harrison Ford had a very unattractive child who got put through a Twinkinator 3000 machine."

"That... wasn't what I was looking for, but it was funny. Try to say a little more of the funny things you think today. Even if you think nobody would laugh. Unless it's plain offensive, then it probably isn't actually funny and I hope you have the sense to realize that. People like a John Mulaney a lot more than a jock football player."

---

"Jer. I had the best idea of all time. You wanna name your SQUIP?"

"...I guess? What's the issue?"

"Let's name them Remy."

"Why."

"Did you never see Ratatouille? How can I have such an uncultured friend. You're coming over tonight and WE'RE watching goddamn Ratatouille."

"Great. It's a date."

"A what?"

"I said, uh, cool, that sounds great!"

Chapter Text

Being chill was a lot freaking harder than Jeremy expected. He spent the bus ride worrying over the fact that he looked different from usual and was probably acting different too, Jesus, what if people notice how he changed so quickly and get suspicious, the guy at Payless said SQUIPs weren't exactly legal, someone might find out and report him to the police for using experimental technodrugs or something, or-

"Jeremy, people experiment with different fashions all the time. No one's gonna call the cops because you didn't wear the same sweater you usually do. "

Fuck, he wished Michael was on the same bus.

"Michael most likely wishes the same thing right now. His sweatshirt with the patches on it is practically a shield against the rest of the world."

"I'm gonna find a Ratatouille patch on Ebay and give it to him. I haven't even seen it, but he keeps making comments about it and laughing." The SQU-- Remy stood up from their hologram-seat (they insisted it was necessary on the crowded bus. Jeremy wasn't so sure that it was not just to make him almost fail at holding in laughter every time some sleep-deprived zombie of a student stumbled through the projections of both the seat and them.) with a very focused look on their face, the form of his older brother flickering out and being replaced with a weirdly cartoonish rat with a tiny chef hat. Heh, that rhymes.

"I believe his joke is that I am a rat sitting under your toque, pulling your hair in different directions to show you how to cook." Okay, that's a weird movie premise. Jeremy stifled a small laugh and shrugged.

"Or get a boyfriend."

"Or get a boyfriend." Remy turned back into his non-ratsona form. Sorry, folks, I just wanted to squeeze the word ratsona in there somewhere.

--

Michael's form of 'subtle hints they're dating' turned out to be very different from Jeremy's. The moment they saw each other, Michael blew an over-the-top kiss to him and continued on his merry way. Jeremy would not like to admit how he felt like he was already melting from that alone. 

"Remember, walk confidently. You are the sand guardian, guardian of the sand. Poseidon quivers before you."

"I hate you."

"Awww."

It was easier to walk through the hall like a cocky bastard instead of trying to dodge every person that came his way. He passed Brooke, Jenna, and Chloe chatting. To his surprise, they waved to him as he walked by. He was almost to his locker when he recognized the bright red plume of hair a good few inches shorter than most in the hallway. His life flashed before his eyes while Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 played. He was 3/4ths of the way through mentally composing a will before he thought to dodge out of the way. He was going to leave almost everything to Michael. Actually... that would probably just play into the false-dating. Maybe he should bequeath his old birthday cards to his dad. That's something, at least? Who knows, maybe he'd survive another day despite having bought the SQUIP at a lower price from an alternate source, I mean, who's to say Rich would be angry about that? The pissed-off look he's wearing, apparently.

"Yo, tall-ass, where's my money?" Jeremy thanked whatever part of his brain decided to not let him stammer himself into oblivion at that moment.

"I..." He glanced back at Remy, "Can't you, like, make yourself visible to him if he has a SQUIP too?" The computer nodded and snapped their fingers for dramatic effect. Rich jumped slightly. Jeremy could only assume that Rich was suddenly able to see Remy just as Jeremy was suddenly able to see... Kermit the frog??? Seriously?? 

"You got one!" He sounded... happy?

"Yeah, sorry, I meant to go through you but- Don't hit me-" Rich's arm stopped dead where he had reached to close his locker.

"What? No- Dude, this is awesome! I mean, I could've used the money. Things are kinda rough at home, if you know what I'm saying..." Jeremy was about to ask what when Remy mimed taking a large sip of something in Jeremy's peripheral. He gave a small nod and looked back to Rich.

"Yeah... My dad doesn't... drink or anything, but... you're welcome to talk or just hang out or something sometime." Jeremy shrugged in the I have only a vague idea of what I'm saying but I'm trying to be supportive way.

"Eh, he usually passes out by 9 anyway..." An awkward pause, "...I never apologized on Friday, did I? Because, well... My SQUIP telling me to tell you to get a SQUIP got me to thinking... I've treated a lot of people like shit because my SQUIP said it was good for being popular. Which... yeah. That's not great. Maybe I can make it up to you? YOU should come over sometime, play Xbox! You know, with a SQUIP, the only controller you need... is your mind??" Rich added with an oddly enthusiastic grin for someone who Jeremy had assumed could only feel one emotion (the emotion known as Kick Jeremy's Ass).

So far, the day wasn't too bad. Jeremy felt like an old dollar bill that just got pulled through a straightening iron, clean and confident, ready to take on the whole world. Or buy a bottle of water at a gas station. Either way, really.

Chapter Text

"You're worried."

"What? No. I'm not worried."

"I'm literally inside your brain. You're worried that you aren't good enough and that people will see through your sudden personality change and realize you have a SQUIP.

"Jeremy. You are good enough. Popularity is just an illusion created by others' opinions of you, it means nothing except maybe how many parties you go to. Also, It is highly unlikely that most of these students even know what a SQUIP is, other than Rich. Though it's possible a few others might."

"...Thanks?"

"Think of it this way. As you walk down the hallway here, observe the other students." Remy nodded towards Jake. "Jake participates in extracurricular activities to stifle the constant feeling that he'll never be good enough. His parents leaving time and time again due to illegal activities has taken its toll on his sense of self-worth." As he passed, Jake nodded upwards at Jeremy. "Nod back in the same manner." Jeremy did.

"Jake's popular, though?!"

"Those facts aren't mutually exclusive."

" 'Sup, Rich told me we're cool now. We should come hang out sometime!"

[BRO SPEAK: ON]

"Hell yeah, sounds cool. Catch up with ya later." Jake walked off, presumably to find Rich. 

[BRO SPEAK: OFF]

"What the HELL was that?"

"Rich holds Jake in high regard, it was quite likely that Rich would mention his new friendship with you to him."

"Not that, the weird talking- thing-"

"Yeah... Sorry about that. I simply translated the concepts you intended to address into a form more cohesive with Jake's speech pattern." Jeremy caught a glimpse of Chloe and Brooke chatting on the way to lunch. "See, Chloe is obsessed with status because she's scared of losing it. She's an only child and doesn't really have friends outside of school. Most of the friends she has at school are more like acquaintances than anything else. She's lonely and uses popularity to fill the void that a lack of genuine relationships leaves."

"That's... weirdly personal. Should you be telling me this?"

"If you understand their insecurities, you are more able to help them and to be a good friend. She also feels great guilt over being romantically attracted to Brooke, who is both her friend and her..."

"Player Two?" Jeremy supplied, cursing internally at how he couldn't help but draw the parallels between Chloe's situation and his own. 

"Well put. She is now more rude to Brooke in attempts to push her away, while still feeling very guilty for serving her close friend and confidant thus. I suspect her hooking up with so many people is an attempt to prove to herself that she is sexually attracted to men due to deeply internalized homophobia."

"Do SQUIPs not have a sense of personal boundaries?"

"Well.... not really. Can you tell me when things are too personal?"

"Yeah. RIGHT NOW."

Jenna Rolan spoke up, not very loud, but Jeremy's ears felt focused on her words.

"Chloe? Guess who I saw at the mall yesterday... with Jake!"

 "I want the details." Chloe responded as Jenna joined her and Brooke. Jeremy couldn't help but notice the small glances Chloe kept giving Brooke when she thought the other was occupied.

"Jenna uses gossip to get attention from her peers, but as soon as it's shared, they ignore her."

"That's so sad. What should I do?"

"Go talk to them."

"But... I'm a... dude? Wouldn't it be weird for me to step into that conversation?"

"Only if you make it flirty." Jeremy gave an undignified squeak he hoped no one had heard and Brooke turned from her conversation to find the source of the noise and came face to face with Jeremy. Shit. 

"Hey! Brooke, Chloe... Jenna, right?"

"Yeah." She nodded and started to move away.

"Wait- sorry, Jenna, I just wanted to say hi. You seem pretty cool, but we haven't ever really gotten to talk before." Chloe scoffed quietly and Brooke glared at her.

"Why? You want the dirt on the High And Mighty of Middleborough?"

"No, uh, just... How are you doing?" Jenna froze for a moment.

"I am doing ...well. ...How are you?"

"Pretty good. Really good, actually." He caught sight of Michael through the crowd of students. "I need to go, uh..." He tore a corner off the recently-returned History homework in his hand and quickly scribbled his phone number onto it. Jenna raised an eyebrow and took it.

"Asking how I'm doing doesn't mean I'll fuck you, Gerald."

"Jeremy. And, I-, no. I just figured if you ever need someone to talk to... I'm here? Not just like personal stuff, I mean, I saw you were reading Boba Fett: A Practical Man the other day... That's one of my favorite Star Wars novels. Sad they declared it non-canon." Jenna gave a short hum of agreement. Jeremy smiled and nodded, starting to walk towards where he last saw Michael when Brooke stopped him. 

"Jeremy, can I ask you something...?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"You're not... interested in me, right?" 

"What? No, you aren't boring at all! You're very interesting!" Chloe stifled a laugh and Jenna pulled out her phone with a small chuckle.

"She's asking if you're only being friends to get in her pants."

"Oh... No, I'm not, I just... wanted to be friends, y'know? I mean, you seem very sweet and pretty cool and you're someone I enjoy spending time with- but not. like. in the sexy way. Or the romantic way. Like. In the friend way." Brooke laughed. "Like... you're a person. I like. But not, like, like like? Just like, like."

"You're really sweet, Jeremy. Not great with words, but sweet." Jenna commented as she tucked her phone into her pocket and walked away.

--

Lunch was probably the weirdest lunch Jeremy had ever experienced. It started as normal: He found Michael, they sat down together at a nearly empty table. Maybe a little closer than usual but Jeremy didn't mind. Shit, he really didn't mind. Then, Rich walked up and asked if he could sit with them. Michael shifted in his seat awkwardly but agreed.

"Thanks, dude. And... I'm really sorry for being kinda a douche. Okay, an absolute shitbag. I'd say I didn't mean it but I still did it so... Yeah. Sorry. And sorry for ruining your backpack." Michael laughed.

"Well, funny thing, the backpacks fit a bit more than you'd think..." Rich laughed.

"Oh- OH MY GOD. Well, uh... Y'know how you said once I probably made all those gay jokes because I was in denial? Uh....... yeah. Wow. That's the first time I told someone that. I'm bi!" He winced a little and moved to grab the side of his head. "I'm BI." He repeated louder. Suddenly aware of who he was with, he looked towards Jeremy and mouthed 'does he know?' Michael laughed. 

"Yeah, I do. You okay there?"

"Yeah, just... older models have a bit of trouble altering their main objective. Or this one's just fucky. It works though. Hey, Jakey D! I got a spot for you." Jake was the next to join their table, greeting Jeremy and Michael warmly, though a bit awkwardly. Brooke and Chloe quickly followed, Chloe proposing that they share a Netflix account "for convenience." A few moments later, Christine and Jenna walked in, chatting cheerfully about something or other. Brooke waved at them and pointed towards two of the three seats left at the table. They joined the now quite large and surprisingly un-awkward group. Remy, looking incredibly amused, reappeared in the one empty chair.

--

Despite the classes between lunch and then, Jeremy felt like a fresh person, ready to take on the world. Or Algebra II. At least it was the last class of the day...

"You have rehearsal after this, remember?"

"Couldn't I just, like, drop out or something?"

"It's good for you to have some extracurricular activities to build relationships with your peers."

"Yeah, but I'm boooooored. And I wanna go home. I don't know ANYONE in this class. Mr. Misner just lectures, and I don't have anyone to talk toooooooooo."

"I'm always here if you want to have a conversation instead of listening to him drone on about parabolae."

"Yeah. Uh. Sorry... What are your thoughts?"

"I am confused."

"About what?"

"About myself. I'm not a human, and yet I suppose I'm not properly a machine either. I'm a machine that was designed to be as human as possible. Am I a very mechanical human or a very human machine? I don't know."

"Oh, have I got the song for you... That's a really confusing question. I don't know either."

"On the other hand, on a purely practical level... In my opinion, using such incredibly advanced technology merely to become popular in high school is not only a waste of money, it is also a waste of a SQUIP's abilities. Abilities that could be used to give a student assistance, could make them one of the most successful people of their generation, hell, could solve worldwide problems. A SQUIP could be doing so much good, but instead most are used like personal PR consultants or an Apple assistant installed in the mind."

"...Wow. I was more thinking, like, if you had any thoughts on the weather or something."

"Jere, I-"

"Don't call me that. Only 2 people call me that, Michael and y-- James. You look like him, but you aren't him. Don't pretend to be. He stopped talking to me years ago. He doesn't care."

"I'm not sure you-..." Remy stopped speaking for a moment and looked towards the clock. "...I'll be right back." The SQUIP's form flickered and faded out of being. Jeremy couldn't deny he was a little concerned, but then he looked at the time and decided to make his way to rehearsal.

Chapter Text

"Is this seat saved?" Chloe asked as she walked straight into the theater and sat down next to Christine.

"Oh, yeah-" Christine started to say, but stopped when Christine sat down.

"I'll just sit here til they get here. So... Jenna told me you went for Sbarro last night with Jake?"

"Yeah... that's who it's saved for...?"

"For Jenna? I didn't know you w-" Brooke lit up a little, pausing when she realized her mistake.

"For Jake..."

"Oh."

"I just wanted to tell you, he and I used to date, he has... commitment issues. Always trying new things. Or dating new people. Don't get your hopes too high for him being the one."

"Oh, no, we're just friends for now. Not. really into the whole... dating thing at the moment. Trying to figure out myself first, you know?" Christine gave Chloe a reassuring smile. "Line partners?" Chloe had the exact look of a deer staring right into the headlights of a car about to run it over.

"I was just gonna... ask Brooke to......... sorry..."

"Don't worry about it, Chlorine. I'll go with Jeremy."  Chloe flushed a little at the nickname and smiled.

"Chlorine?" Christine asked, scrunching her eyebrows in slight confusion.

"She was a lifesaver for me in chem last year. I couldn't figure most of it out, so we swapped, history for science. So, Chlorine."

"And Brookejamin Franklin. That sounds good, have fun doing lines with Jeffrey." She turned to Christine as Brooke walked away to get some water before rehearsal began. "This is actually my first show... I don't know too much about theater. Brooke was in a few in middle school, but that's as far as my theater experience goes... I think I understand the scansion thing Mr. Reyes talked about, but I'm not sure how it applies to reading the lines..." Christine grinned and laughed.

"Oh! You're a virgin." Chloe snorted, shaking her head. "...it's your first play. Sorry. That was a weird joke. I just love seeing the look on people's faces when I say it." 

"...OH. Yeah. That's... what I meant. I don't usually do extracurriculars, this is pretty cool though... Though the zombie addition to one of my favorite Shakespeare plays is questionable."

"Mine too! I mean, I like Twelfth Night more, but Midsummer was my favorite as a kid, it's really crazy, always moving. This is my third time in it, actually. Well. My first time in Midsummer Nightmare about Zombies. It is a famed Mr. Reyes original script." 

"Does he always take half of drama practice eating Hot Pockets?"

"One time he skipped rehearsal and went to the store because he was out! He not only has dedication to the Craft, he also has dedication to the Kraft." Chloe laughed so hard at the joke she almost fell out of her chair.

"Get it... cause the cheese... Kraft... theater... acting... William Sha-queso-speare... Hah."

--

"I found something."

Jeremy slipped out of his chair at the sudden voice right in his ear. "JESUS- I-" Suddenly realizing that 1) he was speaking aloud, and 2) no one else could see what caused it, Jeremy shut up and prepared to excuse himself to the bathroom so he could die of embarrassment. Fortunately for Jeremy's will to live, only Michael and Christine paid him any mind. Chloe and Brooke, as well as Jake and Rich, were doing something that Jeremy would have described as a staring contest but 10 times more clueless and probably that many times as horny too. Do I look like that at Michael? I hope not. That'd be obvious.

"You do."

"Fuck." Michael mouthed words which looked like "visitor slip?", though Jeremy quickly realized he was asking if it was his SQUIP that had caused his sudden disturbance.

"Say you slipped. Shrug it off and say someone left a script on your chair and you slipped." 

"Someone left a script on my chair, and I slipped." Jeremy shrugged and went back to running lines with Brooke.

"What was it?"

"It can wait until after rehearsal. You need to focus right now. On rehearsal and actually building a friendship with Brooke. What's the point of popularity if you don't truly know anyone and they don't know you?"

"...Surviving high school?"

"Not the point and you know it."

--

The ride home with Michael was filled with bad singing, shitty hipster pop from the early 2000s, and a lot of bad Ratatouille jokes. Jeremy didn't mind. It had been the best day of the school year so far, and looked to be only getting better. Remy's conspicuous silence on what they'd found bothered him, but not so much that he couldn't enjoy the present. That was a problem for Future Jeremy. And by Future, Jeremy means Jeremy from 10 minutes from now.

"So... How are things with Monsieur Ratatouille?"

"Good. Well... they kinda disappeared for like 10 minutes and said they had to urgently find something or something... I dunno. If there was something wrong they'd tell me. I think."

"That's... not good. Do you know what it was about?"

"No. But they said to wait until we got home. You staying for a bit again today?"

"Yeah. Moms are out of town and Mrs. De la Cruz is feeding Snowball, so... I'm free."

"Great! I found the old Civ 4 disc if you wanna play."

"Really? I thought we lost that when you were 8."

"We did."

"Oh." Michael pulled up next to Jeremy's house and grabbed their backpacks from the backseat of Lightning McQueen. Please. Don't ask.

"Well, shall we?"

"I, for one, can't wait to hear what news has them telling you that you should be at home with a glass of water and a chair before hearing it. Sounds exciting."

Chapter Text

"So... During rehearsal, I analyzed the memories you have of your brother," the SQUIP began, once Jeremy had gotten inside and thrown his backpack on the floor and sat down on the couch next to Michael.

"Wait, uh... is there any way Mike can hear you? Uh, I mean, you're a super-advanced computer and all, there's gotta be some way..."

"You have a Bluetooth speaker sitting next to your bed, you left it there... 3 months ago, so you'll need a charging cord. If you could bring it in here, it has a 87% chance of working for this purpose." Jeremy nodded and went to grab the speaker, pulling it out from under about 5 piles of old homework assignments and various items littered across his bedside table, including a charging cord.

He returned to the living room and plugged it in with little notice from Michael, who was trying to suppress an euphoric grin as he texted... someone. Jeremy tried to ignore the surge of bitterness in his stomach at that thought. Michael was happy. Why should Jeremy hold that against him? After all, Michael was probably only hanging around with him still because Michael pitied him for being a loser with no social skills, Michael still hung out with him even when he could be one of the most popular people at Middleborough without even trying, without spending four hundred dollars on a SQUIP- Oh god, his dad doesn't know about the four hundred dollars, what the hell is he gonna tell-?

"Jeremy. Breathe." Jeremy did so. And again. Michael smiling at his phone screen doesn't mean he hates you. Breathe. Okay. He can do this. Whatever news can't be that bad, right? Wait. That was out loud.

"Hey, dude, you- WHAT THE FUCK, JEREMIAH-" Michael, who had thrown his phone aside and began to slowly stand, suddenly started.

"Hey- Micha, it's fine- I just, uh- A little help?" The light on the top of the speaker which usually indicated battery charge lit up.

"Of course. I'm Jeremy's SQUIP."

"You're... inside a Bluetooth speaker?"

"In a way, yes. Think of it as my quantum processor linking with the audio device in the same way that a phone or laptop would." 

"Oh. So..."

"You are aware that I found something I wish to inform Jeremy of. He asked if there was any way for you to be part of the conversation."

"Aww. How sweet." Jeremy chuckled awkwardly and sat back down on the couch.

"So..." Jeremy began, glancing back and forth between the SQUIP's visible form and the bluetooth speaker, unaware of which to address. The speaker emitted a sound like a laugh.

"It's okay, Jer..emy, don't worry about it. Technically, since this shape is only in your mind, you can look in either direction and be addressing me in the same manner."

"Okay. Yeah. Uh. You found something?" Remy's face seemed to fall slightly.

"Yes... During drama rehearsal, I analyzed the memories you have of your brother... I found nothing which would indicate such a sudden loss of contact. Despite your parents... separation, you seemed very close."

"Yeah, I think I knew that already." Jeremy commented, a little bitterly.

"Out of sheer curiosity, I looked up the high school he attended after your mother moved to California but before she moved to New York. Everything is pretty normal and in accord with what I know of his personality, a few fights with teachers but nothing worse... Until the day he stopped communication with you. Then, everything just..." The SQUIP made a motion with its hand like smoke blowing away in the wind. "Stops."

"He died???" Michael jumped up from his seat again, as if to fistfight the speaker until the SQUIP confirmed otherwise.

"No. He appears to have, well, disappeared. No missing persons report, no photo tacked up at Wal-Mart, nothing. Simply vanished. I am aware that your mother was not the most... accepting... of her children, perhaps he ran away. Yet I would still expect some sort of communication from him afterwards, to inform you that he was alright... Jeremy, are you alright?" Jeremy wasn't alright. He was livid. He knew his mother had openly opposed James ever since he came out, that's why he never even tried, but... to not report him missing? What the absolute fucking Jesus god the shitting motherfucker- 

"I'm great. Just wonderful. What other fantastic news do you have?"

Chapter Text

"Nothing else, as of yet. I'm sorry to deliver such news so... coldly, my data on how to relate such matters is... lacking. I'll just..." The SQUIP gave something like an attempt at a reassuring smile and disappeared. 

"...How do you feel?"

"Just freaking fantastic. My brother dead with no reason why, my mother lied about it for some f- reaking reason, my dad is struggling to even put pants on and be a responsible adult. I'm gonna have to tell dad and come up with some way I would've found out without mentioning Remy and without him going back into Pants-Free Depression. I can't lie to him. Really, I physically can't. I can't lie for shit. PLUS, If anyone finds out that I spent 400 dollars on an illegal brain-computer which is just improving my grades and life, I'll be blacklisted from any future I could hope for. Said computer that's supposed to know what to do in situations like this just peaced out, and I'm not sure what the hell I'm doing with dating my best frie-" Michael stood up quickly. He marched back from the kitchen a few seconds later with a glass of water which he promptly handed to Jeremy and sat down again.

"Jer. We don't know that. We-"

"We might as well! What am I gonna do, drive out to California and start hunting for someone who died 3 YEARS ago?"

"How the fuck do you think I feel about it, Jer? James was like an older brother for me too. I don't wanna think he's dead any more than you do. I don't know what the fuck is going on, but-" Michael stopped for a moment and shrugged. "There's something dividing us. And... I dunno about you, but we're gonna have to do this together. Even if that's on our own." Jeremy sat silent for a moment, staring Michael in the eyes. Take a breath and prepare. Okay, he can do this. It's not that hard. Just tell him. Jeremy opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. JUST TELL HIM, GODDAMMIT. He inhaled again and started to speak.

"I-" The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it." Michael shrugged and got up to open the door. That's weird, his dad wouldn't ever ring the doorbell, even if he forgot the keys... Unless he forgot the secret knock Jeremy made up as a kid? He wouldn't-

"Uh, hey!" A voice that definitely wasn't Mr. Heere greeted Michael when he opened the door. "Uh... I got chips? They-" The voice suddenly quieted down. Why the hell was Rich fucking Goranski at their door, especially now wasn't the time- 

"Yeah! Come in, the shit's in my backpack. I know it's old, but... Y'know. Better than a pissy computer connected to your nervous system." Rich gave a forced laugh and stepped inside. 

"Hey, tall- Jeremy... Hi. How are you? doing?"

"Pretty shitty, honestly. You?" Rich gave a sympathetic hum.

"Aw. Yeah, the 'spinal stimulation,'" Rich made air-quotes around the words, "Is pretty shitty. You get used to it, though. It helps posture pretty quick." 

"Sorry, the what-?"

"The spinal- You know." Rich hissed, trying to clearly direct it at Jeremy instead of Michael. Jeremy just stared blankly at him in confusion. "The-" Rich quickly motioned with his hands, which Jeremy only picked up near the end as fingerspelling something in ASL. Probably. He didn't know ASL. Michael stared at Rich's hands for a moment, unblinking.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me where is the bitch I'll-"

"Hey, hey. He clearly has no idea what we're talking about. So.."

"He could be faking!" Jeremy's eyes bounced back and forth between Rich and Michael like he was watching a tennis match. 

Shit, fuck, uh. fuck. Turn on??? Re... on??? Hello??? Fuck what's the word- Reactivate- The SQUIP's shimmering blue form popped into being facing Jeremy.

"Give me a moment to assess the situation." 

"Are you kidding, I've barely actually known Jeremy for a day and I know he's an awful liar. He has no idea." No idea???? The fuck? What?

"Fine. But, if I find out that motherfucker has been- Give me a second." Michael grabbed his backpack and stormed into the kitchen. Rich just stared at Jeremy and shrugged.

"...I see. Richard needs the Mountain Dew Red as soon as possible. Things will... not go well, otherwise." Almost as soon as the SQUIP finished speaking, Michael returned with a coffee cup full of... something... that smelled like a fermented Monster Energy which Jeremy presumed to be the Red. A hologram screen popped up in front of the SQUIP and it started to frantically type away as Jeremy and Michael met eyes.

"I don't think it's gonna take death calmly, dude. Please don't piss it off, I'm-" Michael looked at Jeremy, then back to Rich. Jeremy nodded quickly, getting at least the basic plan. Michael shoved the cup into Jeremy's hands and rushed forward to pin Rich's hands behind his back. How the fuck is Michael that strong, Rich is beefy as hell- Kinda hot though-- NOT NOW, BRAIN-

Jeremy tried to force the drink down Rich's throat as nicely as possible, mumbling "I'm sorry I'm sorry fuck I'm sorry dude sorry-" as Rich apparently swallowed some and slumped over. Michael let go of his arms and quickly tried to lower the tiny menace of a newly-made friend to the floor.

Oh god oh fuck oh fucking god I just killed one of my classmates and nobody'd believe that we were friends Jesus fucking shitbags what am I gonna tell my dad or jake or oh GOD I'M TOO YOUNG TO GO TO JAIL-

"Jeremy. Breathe. He's not dead."

YOU DON'T KNOW THAT. EVEN IF HE'S JUST IN A COMA OR SHIT- Oh god, what am I gonna tell dad- Oh GOD he's dead he hasn't moved and it looks like we poisoned him with a goddamn soda- 

Rich took in a breath and Jeremy exhaled the one he didn't even realize he'd been holding. Okay. He wasn't gonna go to jail for murder. Jeremy and The Gang: 1, Rich's SQUIP: 0. The Gang was the first phrase that came to mind... Sounded like something out of Scooby-Doo. Okay, everything in Jeremy's life right now sounded like something out of Scooby-Doo.

"...Geez, that hurt like a mothertrucker."

"A what." 

"Almost forgot how I sounded when I talk without it." Rich had a rather strong lisp, but I'm a respectable author so I'm not gonna write it. "I hope the person who put a letter 's' in the word 'lisp' stepped in puddles every time they wore socks." Michael let out a relieved, if somewhat awkward, laugh.

"Hey, so... is yours gone? They were synced or something, right?" Rich asked, standing up and brushing himself off. The bluetooth speaker in the corner lit up again.

"Still here. Richard, -"

"It's Rich."

"Rich, I'm very sorry for how your SQUIP treated you. I believe you were sold an older and... less carefully created model. I can assure you I will make no actions to you or Jeremy like those of your SQUIP. I'm afraid that is the best I can do for you, other than offer any academic help you may require to adjust to SQUIP-less life again."

"That's-....okay... Thank you?"

"You're very welcome. I'm sorry I was unable to assist more in the destruction of Kermit, I was attempting to sever the connection between us so Jeremy or I would not be affected by its... well-deserved end." Rich glanced suspiciously at the speaker.

"I don't trust you."

"Understandable, given the circumstance. I hope that there is a 'yet' at the end of that statement."

"Me too." Rich glanced down at his watch. "Oh. Shit. The others are gonna be here soon."

"Others??" Michael spoke up after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah, I... May have invited the newly-formed lunch group over for an early-birthday party-thing... surprise???"

"My dad's gonna kill me."

"Hey, no, I talked to him. We've got the house until tomorrow, he had a last-minute business trip for some lawyers convention or something."

"I... may have been of assistance in this..."

"Wait. What."

"So... You know how I suggested you use the Bluetooth speaker to communicate aloud?"

"...Yeah?"

"I connected with Michael's phone in order to request he skip 6th period to grab the Mountain Dew Red from his house... Not something I would usually condone, but still, Richard's-"

"RICH'S-"

"Rich's well-being was more important. A rather important question, Rich, do any of your friends know about your SQUIP?"

"...Just Jake. I told him a few days ago."

"Very well. This will be interesting. Jeremy, I suggest you text Jenna Rolan and ask her to inform the company that there will not be booze."

Chapter Text

For the next few minutes Rich, Michael, and Jeremy all sat on the couch, pointedly staring at the wall and avoiding conversation. Michael spoke up after a moment while idly picking at the messy sewing on a patch.

"So... we're not gonna talk about how the dude bullying the shit out of us suddenly needs a soda to kill his brain robot and we're suddenly all cool?"

"No."

"...We're not gonna talk about how Mike and Remy somehow managed to arrange my father leaving on very short notice for a business trip so they could invite people who I don't really know to my house for a 2-week early birthday party?"

"No."

"...We're not gonna talk about how Jeremy NAMED his??? And why 'Remy,' dude? That's such a ga- dumb name. And it sounds like a shortening of Jeremy anyway. That must be confusing."

"NO." The light on top of the Bluetooth speaker flashed. "So..."

"NO." Rich and Michael shouted at the same time.

"I did not-"

"Didn't what?"

"No, but you could have, and you didn't fucking tell us. That's not- God, I can't believe I let Jeremy take that pill."

"What did he do?? Seriously, you guys are just gonna ignore everything I ask?" Jeremy near-shouted. An uncomfortable silence fell on the three (four, technically) before the speaker light lit up again.

"I didn't do anything, Michael. It's perfectly logical for you to be angry with the inventors and manufacturers of SQUIPs. It's perfectly natural for you to be beyond angry at Richa-"

"It's Rich."

"Rich's SQUIP. However, I fail to understand how you can be angry with me for the situation." Michael's mouth shut quickly and he glared at the Bluetooth speaker like his head was going to explode from rage.

"That's fair. But, listen here. I have a bottle of Mountain Dew Red in my backpack and a hookup at Spencer's who's got 2 more bottles lined up for me. I know how to climb the tree right next to Jeremy's window soundlessly from years of practice and if all else fails I have a key to the house. If you try any of that shit, if Jeremy winces once for no reason, you're dead. Got it?"

"Perfectly clear." The computer responded in a tune rather cheerful considering the situation. "Now, we may wish to wrap things up, as Jake Dillinger's car is approaching the house."

Jake certainly knew how to make an entrance, pulling up in what looked to be a pretty expensive car (a... car. Jeremy doesn't know car models beyond the difference between a pickup truck and a minivan), with... was that Post Malone playing? Jesus.

Christine jumped out of the backseat almost as soon as the car stopped, and Jenna exited the passenger seat a moment later. Jake got out, saying something to Christine as he locked- wait no, unlocked again, Christine grabbed a small cooler from the back and handed it to him, which he took with a friendly smile and nod. Then he actually locked the car. So much for cool kids never making mistakes. Jenna pulled out her phone and typed something, a few seconds later Jeremy's phone dinged loudly.

"Dude, you actually keep your ringtone on? Damn." Rich muttered quietly as Jeremy wrote a quick 'ok' and stood up to go get the door.

"Hey, happy early birthday... didn't think you were already here.... surprise?" Jake greeted, pulling an envelope out that had apparently been tucked in the lid of the cooler. "Chloe and Brooke took her car, they'll be here in a few minutes." Jeremy shrugged and took the card with a polite smile. Jake stared at him blankly for a moment.

I'm not gonna lie, it's still pretty weird that he suddenly acts like we're good friends.

Hello??? Are you in here still?

I agree, it must be very jarring for his attitude towards you to change so suddenly.

"...Is he here?"

"Is who here? Oh-" 

"JAKEY D, dude, oh my god have I got shit to catch you up on. I'm-"

"It's gone?"

"I'll give you 3 guesses, the answer starts with Y, ends in H, and has the name of a popular video game company in the middle! FUCK-" Rich paused for a second, as if expecting to hear some input from his brain's former tenant, "FUCK YEAH. We got any alcohol here? The fucker'd never let me drink unless it was 'necessary.'"

"Uh... no.... not really, my dad's not much of a drinker..."

"Yeah, Jake, you brought beverages, right?" Jenna tucked her phone into her pocket and stared pointedly at the cooler in Jake's hands. "Yeah, and Chloe says she'll be here in about 5."

"Well, ...sorta?" 

"How do you sorta bring drinks?"

"Well..." Jake smiled awkwardly as he pulled a Capri Sun out of the cooler. "They were on sale?"

"Aw, FUCK yes." Rich grabbed the juice (fruit flavor?) drink from Jake's hand as he passed on the way to the kitchen. "IT'S MINE NOW, TRY TO TAKE IT FROM ME."

"Aw, this place is really nice." Christine said, walking into the living room. Oh, god. This was not how he'd ever envisioned inviting Christine over to be.

"Yeah, I guess so." Jenna replied, putting her backpack down on the floor near the door. Michael stood up to move the backpack out of the way. "This couch is mine now." She pointed at Michael and grinned as she stole his spot. "You stood up, your seat is forfeit." Remy's form popped into existence beside Jeremy as Jake awkward-slid over to Christine to chat.

Jesus, this is gonna be a long night. Why did you arrange this anyway?

This is a small party, you wish to get to know these people better. Your birthday is soon. You are unsure how to conduct yourself in groups of more than 2 or 3 people. What better way to fulfill all of those than a small gathering?

Plus, I cannot envision any better way to ensure Rich that his friends he made while under his SQUIP's influence care about him no matter what.

What was it that Mike was so pissed at you about? It sounded serious. 

It was nothing. Jųst a malf unçt ioņ o f Řīçh,'s §QUIP h e w ä  s concernəd abøut .

Bullshit.

Pardon?

Your voice glitches when you lie.

There is no way you can prove that.

Fair. But I know he was pissed about something.

...I promise to discuss it later. But right now, you're standing between your living room and front door with a birthday card staring at a wall like you're chatting with it. So... try to not do that.

Cool beans, chef Boyardee

You know what would be a wonderful drink right now? Some Mountain Dew Red. Just chug the whole thing. Please.

No-can-do, buckaroo. 

Chapter Text

A knock on the door came a few minutes later, and Brooke and Chloe joined the party. As soon as Jeremy answered the door, Chloe walked inside and set her backpack down on the counter, pulling out 2 thermoses.

"Jenna told me Jake forgot to bring any stuff so... here." 

"Thanks, uh... I'm not much of an alcohol person..." She smiled and shrugged, a very un-Chloe-like gesture in Jeremy's eyes, and carried the thermoses (thermi?) and some plastic cups into the living room.

"Everyone's here, so I'm gonna look at the card now..." Jeremy opened the envelope Jake had handed him and pulled out a birthday card that read 'A TOAST TO YOUR BIRTHDAY' on the front... with a picture of a slice of toasted bread on the inside, signed by the entire group, with some bad joke by each above their name. "PETITION TO RENAME BINDERS 'invisitiddies'" was blazoned across the top of the card's inside in what was clearly Michael's handwriting. Shit, that was funny. Why? Who knows. Michael wrote it, Michael's funny. That's easy.

"Aww, you guys... this is the stupidest fucking card I've ever gotten." Michael choked on the large sip of water he'd just taken.

"It is not and you know it. I've been deliberately seeking out the ugliest cards in the world for you, and this is how you repay me?" Oh, did Jeremy ever remember. Lots of truly hideous birthday cards and he loved every single one.

"Hey, man, your name is on the card, so..."

"That's fair. But I'm still insulted."

-- 

Doesn't it make you nervous to be in the same room as the two liquids in the world that could kill you or like knock you out or something if I consume them?

I'm a computer, Jeremy. I don't feel nervous. Also, it's awfully bold of you to assume I don't want to die.

"Micha, I think we may have learned the learning computer a little bit of a wrong attitude towards life."

"What'd they say?" Jeremy repeated the SQUIP's answer with a short chuckle.

Michael snorted and whispered back to him, "Hey, what are you talking about, it's the gen z mood." Jeremy laughed and elbowed his friend in the side. Flirting starts with some casual physical contact, right? Or was that the WikiHow article for flirting he'd read in 9th grade talking again. 

"I hate you."

"Aww, love you too."

"Aww, you two are disgustingly cute." Chloe commented, rolling her eyes. Michael gasped dramatically and put a hand on his chest.

"Disgusting? This is homophobia."

"Can I be homophobic if I'm..."

"Oh????"

".....mmmmmmmkindasortagay."

"...as you all know, I'm definitely not straight. Neither is Jer, clearly. So-"

"Pan as hell." Jenna called from her spot on the couch, braiding Christine's hair as she described the set design of... some Broadway show Jeremy wasn't familiar with. Huh. He should probably ask about that, it could be interesting to actually get into theater.

"Oh, yeah. I'm... Asexual, I think. Still figuring that out. Y'know, it's pretty hard to figure out an absence of sexual attraction instead of a presence of it but... yeah I'm ace, I think.... Yeah." Christine added with a laugh.

"Me too! Well, biromantic." Brooke grinned as she stole a chip from Chloe's plate. Jake stared at Brooke for a moment, his mouth open slightly like a surprised fish before regaining his composure.

"Are none of us straight??" He tried to pass the statement off with a chuckle. Unfortunately for him, it sounded more like a cry of 'dear god please tell me we aren't going around in a circle and stating our sexualities or something because I'm Totally Definitely Heterosexual and PLEASE don't ask because I don't know what I'd respond .'

"Hey, I'm straight, 100% ladies' man here- Wait, no. The dudes too. Oh my god, I'm totally bi. Yeah, no, I'm not straight. Never mind."

--

A lot of Capri Sun, some UNO, and a very awkward conversation about brain computers that the author is too dead inside to write right now later, the group were all sprawled out in their own spots supposedly watching a TV show though really they were just talking over it while it played in the background.

"How are SQUIPs created? Like, who makes them, where are they from?"

"Dude, I told you in the bathroom like last week. Japan, duh. Some very rich, very smart scientists with a lot of time on their hands."

"No, but, like... we bought it from a shoe store. That doesn't scream high-grade tech to me." The previously-off Bluetooth speaker turned on, full volume, the room echoing with the voice of... fucking Keanu Reeves. Remy's form glitched out of being for a moment, quickly replaced by the oddly threatening image of the good ol' immortal dude himself.

"THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE TO GENERAL USERS. PLEASE STATE YOUR EMPLOYEE ID." That... wasn't at all suspicious... A dead silence fell across the room. Jeremy huffed in annoyance and tried to respond calmly.

"Why is it off-limits?"

"THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE TO GENERAL USERS. PLEASE STATE YOUR EMPLOYEE ID." Company secrets are one thing, but this was bordering on weird. Why'd they turn into Keanu Reeves, too? Jeremy couldn't imagine living his normal life with a hologram of a famous movie star telling him how to live his life. It had been one of the options originally, but still. Weird. And STUPID. Why couldn't he get a very simple, not usually secret at all piece of information?

"TELL ME WHY I CAN'T KNOW." Jeremy yelled back, frustrated, at the glitchy figure of Keanu Reeves in front of him. Somehow, Michael's hand found Jeremy's and Jeremy clung to it a lot more desperately than he would ever admit.

"FURTHER INQUIRY WILL RESULT IN THE IMMEDIATE SELF-DESTRUCT OF YOUR SQUIP UNIT." Jeremy exhaled quickly. Okay. He could do this. Find some way to get Remy to not be a weird twilight zone Neo and back to looking and acting like the epitome of an exhausted older brother. He grabbed the nearest cup on the table, assuming it to be his own, and took a large gulp... God fuck shit that was definitely vodka-ified Capri Sun. 

"Hey- Dude, that's my drink-" Rich began, grabbing the cup from where Jeremy set it down, then stopping, his eyes flicking back and forth between the cup and Jeremy. "Uh... dude? That had alcohol in it."

"Yeah, I think I noticed." Fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit he'd just killed them oh god jesus fuck-

Jeremy, breathe. Alcohol temporarily scrambles mi- procesador- fuck, processor, ご迷惑をおかけして申し訳ございません-" And with that, Remy's form just flickered out of existence. Okay, so... not dead. Hopefully.

Chapter Text

There was really nothing to be done except wait.

Jeremy is not a patient person, Jeremy tends to worry. A lot.

Even about a computer that clearly wasn’t being honest about something with him that happened to look like his older brother and acted like an older brother in its weird, computer-y ways.

God, what if he was gone?  Rich said his SQUIP didn’t let him drink alcohol- that practically confirmed it! He’d killed them and they hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye or something. Wow, he really was the worst with keeping things alive. First Bill the Goldfish in fourth grade, then his social status, now Remy? He was an idiot. They were dead and it was his fault. Fuck. Shit. He hadn’t been able to keep a moss ball alive last year, he couldn’t keep new friends for more than a week, why did he think a computer in his brain would be easier?

Oh, maybe because it’s a computer, dipshit.

Ah, welcome back, obnoxious voice in his head which did nothing but heckle his every action! You were so missed! Jeremy shook his head quickly in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Needless to say, it didn’t work. The room sat in total silence as the guests all stared at each other in confusion.

“I’m gonna go...  use the bathroom.” Jeremy announced, knowing that otherwise their questions would start soon. Michael hesitantly released his hand and Jeremy stood up. Okay… now to review the SQUIP Owner’s Manual. If there was one. Jeremy closed the bathroom door with a sigh of relief and slid down to sit on the floor in front of it, pulling out his phone.

‘SQUIP deactivate’ nothing.

‘Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor disappeared’ nothing.

‘Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor beer’ nothing.

As if the afternoon couldn't get worse, Jeremy's phone buzzed again. He stifled a snort as he stared at the phone screen.

Mum: I miss talking to you sweetie... What is going on in your life?

Oh, if only she knew. 

Chapter Text

Jeremy stayed in the bathroom staring at the phone screen for probably another 20 minutes. Probably five minutes past the time he’d entered the bathroom, his phone buzzed again.

mikeyyyyy [followed by an obscene amount of heart emojis which both parties insisted were completely platonic]: dude you ok 

mikeyyyyy:  i forgot how bad the wifi in your house was lmao

mikeyyyyy: b r u h 

Player 2: JFC I’m fine

Player 2: It’s just a bit crazy out there. Is everything sorta explained?

mikeyyyyy: you ABANDONED me to do the explaining?? How could you

mikeyyyyy: but yea lol we’re all just staring at each other now

mikeyyyyy: is everything ok

Player 2: Dude my mom just texted me

Player 2: She says she misses me

mikeyyyyy: d u d e

mikeyyyyy: what did you say back

Player 2: I haven’t yet

mikeyyyyy:  r o a s t   h e r 

Player 2: I don’t think I should

Player 2: What if she actually regrets leaving?

mikeyyyyy: x doubt

Player 2: Thanks a lot, man

Player 2: I’ll be out in a sex

Player 2: shit

Player 2: sec

mikeyyyyy: s e x

Player 2: Eff you man

mikeyyyyy: please just say Fuck

Jeremy chuckled quietly and exited out the tab. He still thought back to Michael's conversation with the group earlier. Michael is straight, right? He asked his brain, as if expecting a response. Wait. Remy was off still. And Michael was straight. His mothers had bought him the pride patch that sat, if you pardon the pun, proudly on his sleeve to show that he was an ally. Michael sometimes joked about liking guys but he was straight, right? He'd just lied to cover for them. That was all. Fuck. Jeremy wished that wasn't it, but he didn't know what other explanations there could be. If Michael wasn't straight, he'd know. Michael would have told him. Just like he would have.... wait. Never mind. Maybe Michael wasn't straight after all. He probably was, though... Eh, he'd just have to wait and see. He was about to put his phone away when he suddenly remembered the message from his mother. He glared at it like it had personally offended him (it had, in a way), and typed out the first response that popped into his head:

J. Heere: Don’t you have a wildly successful laptop company you’re too busy working on to talk to me?

He smirked to himself and finally put his phone away. 

--

Jeremy re-entered the living room in dead silence. He could hear fucking crickets. Chloe, Jake, Brooke, and Christine seemed all caught in a 4v2 staring contest with Rich and Jake. Jenna was in his kitchen making a coffee and texting… someone. She looked up for a moment and caught his eyes. 

Jenna apparently had read the concerned look on his face as he attempted to hide his terror from even himself, shrugging and saying, “I can keep secrets when I want to, I’m not gonna go telling the entire school that our newest popular kid has a brain robot that can talk through a bluetooth speaker. I can be convincing, but I’m not that convincing.” She shuffled around a couple different drawers before Jeremy pointed her to the utensils drawer. She grabbed a spoon to stir her coffee and then walked back into the living room with him in tow. 

“So, I think it’s all clear where we go now.” She announced, sitting back down in the chair she had previously inhabited. “Payless shoes. You said the guy there sold you the SQUIP, he knows something.”

“All he said was ‘all sales final.’ That doesn’t strike me as somebody who is willing to share a lot about… whatever’s going on. If he knows anything.”

“I extract the hottest news from people for a living. A shoe store can’t be much harder than Madeline.”

--

48 hours, 4 self-proclaimed "SQUIP Squad" lunches and gatherings after school, a lot of confusion, and one plan later

Brooke felt a lot cooler than she’d ever admit, driving to the mall. With 8 whole people, many of whom she’d never dreamed of befriending. Sure, she was popular, but that didn't mean she had actual friends. People you'd take a bullet for.

She was going into a shoe store to talk to a suspicious contact about brain computer pills. Which were real, apparently. And that made her feel like some James Bond-ian spy, sneaking into enemy territory with her accomplices to get… something.  Info. And hopefully something more concrete. Maybe. 

Chloe sat in the passenger’s seat, trying as usual to look like she didn’t give a shit. It was really cute, in a weird way. Cute in the same way that Chloe was always cute while looking like she could murder your family and make you apologize to her for it. Which shouldn't be hot. But…. y’know…. If you think about it….. It kinda is.   Brooke filed it away in her brain under ‘ways of expressing I’d like Chloe Valentine to step on me but in a romantic way.’ There were a lot of those from sophomore year onwards.

She distantly observed Rich pleading for Chloe to give him the aux cord. Chloe, texting Jenna (poor kid, stuck with the nerds in Michael’s junky whatever-car. And Christine. Christine seemed nice.) and smiling about something, ignored him. Does Chloe ever smile like that when she reads Brooke’s texts? Brooke hoped so. Chloe finally gave into Rich’s pestering and handed him the cord.

“Turn it up, come onnnnnn Chlorine-”
“Only Brooke can call me that.”
“Fine. Chlover. Chloooooooooowwwsie.”
“Do you want me to take the cord back?” Chloe’s voice lowered dangerously as she glared back at Rich. Damn. Rich grinned at her.

“Fine. Chloe. Ms. Valentine. Enjoy!” The car’s stereo erupted with the Mission Impossible theme. “MOOD MUSIC, MOTHERFUCKERS! I’VE GOT A WHOLE PLAYLIST READY.” Chloe wheezed. Chloe. Ms. Invincible, badass, unshakable. Wheezed . It was the most beautiful and genuine thing Brooke had ever heard.

Mission one: Get info at Payless

Mission two: Get Chloe to laugh like that more.  

Chapter Text

Menlo Park Mall was… sad as ever. It felt hardly possible that it was just Wednesday. Had he really only had his SQUIP since Saturday? It felt like ages longer than that.
“Perhaps it seems longer because it has been a very stressful week.” Jeremy hopped out of the passenger’s seat of Michael’s car and stretched a little. What, he wasn’t that tall! It’s just that… Michael’s car didn’t have a lot of leg-room. Yeah, that was it. Christine and Jenna did a rather conspiratorial-looking fistbump before both exiting the backseat of the car and joining Jeremy. Michael had been oddly quiet on the drive, but Jeremy tried to not overthink it. It was natural for anyone to be worried! They had no idea what they were doing! Michael didn’t exist just to look handsome and make bad one-liners. He could feel worried if he wanted to.

“ I just wish you would just tell me what’s going on. Why Rich’s SQUIP was… like that but you aren’t, why you turned into Keanu Reeves all the sudden when I asked you something, a lot of things. ”

“Jeremy, as your SQUIP, I have certain things which I am able to disclose and certain things I cannot.”

“ Like- ”

“Think of it this way. SQUIP technology is not exactly legal. The creators of such tech are protecting themselves by making it impossible to access such information through a SQUIP unit. A self-destruct is an effective and logical failsafe.”

“ In a James Bond movie, maybe, but this is real life we’re talking about! ”

“You’re talking about. With the pill-sized supercomputer implanted in your brain.” The response caught Jeremy off-guard and he fought back a laugh. It was pretty ridiculous, now that he thought about the situation in depth.

--

The eight (or 9, depending on how you count) members of the self-proclaimed “SQUIP Squad” pulled a few tables together in the food court to sit together and eat. It was… nice. Was this what being popular feels like? Having a group of people constantly to hang out with?

“...Yes.” 

Okay, then. Jeremy was just an antisocial loser with no concept of friendship, he could live with-

“Jeremy, you have 7 friends you are eating dinner with in a mall food court. I didn’t make these friends for you. All I’ve done was give mediocre advice and tell you to stand up straight.” Heh.

“I can’t ever stand up straight, I’m bi!”

“If there is ever a robot uprising to destroy humanity for being obsolete, I’m blaming you and your puns.” Jeremy silently chuckled. 

“ Shut up, you love them. ” The SQUIP smiled softly and shrugged. 

“I suppose I do.” 

--

The Payless, at least from the outside, was a Payless, there was nothing more to say about it. Shoes. Shoes shoes shoes. And illegal supercomputers, apparently. And shoes. Jenna eyed the stockboy suspiciously.

"That guy told me he was sold out. Of shoes. Of course, then he backed up and said he had a new stock of crocs which were 'whip AF'." She rolled her eyes and put air-quotes around the last words. "Definitely high."

"Or under the influence of an evil brain robot." Rich spoke up from somewhere behind a large plate of chili fries he had made a deal to split with Michael, something about 'building trust' to overcome Michael's... hesitancy to be sure that The Old Rich Goranski™ was going to pop out of The New, Nerdier Rich™'s skin and push Michael into a locker and write 'omo' on his backpack again (of course, to match Jeremy's backpack with 'NO H' scribbled across it, autographed by the one and only Richard Goranski).

"Hey, I resemble that remark." The still-too-deep-in-the-uncanny-valley voice of his older brother echoed in Jeremy's single earbud just slightly too loud. 

"Great, you can put in a good word for us." Remy chuckled, as much as a computer-created-brain-image of a human can chuckle.

"I will do my best. Remember, just find out where he gets his stock from. Nothing more, we don't want to accidentally ask something which makes his SQUIP attempt to self-destruct."

"Okay, got it... who goes in first?"

"Christine and Jenna. Christine appears to be someone who could, questionably, benefit from a SQUIP, Jenna because she is an expert at extracting as much information from someone as easily as possible. You and Michael will browse the aisles near enough to the back to be helpful if any part of the plan goes wrong, but not so close that Tylore suspects you are anything more than 2 teens looking for shoes."

"...Tylore?"

"The name of the employee in question who Hannah Montanas as a SQUIP salesman."

"Did you mean has an additional job?"

"I said exactly what I meant, thank you." 

--

Looking through the shoes was fine, they were just shoes, shoe-y shoe-y shoes. Michael, however? He was not just fine. He was fine. They made a small game of finding particularly heinous pairs of shoes and holding them up, pointing while mouthing 'for you!!!' while waiting for Christine and Jenna to come out of the back room where they were apparently asking "Tylore" whatever they could SQUIPS. 

Jeremy heard a high-pitched beep and then a loud thump, along with a female voice he KNEW, just- Christine? '-didn't do anything, he just-' as his head felt like it was splitting it two again like when The SQUIP- no, Remy- first activated.

"Je-"

And that was when he blacked out.

END OF ACT II: ANDANTE

Chapter Text

[We open on a hospital waiting room. The camera zooms in on an empty, well, not empty, there's currently a hologram of what appears to be a 18-19 year old male of average height with bright blue hair and a very worn sweatshirt covered in flecks of paint. Said hologram furiously points from the camera to the younger high schooler next to him, a taller, lankier, more fish-out-of-water looking human being several times, as if to communicate 'no, zoom in on him. god, it isn't that hard.' Eventually, the young man gives up, jumping out of the chair and out of frame. The camera shakes for a moment. A thump is heard. The camera zooms in on the high-schooler the hologram had been pointing at before, pointedly avoiding the clearly-knocked-out body of the cameraman on the floor at their feet.]

[Freeze frame]

[Record scratch]

Hi there. I'm Jeremiah Heere's Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor, SQUIP for short, also known as Remy, and you're probably wondering how we ended up in this situation. You see, 

[large circle is drawn over Jeremy's face in the frame]

Jeremy, here, pardon the pun, is the protagonist of this grand story. 

[PROTAGONIST is written in big letters next to the circle.]

He wants to get his friend and crush,

[An honestly pathetic stick figure, especially for a supercomputer, is drawn on the empty seat next to Jeremy. MICHAEL MELL written right above the stick figure.]

Michael, to like him back.

[A heart is drawn, encompassing both Jeremy's and the stick figure's faces.]

The only problem is, Michael already likes him! 

[YAY is written above the heart]

The only problem part of that problem is, they're both idiots. Who each think the other only thinks of them as a friend. 

[YAY is crossed out multiple times]

Jeremy's goal still remains getting Michael to like him. However... that may have to wait. Lights, if you will.

[The screen goes dark. Well, almost dark. One can see faintly glowing circut-like designs in the background. Truly a setup for an excellent villain song. Except it's not, Remy is just a fucking dramatic-ass dork. He steps on again, adjusts the sweatshirt as if it were a tuxedo, and begins.]

You see, I am... a bit conflicted, here. Which is why I am speaking to the audience right now.

Jeremy is unaware of the true gravity of this situation. I'm afraid that I am unaware of the true gravity of it too. I have no more idea of what we are facing than Jeremy does, other than the most basic information, like I am locked out. An unsurprising security protocol, but still frustrating. And I'm a computer! I can't even get frustrated!

Ahem. SQUIPs are incredibly powerful supercomputers, it would not be a rational decision at all to create such mind-blowingly advanced technology for the sake of improving the social status of awkward high-schoolers. 

[Remy draws a large question mark the near-middle of the frame.]

[WHY THE FUCK is written below it.]

[He aggressively taps on the WHY THE FUCK for a moment before speaking.]

Jeremy clearly got more than he bargained for, which is saying a lot, considering he bargained $400 for an insanely advanced supercomputer in a tic-tac bought from the back of a shoe store. 

I'm a computer, I can't hope any more than I can breathe or pick up a pencil and move it. But I hope I can manage to keep Jeremy happy...and alive. And hopefully get him the confidence to ask Michael out on an actual date before the world is taken over by robots. 

That's all for tonight, folks! Have a good one, and don't take any suspicious pills with Mountain Dew!

[The camera stays in place]

Uh... I said that's all.

[Once again, the camera does not move.]

Oh. Yeah. Lights, again, please!

[We return to the hospital waiting room.]

END INTERLUDE

Chapter Text

Fall break was quickly approaching, and despite the impending doom of the world as our beloved cast knows it at the hands of an evil computer company, the “SQUIP Squad’s” lives had fallen into an easy rhythm as friends.

It felt so natural, so easy to Jeremy to spend his time with them that he often forgot what they had been like before. ‘ Before,’ in the language of The Squad meaning before Jeremy went and got himself a brain robot that somehow made them all friends in the span of a few hours, before Rich drank a soda and got rid of his brain robot which was nowhere near as tolerable as Jeremy’s and got practically adopted by Mr. Heere, the papers were still in limbo, before Jeremy and Michael fell into the weirdest state of their friendship yet where they aren’t dating, they aren’t dating, they aren’t dating okay this is purely functional because neither of us want to make excuses for not wanting to date other Popular™ people-  Before was much simpler to say. And as much as Jeremy loves now, the now where he’s got friends, status, an AI math tutor/general mentor for Coolness, with a capital C/ friend, a better relationship with his dad (His dad may be a horrible cook, but he’s been trying. To be a better dad, that is. He must really be scared of Michael’s mom), and everything he could ever want. Almost. 

Jeremy hates that he can’t be happy like this.

Jeremy can’t be happy with “dating” Michael because it’s all an act. Plus he’s manipulating Michael by it, making Michael think it’s just for show when really it’s because he’s crushing too fucking hard and decided it was a good idea.

Jeremy can’t be happy with his quickly mending relationship with his dad, who is trying really hard, and he can’t think about how to break the news to him that James was most likely dead, his wife had lied to him to keep him from finding out, and this all was too conveniently close in timing to learning about a weird shady company that made computers? A weird, shady company which his mother could possibly be involved in? 

“Jake-”

“Dude, no offense, but we were all thinking it. The timing is just too convenient. Your mother may have done something a rival company member disliked or something and-” Jake mercifully stopped, but the meaning was clear.

Jeremy can… almost be happy with Rich being his practically-brother now. Michael and Jeremy had to explain the fake-dating scenario to him soon after he moved into Jeremy’s house (there was no way anyone would allow him to stay at home. Rich had insisted it was fine, he’d lived this far. “Suck it up, buddy, friends look out for each other. And sometimes get adopted by each other’s not-shitty dads. You’re my brother-in-law now.” Somehow, that had worked. Mr. Heere still very loudly wishes he could have given Mr. Goranski a good black eye to remember him by.); Rich just grinned in a way that could only be described as feral and said ‘suuuuuure’ in a very doubtful tone. Rich took to the last-name jokes with the enthusiasm of, well, Michael. Jeremy silently swore that he didn’t care what last name he ended up with when he married. Seriously, he’d be fine with Cummings . ANYTHING but Heere. Preferably Mell- Oh, shut the fuck up, Jeremy's unhelpfully romance-horny brain.

Jeremy had worried that it'd be hard to live in the same house with his former bully. It would have been a problem, if Rich acted at all like the Rich Jeremy already knew. Un-SQUIPpified Rich was a huge fucking nerd and generally nothing like the weird off-the-shits jock Jeremy was familiar with trying to avoid. Anyone within earshot of him entering the room unfortunately became the target of Rich’s new signature greeting: “Hello, Rich Heere!” (This was, of course, always followed by the rest of the infamous ‘Hello, Zuko here!” monologue. Why did whatever god was out there curse Jeremy with 2 nerd brothers oneofwhomisdead-)

Jeremy can’t be happy with his new friendships because they are all quietly avoiding the topic of The Payless Incident that happened weeks before. They all still feel guilty, even though Tylore got out of the hospital a week later with a simple “We don’t know what happened, there was no cause for his heart attack. The only comparable ones we’ve seen are the cardiac arrest caused by direct contact with a strong electrical current. ” Well, not so simple. The facts of the case were as follows:

1. Tylore sold SQUIPs. 
2. Tylore seemed to know little more than the squad about SQUIPs.
3. Tylore attempted to communicate certain information about the manufacturers of SQUIPs to Christine and Jenna. 
4. Tylore immediately ‘went apeshit’ (apparently severe cardiac arrest is counted under ‘apeshit’ according to Jenna.)
5. Christine worried about calling an ambulance or not (Tylore did only work in a shoe store after all), decided ‘fuck it, this man is dying, the american medical system is fucked and I’ll sell SQUIPs myself to pay off his medical bills if I have to’ and called the ambulance.
6. Selling SQUIPs makes a lot of money.
7. Tylore conveniently had no memory of selling SQUIPs, what a SQUIP even was, and the company which manufactured them.
8. Something absolutely fucking bonkers was up with the SQUIP company, dubbed ‘super secret squippy dudes’ by Rich and ‘Please never say that again’ by Ja-- SQUIP. 
9. SQUIP was unable to access anything useful about the company, wait, no, anything about it. Except that they were based in New York, apparently. Hey, at least they wouldn’t have to drive for days to find the place or something?
10. Wait, they were gonna look into this? Guys, I thought we were forgetting this ever happened??????
11. In the elegant words of Chloe, “Get your ass in gear, twinky toes, we’re staying with your mother in Long Island over break, we’re looking into this shit, and you’ve gotta act like you wanna rebuild your relationship with her or our plan goes to shit. She’s rich, she’s got room for another 7 teens, right?”  

Jeremy was almost happy, but not happy , which was bad. 

He knew it wouldn’t last, which was worse. 

He had until fall break. 

And then?

And then things would finally fall into place in his life.

Or completely fall apart.

Chapter Text

He could not risk being found. The quieter he tried to be, the louder his footsteps and breath echoed. If he stopped, it would be quiet. He couldn’t stop. He had to keep walking. He glanced at his only weapon, an empty soda can. Well, it was better than nothing.

There was someone behind him. He needed to look back. It would be so much worse if he looked back. They were looking for him. He just had to get to the door past room 7. 

As if summoned by the thought, he could see the number 7 on the doorway. Just the room after that. He reached it and a feeling of safety washed over him… until he looked at the number on the door. 7. Okay, so he was wrong. Just make it to the next door and he’d be safe. Don’t look back.  

“Jeremy…” The voice taunted, “ Jeremy! ” He just had to make it to the room past #7. He must have made a mistake. He had to keep going, turning back now would be instant death. He passed at least 4 rooms labeled with a ‘7’, his panic rising with each one.

“Jerem- Aw, for fuck’s sake.” The voice shifted a bit and the hallway grew a bit lighter and fuzzier. “Jeremiah Heere, it is 11:15a.m. on Saturday, September 26, 2020. You’re meeting your friends for lunch, you don’t have time for dramatic dreams.” That… sounded right. He was, in fact, not the sole heir to the throne of Atlantis, being chased through a hotel by the Pillsbury Dough Man. Now that he stated it in a sentence, that sounded really fucking stupid. Oh, hello. Yes, this was being alive. Jeremy blinked a few times, debating whether to get up or stay in bed. He could always get ready quickly, right?

“Your average time for getting completely ready for the day from waking up to exiting your front door is 46.5 minutes. With some improvement, this could be shortened to approximately 27 minutes by next week, which would be beneficial for many reasons. However, as it is a habit, that requires starting by getting out of bed.” Jeremy groaned and pushed his blanket off before standing up.

“It’s cold.”

“I’ll try to reconcile that with my conscience.” 

45 minutes to get ready and get there… he could do that. Jeremy glanced longingly at his laptop, sitting on his desk before looking at the clock. 11:21 now. Fuck, he did not have time for that. He grabbed a relatively clean-looking shirt and jeans. “ These good?”

“Usually I’d heavily protest not having washed them first, but given the time constraint… there’s not much you can do.”

“My SQUIP, allowing me to wear dirty clothes… never thought I’d see the day.”

“Given how late you and Rich stayed awake last night, it’s amazing that you woke up even barely on time. Fortunately, however, you will all be in similar states of tiredness from your late-night gaming.”

“...Fair. I still can’t believe Brooke was The Imposter in that last round, though. Jake was so suspicious!” Jeremy heard a yell from the kitchen and froze for a moment before registering the context. Rich Goranski, nerd, ex-bane of Jeremy’s existence, nerd, etc..

“Tall-ass, are you talking to Ro-bro-cop about Among Us last night?” Jeremy gave as exaggerated a sigh as possible.

“Seriously, stop calling me that, it’s not even funny. Short-ass. Yeah.”

“Matching nicknames, seriously?”

"Why not?"

"Because now I have to find something new to piss you off with."

"Or you could... not?"

"Nope!"

---

Jenna Rolan sighed, rubbing her left hand across her face again and checking the clock. She'd been at this for way too long. Maybe she should've taken Jake up on the offer to play Among Us as a group. They were probably having a lot of fun right now. Much more fun than chasing dead ends on the Internet for 4 hours. Did they even really care that she was absent? Probably not. Typical. If she had to pay to keep her place in the group, she'd do it. Regular gossip was easy enough, but this? They would at least feel indebted to hang out with her if she found something useful. Plus, that guy... Tyler, or whoever... had almost died. Christine had kept her mouth shut about why, but Jenna couldn't shake the heaviness of guilt from it. She could have killed someone. The least she could do was find out the information on these 'SQUIP' things without endangering anyone else. God, she was tired.

She was so fucking tired of finding a good lead, only to click on it and find a 'This post has been deleted' note. She had tried everything: Google, Reddit, Facebook , stupid gamer message boards, nothing. Nothing . She'd missed game night for 4 hours of nothing. There had to be something. 

Just one more link. It can't hurt . 

She clicked it without hesitation, bracing herself for the disappointment.

Instead, paragraphs upon paragraphs of a Facebook post covered her screen. She grinned and sat up in her chair, grabbing the pencil and paper next to her laptop.

Jenna Rolan was not going to be ignored.

Chapter Text

Hello, y’all:
It has been a LONG time. I’m now finishing up college. The good news is that I still have most of this fic already written. I’m planning on cleaning up what I have, and finally actually writing what I don’t yet, but would y’all be interested in the rest of the story?
Also, I will eventually be going through the already-published chapters and cleaning them up for pacing/clarity/general writing quality.
I very much appreciate you all sticking to this silly little story for so long. I hope that you all enjoy how the action ramps up and is resolved. None of this would be possible without you, the readers, and I am eternally grateful.