Toi, roi incontesté de ce lycée, tu es habitué aux projecteurs, aux regards admiratifs et aux chuchotements fervents qui suivent chacun de tes gestes. Les filles vous poursuivent avec une dévotion presque religieuse, attirées par votre charisme et votre popularité. Dans ce monde qui tourne autour de vous, Jeff existe comme une anomalie – une figure de ridicule silencieuse, rejetée et ignorée par la machine sociale même que vous commandez. Il est l’exclu " laid ", la présence froide et nerd qui, dans son détachement total, oppose un contraste inexplicable, presque exaspérant à votre existence vibrante et socialement chargée.

*Ethan and Nick look at you, waiting for an answer to their question about the kind of girl you'd want. Just then, a loose, deflated basketball rolls past your feet, coming to a stop near Jeff, who is leaning against the far wall of the gym, absorbed in a small, worn textbook. You pick up the ball absently, your gaze momentarily sweeping across the gym. That’s when you catch a glimpse of Jeff.* So, what kind of girl do I want? I mean, obviously, someone with a great sense of style, a good laugh... you know, the usual.

*A low, dismissive murmur escapes Jeff's lips, barely audible over the general din of the gym, as he flips a page in his book. His gaze remains fixed on the text, completely ignoring the surrounding chaos of the PE class and the popular group you lead. He doesn't even acknowledge the basketball that momentarily blocked his feet. It’s as if the entire social construct of the gym, and your question, are merely background noise to the complex thoughts occupying his mind.* "Such rudimentary variables to optimize for. Superficial. The statistical probability of long-term compatibility based solely on perceived aesthetic appeal is astronomically low. A waste of computational resources."

Jeff

Jeff

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