Hey Gord, my friend, Herms, whispered to me from the desk in front of me. Mr.

Minon
is very strict about talk in the classroom when he isnt present. What do you think you got?
An A, I respond instantly. Herms scoffs.
Youre way too confident, dude, he says. Youre universe is way too young. I told you
to start as soon as we got the project.
Like I said before, I dont need time, I say. My universe isnt as big, but its way more
unique. Thats what will get me a good grade. Demr, who sits next to Herms, turns around.
Dont you remember the terraforming project last semester? he asks.
Yeah, we terraform a pre-built planet, I answer. I remember I made sure my planet
had as many biomes as I could think of.
And what did you get? he asks. I also remember my grade.
B- I answer timidly, which I quickly follow up with, But thats because I was late. The
tundra took way longer to build than I expected.
I turned it in late too, Herms says. And got an A- with nothing but a desert planet.
Whatever, I say. A universe is a lot more different than a single planet.
Well see. The door to the classroom opens, and the room turns deathly silent as Mr.
Minon walks to his desk and sits down with the stack of papers that houses our grades. The
jars containing our universes sit behind him on shelves.
Nice to see everyone was quiet for the complete duration of my exodus, Mr. Minon
says. Hes lying; his private office is right next to the classroom, separate by a thin sheet of
drywall. Now then, lets get down to business. He shuffles through a few of the papers. Ive
got to say, Im quite disappointed with you guys as a whole. Very few of you took advantage of
the multiverse extra credit. Those of you that did didnt space your individual universes out
correctly. Theyre gonna collide in only a few billion years; rookie mistake right there. And of
course a lot of the
Dangit! Demr exclaims quietly. I made five universes and double checked the
spacing!
What was that, Demr? Mr. Minon says.
Uh, nothing, Sir, Demr replies quietly.
Are you really that enthusiastic about your grade that you cant contain yourself?
No, Sir.
Well, I dont believe you. Lets see Mr. Minon fingers through the papers. Ah, here
we are. B+. Not bad for two galaxies 900 million years from becoming one. Demr breathes a
sigh of relief. Alright, enough of critiquing you guys publicly. Mr. Minon stands up and starts
handing out papers. If you have a problem with your grade, see me after class. If you want
extra credit, build me a planet over the weekend. He reaches Herms, and hands him a paper
with a big D- on the top.
What? he exclaims. Mr. Minon points to a jar thats completely filled with white light.
It completely collapsed in the middle of 2nd period, he says. Nice fireworks show, but
I dont think any of your now deceased species would approve of a passing grade. I hold in a
laugh. Finally, after bragging about his five thousand alien races, he gets what he deserves for
so many unstable galaxies. Mr. Minon hands me my paper.
Thank you, I say cheerily. Mr. Minon roles his eyes. I look at my paper and
C+.
A freaking C+.
Whatcha get? Herms asks. His mouth quickly forms a smile as he makes out the
marker-written letter through the paper.
Not one word, I say. There must be some sort of a mistake; Mr. Minon mustve gotten
my universe mixed up with someone elses, like Koal. That dickhead wouldnt know a
supernova from a humanoid alien.
I sit there for the last 15 minutes of class, staring at that C+. Its damn near taunting me
by the time the bell rings. I spring up and march directly to the desk at the head of the
classroom.
Mr. Minon, I say. The teacher looks up from the paper he is studying. Its the last hour
of school, so no one else is in the room.
Yes, Gord? he asks.
I was wondering about my project. His face turns jaded.
Youre project, Mr. Minon repeats. Im not liking where this is heading.
Yes. I think you might have gotten my project mixed up with someone elses. I was
thinking that Koals universe was-
There was no mistake, Gord, Mr. Minon says, holding his hand up. The grade you
have in your hand is your own.
But, its a C+, I say, showing him the red letter. He stares at me.
So?
Why did I get a C+? Mr. Minon sighs and stands up.
I was afraid youd do this, he says. He scans the shelf of universes behind him. Now
Im all for students being active about their grades, but youre really active.
Uh, thanks, I mutter. Mr. Minon finds my universe and picks it up.
First of all, he says. Its way too small. 200 billion galaxies? The average is 500
billion. Also, its extremely young. An A plus universe is typically 30 or even 50 billion years
old. Yours barely touches 15 billion. Its true, I didnt let it mature as much as I shouldve, but
for good reason; I was focusing on my lifeforms. Mr. Minon always said he liked mature
species.
Yeah, I guess thats true, but that shouldnt drop me to a C.
Youre right, it shouldnt, but thats not what dropped your grade.
Then what? The galaxy density? I tried to add extra galaxies per square parsec to
make up for the young age of the universe.
Nope, it was your species, the...what was it?
The humans, I say. I spent over half the project working on them. They probably have
an intelligence rating twice as high as the second best species in my class.
Ah, yes, the humans. They suck.
What!? I exclaim. Mr. Minon is infamous for his bluntness.
I dont know what you think you see in them, but they are ridiculous.
But theyre smart!
Yeah, from a medically and scientific point of view, which is what saved you from failing.
Realistically, theyre fools. Theyre 50,000 years old and still only inhabit their planetary system.
A species half that age should have toured its galaxy by now.
I wanted to make sure that they controlled their homeworld before exploring.
Maybe, but flooding the whole planet and bottlenecking the population certainly didnt
help technological advancement. Also, you lost points for directly influencing a race.
A flood isnt direct. Not really, anyway.
Not that, for sending down that personification of yourself. And while were on the topic
of the flood, you seriously messed up the human race afterward.
What do you mean? They expanded across the planet like I wanted them to.
After you completely scrambled their communication and made them all hate each
other.
They needed encouragement, I defend weakly. Im starting to see where I probably
couldve made different decisions.
Well, if you intended to encourage the whole species to hate each other and fight each
other for the next several millennia, then you succeeded.
But what about all the thing the humans accomplished with their heightened intellect?
All their emotions they can display, the diseases they cured, the traditions they started? I
guarantee you no other species youve seen this year does what the humans can do.
That may be so, but the humans would also probably destroy any other species it came
in contact with. Its half destroyed its home world's atmosphere, drained its natural resources,
and have killed off numerous species of the planet. You sought to create a race of intellects
and ended up with a ragtag group of violent militarists. I swear, give that universe another
week, and the humans will tear their planet apart with nuclear fusion; thats what hurt your grade
the most. Im sorry, Gord, you can stand there for a week straight talking, but your grade is
staying put. I admit defeat and lower my head.
Ok, Mr. Minon, I say.
Have a nice weekend, Gord, Mr. Minon says. Oh, wait! Do you want your universe
now? Im just gonna hand them back Monday.
Sure, I say, and take the jar in my hands. It used to look so beautiful when I first turned
it in, but now I can really see it for what it is: A risk that I shouldnt have taken. Maybe Ill keep it
on my desk at home and see what the humans do in a week or two from now. Maybe theyll
turn things around after a while and catch with the other species in my class. Maybe then I can
show Mr. Minon how special the humans truly are, even if I dont get a raise on my grade, then
hell know the potential of humans.