2. Iri
2
IRI
I watch my class pile in.
I’m in the eight-to-eleven age range this year, and I truly love it.
This is the age when your love for learning is either fostered or destroyed.
Kids innately love to learn because they want to emulate the adults around them, and adults know things.
School brings them closer to becoming peers instead of children who are often not taken seriously because they ‘ don’t know .
’
My tablet is open, and I tap their names as they come in and take their seats on their mats, facing me.
They’re a good class.
Kind to each other.
Energetic.
And so far, I’ve further instilled their love of learning in them.
I teach ancient history.
The history of our species and the history of the world as we know it.
Two are missing.
Tonian has been sick for the last two days, so he might not be coming in.
Jorn is usually just late.
Always, always late.
Sure enough, three minutes after the time class is scheduled to begin, Jorn rushes in and practically rolls onto his mat.
I shake my head, not bothering to hide my smile, while the kids around him giggle.
“Everyone here?” I ask.
“Has anyone heard from Tonian?”
“He’s still sick. His parents took him to the doctor’s office,” Lum says.
Poor kid.
I nod my thanks at his answer.
“Tablets out. Pop quiz.”
A couple of months ago, those two words would have been met by groans.
I take quiet pride in the fact I can only hear one groan today.
I know exactly who it’s from.
When the rustling stops, I begin.
“Question one—How many designations were there a thousand years ago? What were they?”
I scan the room, watching as everyone’s pens scribble on their tablets.
“Question two—How many are there now? Are they the same as what existed a thousand years ago?”
I give them a few minutes to give me their answers before moving on.
“Question three—What is the biggest evolutionary change over the last thousand years and when did it occur?”
While these are all relatively short answers, I allow them a few minutes to write as much as they want.
I’m expecting a variation between the least number of words possible to answer correctly and entire paragraphs.
They know if they don’t have the exact answer, providing me with relevant information, they’ll still earn points, even if not the full points.
I contemplate a fourth question but decide, for now, I’m going to leave it up for discussion.
“Turn in your assignment when you’re finished.”
Immediately, the green dots beside their names in the column designated for the quiz begin turning green.
Rapidly at first and then more slowly as the rest finish.
Frez is always the last.
He worries the most about his assignments, and yet, consistently scores full points.
He knows his shit, but he lacks confidence.
When it turns green, I nod.
“How many designations were there a thousand years ago?” Hands fly into the air.
“Lum.”
“Three—Alpha, beta, omega.”
More hands follow his, some waving for attention.
“Jorn.”
“That’s a trick question because there are actually five, though only three are genetically recognized. There’s also designation fluid and theta.”
“Very good. I will be accepting three as a correct answer on the quiz, but you’re absolutely correct. Let’s talk about them. Who wants to tell me what an alpha is?”
More hands fly into the air.
I’m happy to see that the majority of the class is willing to participate.
“Rinly.”
“Alphas were the strongest designation. They were classified as powerful, leaders, and dominant with the ability to growl, purr, bark, and knot—a bark was a command in a certain vernacular where the recipient, whether from a different designation or a weaker alpha, was compelled to obey. A knot is for breeding. They were the only designation able to create a mate bond and form pack bonds. Their incessant, innate hunger was for an omega. Their scents were typically strong and robust.”
“Very good. Lum, tell us about omegas.”
Lum nods.
“They are described as the heart of society—soft, rare, and extraordinary. Softness should not be equated with weakness. They were arguably the strongest of all designations because, though they were submissive by nature, they could also bring the strongest alphas to their knees. Omegas had the ability to whine, which was like a soul cry to which alphas were compelled to respond above anything else. They were coveted for their heat and ability to lock a knot. Omegas always wanted their pack of alphas. Their scents are described as sweet and grabbing.”
“Good. Shino, betas.”
“They were the ordinary and plentiful. The unwanted. They craved a true pack, which society only recognized as a pack consisting of alpha-made bonds. Few betas ever found a pack with alphas and were therefore unable to receive the mate-bond. When they formed family groups amongst themselves, they were called mock packs. They resented omegas because alphas wanted them, and they wanted alphas. Their scents are my favorite—floral and/or herbal.”
“Excellent. Marhi—designation fluid.”
“Designation fluid was unrecognized as an official designation because they were genetically beta. However, their genetics also allowed them to exhibit traits of alphas and omegas. They could growl, though it wasn’t as potent as an alpha’s. Purr, though not as distinctly. Bark, though it was more of a surprise response than true obedience. They couldn’t produce knots or bonding bites. They could also whine like an omega, though it was at a different pitch. They did not go into heat. Their scents, though beta in foundation, could also become sweet or robust, like an alpha or omega, in response to other designations. Alphas often treated them like omegas, or as a stand-in omega.”
“Senn—theta.”
Senn sighs.
“Theta is a blank canvas. Their designation genes were never ‘ turned on ,’ so they weren’t any designation at all. They were created in the lab by mad scientists attempting to alter the genetic code to create people with the ability to choose their own designation. It backfired, though a theta could replay your scent back to you as a way of learning you.”
“Very, very good,” I comment.
“You’ve learned all this far quicker than my previous classes. I’m proud of you.” Smiles greet me in response.
“Second question—How many designations are there now?” Hands rise into the air, and I make a play of contemplating who I’m going to choose.
“Alcub.”
He flashes me a bright smile.
“There are two. And to answer the question you’re likely going to follow with, there are now breeders and breedables. No, they aren’t the same as any of the previous designations, though they exhibit some similar traits. Our breeders can be seen as alphas because they can both growl and purr, though they’ve lost their bark. They can bond-bite and they can knot. Their scents are similar. Our breedables are a combination of betas and omegas; arguably, the designation fluid is what took over and wiped out both beta and omega, though. They whine, and we suspect they have the same allure that an omega had. But they don’t have heats. And, of course, the biggest difference is in procreation. As their designations suggest, breeders aren’t breedable and breedables aren’t breeders. Only one conceives and one creates.”
“Overachiever,” Rinly mutters under his breath.
Alcub twists to look at him, giving him a grin and a wink.
I smile.
“Good. Let’s talk about population. Who knows the breakdown of designations from a thousand years ago?”
More hands.
I choose someone without their hand up.
“Frez.”
His eyes widen.
“Wait. I know the answer. You’re just making me panic!”
The class grins.
This is a common response from Frez when being called on.
He knows all the answers, always, but he’s shy and doesn’t like to talk.
I don’t pick on him much, but I do require him to participate in class every day.
Beside him, Marhi pats his arm.
This right here is a true show of a breeder and breedable.
Our breedable, Frez, is under duress.
Our breeder, Marhi, innately tries to comfort him.
And it works.
Because that’s how we’re biologically programmed.
And also, they’re good friends.
“Okay,” Frez says.
“Alphas made up twenty percent of the entire world’s population, though most of them were male. Female alphas were like… three percent of the alpha population. Omegas made up three percent of the world’s population, and less than one percent of them were male. Betas made up the rest. There are no actual statistics on thetas or designation fluid since they were never recognized as official designations, though it’s guesstimated that designation fluid made up half a percent of betas when they were first noted and rose to a whopping thirty percent before the entire genetic code began rewriting itself. Thetas obviously began very small because they were created in a lab. We can argue that they ended up taking over the entire species since it’s theorized that, due to their genetic mutation being incredibly dominant, they wiped out the others. And the new species today derived from thetas.”
“Love this. Fantastic answer, Frez. Does anyone have something more to add?”
“To Frez? Nah,” Shino says.
Frez blushes, but he’s smiling all the same.
“Let’s move on to the last question, then. What is the biggest evolutionary change we see now that wasn’t present a thousand years ago?” More hands.
Again, I choose someone not raising their hand.
I know my class.
They all know the answers.
“Senn.”
Senn gives me a pout.
“That boys can carry babies,” he says, flashing me a big smile.
“Correct. Expand. When did this take place?”
Senn sighs.
“The first recorded male pregnancy took place five-hundred-and-thirteen years ago. Then it was like a sudden boom where males were conceiving. Scientists are still working out why this happened and what caused the change, but because the breedable gene is always on the female chromosome, X, and all males have an X, they suspect that it somehow got turned on, and under the right circumstances, conception took place. There’s also the fact that chromosomes cross and jump, effectively changing the formation and codes from one to the other. While we can’t actually see the moment this happened in history, since the breeding gene is now flipped to the ‘ on position ’ on the male Y chromosome. Having jumped from the X, it makes breeding males possible. It’s not easy, and it’s definitely not common, but it is possible under the right circumstances.”
My heart skips in my chest.
All of this information is pertinent.
It’s important that we know it.
It’s part of school, and growing, and knowing what lies ahead.
But knowing I’m in the small percentile that technically has the ability to breed but may not conceive leaves me feeling…
well…
shitty.
“Good,” I say.
“Let’s talk about one more thing. We discussed how common the prior designations were. How does that translate into today’s world? Jorn.”
“Breedables are less than a fifth of the population. Male breedables are a tiny portion of that, though the number fluctuates between ten and twelve percent in any given year. The rest of the world is made up of breeders.”
“Everyone stand up,” I say, and my twenty-eight students get to their feet.
I join them.
“All my breeders, on the far side of the room. Breedables, join me in the front.”
The room splits, and as in any given place, there are very few breedables.
Twenty-four of my students are standing opposite me, with only four at my side.
“This is a very accurate representation of the world on any given day. But who can tell me why it’s not a true sample of the population?”
“We have no girls!” several yell and they fall into laughter.
“I saw a girl once,” Frez says quietly.
“They’re so pretty.”
I grin, nodding.
They are.
“How would the room look if there were girls mixed in?” I ask.
“We’d have five or eight breedables and only one of them would be male,” Senn says.
“To our numbers, we’d add one to three female breeders.”
“Good. Last question before we break. How does this difference make you feel? When you look around and know that our breedable population is so small, that we’re on the brink of losing it entirely—how does that make you feel?”
My question is met with silence.
My breeders stare at their breedable classmates, troubled.
Sad.
“Scared,” Lum says.
“We could lose them entirely if we don’t find a way to let them conceive more easily. That’s terrifying.”
The entire class nods their heads.
It is terrifying.
I could be one of the last generations of breedable males, and my body is part of the problem.