All of life can be quantified. Modern society revolves around this, and is dependant on that ability. Most scholars agree that humanity and all of the sophistication and success of human civilization is only possible through the quantification of ourselves via Numbers, and that without Numbers humanity would still be struggling to survive day by day, huddled together in caves and surrounded by the terrors of the wild. Without our Numbers, we are little more than beasts.

- Excerpt from “The Five Numbers, 5th Edition”

I am not happy to be on the bus right now. This separates me from every other student crammed into the seats, chatting and giggling about trivialities. I should be enjoying myself -- it would be the normal reaction of a student on a two day long field trip away from school. A year ago, I would have been ecstatic to be on this trip. A year ago, I would have been one of those giggling teens, rather than the moping loner in -- what felt like -- the only bench seat with one person sitting in it.

That was a year ago though, with different students and in a different school. A school where I had friends, or at the very least people I felt like I could be around without feeling like a depressingly needy outsider.

I understand the reason my parents had decided to move here. Logically, it was the best possible course of action for my future. The intelligence Number average alone at this new school -- Clayton Northern Academy -- is almost double the intelligence Number average of my previous school, not to mention the incredible strength and dexterity training programs. My Numbers had been stagnating in my old school, as no effort was required of me to stay at the top. This school could push me to be the best I could be.

At least that was the idea. I understand it intellectually, but just can't bring myself to fully believe that it was the best course of action at times like this, when it feels like everyone in the world is part of some secret best-friend society that excludes me.

I sigh heavily. It isn't always like this. On normal class days, I throw myself into the exercises and lessons given to us, all but forgetting the outside world. At times like those, I could forget my loneliness and revel in the joy of challenge and growth -- the joy of facing a puzzle or problem down and coming out the victor. This new school certainly does excel at teaching, and my Numbers show it. My rate of growth has increased by almost 50% in the three months since moving, which is incredible. I look down at my forearm, my Measure being displayed via the five little Numbers listed there.

124

189

165

233

93

Strength, dexterity, wisdom, intelligence, and charisma. The five defining characteristics of human society. Each carefully calculated and represented in a person's Measure, displayed for all the world to see. Success in life depends on raising these Numbers as high as possible; sometimes, though, the increase in Numbers doesn't feel worth it.

"OK everyone! We're only five minutes away, so let's go over the rules for the next thirty-six hours spent in the camp!" Mr. James announces over the vehicle's speakers. After waiting a few moments for voices to drift off, he continues. "First and foremost: don't go anywhere alone outside of the main building! Although there shouldn't be anything dangerous around here, this is the wilderness, and it can be easy to get lost, so use the buddy system -- don't let me catch you outside by yourself. Second: don't break anything! The cost of this trip comes from your parents' wallets, so..." I tune him out as he continues to talk. I don't expect to hear anything that common sense can't tell me, and return to gazing out the window as trees flash by.

Just over five minutes later, we roll up to the outside of the cabin. It really is a nice place, standing two stories tall with an abundance of windows, two balconies, and what looks like a stairway down to the basement. It is abutted by an open field and a shed on one side and the forest on all other sides. A bastion of comfort and human intervention, surrounded by beautiful nature. A recipe for a few days of relaxing hands-on instruction in biology and ecology.

Standing up as the bus empties, I grab my bag from the storage section, sigh, and walk inside.

I lie quietly on my bed in the cabin. We have about two hours of free time before any of the nature lessons begin, and I contemplate how to spend them.

I hear some of the other students playing card games downstairs in the common area, and debate joining them. They aren't cruel people, and undoubtedly they'll allow me to join, but I cringe inside at the thought. They will surely allow me to play, but I highly doubt I'd actually be participating, in the complete sense. They would continue to tell inside jokes and reference stories I know nothing about, and I would sit on the edge of the circle, laughing without any actual humor when everyone else laughed.

Grimacing at the mental image, I make my decision. They didn't invite me, and I won't interject myself into a place neither I nor they want me to be. I won't force myself to participate in an activity that I know I won't enjoy. The only question is what I will do with my time instead.

I had foolishly assumed that we would be kept busy the entire trip, and failed to bring anything to entertain myself. There’s no wifi or service for my cell phone, and I spend a few minutes idly scrolling through my apps before I realize I don’t have any games downloaded that don’t require a connection. Looking out the window, I make my decision quickly. Forget the rules -- I am exploring.

"Jason!" Mr. James yells out as I walk down the stairs. "Come have a snack! We've got cookies and orange slices, which would you prefer?"

I momentarily panic as my teacher calls my name, but quickly attempt to adopt an air of nonchalance. "No thanks, Mr. James, I'm just heading to the bathroom."

He nods and waves me away as he grabs a cookie for himself and goes back to a conversation he was having with his student helper.

I feel a momentary stab of guilt at lying to my teacher so easily, but quickly push it away. I really am going to the bathroom, I am just sneaking away afterward. And it isn't like he'll ever know I was gone -- the rest of the class are providing a fairly large distraction of noise and rowdiness, and his wisdom Number is only 201, resulting in what I think -- hope -- will be a low enough level of perception to not notice a single student quietly slipping away.

It turns out to be laughably easy to sneak away from the cabin. In hindsight, I probably could have simply walked straight out of the door into the woods and no one would have noticed or cared, but honestly, all the furtively sneaking around corners adds to the sense of freedom I am now feeling as I stride through the woods, the occasional sunbeam that makes it through the overhead canopy giving me warmth on what is turning out to be a surprisingly chilly day.

After walking for only ten minutes, I hear a small stream gurgling off to my left, and I excitedly make my way to it. It is barely more than a small trickle of water running between only slightly larger pools, but the splashing of the small waterfall is relaxing, and I waste no time finding a large, semi-comfortable rock in the sun to lay on. Forget the bed in the cabin -- THIS is relaxation. A quick nap and I can return to the cabin just in time for the nature walk, with no one the wiser that I had ever been gone.

My eyes slowly drift open as I roll onto my side. Ugh...as nice as the stream is for lulling me to sleep, a rock does NOT make for good back support. I slowly stretch as I continue to lay there, still feeling lethargic after waking up. As I look around, my gaze happens to visit the sun in the sky -- or rather, the lack of the sun in the sky. My eyes immediately widen as I realize my short nap lasted significantly longer than expected, much longer than the two hour maximum I had allowed myself.

The sun is just beginning to set in the west, which meant I slept for over six hours. How could I have possibly slept for that long? It was the middle of the day, my bed was a rock in the woods, and I wasn't even tired before sleeping?! Now though, I realize I still feel tired, much more tired than I have any right to be after sleeping the day away. Am I sick?

I shake my head, I need to get back to the cabin NOW. I am already in big enough trouble being this late, I shouldn't add to it. With a groan, I shakily stand to my feet, and break into a trot to...

Wait...which way is the cabin? I remember turning left from my initial path, which led me directly to this side of the stream, which means...

I rub my head as I struggle to think it through. After an embarrassingly long amount of time, I figure that heading a minute directly away from the stream, then turning right should lead me to the cabin.

Why was it so hard to think that through? I definitely must be sick -- there's no other explanation for not being able to trace back such a simple trail to the cabin. I explicitly remember thinking to myself on the way into the woods that at least the trees were very open, which should mean it wouldn't be too hard to find my way back. Why then, am I having such trouble?

Might as well get back to the cabin first, and deal with whatever sickness I have after that. I once again break into a trot in the desired direction.

Ten steps later, I slow into a walk. I'm breathing hard, and my legs feel shaky. I close my eyes for a second, take a single step, and trip, hard, onto the ground.

"Agghhh," I embarrassingly yell out as I hit the ground. My hand stings where I tried to catch myself on some rocks, but I don't think I've hurt anything else. As I turn my hand over to examine the scratches, my forearm catches my eye. Something is different.

All my life, I've always only had five markings on my left forearm. Five Numbers, each Number representing one of the five primary attributes that makes my Measure. Sure, those Numbers would change naturally over time, but they still were only five Numbers.

Now though, there are more markings. Little triangles are located above each of my Numbers, as well as a sixth number -- or is it Number? -- next to the other five on my palm. These new markings however, are not the most alarming change.

My Numbers are always on display for the whole world to see, and will change every month, sometimes several times a month. Despite this, if anyone ever asks for me to recite my Numbers to them, I never need to look at my forearm. My Numbers are who I am, they define every aspect of my existence, revealing my past and dictating my potential futures. They are always on my mind -- the way the Numbers mark my arm is nothing compared to the way the Numbers mark my brain. I would sooner forget my own name than forget my Numbers.

But as I look at my forearm with the strange, foreign new marks, the only thing I can focus on are the string of five zeros where my Numbers used to be.

S: 0

D: 0

W: 0

I: 0

C: 0

100