Ochoa was gone. Jason liked his principal, but Ochoa’s contract had been terminated in the middle of the year. Why? Nobody knew.

Jason saw it all the time, where a teacher or administrator was fired for inappropriate relationships with students, trying to choke someone, embezzling funds, etc., but when anyone asked what had happened, it was always hushed up due to “confidentiality.” There had been the case where an administrator signed a multiple six-figure contract with the district, only to have it terminated by the same district, who most likely bought out his contract to the tune of several hundred thousand dollars, for several weeks’ work. Due to “confidentiality,” the public never knew what happened. So that was how it stood now, with unfit teachers and administrators quietly paid off to leave town and work someplace else. Jason was out of the loop, but most likely Sam Ochoa had been let go, paid for the rest of the year, and received some kind of severance package, so the superintendent could install his protégé, Clara Ylarregui, as the new principal in order to build her résumé.

“Attention all staff, due to a scheduling conflict, today’s in-service has been cancelled,” the secretary announced over the intercom.

The new principal, Ms. Ylarregui, was a wrecking ball. She was a short, squat woman, seemingly as wide as she was tall. Not that she was fat, but she was heavy enough to create the impression of a sack of cement. Today’s after-school meeting had been cancelled due to a scheduling conflict. In the few weeks that the new principal had been at the school, that was a frequent occurrence, with meetings and events constantly cancelled due to scheduling conflicts, mainly because the principal ignored the two highly experienced secretaries who worked with her in the office, who tried to help her schedule events, just as they had done successfully for years. But the new principal thought she didn’t need anyone’s help, and decided to act on her own. One secretary had already quit due to the principal’s brusque manner, and one of the basketball coaches quit as well after she yelled at him, when she was in the wrong.

All three teachers of the English department bristled at Ms. Ylarregui’s heavy-handed, authoritarian manner. Lynn, one of the English teachers, told Jason, “It was hardly a year ago that Clara was a teacher at the middle school, asking me for help and lesson plans. Now all of a sudden she’s the expert, telling me what to do.” Lynn was young, pretty, and had a great pair of breasts, not to mention that she was bright and vivacious. Jason liked her from the first moment he met her, but she was always out of reach, and Jason was too scared to make a move and didn’t know what to do. If the Midas Game could change things so that attractive women like Lynn weren’t always just friends, then Jason would be very happy.

Earlier today, Jason was called into the office by one of the secretaries and given his new keys. Ms. Ylarregui had lost her keys, left them somewhere on campus. Of course, she had the keys to everything, which presented a huge security risk, so the whole campus—every single building, cabinet, and janitorial closet—had to be re-keyed, at a cost of thousands of dollars.

By contract, Jason had to remain on campus for another twenty-five minutes, so he opened up the internet browser on his school laptop to read his e-mail. To his surprise, he saw a message from the Department of Education. He was forced to re-read it several times, because he could hardly believe what he was reading. Jason had just been forgiven five thousand dollars in student loan debt! At $187 dollars a month, it would have taken him years to pay off that debt. In his excitement, Jason planned to call his grandfather, but then he remembered the old fogey didn’t have a cellphone. Just to be certain, Jason checked his watch, punching the stem once.

It was true: the credit card debt figure was gone, to his relief, and the student loan figure was reduced by five thousand dollars. Now that his student loan was down to a more manageable two thousand dollars, Jason could focus on it like he had worked on his credit card, and wipe out that debt forever. Tomorrow was the last day before Thanksgiving vacation, and Jason felt very grateful. He dropped to the floor, covered with a cheap orange carpet, and did thirty pushups, some crunches, squats, and lunges. Looking at the time on his laptop, Jason saw that it was quitting time, so he turned off his laptop, turned off the lights in the room, locked the door, and made his way out to his car.

Jason passed the principal, who wore a heavy overcoat, and the woman’s ponderous steps made her look like an animated sandbag. He waved to her as he walked out to his car, where his grandfather waited for him.

“Congratulations,” his grandfather said, and patted Jason on the back. “Five thousand dollars closer to freedom.”

“Thanks…wait a minute…how did you know?” Jason wondered.

“Get in the car. I’ll take you to dinner.” His grandfather got into the driver’s seat of his car, and waited for Jason to sit in the passenger’s seat. “Remember, due to the game, I can monitor your financial status. At 1 p.m. I got the notice. How about Famous Dave’s?”

“Wow, you’re pulling out all the stops, but that sounds great.” Jason buckled himself in.

Gramps pulled out into traffic, and made his way toward Meridian. “We should have checked your pot score.” He reached over and turned off the radio, which was playing talk radio.

“Gramps, you know I don’t do drugs,” Jason protested.

“No, it’s a Kristy Shen term,” his grandpa said with a laugh. “She wrote Quit Like a Millionaire, one of the best books about financial independence. POT stands for Pay Over Tuition. When considering going to college, you need to weigh how much your education is going to cost you, your tuition, versus how much money you can expect to earn, or your pay. Surprisingly, what you think are sure-fire money-making majors, like medicine or law, cost too much and take too long. You’re actually better off training to be a plumber, where you can learn relatively quickly and cheaply, then start earning good money now, rather than later.”

“Makes sense. We had one of our first-year science teachers quit and take up studying to be an electrician,” Jason said. “Electrician simply paid more money. Sometimes I ask myself, ‘Where did I take a wrong turn?’”

“If you look at degrees, education is right near the bottom in terms of future pay.” Gramps shook his head. “Do you know what the most common degree is among millionaires?”

Jason furrowed his brow. “I don’t know—law, medicine?”

“Computer engineering,” his grandfather replied. “Second most common?”

Jason shrugged. “Beats me.”

“None.” His grandfather slapped the steering wheel for emphasis. “Like I said, they don’t teach you this stuff in school. What it takes to be rich, or financially independent, has nothing to do with education. You’re one big step closer to freedom from debt, and there will be a payoff in the game tonight, trust me.”

* * *

“So that’s gnocchi?” Jane asked, looking curiously at his plate.

“Yes, when the mayor mentioned it this afternoon, it made me hungry,” Jason explained. “My dad used to make it at home. It’s a potato dumpling in tomato sauce. Would you like to try it?”

Jane leaned forward to take a bite of the gnocchi that Jason extended to her on his fork, then daintily wiped her lips with her linen napkin. “That’s delicious. I’ve never had that before.”

“Never?”

“There weren’t very many Italians in London when I grew up,” she said, brushing back the thin stand of hair that fell across her cheek. “Even fewer Italians in Tanzania.”

They said nothing, but ate in silence, with Jason studying her slim face and figure.

“So you have ideas about the Mitral virus; I’m certain of it,” Jane said. “Tell me about them.”

“Where do I start?” Jason took a quick drink of water. “Pores in face masks are too large to block the Mitral virus, which is much, much smaller. There are no randomized clinical trials showing that mask-wearing is effective at preventing a respiratory virus, and no evidence for social distancing, either. I think we’re looking at a massive overreach, an exercise in brute power, shutting down churches, parks, schools, and stores, based on nothing. The science says that children are more likely to die from the common cold than the Mitral virus, so why are the schools closed?”

“Fear,” Jane replied. “It was Dr. Leakey who explained to me that chimpanzees are unlikely to attack if you are still and present no threat. It’s one thing to know that, but when you get a big, mean chimpanzee threatening you—I told you they’re much stronger than humans, and I’ve seen them rip prey apart—it’s all you can do to stay calm. The virus is the same kind of challenge.”

“I think we’ve given in to fear, and that fear will be used to manipulate people into being serfs.” Jason stabbed a gnocchi with his fork. “I think we’re looking at masks and shutdowns forever, unless it’s stopped.”

“You asked why I wanted to help you,” Jane said, and she brought up her napkin to dab the corners of her mouth, before taking a sip of wine. “I’ve seen apes caged, and thought that no one should have to live like that. In the lockdowns, quarantines, mask rules, social distancing guidelines, and vaccine mandates, I’m seeing cages by another name. The most important thing in life is freedom.”

Jason let that sink in for a moment. “I think you’re dead on. Someone said that everyone should be working toward financial freedom, time freedom, and location freedom. Are we ready?”

Jason got up, and then went to help scoot back Jane’s chair. It was an odd feeling to be in an era when men had manners and opened doors for women, or helped ladies into cars, or out of their coats, or helped seat them. In the real world, these were chauvinistic offenses, a sign that a man was an oppressive member of the patriarchy, but Jason saw that these gestures were noble and romantic.

Jane paid the bill for their dinner, and Jason thanked her.

“You should thank the mayor,” she said with a smile. “Let’s stop by the Institute on the way home. I have something for you.”

Jason’s curiosity was piqued, and he readily agreed. After leaving Lucca’s Italian Restaurant, they took a cab to the Jane Goodall Institute, where they were met by the doorman standing guard in front of the dimly lit building, which was otherwise closed.

“Dr. Goodall,” the man said with a courteous bow as he escorted her to the revolving door.

The two of them entered the elevator, and Jason noticed that Jane stood close to him. He could sense an attraction, some kind of voltage, unlike his farce of a “date” with Ashlynn. “I’m really curious as to what you have for me,” Jason told Jane.

The elevator pinged at the seventh floor, and Jason escorted her out with a hand at the small of her back, which to Jason seemed incredibly slender and delicate.

Jane reached into her purse and removed the key, which she used to open the door, with a pane of glass with large black, gilt-edged letters reading “JANE GOODALL INSTITUTE.” Ahead of them lay a desk, while a sofa and several upholstered chairs sat beside them. To the left was the door to the office where they first met and talked several days ago, but Jane led him to the door on the right, which was solid wood, without a glass pane like the other doors. Upon opening the door, Jason saw a twin bed against the wall, with a night stand at the head, a standup frame to hold clothes on hangars, and a table to their left, with papers and a typewriter.

“I could rent a flat,” Jane explained, “but if I stay here in the Institute I don’t have to pay rent, and the money can go to research and habitat preservation. Plus, I don’t have to search for a flat every time I come to the city, especially because I don’t stay very long.”

Jason walked over to Jane, then took her by the shoulders to kiss her. As the kiss built in intensity, he slipped his arms down to her waist, and his hands roamed the small of her back. Jane grabbed his hands and slid them down over her butt, which Jason seized with both hands, and was surprised at its firmness. Jason slipped off his coat and set it onto the coat rack in the corner, together with his fedora. He helped Jane out of her blazer, and set it on a hanger with her other clothes. Jason sat on the bed and kicked off his shoes, while watching Jane kick up one slim calf to remove one high heel, then the other.

She sat down on the bed beside Jason, and placed her hand in his.

“I was out in the bush for weeks at a time,” Jane began, “all on my own. I saw how important touch was to the chimpanzees, who constantly groomed each other, and showed the kind of affection the we once only thought humans were capable of.”

Sitting at her side, Jason ran his hand over Jane’s shoulder, then down to her waist.

“I need to feel someone’s touch,’ Jane confessed. “It’s been so long. Just hold me.”

Jason pulled her into him, delirious at the feeling of her slender body against his. He brushed her thin hair away from her face. “I’m the luckiest guy in earth,” Jason thought.

Eventually they lay down on the bed. At first it seemed jarring to Jason that they were almost fully clothed: Jason wore his slacks, shirt, and socks, while Jane wore her blouse and skirt. But when she turned her back to him and they spooned, with his arms around her and his hands on her flat stomach, Jason was at peace. They were soon asleep in each other’s arms.

The alarm rang with a constant clanging that reminded Jason of the alarm bell in the liquor store, and he bolted upright in bed.

“My apologies,” Jane said, as she reached over to the night stand and shut of the alarm. “It is rather loud, but I’m a sound sleeper.”

Jason looked at his watch reflexively to check the time, and saw that he had a prize, as indicated by the gold ribbon in the game section.

“Excuse me,” Jane said, and knelt down at the side of the bed. She swept her skirt under her, but her dress still hugged her butt, and her waistline accentuated her slender waist. The scientist reached down under the bed with one arm, and slid something across the floor until it reached the side of the bed.

Looking at the black case, Jason thought it held a clarinet, or a longer brass instrument like a trombone. Whatever it was, it was a prize that he had earned in the Midas Game.

Jane rose up to her feet, and held out the case to Jason, who set it onto the table and snapped the clasps open.