Taylor’s eyes flickered over to Sasha once again as she heard her continuing to speak with that all-knowing air about the lecture. There was a brief flicker of irritation in Taylor’s chest. She thinks she’s so much smarter than everyone else… Taylor thought.
It wasn’t that she didn’t admire Sasha’s intelligence. But it was the way she flaunted it, how she couldn’t seem to resist reminding everyone just how much better she was. Taylor couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. Her hand moved to her bag, fingers brushing the edges of the notebook. What if I could take some of that arrogance down a notch?
“Sasha’s IQ will drop to 80 over the course of the lecture.”
The words seemed to pulse with power as they left her pen. Taylor could almost feel the change starting to take root. She glanced at Sasha, who was still casually flipping through her notes, seemingly oblivious.
The lecture continued, and as the professor went on with his explanations, Taylor focused on Sasha’s every word.
asha was still nodding along, occasionally raising her hand to answer questions. But there was a slight change in her demeanor; a subtle hesitation in her responses, as though the words weren’t coming to her as easily.
The professor asked a question about the material they had just covered, a relatively simple concept about chemical reactions. Sasha’s hand shot up, and she began speaking confidently, as she always did. But after a few sentences, her words began to stumble.
“Well, uh, the... the reaction is... well, I mean, it’s simple, but... it’s, uh—" She trailed off, her brow furrowing in confusion. She looked at the professor for a moment, then glanced down at her notes, as though searching for an answer that should’ve been obvious.
Taylor watched, a satisfied grin tugging at her lips. Sasha’s speech was slurred and uncertain now. What used to be an effortless stream of complex thoughts was reduced to a jumbled mess of half-finished sentences.
Later in the class, Sasha’s decline was even more apparent. The professor asked the class a seemingly simple question: "Can anyone recall the atomic number of oxygen?"
Sasha’s hand shot up quickly, as it always did, but instead of her usual surety, she hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to recall the information. “Uh... the atomic number of... oxygen... is... 16, right? Or... 8?” Her voice wavered with doubt. “Wait, no... I—uh, I’m pretty sure it’s... 8?”
There was a long pause. The class waited, expecting Sasha to get it right, but it became clear that she was struggling to grasp even the most basic facts. The professor gave a gentle smile, but Sasha's face flushed crimson. She muttered to herself, looking around for confirmation, but none came.
“Uh... yeah, it’s definitely 8,” she concluded weakly, but the lack of certainty in her voice spoke volumes.
As the lecture continued, Sasha's struggles became more physical. She had reached into her backpack to pull out her water bottle, but in her usual rushed manner, she knocked it over. The bottle rolled off the desk, and she lunged to grab it. But something was off—her movements were clumsy, slower than usual.
When she bent down to retrieve the bottle, she fumbled with it, knocking it over again in the process. She picked it up awkwardly, twisting the cap back on with far more effort than it should have taken.
“Great,” she muttered under her breath, her hands shaking slightly. Her usual poise was nowhere to be found. Just then, the professor dismissed the class for the day after assigning homework.
Taylor grinned. She had only just begun to experiment, and the changes were already too visible to ignore. There was no turning back now.