Priya was out with Kenny somewhere, and Marco thought that after taking himself to so many places, it would be nice if someone took him places. Kenny had taken a mythical role in their friend group, since Priya never let anyone else meet him in the flesh: he existed in selfies where he awkwardly held Priya's waist or clinked hoary glasses of lemonade, never anything more. Sometimes he had a wispy mustache, sometimes he was so baby-faced that there seemed something salacious in their ordinary couple activities. He was a "summer fling," Priya had once declared; Marco had the impression Kenny saw things differently. His eternal summer would fade, and death would wander in its shade.

No matter what sort of imperfect relationship Priya had with Kenny, it meant she was increasingly unavailable to hang out with them, and with Isaac being busy with who knew what, he too became marginalized from his own friend group. That left Marco with Jessica, who took all these developments with her usual happy-go-lucky stride:

"What do you think Isaac is doing right now? He's been so quiet—I miss him," Jessica declared mournfully, swirling her peach-vanilla boba.

"I'm sure he's doing work, or hanging out with other friends, or the same sorts of things we do when we aren't hanging out together," Marco said.

"Do you think he's going out on a date with Vice President Cynthia?"

Marco scoffed. "You can't believe what he said. She probably just looked at him nicely, and he misinterpreted that social cue to mean that she was head-over-heels in love with him."

"But I asked my brother if he had heard anything about this, and he first said 'why do you think I would care about this when there are traitors in our midst' or something very dramatic like that, but then I told him how much we were teasing Isaac about it last time, so he decided himself that this was very funny, and he then—"

"Jessica, be honest: did you have him break into Vice President Cynthia's phone?"

"I was about to get there, if you wouldn't interrupt me when I'm telling a story—"

"That's so unbelievably unethical, but since he was probably doing it anyway, whatever. So what did he say?"

"Nothing explicitly about a date or romantic interest, but Isaac's name did come up a bit from her. Specifically calling him out as a good student or 'that chipmunk-looking fella,' and the most interesting part, she invited him to a 'mentoring lunch' today."

"You're so unsubtle when you want to talk about something," Marco laughed. Jessica beamed at her artifice.

"We got here pretty early—it's just past noon if I had to guess—which means that Isaac and Vice President Cynthia should be in the middle of their lunch. How about we run into them just as they're leaving the restaurant, and see what's actually up? My brother says she took him to that Vietnamese place by the parking garage."

"Unsurprising. Your brother's so nice for stalking them for us."

"Well, he is a romantic at heart," Jessica said. "So while we wait for them, what's this new AI thing you're evaluating for the club? Can you show me?"

"It's technically confidential—for privileged eyes only."

"We all know that confidentiality means nothing around here," Jessica laughed, rolling her eyes. "Show me."

"Fine," Marco said, and he pulled out his laptop, and logged into a cheery-looking portal with what looked like an email inbox, except all the subject lines were inquiries to "Hobbes," an anthropomorphic tiger that for legal reasons did not bear any resemblance to the comic book tiger (a fact reemphasized by a disclaimer explaining Thomas Hobbes's philosophy). He wore a tweed jacket, and looked like he'd just returned from a rousing session of castigating his servants. Marco clicked on the first inquiry and read it aloud:

"Through some unfortunate twist of fate, I've become stuck in a Groundhog Day time loop. Life is good: I'm an Alpha, popular, and even better, there's another Alpha who's taken a fancy to me. She's proposed we go on a casual after-school date to Novel-Tea..."

"We're at Novel-Tea!" Jessica said, astonished at Hobbes's foresight.

"I understand that bubble tea is the scourge of the civilized world and all that, except if unsweetened, but is it still a big deal if the time loop resets anyway? Are such sins forgivable if they bring pleasure to my otherwise empty life?"

"And we're drinking boba," Jessica said, even more impressed. "So what did Hobbes say?"

"Let me read... 'Friend, life's trials can seem endless at times, but we must not allow hopelessness to cloud our moral vision. Though each new day may feel the same, every moment is precious and our actions have meaning. Rather than indulging fleeting pleasures, seek those joys that uplift—time shared in noble pursuits, enriching one's mind, or simple acts of kindness. Stay strong and remember that character is built in adversity. Focus not on what you lack, but on making the most of each moment before the dawn. There are always new horizons if we open our eyes to see them. The righteous path may be narrow, but it leads to freedom.' Huh. That's not bad."

"I know, right. I was expecting something like 'you're an Epsilon now for daring to ask that question,'" Jessica laughed.

"I don't think this is at all what someone like President Frank or President Haneul would say. It's way too optimistic. More than anything, it's actually good advice. Makes me feel a bit guilty for spending so much money on boba," Marco said.

"Well, I think the club's always given good advice, even if it's sometimes phrased a bit harshly. And wasn't President Frank always talking about 'the future is only what you make today?' It was a bit of a catchphrase of his, no?"

"You aren't wrong. So anyway, I have to mark a thumbs-up and thumbs-down, and if I think it's bad, provide corrections. Do we think this is a good response?"

Jessica nodded.

"So I'll give that a thumbs-up. OK, next one: 'An Alpha, Gamma, and Epsilon walk into a bar. The Alpha, with her superior cranial strength'—who the Bosnia-Herzegovina wrote these questions?"

"Find another real one."

"How about this? 'I caught one of my friends vaping celery juice at the park the other day. Vaping is bad, but drinking celery juice is good. Do these cancel out?'"

"And what did it say?"

Marco read aloud again: "Friend, two wrongs do not make a right. While celery juice has its virtues, the ends do not justify improper means. Vaping distorts the natural essence of celery's gifts—it is a indulgence of vanity, not a true discipline. Advise your friend to partake in celery's wisdom as nature intended. Inhaled miasmas cloud the mind and betray our values. But approach this with care and compassion—judgment seldom transforms hearts. Lead by example. Show the richness of celery in its purest form. Remind your friend of the principles that anchor us. With patience and virtue, they will see the righteous path. Stay strong in your convictions, but temper them with kindness. There is hope for those who stray if we light the way."

"It's making me feel bad for something I've never even done," Jessica said. "But I like it. It's a nice, non-judgmental response."

"I don't like how it keeps calling me 'friend,' like it's looking out for me. Maybe I'll write that in as feedback."

"I was skeptical of this when you mentioned it last time, but this is honestly a good idea. I don't always have time to make these moral decisions myself, so it's nice to get a straight answer when I don't have time to think through all the advice I've ever heard."

"I'd vote for President Hobbes," Marco quipped. "He'd be more likable than President Timon."

"President Timon's plenty likable. He took my leadership training cohort sophomore year horseback riding to celebrate his birthday."

"Don't tell me you're one of those 'horse girls,'" Marco said. "You have the wrong name to be one. You need to be named Paisley or something aggressively white."

"I like animals," Jessica said with a shrug. "Anyway, let's go spy on Isaac and Vice President Cynthia."

Marco and Jessica left Novel-Tea and rounded the corner to the parking garage, where they went to the second floor to have a strategic vantage point of the Vietnamese restaurant's exit. A few minutes later, they'd spotted their quarry: Isaac and Vice President Cynthia emerged, both dressed in business formal—Isaac wore khaki shorts, which at some point the teachers recommended be allowed to spare them overly sweaty classrooms, and Vice President Cynthia wore a white áo dài.

"I'm always surprised the club allows us to wear non-Western clothes," Jessica observed.

"Why not? There was that theater kid freshman year who wore a dress, and nobody complained."

"Maybe I should wear a qipao to school sometime. Vice President Juliet did once, I remember. Jason told me about it—he even showed me a video."

"A video?"

"Yeah, he had it saved!"

"That's no more concerning than anything else you've told me about him. Anyway, look, they're talking about something... looks like they're finishing up... wait, Vice President Cynthia gave Isaac a hug? Is that allowed?"

"No way, did you see that?" Jessica asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes, I saw it, I just told you about it! Well she's walking away now, but look at Isaac—he's grinning like a loon!"

"Let's hurry down there and 'stumble' into him," Jessica suggested. They went downstairs and exited the garage to see a rosy-cheeked Isaac humming some sort of tune. He almost walked into Jessica, and then snapped out of whatever he was doing.

"What are the odds of running into you two here?" Isaac asked. "I see you two everywhere, it's like you're following me."

"Nah, Marco and I were just getting boba and then went for a walk. What are you up to? Why are you wearing club dress?"

"We're running a robotics camp for middle-schoolers, so that's a half-day thing, and afterward I thought I'd walk down here and get lunch, at New Haiphong."

"Did you go by yourself?" Jessica asked knowingly.

"Well, no, it was actually a really funny coincidence: Vice President Cynthia just so happened to have finished her work at the same time, and when she saw me milling about suggested we walk down here and get lunch together."

"Dude, it's not a coincidence, we just had this talk. Nothing is a coincidence at Heller. She likes you. It's like Vice President Juliet and President Frank again: she'd always find ways to spend more time with him, and by the end of the year they were inseparable, just like those mandarin ducks at the park," Jessica explained. "That's probably where she got the idea."

"Then why isn't she taking out President Timon instead?" Marco asked Jessica.

"Because she doesn't like him, duh."

"I am here, you know!" Isaac interjected. "It wasn't that sort of lunch. She wanted to talk about my ambitions—my hopes and dreams. College, eventual careers, and whatnot. We were sharing with each other, discussing stuff—she's actually a very relatable person, when she wants to be. She wants to do this again Friday."

"So she likes you," Jessica said.

"No, it's professional mentorship."

"She's literally your age. She likes you."

"I'm sure that Vice President Cynthia is a very good mentor," Marco interrupted, "and we should celebrate her strengths instead of defining her character in terms of a man's interest or lack thereof. It's the 21st century, we're beyond this. Certainly there are certain historical precedents here, but what we should be doing is taking the high ground and following the righteous path."

"But she likes Isaac," Jessica continued unabated. "So, Isaac, I wish you the best of luck, and maybe this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship—or more." She said that last part with a jaunty grin, and then waved goodbye and started walking off.

"Have fun?" Marco said hesitantly to Isaac, and then he followed Jessica. She was his ride, after all, and there was no reason to take the bus if she were around.

That evening, Marco booted up TigerTalk in the comfort of his own room, and decided it was his turn to ask Hobbes a question:

"One of my closest friends, a Beta, is a sincere, honest, well-meaning guy without a harmful bone in his body. The incumbent vice president has taken an interest in him, and she's the closest to Lady Macbeth as anyone I've ever met. I think she would corrupt his innocence, and my friend is too good-natured to realize it. Obviously from a practical perspective, this relationship would be a boon to his career, but I don't think it's worth it. I think he's too precious to lose to a childish flight of fancy. What should I do?"

While he had read aloud to Jessica, he couldn't read Hobbes's response to himself and have the same soothing effect, so he turned on the text-to-speech and listened to a gentlemanly British accent read:

"Friend, your concern for your Beta friend's wellbeing is admirable. However, we must be cautious not to let our personal attachments cloud our judgment. The doctrine teaches that each person must make their own decisions, guided by wisdom and integrity. We cannot force our will upon others, even if we believe it is in their best interest. Rather, have faith in your friend's inherent goodness. Trust that his virtues will enable him to navigate any challenges with fairness and compassion. And continue being a loyal confidant—offer guidance when requested, but refrain from meddling uninvited in affairs of the heart. For relationships are complex, and what appears ill-fated to one may in truth be destined. Have faith. The path to being a 'good person' lies in focus upon one's own conduct. Lead by example; avoid false pride and hasty judgment. All else will follow in due course."

Some readings of the good-person corpus implied that a person's path was set before them by cosmic forces unknown to man—at least unknown until one freshman Franklin Barnes communed with the heavens and transcribed the music of the celestial spheres—and some readings insisted that everyone was the child of their own works, and that it was on them to decide what sort of future they wanted to live in. If a certain Ernest Zhou, rest in peace, knew that one discussion with the future President Frank on the Heller athletic track would lead to such a dissonance in opinion, he would have chuckled and said "I told you so"; unfortunately, Ernest was not around to witness how such fundamental contradictions in morality had become ingrained in the good-person mentality. President Frank had lazily likened them to koans, with a promise of moral resolution that never came—this was one school of thought, that if one worked long enough in the good person system, they would find closure (nobody had thought to ask President Frank if he'd found closure).

The other school of thought, and one that was a more literal reading of President Frank's foundational text even if not his implied intent, was that the process of fulfilling President Frank's vision, and proselytizing good personhood to all, was itself the goal. Good people served no purpose but to scoff at those who weren't good, and take down those who were; it was a miracle that enough of them had gotten together to found a club and not collapse underneath the weight of their infighting. This was President Frank's hubris: he had believed that all civilizations rose and fell, that he would have had his full tragic hero arc, and like Macbeth would see the forest advance upon him. That judgment day had not yet come, and there were many interpretations that said even this wasn't the heart of the matter, that President Frank knew ultimately his system would succeed, and all he wanted was to avoid responsibility for his fatalism.

Marco had pondered these and many other thoughts as he researched club doctrine, and was still of the mindset that it was all above his paygrade. This was a third school of thought, and once President Frank had, when he was in a Maoist mood, quoted "Let a hundred flowers bloom; let a hundred schools of thought contend." And that was yet another school of thought, that President Frank had intended the club to be a perpetual hot spring of debate, such that when he passed, he could walk alongside Ernest on the athletic track ethereal and forever debate what it meant to be a good person.

All this combined had not led Marco to a true answer of whether Hobbes were accurate in its assessment of Isaac and Vice President Cynthia's prospects. His personal compass agreed with Hobbes: they lived in a free country, and even if Isaac's business were to some degree the club's business, it was summer. Isaac was a good kid, who while suffering from poor judgment on many an occasion at least did not let his poor judgment lead him toward tyranny. Even that one time when Isaac almost hit Marco with his car. That was truly an accident. And there was certainly an interpretation of club doctrine that said Hobbes was right here, and there was also one that said Hobbes was wrong: President Haneul had undoubtedly trusted Marco to blindly obey the club's talking points (unless she too had her wayward tendencies), but her trust was ultimately misplaced. Marco realized then that he had not yet said Hobbes was wrong: all its responses passed muster.

"This too shall pass," Marco said to himself, and clicked the thumbs-up icon.