NICOLE
It suddenly strikes me how small everything truly is. The cars look like meager pushpins, and the people walking into them look even smaller than that. (LAUGHS) Of course, if Natasha heard that description, she would scoff at me. According to her, I only speak in clichés. I possess no originality. Originality and creativity and freedom of thought are all disintegrating before our very eyes, and we can’t even realize this because we’re too focused on our inane self-satisfaction, which is turning us completely homogenous, and -- sorry. This is actually how she speaks. Spoke. I mean, it’s not like she’s going to have the opportunity to chastise me or my lack of creativity again.
NATASHA
What do those school tests really teach you, huh? What do they test you for? Whether or not you can follow rules. No respect for how smart a person actually is whatsoever. In fact, I bet the people who created those tests are trying to make everyone stupider, so they can keep us under the government's control, and become good little citizens who are oblivious to their world around them. Our humanity is being ruined, Nikki! Can't you see? Why should we have to care about this dumb test anyhow? It doesn't teach us anything, except that we need to be submissive to the system, and that's just stupid! I am a person, and people need to be free thinkers.
NICOLE
I did my homework during lunch, and then I did further research on my parent's computer as soon as I got home. Natasha, on the other hand, began spending all of her time around her new nonconformist friends, and whatever poem she was currently working on. And we only became more different from there. I got glasses; Natasha pierced her left eyebrow. I took an NYU course in mathematics for teens each summer; Natasha started cutting school to do God-knows-what with her friends. My fingernails are bitten into some nonexistent dimension; Natasha's were long, pointy, and always painted black. I make sure to set my bedtime for 9:00 every day so I can get a sufficient amount of sleep; just a week ago, I heard Natasha come into her room at 4:29 in the morning. And for the life of me, I can’t remember the last time I hugged my twin sister.
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