The school gym is packed with disinterested students slouched in their seats, their faces twisted with boredom and frustration. A banner above the stage reads, "Stand Against Hate." On stage stands an ancient 109-year-old woman, trembling under the spotlight, flanked by two burly security guards. One guard leans down to her with a concerned expression.]

Security Guard: Ma’am, your microphone isn’t on. Can you turn it on so we can begin?

[The old woman fumbles with the microphone, her shaky hands unable to press the button. The crowd murmurs, groans, and snickers. Jennifer and Jan sit near the back, smirking at the spectacle.]

Jennifer: Holy shit, is this woman even alive? She looks like she’s about to fucking fossilize right here.

Jan: She’s 109, right? Her body’s gotta be 90% dust at this point. This isn’t an assembly, it’s a live fucking autopsy.

[The woman finally switches the microphone on, but her voice is barely audible over the static and her wheezing breaths. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing coherent comes out.]

Old Woman: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh........................................................................................................... in........................................ 193.............................. 1931............................... no.................193.............

[The crowd bursts into laughter. The security guard awkwardly leans into the mic.]

Security Guard: 1930. If you wish to leave, just tell us.

[Jennifer and Jan erupt into cackles, drawing glares from teachers nearby.]

Jennifer: (mocking) Oh my God, “1930.” She doesn’t even know what year it is. Someone tell her it’s not the fucking Great Depression anymore.