Noah posed a question to Incels.me before going to bed. When he returned to the site a few days later, he looked at the poll and saw a mixture of views.

Anicel1919- [Experiment] (POLL) What do you think of gay men?

They’re great- 20 votes

They’re good/okay- 19 votes

I don’t care about them- 45 votes

They’re bad- 23 votes

I hate them- 8 votes

He took a deep breath before looking at the comments. The mixture remained.

Yourwaifuistrash- I mean, they’re not fucking femoids all day, so I don’t care what they do with their lives.

ERdidnothingwrong- They’re degenerates. But hey, at least if we keep them with each other, they can give each other AIDS and die out.

Hopelesscel95- Gas to faggots and trannies.

Ropeourlordandsaviour- They’re fine. Lesbians are trash, though. They claim to hate men until Chad gives them a few bottles. Then see what happens. Fucking sluts.

mxsogklash- Some of them are fine, it’s just the ones that act all effeminate that annoy me. It’s also annoying how much sex they get and despite this fact they’re treated like a protected class.

Joshua69- Soy Boy! Soy boy! Lol, I don’t really care, though. For incels there’s no reason to be against gay people.

Lookcel404- Gay men are just coping incels. They can’t get femoids interested in them so they pretend to be something they’re not and, even though they may act happy and with ‘pride’, they’re really miserable because they can’t get femoids. That’s why so many of them off themselves.

After reading through comment after comment, he noticed how tense his arms were. Was this desire, this want, this need just a ‘cope’? Was he lying to himself? Was he going crazy?

He took a few deep breaths. Just before his breaths had completely calmed down, a memory from middle school jammed itself back into his mind.

Noah closed his tabs as his mother entered the room. ‘Whatcha up to?’ she asked.

‘Nothing.’

His parents weren’t ready for the truth. To him, they were still sheep following the words of a book they hadn’t even read. It was them who gave him the worst name possible. There was no way they would be able to understand their son’s ascendance into intellectual godhood.

What activity was blowing his mind and causing him to question the fragile foundations of society? Watching atheist YouTubers, of course!

When his mother left the room, he reopened the tabs and clicked on a recommended video. The host looked different from the others. He was a clean-shaven, muscular Asian man in a sea of bearded white atheists. He had a big pearly smile as he made fun of the logical inconsistencies in Ken Ham’s books.

Noah initially listened to his counterarguments with great interest, but around halfway through the video his attention went elsewhere- the man’s muscles. After a while, Noah stopped paying attention to his words completely and started noticing how the man’s biceps were slightly shiny. He pictured someone rubbing oil over those arms.

After a few seconds of imagination, he closed the tab again and looked at his door. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realised his mother wasn’t there.

His head started spinning and he felt a little sick. He could feel his heartbeat through his ears and, when he looked down at his lap, he swore. He unzipped his jeans. When he was done, his shoulders felt as heavy as an occupied palanquin under the weight of the shame he had placed upon himself. He looked at his hand as if putrid smoke was coming out of it.

The next day was spent trying to act like nothing had happened. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he imagined someone chatting with him and him blurting out what happened the previous night. Luckily no one talked to him.

When he returned home, he lied down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He wondered what would happen if he prayed. He doubted something would happen, but then he remembered something his mother always said.

‘A prayer a day keeps the despair away.’

He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. He whispered his prayer. ‘Hey, god, I doubt you exist because your book makes no sense, but, I mean, on the off chance you are real, you mind giving me a girlfriend? You probably don’t want me repeating what I did last night. Make her a cool girl who’s interested in the same things as me. I want her to be smart. But not too smart! I don’t care if she’s pretty or whatever, just give me someone I can talk to easily. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m bothering with this infantile display of societal conformism. You can’t even hear me.’

The shame returned to his shoulders, as did the imagined smoke from his hand.

A week later, a new student joined the class. Becky White, a girl with messy hair in a ponytail and a constant frown. She scanned the class and sneered at them.

‘I was expecting more competition,’ she said as she turned to the teacher. ‘Are any of these people with an IQ higher than 110?’

Noah raised his hand. Facebook tests counted, right? Becky noted the seat next to Noah and sat next to him with a huff.

‘So, who do you prefer? Xenophanes or Pascal?’ she asked him.

Noah felt a sting from not knowing who either was. ‘Huh?’

‘It’s a very important question. I need to know if you’re a religious conformist or not.’

‘Oh, I’m an atheist.’

Becky grinned and held out her hand. He took it and they shook hands. He couldn’t help but notice how cool, smooth and lacking in sweat her hands were. He gave her a closer look and felt his heart beat just a little faster.

Noah pushed the memory away and watched an anime to let the show occupy his thoughts.