Anthony Davis was just an ordinary teen, at least until the archaeologists came a-knockin. Normally Anthony doesn't answer strange knocks on his front door, but they pounded with such ferocity that he had no choice. As soon as he opened the door, a flood of middle-aged men and women in khakis and pith helmets came rushing in. Mary Carter, the head of the project, instructed the other archaeologists to quietly surround Anthony, as "he might be unused to so much foreign contact all at once." As Anthony stumbled around the circle looking for an exit point, Mary approached him and told him, loudly and in no uncertain terms, that he was going to be alright, they were just going to take him to a "resort." As she was saying this, one of the other archaeologists shot Anthony with a tranquilizer gun from behind, knocking him out cold.

Anthony awoke to the sound of his school bell. He sat up immediately, ignoring the blinding light emanating from the room, grabbed his books, and tried to get to his next class. As soon as he grabbed the door handle, he felt a shock and leaped back. A voice he vaguely recognized came on over the loudspeaker. "Don't worry Anthony, your teachers will be coming to you today! No need to rush." The voice clicked off. Anthony sat back down in his rickety desk and awaited his teacher. He gave disturbingly little thought to the lack of other students and his whereabouts. He was focused on getting a good grade in the class and getting to baseball practice after volunteering at the local YMCA.

The clack of footsteps on the linoleum floor snapped him out of his community service daydream, and he turned his attention to the woman in front of him. She cleared her throat and instructed him that he had 30 minutes to take a pop quiz. "But I don't even know what this class is," he protested. "Shouldn't I at least be taught something first?" The woman shook her head and promised him that he'd do well because that was really his only option. "In all your 17 years, you've never failed anything. No reason to start now!" Anthony nodded, swallowed the usual pre-assessment nerves, and put his pencil to the paper.