The calcium/calmodulin-dependent protein kinases were giving him trouble, but as soon as he figured out how to modify them, he loaded up his mosquito robot, sent it on its way, and directed it to the back of Allison's neck. She was the cute one in Mr. Reuther's biology class.
Anderson Pitts hid his modified cell phone behind his biology book as the mosquito bit the back of Allison's neck.
"Ow," she said.
She slapped her neck, but by then it was already gone, having injected Anderson's burrowing little beasty close to her spinal cord, where it tunneled down and figured out which of the major nerves it should tap into. The micropipette lodged itself through the myelin sheath of the nerve, and began altering the chemical interactions around one of its ion channels.
Anderson Pitts gave the bug about ten minutes to take effect, then using his cell phone typed:
TO: Allison
MSG: "JOHN IS STUPID. YOU WANT TO GO TO THE PROM WITH ANDERSON PITTS"
The received cell phone message caused a series of 90 millivolt spike trains to shoot up to pretty Allison's brain. The precise patterns carried both message and switching information, so that the message was switched to a series of nerves into the area of her brain governing her emotional state.
She decided she didn't want to go to the prom with John, the quarterback of the football team. She decided that Anderson Pitts held far higher mating potential for her unborn children than did John, who was a mouthbreather and was also flunking algebra. Odd, she'd never considered flunking algebra as being that important when dating John before. Oh well, she thought, and blinked her pretty blue eyes. She giggled. She felt a bit smarter. And Anderson Pitts looked HOT.
Anderson Pitts retrieved his robot mosquito and had it feed on another drop of special serum he'd created, full of the little nanotech bugs with the communications package, the micropipettes and the mitochondrially powered flagella that acted as the motor for the little bugs. He'd read about these little flagella type motors in last year's Scientific American, the year John had almost smashed his glasses in gym class.
Anderson Pitts released the mosquito again, which flew to Mr. Reuther's neck, who swatted and missed. Anderson Pitts then typed:
TO: Mr. Reuther
MSG: "END CLASS EARLY AND DISMISS US"
and then he pressed SEND. Mr. Reuther grew a quizzical look on his face, and then ended class early and dismissed them.
Allison was dawdling outside the classroom when Anderson Pitts came out. She accidentally knocked into him, and looked at him apologetically with her baby blue eyes. Blink blink. Like a doe.
"Like, Oh My God! Anderson! Are you in my bio class?" she asked.
She blinked, like a doe.
He pushed up his glasses with one finger.
"Like, all year," he said.
She giggled. She bent over to show him some cleavage.
"So, the prom's coming up. Have you asked anybody yet?" she asked him breathlessly.
A red flush spread across her cheeks and chest. It was a very demure red flush.
"I'd like to go with you, but I hear John already asked you," he said.
"OhmyGOD! TOtally NOT!" she said.
She made plans to tell John her change of plans after his algebra class.
"Oh wow. Well, do you want to go to the prom?" he asked, as if he knew the script to the play.
He was actually getting bored of Allison already. This was waay too easy.
"I... I guess so. I hadn't really thought about it," she said, unconvincingly.
Every cell in her brain was screaming IM GOING TO THE PROM WITH ANDERSON PITTS. Admittedly, the volume wasn't very loud. Hold back, her feminine instincts were telling her. Can't get too eager.
"Cool. Listen I have to go. AP Calc is calling," he said.
With that, Anderson Pitts wheeled and walked down to Mr. Fenske's calculus class, where Anderson Pitts flipped open his cell phone, addressed a message to Allison and texted:
TO: Allison
MSG: "WEAR CROTCHLESS PANTIES."
A tip of the hat to sam512 and his SciFiQuest 2106