The instant the impressive number left my lips, the eyes of those present glistened; it had to be said that the technical peak of IQ score was 200, so for me to state that mine was 223 was akin to saying I’m a world record holder, and there were VERY, VERY few people who could say the same thing.
Now, did I actually have such an IQ score? Fuck if I know; I’ve never even taken an IQ test in either of my lives, but knowing that the score was all the rage in the 90s and that it would add some plausibility to my maturity for my age, I figured it would work as a good reason for me being so smart.
Cocky overconfidence aside, I’ve never thought myself to be a genius or anything of the sort. To be honest, most of the reason I could even be considered smart is because of the combination of Adhd and Autism compounding with my perfect memory.
I have a hunger for knowledge and to satiate my curiosity, which has led me down some very niche rabbit holes of information. If anything, I’d say the bulk of the books in my imagination library are random facts that no one needs; however, when used properly, they can have a devastating effect.
By admitting to having such a high IQ Score, not only can I put the higher-ups ’ minds at ease, but they are also more prone to taking me seriously.
"Can you confirm this, Miss Rowing?" Attempting to hide his excitement, Nathan asked with uncertainty. It wasn’t every day you come across a five-year-old claiming to have an extremely high IQ.
"Yes, I can…" pausing and opening the folder containing her version of the documents that I had previously prepared, Jennifer flicked through some pages before pulling out an official-looking paper filled with test results and sliding it across the table to Nathan, who promptly picked it up and began reading through it.
"This…is impressive," scanning through the contents of the paper, Nathen looked up at me several times before finishing and passing the page around for the other higher-ups to read.
New novel chapt𝒆rs are published on ƒгeewebnovёl.com.
What they didn’t know was I had cobbled the document together in no time flat, using a printer and some common forgery techniques. Since we weren’t quite in the digital age, it wasn’t a common thought process to assume everything and anything was fake.
Then again, I went the extra mile by using special paper and even ink. Also, it had all the proper signatures and seals one would expect to see, so technically speaking, they had no reason to believe it was a falsified document.
Plus, the proof was sitting right in front of them: a child who spoke fluently and seemed way smarter beyond his years. For those who had any doubts about my cover story in the first place, they now were coming to light and observed me, no longer showing hostility and disapproving gestures.
Of course, they had no way of verifying its authenticity since it was a subjective test in the first place, so to them, it seemed as official as official could be.
’Who would have thought that the random screenshot I saw on Chirper back then would have come in handy at some point,’ Wearing a slight smirk, I felt an odd sense of achievement as I watched the fake IQ test get passed around.
Starting as an initially floating thought, which I gave little importance to, I eventually worked it into my plan as a means of setting the stage. I was well aware of how it would sound if a small kid suddenly began talking business or trying to negotiate terms with adults; thus, I devised a plausible manner for me to even the playing field.
Add in the effects of my Talent and Coersion skills, and things were panning out perfectly.
"Setting that aside, we have a few things I would like to go over with you all, mainly those that involved the Henry Potter franchise as a whole." Crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair, my words drew confused expressions from those across the table.
"I don’t mean to sound like a busybody, but Cal, what do you mean by franchise? To my knowledge, you are only slated to release one book with an extension clause in your contract for two more at the maximum if they sell well." Hearing my use of the specific terminology, Nathan spoke up, making a point to bring up that I was now, on paper, the owner of the series.
"Well, Mr. Newsom, what if I were to tell you that I have not only one finished draft but seven." My words came down like a hammer on all of the higher-ups, especially Jennifer, who was looking at me with total confusion painting her eyes.
"That’s not all either; I have not one, but two different versions of each book, one for localization here in the UK, and then one tailored for an American Audience, along with corresponding artwork and book covers for each." Dropping one bombshell after another, I picked up my backpack from the ground, unzipped it, and, using some sleight of hand to pull them from my inventory first, retrieved 14 small books from my backpack, each one handwritten and exact copies from my memory of the ones I had read in the Origin Timeline.
Carefully laying out each of the diary-sized notebooks on the table, I arranged them in such a way that the UK versions formed the top row and the American versions the bottom row.
"Each of these has been fully edited by yours truly and is a masterpiece in its own right. Jennifer wasn’t lying when she said that she had plagiarised my work, and what she presented to you was, in fact, the first book of seven." Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Jennifer picked up the second book in what would have been her series, Henry Potter and the Alcove of Mystery.