Exceptional Brightness

My tools stand at attention on the marble countertop, waiting to be wielded in pursuit of artistry. I select the first and affix a dollop of charcoal gel to its bristles. The device springs to life at the press of a button.

I begin to brush my teeth.

The Proclean Prestige 8800 is the best toothbrush on the market. The bristles are arranged in a circle to achieve the optimal forty-five-degree cleaning position. It has five cleaning modes. I've selected Whitening Mode for maximum brushstroke pressure and a slightly-above recommended brush duration timer of three minutes. Best of all, it’s Bluetooth enabled and comes with a companion app. My phone displays an AI-generated map of my mouth. I follow the route selected by the app to ensure optimal surface coverage, no mirror necessary. My custom toothpaste is shipped to me each month from a service that analyzes my enamel health, regular diet, and the water quality in my neighborhood.

The whole setup is expensive, but it will be worth every penny if it gets me to the top of Routenius leaderboard. There’s a lot of competition out there. Everybody brushes their teeth, but my superior equipment gives me an edge.

“Hunter, open up!” My brother hammers his fist against the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there forever.”

I unlock the door and Michael barges in. His new girlfriend is waiting for him to take her to the movies or whatever. He just got a promotion, so she’s probably hoping for something fancier. Whether it’s her silky hair or her big eyes, she’s got him hot around the collar.

He’s insufferable, but I get it. Expectations make us do crazy things.

Michael runs a comb through his hair and pats on a clot of aftershave. Our eyes meet in the mirror. He frowns at the froth of toothpaste issuing from the corners of my mouth.

“You look like a rabid dog,” he says.

He grabs his manual toothbrush and we scuffle over my toothpaste. I snatch it away. He rolls his eyes and squeezes the tube of sparkly blue stuff he’s been using since Kindergarten.

We brush side by side, Michael preening while I scroll Routeinus. After breakfast, I was ranked eighth in oral hygiene. It’s the end of the day and I’ve brushed after each meal to advance my ranking. I’m second only to Mizuki Migakimasu and it’s nine o’clock in the morning in Japan. They probably won’t have another chance to brush for a few hours at least.

The Proclean emits a haptic vibration, and I float the brush to the fourth quadrant. Is this the night I finally claim first place? Routenius takes a few minutes to calibrate and refresh, but my brushing duration is already above average, and I’ve enjoyed a top-tier whiteness index for the past ten days. All I need is a ninety eight percent plaque reduction percentage to push me ahead of Mizuki. Michael expectorates into the sink in front of me.

“Too short,” I gargle. The Proclean vibrates again. Talking takes the bristles off their optimal cleaning pathway. I hurriedly correct course.

“Some of us have more important things to do,” Michael says. He takes the stairs two at a time.

The Proclean switches off at the end of the timer. I check my ranking but the app buffers, eight dots whirling in a spectrum of grays. Killing time, I rip a length of floss from the roll. There isn’t a compatible smart device for flossing so I just run the string around my mouth.

“Hunter! We’re leaving for Brody’s recital. Do you want me to put your slice of pie in the fridge for later?” my mother calls from the kitchen.

My phone erupts in a series of notifications and vibrations signaling a flood of new Routenius followers. Some good-looking people sent me direct messages.

LilyMaxxXXxx: congrats xx

AvasGoals: ur teeth are cute

judgejordan: smile so brite gotta wear shades <sunglasses emoji>

I fly down the stairs. Picture frames rattle as I high-step it: team photos of all of Michael’s athletic pursuits from peewee tee ball all the way up to University baseball. His bachelor’s degree is framed at the end of the tableau. Brody’s pictures encroach on this hall of fame. There’s a full complement of orchestras, jazz quartets, and the odd garage band that misunderstood the range of a double bassist. An empty frame waits for his high school diploma. My contribution is at the bottom of the stairs: a school photo from when I was ten. I’m smiling with my lips pressed together.

It’s not the promise of pie or my family’s impending departure that brings me to the kitchen. Pearly whites on full display, I present my phone, open to Routenius. There I am, HuntersJaws¸ at the top of the oral hygiene leaderboard. Number one; the best tooth brusher on the planet.

My mother squints over her shoulder while straightening the bowtie on Brody’s orchestra suit.

“Have you decided about the pie? I put it in the fridge already, but I can warm it up for you before we go.”

“I won! I’m ranked first in the Routenius app. Best at oral hygiene!”

“Then we’re finally seeing a return on investment from the small fortune we spent on your orthodonture in middle school,” my father says, guffawing like a walrus. He claps his palm on Michael’s girlfriend’s shoulder. Hannah, I think her name is.

“You do Routenius?” she says, turning those expectant eyes on me. “One of my roommates was doing that awhile ago. For some reason, she wanted to have the cleanest kitchen. Or, the best cooking surfaces? Something like that. Anyway, our apartment only has a smart dishwasher. She kept running it, like, constantly. Our water bill got so high, we begged her to stop. It was crazy,” she trails off.

“Let’s get going, babe,” Michael says. He guides Hannah out the door, a palm pressed to her lower back. She grins and waves in lieu of a goodbye. I’m tempted to offer her a white strip.

Brody lugs his instrument case to the garage and my father follows.

“What’s all this?” my mother asks.

I push my phone under her nose. “I have the brightest shade on the whiteness index, and an almost perfect score on plaque reduction. See?” I scroll and zoom to show her, but it’s too late. I’ve fallen to number three.

“That’s nice, dear.” She pats her hair for her reading glasses, then gives up. “What are your plans for tonight? Do you have homework, or would you like to come with us?”

There’s a pile of abandoned assignments on my desk. I could unpack the model plane kit my uncle got me last Christmas or watch some Friday night television. My head feels cottony, packed tightly with boredom.

“I should probably get to it,” I mumble.

She kisses me on the forehead and scours the kitchen for her keys. As soon as the garage door shuts, I slump against the counter. I check Routenius again. I’m falling further still, down to five.

I toggle out of oral hygiene and check the other categories. I’m presented with a list of the greatest out there. The fittest, whose fitness trackers register the longest or highest intensity workouts. The most well-read, whose e-readers or audiobook platforms track their reading volume. The safest drivers, computers in their cars monitoring every stop, turn, and acceleration. Even the cleanest, like Hannah’s roommate, who utilize their smart appliances to create a domestic paradise.

There’s a piece of pie waiting for me. I dig in with my fingers, eyes closed against the cold and bright from the open fridge door. When I’ve finished eating, I’ll go brush my teeth again.