Unbecoming Humans

Chapter 18

Nima and I fell into a comfortable routine over the next several days. We would go on a morning walk, which turned into a morning run by Thursday. Then, we would go through classes and mealtimes as required. Sometimes during class, Nima would rest her leg against mine under the table where we sat next to each other. I longed to reach out and place my hand on top of her knee, to feel her taught leg muscles beneath the fitted fabric of her slacks. There was no way to do it without anyone noticing. I would have to be satisfied feeling the warmth of her leg against mine.

At the dining table, I would catch Nima casting a sultry smile in my direction, or giving me a quick wink in between bites. It made me blush every time, and I would have to pretend to be fascinated by the food on my plate to hide my flushed face.

In the afternoons once class was over, we had time to study, or practice our instruments, or play sports. Nima and I spent as much of this time together as we could. I continued giving her tennis lessons and teaching her to play the cello. Sometimes, we would sit together at a table in the library, reading quietly. Or, we would go to the greenhouse and work in the garden. All the while, we would steal flirtatious glances, or 'accidentally' brush against one another. I especially enjoyed our time in the music practice rooms. Teaching Nima to play the cello gave me an excuse to wrap myself around her, under the guise of adjusting her position, when no one was looking.

Nima recovered quickly, once she was out of the lab. She returned to her old self the day after she was released. What was more, I could see the gene treatment taking effect before my eyes. She became stronger and faster. I could see her reflexes improving during our tennis lessons, which were quickly moving towards competitive matches, and away from technical practice. During class, Nima was quickly picking up the languages we used, reflecting her heightened mental state. Our morning run got faster and longer as her endurance grew.

As Nima grew in strength, intelligence, and beauty, Justine grew more and more jealous. Our positions in the hierarchy of future rulers were based on our age. Before Nima came along, Justine was third in line, after myself and Blake. Nima's arrival meant that Justine was now fourth in line, which was a travesty in her eyes. If she had her way, she would be the supreme ruler of everything, and it showed.

On Friday morning, three weeks after Nima came out of her coma, Justine's jealousy boiled over. Ms. Mikhailov - who was teaching that day - was praising Nima for her speedy acquisition of the Russian language. Justine's face turned bright red and she slammed her palm against the table.

"Justine!" Ms. Mikhailov scolded.

"No!" Justine shouted back. "She has only had one treatment! She's not even one of us! She'll probably just die with the next treatment anyway!"

"How dare you?!" I threw my chair back as I stood up.

"It's alright, Aria," Nima told me, placing a calming hand on my arm. "I'm sure we can settle this like the civilized people we are. Perhaps, a tennis tournament?" she suggested lightly.

"As if you'd have a chance against any of us!" Justine scoffed. "I bet even Ophelia could beat you!" she gestured at tiny Ophelia, sitting quietly across the table from us.

"You should have nothing to worry about, then," Nima egged Justine on. "Winner claims the head title." A sly smile flashed across Nima's face. It made my heart skip a beat. Justine glared daggers at Nima for a long, silent moment. Tennis seemed to me a trivial way to settle the fate of the future of humanity, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Fine," Justine spat, at long last. She sat down harshly in her seat. We resumed our discussion, but no one seemed particularly keen to engage. It was a beautiful day outside, and it was difficult to focus as it was without the thrilling promise of an impending tennis tournament.