The Genetic Code

Chapter 1

Juliette

Imagine having all these voices lurking inside your head as soon as you could understand them: The snide remarks, side comments, or the worst — the sympathetic condolences.

Her mother is crazy, so she must be too. It runs in the genes.

Haven't you heard? Her father's coded with anger issues; I bet she's a hotheaded one.

Oh dear, that poor girl, having to be born into that kind of family, damned right from the start.

You may be able to ignore it once. Twice. Even fifty times. But when it's all you hear, wherever you go — an inescapable insignia that clings onto your skin and follows you around like a distorted shadow — all those voices in your head condense into a thought. That thought remains lodged at the back of your mind, your own nagging voice among those of a dozen reinforcing the thought every time you try to vanquish it. It fuels it, allowing it to culture and grow like a virus, larger, larger, until your mind is overrun by the disease, and you start to believe it too.

It shows on your skin. That deadly thought might as well be printed across your forehead. I mean, it already is on your records. Teachers scrutinize those documents through clouded eyes, flitting between your face and the lines that read your parents' conditions. Pursed lips, narrowed eyes, disposed thoughts.

They tell me not to cause them any trouble. They'll be keeping a watchful eye on me, because bipolarity and anger issues are not a good combination. Not because I look like the type to cause trouble or I am the type to cause trouble; they don't even know me. My records are untainted, all except for the two lines that read "Mother: Bipolar", "Father: Anger Issues" and "Status: Normal". With those two lines, my record falls into the pile labeled "Imperfect", and I'm automatically viewed in a different light.

But can I blame them?

I should be judged of my character based on what my parents' coded conditions are, determined by a test done when they were sixteen. It's scientifically proven that I have an extremely high probability of harboring some mutant tag of DNA. So I should be treated differently from others who presumably don't have this kind of genetic deformity. Why should someone with pure genes be treated with the same level of regard as someone with corrupted genes? Of course, it wouldn't be fair to those born Perfect. Not at all. They should be rewarded for their painstaking efforts in being born into a Perfect gene pool. They chose the right parents. People like me, on the other hand, should be punished by society for being so poor in our selection skills. Yes, that would only be fair.

People call me a cynic. I call myself a realist.

I can't even begin to fathom how things are for Invalids, when this is how things are for the majority of the population that they call Normals. In fact, as far as Normals go, I'm already considered one of the more fortunate ones.

Invalids are seen merely as a stain on the pristine fabric of the Perfects' coattail, the unfortunate ones cursed with the hereditary stigmatization of their impure DNA.

After all, they're the ones with contaminated genes that failed to advance over the span of human evolution.

Juliette Aldaine