The Genetic Code

Chapter 3

It's fifth period, and I'm called to the Principal's office.

No matter how much I think about it, there isn't anything I did wrong. I've been perfectly under the radar, avoiding too much attention by any teachers or elites. I steer clear from the right Wing of the school, to prevent mingling with any elites. My grades are pretty decent, but not good enough to stand out. I rebel against the system in my own rights, just enough for them to hear a voice, but not know which voice is mine amidst the crowd — Not like they actually hear any of us mere mortals down here with their noses thrusted so high up in the clouds, but it's still important to show some defiance every now and then so they don't think that we're blindly conforming to this prejudicial system.

Even though Trinity Institution spits out rubbish about its superficial aims for "interaction and integration among people of all backgrounds, statuses and ancestry", there is a clear distinction between those that are Perfect, and those that are not. In fact, Invalids aren't even allowed admittance into Trinity Institution unless their parents are workers in the school — as cooks, cafeteria ladies, cleaners and garbage disposers — in which case they are able to enroll under welfare scholarships.

Schools usually don't tend to mix Perfects and Invalids, because they think it would be a recipe for disaster. And they're right.

Perfects and Imperfects don't ever intermingle, and see each other as strangers rather than schoolmates. In the year I have been in this school, the only Perfect I recognize is Kera Rosamund, and that's just because of how loyal a customer she is to the freak mart across her side of the Line to personally select her victims. Besides the fact that none of us take any classes together, the only period we share being lunch, there is a physical barrier in the cafeteria that separates the Perfects from the rest of us mere mortals.

The cafeteria is the center of the school, the convergence of the two different blocks existing on a single compound.

The left Wing of the school is where the normal human population of students in Trinity Institution resides. The structures directly linked to the cafeteria are newly renovated and nearly up to par with the infrastructure of the right wing. Those are where the offices, staff lounges and facilities opened to the public — such as auditoriums and parent dialogue rooms — are located.

But as you move further west, you begin to see the traces of grime and dirt that stain the glass windows. The glass infrastructure turns to worn brick, with moss creeping down the sides of buildings. You are transitioned from a perfect paradise, to the bleak reality of stuffy undersized classrooms and locked doors of broken facilities that will not be fixed.

It's basically two separate schools existing on a common compound, under the pretense of being a single institution. Besides the name, compound and communal areas such as the General Office and Principal's Office, there isn't really anything else that the two sections of Trinity Institution have in congruous. Our uniform, teachers, school fees, standards and even school rules are different for Perfects and Imperfects. Or 'Regular' stream, as they like to sugarcoat it.

The Principal's office is situated in the right Wing. That, as much as the prospect of seeing the Principal, is scary enough. Just walking down those halls, you can feel the judgment seeping through your skin. The dirty looks thrown your way, whispers flying through the air, some catcalls if you're unlucky.

Even the elite teachers from the East Wing give you indiscreet up-down stares. After all, they are Perfects too. Perfects can only be taught by the likes of their own class, they wouldn't approve of anything less. How can a Perfect be educated by someone flawed? That would be absurd. They might corrupt them with their defective influence. A Perfect must be brought up from young with a pure mindset and set of values indoctrinated into them. The type of values that promote pretension and antipathy.