In a futuristic society where people are differentiated and valued based on the purity of their genes, can a person define for themselves who they really are? Or does The Gene Test provide the answer for them?
Depression... Addiction... Criminality...
I weave quickly through the building and begin to make my way out of the compound.
There are some other students walking out of the compound as well, but I keep my head down and move on without regarding any of them. I pray that I don't run into anyone I recognize right now, especially not a certain tan-skinned brunette boy—
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Hey," Alex appears in front of me, leaning on a tree in the middle of the carpark. He springs up and walks toward me with a large smile on his face.
I cringe inwardly, muttering a profanity under my breath, but my face mirrors his exuberant smile.
"I've been waiting for you. Let's get lunch together at that nearby cafe."
"Oh, I— uh..." I try to come up with some excuse, any excuse, to avoid having to endure a whole painful meal while holding up the heaviness of my facade, but my mind is so filled with running thoughts that I can't fathom a new one. Alex slings his arm around my shoulders.
"It's my treat. Let's go!"
I force the sides of my lips to lift up in a grin that comes out more as a grimace as I'm dragged forward by Alex's lock on me. At least I knew that his lack of perception would allow me to skirt through this lunch without question. All I had to do was keep my cheeks raised and he wouldn't notice the obvious falter in my eyes.
"I know a shortcut through an alleyway. We'll reach a lot quicker if we go through there."
As we amble down a narrow road, enclosed on both sides by buildings, I can almost smell the desolation permeating in the air, stale and musty. There are some people sitting at the foot of the building on the left side, at intervals. Bundled up in worn-out hoodies, seated on piles of patched up blankets with their legs outstretched to reveal the soles of their shoes, battered with holes. Stomachs filled with a hollow emptiness, eyes glassy and drained of hope. They are people who probably idle their lives away, wondering why fate had been so cruel to them, as to put them in those bodies, with vitiated blood running through their veins... Invalids.
One man looks up to me, speaking softly through his hoarse throat, "Please help." He waves a metal bowl in front of me, its contents a few stray coins, a crumpled dollar note and a chewed up piece of gum. The chime of metal sounds like a melancholic melody. I feel my heart ache with a bitter numbness. There's something tugging at my heart like a string, to go up to that man, wrap him tightly in an embrace and tell him, "It's okay. I understand your pain. I know what it's like to feel burned by your sullied blood even during the coldest winters. Soon, I'll have to stop pretending, and I'll be with you all. We are the same."
Suddenly, there's a hand on my back, as Alex guides me towards the other side of the road, on the right sidewalk. I look to him in question. His blue eyes are gentle, and for a second I almost blurt it out. I am an Invalid. And he would look at me with those bright eyes and that goofy smile on his face, ruffling my hair, telling me he knew all along and that it didn't matter.
