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 raise my eyes slowly, and find them connecting with a set of shocked blue. My words seem to have jolted him, and that cold exterior he had built around himself cracks, so that I can see through the sliver of vulnerability to a glimpse of the boy I once used to know.
I want to seize this opportunity to steal through the crack and break through to him, to the Alex I know, but he quickly covers it up again, speaking shortly, "I need to start practice. I think it's time for you to go."
"I'm not done talking," I state flatly.
He sighs heavily, eyes flickering about in agitation. Strangely, he seems jittery, and has been throughout our conversation, unable to stand still without tapping his foot or looking around the room. and when I look down at his hands, they're trembling slightly.
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"How have you been?" I ask earnestly, looking back up at his face. He has an angry bruise on his right cheek from earlier, but I try not to stare at it for too long, shifting my gaze back to his eyes, which hold a dark expression.
"You may not be done, but I am," he declares with a tone of finality, eyes flashing. My heart sinks. It looks like the hint of the Alex I used to know has vanished back behind the stone cold wall again. And for some reason, I feel like he's not just referring to this conversation.
"I see," I squeeze tightly through my throat.
Alex marches past me, and reaches for the back door, yanking it open. He stands by the doorframe, glaring at me silently.
I take the cue, swallow the burning in my throat, and walk out the door.
