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...
The boy stands up from the couch and opens his arms wide with a large grin.
"My dear old Stephan! It's been too long. Oh, or should I call you 'Mr Crawford' around here?" He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously at an obviously irked but no longer threatened Sterling. I notice that this guy has a scar on his left eyebrow, which doesn't exactly match his slightly nerdy vibe.
"What the hell, man! You can't just show up in here unannounced."
The boy rubs his stubbled chin as if pondering hard upon Sterling's words. "Well, announcing beforehand when you're trying to surprise someone kind of ruins the surprise... doesn't it? Anyway, you wanted to meet me since I'm back in town."
"I meant at my house, you crazy bastard! How'd you even get in here?"
"I hacked into the school database and put myself on the visitor's list as a very special guest. I even wore my best clothes just for this!" He stands in a pair of worn-out light-washed ripped jeans and a graphic T-shirt with designs that complement the purple highlights on the tips of his black hair. "For an elite school their firewall is pretty weak. And come on, Nitey, still putting the key in the flower pot? It's like you're asking me to break in," he smirks, and it's almost scarily identical to Sterling's.
"I was nearly about to knock the lights out of you, idiot."
"Please, as if you could take me that easily. Don't forget, the only person who could give you a run for your money back in The Pit was me, oh Stephy boy." Another Pit fighter? He doesn't really have the physique of one, though. He's very tall, perhaps even rivaling Sterling in height, but he's more lanky than muscular. His amber eyes, the color of copper-burnt honey, scrutinize Sterling's face closely. "Ah, but it looks like somebody else already has in my absence, judging by the amount of cover-up cream you have on right now."
Sterling just rolls his eyes and pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
The boy cranes his neck, looking past Sterling's towering figure shielding me. "And are we just going to ignore the pretty lady in the room? That's not very courteous of you, Sterling. I'd think you would have been taught better in this esteemed institution."
He bows his head toward me, "Hello there," and outstretches a hand, which Sterling smacks away. He glares at Sterling in mock offense, soon after breaking out into a wide grin again, showing off his pearly whites. Instead of a handshake, he raises his left hand upwards like a scout reciting his motto. "Stephan Crawford's oldest friend, best friend, and only friend."
"Maybe minus the 'friend' part," Sterling mumbles, thought it was clearly meant for everyone to hear. The boy blatantly ignores his remark.
"The name's Felix, but you can call me... tonight." He winks. I hold back my incredulous snort of laughter. He did not just say that.
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