Vagabond (22 page)

“Degeneration,” Agathon answered. “When the smaller population began to reproduce, certain genetic mutations became common and dangerous. They weakened Humanity and threatened to wipe it out.”

The angry bear growled as if to punctuate Agathon’s answer, and the class let out a pent up giggle.
 

“But what about the positive mutations. The ones that make you, let’s say, kinder? Smarter? Stronger? Attractive?”

Dion joined in on the dialogue. “Then it’s in our best interest to try and propagate those alleles through selective breeding.”

Aeschylus rubbed his fingers absentmindedly along the bear’s neck. It had a stupid, lopsided gaze to it— a true, life sized teddy-bear. “So, the question is, why can’t we go into the DNA before a child is born and stop the negative mutations there? Why is selective breeding preferable?”
 

“It’s more responsible,” Dion answered again. “If we go in and alter too much of the genome with every preferable trait, we risk creating something that is not human. We risk having to redefine what it means to be human. We risk creating an entirely new species, rather than saving the one we have now. It’s safer to work in small measures and in patience. Shift the direction of the allele slightly, so to speak, and propagate that trait within a small population over generations, then mix those traits within a larger population to protect diversity.”

“But why protect diversity? Why can’t we all have the same traits?” Aeschylus asked.
 

“Does this debate really matter? Won’t the result be the same, whether we get there quickly or slowly?” Berenike asked. “I mean, we all know that we have evolved into something completely different from what those original people of the ‘Melting Pot’ were. By definition, we are genetically superior to our ancestors. Does that mean we’ve been redefining Humanity with each generation? What would it matter if we did it more quickly?”

“Because, if we were all on the same side of perfection, we risk one wrong mutation wiping us all out completely. Diversity gives us more options in terms of genetic directions we can take. Plus, if we were all genetically perfect, where would the competition be? What would push us to seek out improvement or innovation?” Agathon found his soap-box and stood on it grandly. “Where would the end be? Will the idea— the definition— of perfection stay the same? No. Perfection is too fickle. It’s in our nature to never be satisfied. We always think we can do more.”
 

Aeschylus sighed. “And there, my friends, is where the debate will always rest. It is why Science and State must remain separate to balance out both sides to this question, because altering Humanity drastically should not be taken lightly. At least we still have time before the debate gains any credence. We still are not advanced enough to create super-humans.”
 

Ono sucked in another breath. “My father dug deeper and deeper, and the more he discovered about her, the angrier he got. He found a loophole though. Apparently, her parents union had some questionable beginnings. He accused her entire family of Genetic Terrorism. He planted extra evidence against them, and had them killed without a trial. I didn’t know what he’d done. He just came to me with the good news one night. He told me the G.E.G. had made a mistake, and it had been rectified. I’d eventually be paired with someone with more adequate genetic markers.
 

“Since I was already on the Military Tract, they were to pair me after I was finished with my initiation into the Militia. Everything seemed to be going my way from that moment on. My prodigy status kept growing, and I rose in rank faster than anyone. My rise in rank gave me access to more information, including the G.E.G. databases. I didn’t think much about that resource at first, but I kept having dreams about the girl who turned traitor. I wondered what her family had done, and what type of bullet I dodged.
 

“Then, I saw my first Terrorist get executed in the wild. My dreams changed into nightmares, and I kept seeing my dead partner, with a face I couldn’t picture, in every face that was executed. I started to get this feeling that there was more to the story— that my father hadn’t told me everything. I started digging into the databases, hacking through walls, until I found the report that indicated she’d escaped— that she was officially a Terrorist living out in the wild.

“Then… then I discovered… When I hacked into other G.E.G. databases, I learned I was a genetic pain in the ass. There was only a very specific and rare genetic strand I was allowed to partner with, and it was this girl. We were both flagged, not because we were defective, but because our children would begin the next line of human perfection.” Ono shook his head and took a deep breath. “If only the G.E.G. had shared that information with my father. If only he’d known what was in that file— that her entire Colony, through generational patience and character coaching, had been working to produce her. She was generations in the making, and they treated her so poorly. They made her think she was inferior so she’d work harder to become a model Citizen. The file didn’t sugar coat descriptions. She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t beautiful. None of that mattered, because our genetic lines were meant to merge.”
 

He frowned again, like he was holding back tears. “My father was too near sighted. He forgot that perfection was not about everyone looking the same and being beautiful. Every school child knows that perfection only comes through fostering genetic diversity, but my father didn’t even read the reports. He just let paranoia and pride get the best of him. Had he just used his brain, he’d have seen that he was robbing my line— our line, from the best thing that could ever happen to it.

“She’s out here somewhere, and I set out to find her. She’s smart, so she had to survive it all. My father thinks I’m doing this undercover operation as part of my initiation, and he’s using it as part of his new campaign. He’s hoping that, with the successful military strategies I’ve developed and my work out here, I’ll emerge a Republic hero before the next election.”

Ono sucked in a deep, tortured breath before he finished it off. I didn’t want to hear the rest. I already knew so much more than he did, and it splintered my heart along the capillaries that kept it beating. He continued anyways. “Knucs. I’m so sorry about last night. I never meant for it to happen. I knew better, but I was so caught up in the moment. Originally, I thought you’d be able to help me find her or bring me to some Rebels who might know something. I’m so ashamed I let all this happen, and I’m so, so sorry. But I still have a duty to my line, and I need to find her— protect her— prove my father was wrong.”
 

Laughter tasted so salty in my mouth, but it came out anyways. It embarked on its own little journey and drew confusion out of his stare.
 

“It’s not funny. I still need to find her… Her name is Nikom—“

“Nikomedes Kostas. My name is Nikomedes Kostas, and you
and
your father can both go to hell.”
 

Chapter Fifteen

I got up and walked away. I left him staring at the ground with a stupid open jaw on his stupid perfect face, and I had no other words to give him as a parting gift.
 

I pushed through the corn stalks, and I figured I might as well keep heading towards the lake. There wasn’t much else to do besides that, and at least the traitor got the Militia off my back for a while with his “orders.” He’d said it with such authority that I was positive it would stop the “Cleansing” for the time being. At least for this migration, there’d be less soldiers, but that also meant there could be more spies.
 

The sun pulled itself down from the sky by the time I reached the middle of the corn field. I was torn. Should I keep moving? Should I rest? The day had been so long that I didn’t think I could keep going. Instead of giving me more adrenaline, the anger made me tired. Empty. I knew it’d be safer if I just camped where I stood inside the rows.
 

I took my pack off and pulled out my sleeping bag. As I settled my head onto my pack, I stared at the stars that peeked through the leaves. They pushed themselves through the dark and blinked in colors that surpassed gold.
 

I knew why my parents died now.
 

Me. It was because of me.
 

Mama was right to fear my genetics, but for different reasons than she had come up with.
 

The G.E.G.'s actions made no sense. If my line was so rare, why did they stop at me? Why didn’t they let Mama and Daddy have more kids? Was I just a trial? Was there some magic chart out there that cautioned against making more than one in my line? The Genetic Engineering Guild saw so much more than Citizens did. They analyzed and followed the maps to Humanity, and we’d all been taught to trust in their guidance. How could the Chancellor, the face of the Republic, not trust the very foundations which the Republic was built on?
 

The Chancellor’s face. I’d seen it so many times, but he’d never seen mine. The Department of Human Relations always kept pictures out of the notices since they didn’t see the point of it. If a Citizen was truly worried about the human condition, they wouldn’t care about what their partner looked like. The G.E.G. had other things, like chemistry predictions and genetic compatibility, on their side for mere looks to be a deciding factor in partnering. Without ever meeting me, the Chancellor deemed me unworthy for his precious, perfect son because of what I appeared to be and not because of what I was. That just seemed to be my luck in it all. I was the perpetual blemish on all the documents, and my parents died because of it.
 

And Ono? Flea? Paramonos? Of all the people to run into? Of all the people to help along? With all his digging, did he not run across a picture? He had to have. I knew I was in vids performing experiments for the G.E.G. I knew I was featured in Scientific Journals. How could he not recognize me?
 

I looked at my hands and arms. I couldn’t see them well in the dark, but I knew what they looked like. I stretched them out into the sky and grazed my fingers on a leaf that was heavy in texture but light under the weight of my fingers. My arms were slender and tone from having to lift myself up so much. They were a testament to all the weight that had slipped off me like bad memories. Two years as a Track-girl would do that to a person. I hadn’t really looked in a mirror in a long time, and I tried to remember what my face looked like in my past life. Round. Bulbous. Chunky. Mama tried to make me work out, but I was too busy studying. I clung to the idea that my brains would still be the only thing that saved me, because on paper I was already crap. The truth of it crushed me, and I struggled under the weight of tears and death and loss and confusion.
 

I rubbed my stomach. It rippled with subtle muscles, flat under my fingertips. The whole texture of it felt sick and wrong. I wasn’t chunky anymore. Is that why he didn’t recognize me from any of the pictures and vids he may have seen in his digging?

To top it off, both of his parents were Celebrities. He mentioned his mother was in passing, and I knew the Chancellor had done his stint. That was practically unheard of. In many debates a double-Celebrity offspring is considered too aggressive. No wonder Ono was flagged. No wonder Chancellor Petrakis thought his son’s genes were too valuable to be wasted on someone from the 18
^th
. It simply didn’t make sense how someone like him could be partnered with someone like me. Could I blame the Chancellor for thinking foul play was involved?
 

Yes.
 

I could.
 

“That’s Kallias!” Berenike whispered. She had hunger in her eyes and jealousy in her words. She stared over at the boy sitting at the window of the coffee shop. He and Charis were in the middle of polite conversation, and I could tell the girl was trying to ignore the stares. I guessed that was the price of getting a Celebrity interview. Everyone stared, knowing the honor that was to follow. I wondered how Charis could take it? She’d gotten the interview notification along with her partnering plan, but she didn’t rub it in our faces the way most girls would have. She actually seemed embarrassed. I think, unlike the others, she really understood what it meant. It wasn’t just about the honor. With an interview came certain duties and expectations.

Kallias sat there, as if it was just another normal day. As if stares meant little more than air and were a simple fact of living. I tried to find the perfection in his face. He was dark beyond dark, with smooth skin and smooth hair. His eyes were more brown than hazel, and his feet were proportional to his legs. Lanky did not exist in his world, but he was tall and adequately hovered between thin and muscular. I wondered what it meant to be perfect? To grow up knowing you were just that? I stared at him, but not the way Berenike stared. The scientist in me examined him for reasons that were different than the other girls. I knew it wasn’t his outsides that made him a Celebrity. He was a genetic gold mine, and I wondered about his genome. I wondered what trait was written within his DNA that begged to be propagated. I was curious to see where Kallias and Charis’ genetic stories lined up, and I wanted to examine their DNA to discover where the G.E.G. wanted the two lines to go.
 

I knew Berenike wished she’d been chosen, and I wished I knew how to tell her how close to dangerous her desire was. She was bad at hiding how she felt towards boys. She never hid that she wanted a Celebrity interview. There was an edge of scandal to it all, and Berenike thrived on scandal. She’d be willing to mother a child right then and there if it was a Celebrity’s child.
 

Every girl in the coffee shop was thinking it (Berenike being more obvious than others), but not me. I couldn’t see myself being able to open up to someone only to have him leave.