"Alterations" A Short, Short
“Alterations”
by
James
Patrick Lockett
The
pages were brittle, as were the words - it took her breath away. She ran her
fingertips across the last page, as if the ink held some final magic that she’d
missed. She closed the book and cradled
it gently on her lap - it was an old thing, and she’d been taught to treat it
with respect. Sara could smell the past
that the pages held. How could it be
possible? Was there really a time when people were hated just because of the
color of their skin? It was unimaginable
to her. Things had changed so much in
just two generations, as soon as D’alting became offered to those who could
afford it, race was no longer an issue. Nor was gender, or age. The medical
alternation of DNA - first called “Clipping”- had seen to that. It was supposed to make things better.
Sara
hated that word - better. Nothing
was better, only different. Altered. So very different from the worlds
that existed in her books. Once men were looked up to, to run things - government
was a funny word - but D’alting destroyed that. Once Gods were looked to, to run things - religion,
another funny word - but D’alting destroyed that too. The only thing D’alting
failed to destroy was hate. Sara understood
hatred.
The
“Genies”- the privileged, genetically perfect ones who saw themselves as better
than those naturally born and lorded over - that was a good word for it - lorded
over the unaltered “normies.” They saw
themselves as “Lord and Master.” Free of
sickness, physically perfect, free of emotion that came along with being
“normal.” In every way superior. Sara
hated that.
She
opened the hidden panel in the wall and placed the book on top of the
others. “Genies” didn’t even read,
information was directly downloaded. “Normies” weren’t known to read either - it
was seen a leisure time luxury, and had become a lost art, of sorts. Sara saw it as the greatest gift her “normie”
parents had given their natural born daughter. She closed the panel and turned to corner of
her room that served as a kitchen.
Sara
placed the tea pot over the fire, to boil as she dressed. Today she’d make the trip to the ‘Fill on the
other side of town. She hoped to find a
new book, though she wouldn’t mind revisiting one she’d already read. She’d be happy to come away with anything
from normal times - she took great pleasure in anything normal. She’d found her
old tea pot there once. It whistled when
the water was ready, that made her laugh.
She pulled on the drab brown cloak of the drone-class - this way she
would not be expected to look the “genies’ in the eye as she passed them. She raised the hood over her head as she
sipped her tea.
Outside,
the day was already very hot and the hood made it hotter, but it would allow
Sara access across town uninterrupted. She was blocks from her home when Sara
saw the child. It was something she’d
read, there was a time one would identify a child by gender - either little boy
or little girl - written as if to suggest that she would react differently. All
Sara knew, was that the child was hurt.
And was surrounded by “Genies” - who stood by watching. Sara knelt and addressed the child as little
one. Her hood fell way as she brushed
tears from the little one’s eyes.
“It
hurts to fall, doesn’t it?” Sara said. “But you can’t fly until you fall a time
or two.”
The
child smiled, before running to arms of her approaching Mother. Sara stood, nodding to the child’s Mother, and
then looked at the “Genies.”
“Why
did you tell her that?” One asked. “She can’t fly?” They all laughed at the joke.
Perfect,
Sara thought. The other thing “Genies”
lacked was the thing “normies” had called compassion. Something that couldn’t be downloaded, oc
clipped into one’s DNA Sara raised the
hood back over her head and walked away - the ‘Fill was calling to her, like it
had something special waiting. She
didn’t notice the crowd gathering, falling in behind her. Following.
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