"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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