The Genetic Code

Chapter 7

"I know. Cool, right? Even the doors can't resist my captivating eyes," she preens, batting her eyelashes prettily. "That's one of the perks of being the heir to the largest empire of DNA technology in the world." She tosses her blond hair over her shoulder with a flick of the head, and struts down the open path ahead of our appointed escort, black heels clicking loudly across the clear white tile.

Our escort, a slim lady in a white uniform, huffs as she tries to scuttle her way back to the front of the group, which was already moving forward at Kera's heel.

Somehow, though I didn't think it possible, my contempt for this girl intensifies. I snort, biting back my tongue, trying to swallow my bitter annoyance as I trail behind the group down another length of white hallways.

Eventually, we come to a door at the end of a long hall, labeled 'Test Room A5: Waiting Area', passcode-locked. Our escort gives Kera a poignant look, a tinge of challenge in her eyes, and Kera simply raises her hands in mock surrender, gesturing her forward. The slim lady humphs and, perhaps with too much pride, punches the five-digit passcode into the touch keypad beside the door handle. You could see her reveling in the way the door beeped and slid open.

Kera smiles.

She reaches into her blazer pocket and fishes out a hundred-dollar bill. My eyes widen in disbelief. Who just happens to have a hundred bucks on them like that? What is she, an ATM machine? I don't even have five dollars on me to buy a drink from the vending machine outside.

Kera steps forward and comes face to face with our escort, separated by a small distance. She carelessly flings the hundred from between her manicured fingers at the slim lady opposite her. It hits her in the chest before landing on the white tile.

"Good job, you know how to open doors. You can become a doorman once you're fired from this job. Thanks for your services, here's your tip," she articulates, patronizing her with a deceivingly sweet smile before sashaying through the open doorway.

The escort is left rooted to the spot, abashed — a Perfect who has probably never been on the receiving end of that kind of humiliation in her life. I guess even within the ranks of Perfects, there is a hierarchy, and the Rosamund name holds its position right at the apex.

The other eighteen students pour into the room after Kera, avoiding eye contact with the paralyzed woman on the right, turning red in her spot. Even the two boys who I recognize as Invalids quickly skitter past with their heads bowed.

It's just her and I standing out in the hall, and the tension is suffocating. I silently bend down and pick up the fallen bill, placing it awkwardly in her hands before retreating into the room as well.

As I enter the room, another Rosamund Technologies staff, a woman probably in her early-thirties, holding a tablet, greets me. She signals me to take a seat on the white bench at the wall with the rest of the students.

"Good, you're all here. My name is Julia. I'll be your test administrator. The procedure for the test is simple: I'll take a blood sample, analyze it, log it in the system, and then you can leave through the same way you came in. If you all cooperate and don't scream when I get out the needle, then this will go a lot quicker. Any questions?" Before anyone can reply she continues, "Good. We'll start from the bottom of the list."

She begins to read from the list of names on her tablet, one by one, "...then Kera Rosamund, and the last will be Juliette Aldaine."

A hand shoots up and, of course, it's Kera's. "Shouldn't I be one of the first to go? I mean, after all, this is my family's company. I shouldn't have to wait so long. Isn't there some sort of express lane here?"

Julia looks unimpressed. "Miss Rosamund, I'm guessing? This isn't an amusement park; you don't get an express pass. Everyone gets their turn, you'll just have to wait for yours. The company's not yours yet. Come back in twenty years, when you pay my salary, and I'll be sure to give you first-class treatment."

Kera appears taken aback by this unfamiliar situation of not getting exactly what she wants as soon as she outstretches her dainty palm. She attempts to take back dominance of the situation through snarkiness.

"Who says you'll even live that long? You look like you're a model for those wrinkle-dissolving creams — The before picture." Besides the crinkles at the corners of her eyes and her creased forehead, which is something that even I have as a teenager, there weren't any signs of aging on her porcelain face. But of course Kera sees people how she wants to see them, through her corrupted Perfect lenses. Julia doesn't even waver, which only serves to fuel Kera's annoyance.

"Oh, I'll hold on, just for you," she retorts. I try to hide my satisfied smile. Respect for those who can put brats like Kera in their place. Kera blinks repeatedly, mouth reduced to an angry scowl.

"Okay, now that that's out of the way... First up: Nadine Akita."

A tall girl with olive skin and straight dark-brown hair, wearing a blue blazer, stands up. Her green eyes hold fearless assurance as she follows Julia through another locked door into the test room.

As soon as that metal door slams shut, Kera scoffs loudly, proclaiming, "I swear, I'm going to have that bitch fired so fast she doesn't even have time to remove her fake eyelashes before they burn."

Another Perfect girl speaks up, "Actually, I think her eyelashes were real—"

"Shut up."