KETTY'S SUBDIVISION Wattys2017

Chapter 1-Part II

At seventeen, Ketty's hazel eyes were like suns inside oceans. But it wasn't her easy features or natural genetic makeup that made her attractive. Rayleen and Lindy said it was that faraway look of a dreamer and her personal sense of identity that made them love her.

Individuality was a rare commodity in the genetically pure suburbs of high school. Walking the halls was a lesson in perfection. Ten thousand bodies, not rail thin, all with great muscle tone, none overweight. It was worse than spoiled, they were healthy, smart, and entitled.

That's what made her slightly dumpy figure stick out. In contrast to every other student, she was different, and people let her know it, mercilessly. On top of that, she herded robots around like sheep, and that got her teased.

"Hey Ketty, where are your rubber boots?" said one boy. It was an ancient farming reference to taking each hind leg of a sheep, putting them in your boots and having your way with the poor creature.

"Only guys do that, Mitch." She shot back. The sheep jokes bugged her the most.

"You're such a baaaad girl." He had to get the last word in.

But it was more than that. She had a vision for her life beyond the status quo, and she went against the grain. Her peers, with their perfect bodies, and perfect life styles, were akin to spoiled rich kids. They did what they wanted with their time, their romance, and their money. She, on the other hand, had set a simple standard, I'm saving myself.

That didn't belie the fact she had a mundane life in her own mind. She touched her thumb to her locker and it sprang open with a click.

"See you tomorrow," she called to her two friends as they disappeared among the throng of students. She grabbed a small pack with her training gear and headed for the street.

"Thank Deity schools out," she said to herself, almost running to escape the masses.

"Hey Ketty," chided a batch of too cool boys outside the front door. "Talking to yourself 'cause you ain't got no friends?"

Another boy yelled, "You know my dad specializes in genetics, there's a pill for what whales you." That witty comment really made them howl.

Ketty glanced sidelong at Kato, the obvious leader. His good looks and snide attitude placed him at the top of the jerk class, but it was deeper than that. He was quiet and reserved, watching everyone and everything so he could use it against them at some later date. Not in an obvious or blatant way, rather he moved in like a silent killer, assassinating your character with a smile and leaving you knowing he had done it while wondering why no one stood up to him. It was second nature, like he was so much better than a person and they deserved to be knocked down a peg. Oddly, he would leave you feeling like it was your fault, and if confronted, he would never admit he had done anything.

She ignored the comments on her weight and focused on the small car that waited for her within the neat line of droid operated limousines and robot driven air ships parading in front of the school.

Splat. Something hit her in the back of the head, hard. She saw stars as she fell to one knee, opening up a hole in her crop pants. She got up and saw Kato getting slapped on the back in appreciation as the group of boys celebrated.

"Man, that was a good shot," said Mitch

"Yea, way to go," said Scott.

She slid into the single seat of the metro car, a tiny four-wheel affair with rounded glass canopy that allowed her to sit upright. Touching her finger to the dash, she set the autopilot and wiped a tear from her cheek.

It wasn't her fault her parents were so in love they had decided get pregnant the old-fashioned way. No genetic screening or slight adjustments for performance, just a natural birth. She shuddered at the thought of her parents doing anything more that kissing. Natural births happened, just not here on her homeworld, or anywhere in the Subdivision for that matter. She was born this way and proud of it, but would she ever meet someone who had enough honor to fight for her. She never wanted to be the object of pursuit, like some prize nailed to the wall in a male mating ritual. She was a princess, and she was worth waiting for.

She felt relieved as one of her favorite songs came on the radio. The large navigation screen read, "Red Sector A, by Rush." It was an ancient band and her friends cringed when she listened to nine-thousand-year-old music. Then her mood shifted as the metro car shrugged of the congested shadow of carbon and glass that was the big city. The black ribbon stretched rail straight to the coastal mountain where her home was and she cracked the window as the fist sized fusion reactor propelled the car easily to a hundred miles per hour. The air out here never tasted so good and it wasn't long before the road began to rise. Tension drained from her body and her heart swelled at the thought of getting back to her real passion, her bots.

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