I spit some disinfectant solution into a small sink by the white chair I'm half-lying on.
They always start with it - just in case we still have remnants of somebody's else's saliva in our mouths, from kissing for example.
Imagine the surprise of soon-to-be-designer-baby's-parents if that happened... I almost chuckle as I watch my DNA being sucked into the drain.
"Please bring your wrist forward," Zahara - the lab assistant - instructs me. She's a mixed woman probably in her late 40s. She always wears a mask over her mouth and outlines her dark eyes with a violet shade of eye-makeup.
"AI, display the detailed health stats for me," she tells my device and Omnia shoots up a large projection of all my bodily statistics.
No lancing devices or finger pricking - these guys have all the top
