GenEdits: The Human Company

Space 25

It had been 10 cycles since that day had come and gone. Each of the specimens were now in their primary programming stage, familiar with the monotony of day to day function. All specimens would receive a standard education in addition to the GenEdits program tailored for each of them. Standard education was not given via classroom instruction, but rather through practical life skill application. After standard education had been completed, specialized education could be supplemented. For the average family, this would look like program placement and higher education to fulfill their greater purpose. For the malfunctioning specimens, this higher education was the GenEdits Optimization Program. Not a program you could volunteer for, and not one you would wish on your most heinous of enemies; the GenEdits OP was designed to distribute controlled and carefully chosen torment to grow unique genes. Diamonds are made under pressure, and GenEdits adopted this rule of nature in the most extreme fashion. Through this program, they had developed genes that make muscles leaner, eyes wider, and ears more alert. They eradicated disease and ailment, only to cultivate more devastating disease and ailment. Each of the 25 specimens would face a personally tailored nightmare, every single day. 50% would complete and have no memories of the program, or what horrors they endured therein. They would go on to be bought, sold, traded, and harvested. The 50% who could not complete were submitted for genetic harvest immediately. It was not uncommon for specimens to be removed during a class and never be seen or spoken of again.

The room where they sat was dim and dank. No paint on the walls, no carpet on the floors, just an empty room with 5 desks. At each desk sat a squinting child with a sketchbook and pencil, trying to make out the lines of a drawing in the impossible lighting. All 5 were artistic malfunctions; specimens 6, 12, 17, 24, and 25. Each was attempting to complete a task set by the instruction panel; a hand-drawn photorealistic image of a bee. Given only a pencil, this was designed to be an unwinnable chess game.

“How can we make a bee with no colors? This is stupid. More stupid than yesterday and the vase with a hole.” An annoyed, but determined boy in the front of the room sat up from his desk and turned to the girl behind him.

“Lavi let me see yours-” he reached for her drawing and she quickly covered it with both arms, attempting to hide the half finished work beneath her.

“No Georgie it’s not done yet!” She said sternly back to him. He slumped back into his chair and looked around the room. Everyone was zeroed in, focused on the impossible task. He turned back to Lavi, who was less focused than the rest and drew listfully on her paper. Named for one of the founders’ favorite artists, Lavinia was marked by GenEdits on her right arm, meaning she was to face genetic harvest whether she completed or not.

“Come on 25, just let him see.” Another child in the back hissed forward. While Georgie was friendly and kind, Van was callous and dry. Designed to be the portrait of perfection, Van had always felt threatened by Lavi; he was specimen 24. Many had passed over his pod for hers, something GenEdits was sure to remind him of continually.

“Well now I don’t want to see.” Georgie smiled deviously and turned back to his paper. Lavi was grateful to him, but knew this was not the end. Shortly after, the silence resumed. So many days were spent in silence, walking to and from dark rooms. They had spent 10 cycles in this place, each day bringing a more challenging, often impossible task. Each day losing those you have come to know to mental deterioration and physical weakness.

The tenth cycle was marked with a test related to the specific specimen malfunction. Those who passed this test would continue through the program; and those who failed were harvested. All specimens taking the test entered unaware of the consequences of failure. This was, to them, another weekly assessment that would likely prove unsolvable. The testing chamber was a large circular room housing 5 doors, each bearing a number. Those doors led to malfunction-specific housing and education, where each of the specimens spent their days in controlled isolation. GenEdits deemed it necessary to socialize specimens 3 times per 7 day week, using carefully designed situations. Every corner of the facility was monitored remotely through extensive camera coverage, and every millisecond of data was valuable to the GenEdits team. The lights in the testing chamber suddenly became intensely bright, leaving no dark corners in the spacious room. The door marked with number “5” flew open to reveal a small room with 5 children sitting inside. As if in a trans, they stood and moved to marked spots inside the testing chamber. Each spot was marked with a number, 1-25. One by one the doors opened and children emerged to take their assigned places. Some doors held more than others, and when all the doors had opened, there were 7 unfilled places.

“Why aren’t the rest here?” The boy standing on space 13 looked around inquisitively, but did not move his feet an inch.

“It’s better not to ask. Sometimes people leave.” the girl on space 20 responded. She and one other came through door “3”, the smallest number in any group.

“So”, the boy on 13 said, suddenly in an improved mood, “What are we thinking it is this week? Maybe a puzzle with not enough pieces.” A light chuckle filled the room before a holo-message appeared. A familiar and monotone voice read aloud

“Specimens- prepare for weekly assessment. Stay in your assigned places to receive instruction.” The previous tone was instantly replaced by a heavy silence while the children waited for instruction. The lights dimmed to an unsettling shade of red and the holo-message once again spoke; this time a foriegn voice carried a much more sinister message.

“Specimens- At least one of you will fail this test. Choose which one does not belong. You have 1 hour to decide.” The message cut off abruptly and was replaced by a clock counting backward from 59:59.

“Where is the image? Or the puzzle? These tests always supply the materials.” The girl on space 8 said, trying to appear calm. “I wasn’t told we needed to bring anything, did anyone else bring anything?” They all looked at each other, and everyone shared the same thought. No one had brought any materials, and no one understood the test. The clock was ticking down; 57:23.

“Look around the room, maybe we just didn’t see the papers or book.” Van chimed in from his space near his category door. They turned the room upside down, turned over everything that they could move and found nothing related to the test instructions. 54:41. Panic and confusion was starting to grip some of them. The girls in spaces 8 and 17 were huddled near door “2”, and a group had dragged a table to the wall to reach the overhead vents. Lavi stared at the activity, planted firmly in her space. She was convinced that the test was not dependent on material, but on information retention. ‘Stand in your space’ was what the first message said, and Lavi knew to follow instructions well meant listening to every detail. In addition to Lavi, only one other child had stayed in their space; the girl in space 11. She stood like a statue, unmoved by the chaos around her, eyes fixed on the screen in the center. She had a pronounced scar over her right eye and was missing a finger on her right hand. Lavi had witnessed these injuries happen firsthand; she had received a circular burn ten inches across on her back in the same test. This was the lesson that taught Lavi to listen to be thorough, and the instructions had told her to stay still. 41:25.

“Okay, we only have 40 minutes left and can’t get the vents off. What other options do we see? Anyone? Should I do all the work?” The authoritative boy leading the majority belonged in space 14, and often was the mouthpiece for all behind door “4”. He was taller than the rest, and much thinner. His bones protruded from his skin as if they would burst through at any second, and his face, though bright and intelligent, was sunken in and dark. In contrast, the others from door “4” were well built, if not overfed looking. He turned to Lavi and the girl in space 11

“Could we maybe get some help, or do you just plan to stand there and be useless?” He had bitterness in his voice. The girl in space 11 replied without a second to think

“You do the test your way, we’ll do it ours. Go fail on your own time Jonah.” She glared up at him, unafraid of anything he might do. He was tall, but weak when next to her, and he knew this.

“Fine.” He huffed and walked back to the group, who had come up with another plan involving the doors.

“They’re wrong, you know. The message said ‘stay put’, not ‘try to escape’” The girl in space 11 looked at Lavi, her deep brown eyes cutting through the blue light of the holo-screen. Lavi had seen her every test week and they had never spoken. Lavi never spoke to anyone besides Georgie, and he had been roped into the escape plan. She hoped this wouldn’t cause his failure, but was more concerned with her own completion. The girl in space 11 spoke again, this time in a lowered voice

“They gave me the name ‘Ula’, like ‘Ulali’. I’m from door ‘1’”. They call you ‘Lavi’, right?” She looked, expectant of an answer. Lavi paused, unsure of how to respond in that instant. After she gathered her thoughts, Lavi quietly responded

“Yeah, Lavi, like ‘Lavinia’. I’m from door ‘5’”.

“I know. You’re space 25. They had to change the whole center to accomodate you. The ratios were thrown off. We did math about it.” Lavi became flushed with fear; she was bullied every day for her “implied inconvenience”. This was, of course, by GenEdits design, but Lavi and the others were unaware of this fact.

“I’m not making fun of you or anything” Ula said, recognizing Lavi’s anxiety at her statement. “I think it’s cool they changed everything. That must mean you’re special, otherwise they’d have put you somewhere else.” Lavi had been called many names, but ‘special’ had never been one of them. She wanted to smile, but used her better judgement to keep her happiness hidden. Joy had a tendency to cause pain, and all of them knew this fact well. Ula knew this feeling, and as she and Lavi made eye-contact, she gave a small nod. 25:00.

Many of the children had made their way back to their spaces, out of frustration or boredom was unclear. Georgie sat with his back to the wall, asleep in his space. He was convinced the test had been flawed, and had prepared a defense for the test administrator. Others had begun speculating about completion, what kinds of lives they’d lead after they had everything they ever wanted at GenEdits expense. A monumental lie, fed every day by GenEdits propaganda and subliminal manipulation. Everything the children saw was branded GenEdits or with another strategic verbiage. The clock hit 15:00 and another holo-message appeared, spoken in the familiar voice they had grown accustomed to.

“Specimens 11 and 25; Pass. All remaining specimens- One of you must fail. When the time expires, if you have not chosen a failing specimen, ALL remaining specimens will be harvested.” The children looked at one another, not willing to believe the instruction. The voice continued “Specimens 11 and 25, remain in your spaces until the test is complete.” The holo-message switched off and was once again replaced by a digital timer, this one set at 25:00. Within seconds of the message ending, the room erupted in cries of defense and attack. Each of them rushing to their own defense, they shouted over each other for minutes before Jonah, the boy in space 14, climbed on a table and let out a shrill whistle. This brought the room to a halt, and everyone's focus was now on the gangly boy from door “4”.

“This should be an easy decision. We’ll write everyone’s name down and draw a name from the pile. That’s fair.”

“Fair? None of this is fair!” One of the girls screamed out before she dropped to the ground and sobbed.

“We aren’t doing hats and names” Georgie suddenly sat up and stretched his arms before he continued. “We should calculate everyone’s risk and likeliness of completion. Whoever has the lowest chance of completing should be chosen.” There was silence as the room thought over this solution. No one had any better ideas, and no decision would be easy.

“11 and 25 are exempt. They passed.” Everyone nodded in agreement. Neither Lavi or Ula had moved from their positions. 13:20. Georgie and two others calculated the risk and completion chance of every person in no time at all. As he prepared to present his findings, everyone returned to their spaces and waited to hear. They had agreed not to contest the results, and that whoever it was would agree to be chosen. He lifted his paper in front of his face, as if to purposefully obstruct his vision of the room, and cleared his throat before reading solemnly.

“After triple checking the numbers and consulting with 2 outside sources, I have found that the participant with the lowest chance of completion is number 8, with only 12% a chance.” As he finished this statement and lowered the sheet, all eyes focused on the girl in space 8. Tears flowed down her face in an unending river, but she stood tall, ready to accept the decision. Without a word, she walked toward the center of the room and stopped in front of the holo-message screen. She pressed a button and a tone sounded, then the voice message asked

“Specimens- Have you made a selection?” Silently, the girl from space 8 typed in her number.

“Specimen 8- FAIL. Immediate harvest. Remaining specimens will return to their assigned resting chambers.” The holo-message disappeared and the doors shot open. The children began to walk back through their numbered doors, and the girl from 8 was suddenly gone. Lavi watched as the door closed, thinking of the test and what had happened; what she would take away from this lesson. Just before the light from the test chamber faded completely, she caught Ula’s gaze through the closing door. Ula waved a small goodbye, and as the door closed Lavi wondered if they would ever meet again. She walked back to her resting chamber, a tiny room with a cot and drawing desk on a concrete floor.

“Are you still up?” She heard Georgie from through the wall. He had a room next to Lavi, and they often talked through the impossibly thin walls.

“I’m trying to remember today. It was important.” Lavi replied, “I’d rather not talk about it right now.” She turned to the open side of the room and stared at the blank wall, wondering what tomorrow would bring. She reached back and felt the curved top of her scar, repeating to herself