Ana: Incipience

Prologue: Welcome to the Academy

14th January 2123.

Hushed voices spoke anxiously, filling the empty hall.  Students searched for familiar faces.  The shuffling of chairs echoed the chatter of the students. The hall was floored with cold linoleum that amplified the sound.  A tall dark woman took her place unnoticed at the podium. 

She cleared her throat; the sound slicing through the racket.

Silence fell.

"Good Morning Gene numbers 60 to 68 and welcome to the institute of military excellence. As you may or may not know my name is Ms. Bevan." Her shrill voice carried to the back of the silenced hall to where a small pale girl was sitting alone.

Gene number 68 C 89 (F) or put simply; Ana. 

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ANA'S PERSPECTIVE

I sat quietly at the back of the hall,  I kept my eyes to the front, looking at the headmasters stern features. 

"You have been placed in this school because your speed and agility score is above the requirements."

The last student strode purposely into the hall and took a seat next to me. I immediately felt uncomfortable with the invasion of my person space.    I shifted my weight away and pondered moving over a seat. I didn't want to seem rude so instead I settled with turning my head to the side so that a wall of my dark curls was erected between us.  The headmaster interrupted my fidgeting. 

"A common mistake made by first years is to gloat about your gene numbers. In case you forgot, let me remind you. You did not earn your skills.  You were born for them." Her voice echoed the room demanding obedience. 

I mulled over the thought with sudden anger. Individualism has become so irrelevant that babies are  born, not out of love, but because society needed another cog. 

Children made to order. Get em' while they're hot.  A dark chuckle arose from my lips. 

People altered before they were born to fit a particularly favorable gene type. Embryos chosen solely for personality, body type and skill; bred for obedience, bred to work.  I immediately changed my train of thought,  I didn't want to be seen as a traitor and be kicked out of the academy or worse. 

The room was full with tension as the nervous group waited for instruction. All of us had been taught the same thing from a young age.  No one is an individual, everyone is a cog.

I stole a glance at the man sitting next to me.  His eyes were fixed on the headmaster,  he showed no emotion. I took note and quickly returned my eyes to the podium,  I did not want to be caught staring.   

"Jonathan!"  The woman on the podium gestured to the back of the room, toward the man sitting next to me. "I wasn't expecting you so soon" The students turned around collectively to face the back.  Their eyes were hungry eager to devour what the headmaster had drawn their attention too.  They reminded me of trained dog.  I struggled to find something to look at beside the masses of faces; I settled with turning my own gaze toward the man sitting next to me.  My feelings of disdain towards the man only grew. 

He stood up quickly and nodded curtly toward the front before sitting back down.  He then turned his head to look down into my eyes. Ice crept through my veins, his icy gaze sent a shiver up my spine.  His eyes were a pale blue, almost grey.  They showed no depth,  a sheet of ice had rendered them impenetrable. He was a hunter, contemplating his hapless prey.  I couldn't bare to hold his gaze any longer,  I tore my eyes from him and rested them on my hands.  I massaged my hand, absentmindedly rubbing at the scar which was on my palm.  The mans robotic nature and steel stare had unsettled me and I suddenly felt claustrophobic. 

"Jonathan is an incredible successful fourth year student here.  He was just like you a few years ago." Her voice was bursting with pride.   I desperately  did not want to end up like him - a machine, programmed to kill. 

"Line up in your gene numbers." The headmaster yelled. The students stood and shuffled toward the front of the auditorium. I certainly did not want to find out what would happen if I disobeyed, so I quickly fell into line behind Jonathon.

He was surprisingly tall once he stood up.  His walk was stealthy and practiced, like a cheetah ready to chase it's prey.  His shoulder's were tense as if he was acutely aware of everything in the room.  He walked to the front of the room and stood on the stage.  The numbers 60 to 68 was projected on small screens across the front of the hall. I begrudgingly stood behind the screen number 68. 

Gene number 68 means that I have an agility score of 10 and a strength level of 5.5.  I was annoyed at my body type,  I am a C which means that under a regulated diet and exercise plan as set fourth by the academy I am maxed out at 5'2 and 105llbs.  If I had been given another body type, maybe I could have been impressive or even feared.  But instead when I stood toward the back of the small group of students I could see I was the most frail by far.  The gene combination that I had been born with was odd,  it wasn't created often. 

In a world where everything is predetermined, anything out of the ordinary is scrutinized. I knew I wouldn't be viewed as a threat; my body type was hardly intimidating. I just hoped I wouldn't be mocked.

The group standing behind number 68 was small; mostly made up of males. I felt invisible as the bigger and bulkier men joked boisterously among themselves.  I spotted a few other girls in the group but they were all keeping to themselves and I was too nervous to go stand by them. I searched for the mechanic blonde Jonathon,  if things went bad I could always go and stand by him and hope the other students wouldn't attack me in public.  

Jonathon stood on the stage looking down upon the students forming into groups.  I was too short to see how many people were in the other numbers.  But I know 62's are always the biggest group. They are the best suited for many of the military jobs so naturally there was a higher demand for them.  There is only a small amount of jobs suited for students with number 68 gene's, I would have to fight to prove that I am worthy. 

I saw Jonathon turn his gaze once again to me,  I could feel him judging me by my skinny limbs and soft body which was not yet muscle bound from hard training.  He mercilessly shifted his eyes before clearing his throat.  

"Students." His voice was low and commanding.  

"For preliminary testing today we will keep you in your geno groups.  This will change once we know how the rest of your gene number relates. For today, geno number 65 to 68, you're coming with me. The rest will be going with Louise, another successful fourth year student." He hopped off the stage and strode past the group out the door.  I followed him hurriedly, desperately trying not to get left behind.  I watched as he grabbed a large bag from the back of the auditorium with group 2 printed on it. I wonder where we were going.