Perfect Species

1. Robots

Humans have been selectively breeding since 2017, trying to create the perfect species. It is now the year 3119. Evolution has been on our side, and most people are near perfect. All of us are attractive, clever and have few flaws. Hardly any of us feel any kind of emotion whatsoever.

I'm an exception.

Nobody knows yet that I have emotions. Most people now are more robot than human, so they wouldn't understand anyway. Each one of us have genius ancestors, and our brains have evolved to excel in maths, science and nothing else. Any other subject doesn't matter. As a result, it is near impossible to find new art, music or stories. This isn't a concern for the Robots (as I like to call them) but for people like me, it's dull. Life becomes monotonous as we perform the same tasks and problems day after day.

The Robots don't feel the need to make friends. They breed with the cleverest person they can find. It gets lonely when nobody around you enjoys talking to you. In this time, your IQ defines you, and not who you are as a person.

The Robots mistreat any disabled or dim person. Nobody dares breed with them, in fear of the government killing the child. Most disabled people accept this and live a life of solitude, neglected even by their parents. Everyone obsesses over creating the perfect species. It's sickening.

Therre is only one disabled person in our entire school. I attend a strict and prestigious boarding school run by government freaks. As a result, we are all trained into becoming the perfect human beings. The disabled person is frequently beaten and abused by other students, I hear. The teachers don't care. Abuse like that is common for the people with impediments. They can't fight back, most of them don't even speak to other students in fear of bullies.

So when a blind boy first spoke to me in maths class, I was taken aback.

"Excuse me, but could you please pass me my pencil? I dropped it on the floor." He flinched as soon as he spoke. The poor boy was expecting for me to hit him. I passed him the pencil instead.

"Thanks." He breathed a sigh of relief, and when I looked at him he was smiling.  The boy was tall and gangly, and wore dark shades over his eyes. He had light brown hair that needed a haircut. Despite this, I didn't see why anyone would want to bully him, he clearly meant no harm. A smile was still on his face as he hummed softly.

Wait, what? If he smiled, that means he was happy. The Robots do not feel happiness or joy. Humming? They don't care for music. That's odd.

I cast the thought out of my mind as the lesson continued.

Later, I was walking down a corridor when I came across the boy again. But he wasn't smiling this time. There were two senior boys in front of him, trying to trip him up. One succeeded and he crashed to the floor, sending books and papers flying. The other boy dragged him back up by the hair and ripped off his glasses. Without glasses, he looked much weaker. He looked powerless and afraid. The bullies walked away laughing as he hid his eyes from the gathering crowd. I helped him up and retrieved the glasses, and as he thanked me I thought I saw a tear roll down his face.

There was something irregular about this boy, and I was determined to find out what it was.