"If you're lucky to have the finest of genes, then you're perfect."
Paragon is known to be the haven of perfection. A society built on walls, dividing different cities for people with different genetic levels.
Perfect citizens will be automatically...
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The goal is to be perfect. Everyone knows that. Everybody lives with that mindset.
But not me.
My goal is nowhere near being perfect even if that’s what this place is for. A humongous land demarcated by circular walls is no haven. Its sole function of ameliorating imperfection is nonsense. Dividing five different cities brings no good either. Paragon is nothing but a dreadful place.
At the moment you are born, doctors conduct various tests to determine the purity of your genetic structure. If you’re lucky to have the finest of genes, then you’re perfect. They will send you straight to the innermost city where a luxurious and wealthy life awaits. You’ll live there, together with the other perfect citizens.
However, the unlucky ones are forced to relocate to the city where their genetic level fits. They will be given an elastic wrist band that projects holographic data of their biography and, most importantly, their utility score that will help them bring closer to perfection. Created to last a long time, they are to take care of it for as long as they live.
Like money, utility scores can be earned. It can be through job payment or by serving the Bureau. If they reach the required amount of their assigned city, relocation will be administered. It may sound easy but it’s not. Acquiring that much is much more difficult than losing it. Violations will take away a great portion of your utility score.
Although I don’t want to be part of this, the band is the only choice that I have to help me reunite with my family. But after my escape that night, the bands of all the defectives have been permanently deactivated including mine. There’s no way that I can reactivate it especially now that I’m outside the Nursery. The chances of reaching the other cities is low. Too low.
It’s been five years since the escape. I’ve traversed across three cities to run away and hide from the Bureau, but instead of freedom, all I got is a price on my head. The escapees are being hunted as fugitives like the poor little prey that we are. Leaving the Nursery is a death wish we never wanted.
In Paragon, Bureau controls everything. They are the government. They are the rules. And if they want us dead, trust me, they will do it.
I brush the thought of it out of my mind as I slip my hand into my pocket and grab a piece of ice-cold bread. I’ve made it for the old man in the scrapyard. He's been sitting there for weeks now. Coated with dirt and with a shrunken stomach, his ribs clawing the thin layer of his cracked skin. It's not that much but I hope this will make him happy.
I immediately sprint after catching a sight of him and quickly offers the snack. His eyes are glistening when he looks up at me, thankful and hesitant.
