We laid on the front patio of my elder brother's 3rd floor apartment. Angela was the prettiest girl I knew in October of 2068. I glanced up at the sky like she was doing, I was pretending to enjoy staring at the brown dull color of it. I guess they only call it dark at night because it feels like it should be. The sky doesn't get dark in Phoenix, Arizona, not anymore at least, maybe it did when it was nothing but a barren desert. This is not a romance, this a world where AI divided people based on the quality and type of genes they possess.