Vendetta
I sat inside the waiting room, anxiously fiddling with my fingers.
Roughly a hundred years ago, the government revealed that a genetic mutation in humans dated back as far as the seventeenth century had finally come into effect. This gene is called TW7.
From the vague information the government had given, it altered the sweat gland's smell - undetectable to the human nose - but to more sensitive animals it made them tired, dazed, and more willing to submit.
Then, when humanity was still in utter confusion and protest, the government threw in people called Irregulars, humanoid creatures that have diverse, unique traits and powers that humanity could control.
But there was a catch.
Only humans possessing the TW7 gene could control them. Normal humans had absolutely zero effect of them.
This caused even more outrage from greedy, corrupted people as well as protesters for ethical reasons. No human - or animal - should be treated like slaves.
However, after a few decades, it turned into the norm. Schools accommodated this new change by creating schools entirely and exclusively for TW7 children, new jobs like being a hero became reachable and tangible to TW7 children. After all, some people might use it for good, but others wouldn't. This is real life.
"Emery Calvin, come up."
I stood up and timidly reached the door, hesitating for a split second. No, I silently scolded myself. I wasn't weak, I didn't need protection, I don't want to be underestimated.
I took a deep breath, and entered.
A few months ago at my old school, we took a DNA test to see if any student had TW7. I was one of twenty three, the total population had been over six hundred.
Already, I felt the sudden drop of atmosphere, it felt tense and frankily hostile.
"Mr Colvin, please sit down here," the young blonde man said, gesturing to the seat next to him. I assumed he was my Professor.
"Yes, sir."
As I sat down, I noticed that a girl right across me was glaring profusely at me, it was like she had a vendetta against me.
I was tempted to asked her what was her problem, but she snarled at me before I said anything.
Roughly a hundred years ago, the government revealed that a genetic mutation in humans dated back as far as the seventeenth century had finally come into effect. This gene is called TW7.
From the vague information the government had given, it altered the sweat gland's smell - undetectable to the human nose - but to more sensitive animals it made them tired, dazed, and more willing to submit.
Then, when humanity was still in utter confusion and protest, the government threw in people called Irregulars, humanoid creatures that have diverse, unique traits and powers that humanity could control.
But there was a catch.
Only humans possessing the TW7 gene could control them. Normal humans had absolutely zero effect of them.
This caused even more outrage from greedy, corrupted people as well as protesters for ethical reasons. No human - or animal - should be treated like slaves.
However, after a few decades, it turned into the norm. Schools accommodated this new change by creating schools entirely and exclusively for TW7 children, new jobs like being a hero became reachable and tangible to TW7 children. After all, some people might use it for good, but others wouldn't. This is real life.
"Emery Calvin, come up."
I stood up and timidly reached the door, hesitating for a split second. No, I silently scolded myself. I wasn't weak, I didn't need protection, I don't want to be underestimated.
I took a deep breath, and entered.
A few months ago at my old school, we took a DNA test to see if any student had TW7. I was one of twenty three, the total population had been over six hundred.
Already, I felt the sudden drop of atmosphere, it felt tense and frankily hostile.
"Mr Colvin, please sit down here," the young blonde man said, gesturing to the seat next to him. I assumed he was my Professor.
"Yes, sir."
As I sat down, I noticed that a girl right across me was glaring profusely at me, it was like she had a vendetta against me.
I was tempted to asked her what was her problem, but she snarled at me before I said anything.