As he stepped out, and started to leave, Loni nodded agreement, but immediately knew the other didn't see. He was used to being punished, whether guilty or not, and also, being treated as if he were too slow to answer.
"What's the point talking to it," a second voice chided. "You forget, that's the deaf-mute? Of course, he won't understand."
That was when, Loni realized, another man stood behind the first. They always did walk the beat in pairs.
The first supervisor shrugged his shoulders. "I never have trouble directing him..."
But the second disagreed again. "We'll need to watch this idiot closer; he gets into too much trouble. Don't know what good he is; they should just put him down."
"He's my best worker, has an instinct for what needs doing, a connection to the plants...like he's one with the garden produce...besides, he doesn't complain."
The other laughed, seeing a joke in every word spoken. Both men took Loni by an arm, lifted him off his feet, and with him in tow, made for the work stations.
****
Some ten years later:
Loni still grieved the loss of his sister, and mother. He knew she had recently died birthing a girl child; the constant awareness of her, and the many thought-words of encouragement had ceased in his head.
At the moment, he stood at the side of the physician, a guard on either side of him; awaiting the results of his annual physical. They had just taken the last blood sample.
He wasn't sure why they were doing all the scans this time...
Perhaps, it's because they consider me an adult now?
Loni had developed into a heavily muscled giant of over six feet, and thought himself rather handsome...except for the scars where his ears should have been, which he covered self-consciously with his curly white-blond hair.
He knew, they would never allow him to have a partner...they considered him to be flawed.
"I sure hope they don't use the blood samples from one of these," objected the one guard to the other, as they led Loni away. "The alter-cloning process is fragile, and selective enough, without using the inferior."
"And what would you know of the procedure, anyway?" asked the other.
"I listen to the physicians talk...when I'm here."
The other laughed. "So do I. They seldom use the flawed ones' samples, only if..."
"If what?"
"If the male is of an exceptional DNA..."
"Such as?"
"Perhaps, of a blood group compatible to all..."
"Well, that makes little sense, when he's already flawed. Will they put him with a partner, if one develops? Why should they have a mate, when most of us go without? Surely, they will castrate him? The female would also be flawed. Instead, they should both be put down."
The other seemed to agree. " Most definitely! But, consider this: where would we get future workers, if these were not allowed to reproduce?"
"You mean, they deliberately create flawed females for the workers?"
The other shrugged.
Their words enraged Loni; in his mind, he was fuming.
I was not born flawed! You are the ones who made me this way!
My mother was a perfect one! I'd like to see you top her! And, she said, my father was of the gentle kind...a rarity. I come from good blood!
You are the dense ones...judging whether I live or die!
Chapter 2
Gemma didn't believe it! It was just too surreal! Lightning simply didn't strike twice in the same place. But it had...
Sam's death had never quite been forgotten, but she had finally put it behind her, and was ready to date again. Gemma had never remarried; she saw nothing remotely out there to measure up to her one true love, and so, she was more or less a loner, concentrating on career and a quiet life. She had few friends, preferring to keep to herself.
No! I cannot have caught it from Sam. It's been ten years! This isn't the same; it's just a glitch to slow me down, now that I have finally decided to venture out again.
When it started, Gemma believed it was just an allergy. Her nose seemed always to be dripping, or plugged, and having to mouth-breathe was not pleasant. But it was nothing serious.
Her eyes became swollen, and sight diminished, until it was extremely difficult to see, unless the print was enlarged, especially when working at the computer. But...it was only an infection.
Then came the pounding sinus headache just across the bridge of her nose. That was near impossible to bear.
Yet, she still denied it; thought it just an allergy cold...or maybe, the flu.
It is flu season, and I haven't gotten a shot yet.
And then, the nausea hit. Her mouth was filled with cotton; her throat sore. She couldn't swallow; couldn't eat. The weight dropped from her like water. Thirty-five pounds!
At last, feeling too ill to take a bus by herself, Gemma called her sister, Bella, to drive her to the hospital emergency.
And that was when, she was struck the final blow.
****
They went to the nearest facility. But, the ER doctor there stereotyped her, along with all the usual patrons, seeking care in the area of this particular hospital.
This was skid row; a hangout for derelicts wanting a place to shelter. The coffee shop, and waiting rooms were always overflowing with people from the street, watching TV, while warming up.
The attitude was one of contempt, as if the attendant had seen one too many patients faking it, and Gemma was the last straw. The doctor assumed, she was just another native drug-addict, after pain medication to take the edge off withdrawal. It was common knowledge, some of those that came by, even used their intravenous ports for a quick
