To Surpass Man

Extensive genetic engineering on humans for the purpose of ‘improving’ them (outside of the treatment of genetic diseases) was de jure banned almost a century ago and had been de facto eliminated in crackdowns several decades ago. I hadn’t looked extensively into the details since it was considered heretical by the Lord for self-explanatory reasons. To Mark’s question on if I was genetically engineered, I could only ponder for a moment. Indeed, technically I could be considered an engineered being. However, I didn’t think that was quite the answer he was looking for. As such….

“No, I am not. Why do you ask?”

Mark scanned my face curiously.

“Is there a chance you were genetically engineered and simply aren’t aware of it?”

“I strongly doubt that there is anything I am unaware of regarding the circumstances of my birth.”

He raised an eyebrow at my confident statement.

“I ask because you show most of the key signs of being a Mod.”

That gave me pause. What would those signs of engineering be? But rather than leaving me confused, Mark noticed my non-understanding and elaborated.

“In terms of appearance, your facial features are excessively symmetrical, and your hair is an unnatural colour. Granted, these are both possible with the right cosmetic treatment, but considering that you couldn’t even afford an E-watch, I doubt you could afford the cosmetics either. Plus, from what little time I have spent with you, it seems rather out of character for you to get hung up on cosmetic treatment.”

He had me there. I didn’t particularly have any reason to hide that I was a created being, since if someone were to be willing to believe that, then they would be a believer in the first place. However, if what he was saying was considered common knowledge, then this may turn out to be a significant impediment on my ability to operate. Additionally, at this point, I couldn’t simply respond to him with “I am a prophet from the Lord”, as that would seem a rather ridiculous excuse to deflect attention from the issue of my potential genetic engineering.

Also, does this mean I was wrong about my assumptions regarding people’s response to my appearance? Is it less of an uncanny valley effect and more of a cultural response to perceived genetic engineering? Regardless, I let him continue.

“Additionally, in terms of mental talents, you are abnormal.”

“If you are referring to my figuring out that you come from a wealthy family, then that was simply an abduction from your behaviour and appearance.”

Mark smiled slightly and shook his head.

“So, you aren’t even aware of it yourself?”

I scratched my chin in thought and let him continue.

“When I say I was the champion of my school’s chess club, I am referring to the University of Meryka. For me to lose so overwhelmingly and repeatedly against you, you would have to be at least beyond the level of many titled players. Despite that, I don’t think I have heard of you before.”

I suppose I’m a little too unaware of humans’ chess skill levels. Also, he went to the University of Meryka? Coming from an institution that prestigious, shouldn’t the civil service exam be extremely doable? Watching me somewhat warily, Mark continued.

“On top of your abnormally high aptitude for chess, didn’t you memorise the entire deck of cards and then follow my shuffle at the end of our poker games? I can’t think of any other explanation for how you picked up on the exact location of the original cards in that deck without riffling through to find them. In itself, that goes far beyond the pale of normal human limits, does it not?”

Should I just go for the “I’m a prophet” angle now…? No. Given his suspicion, his assumption would be that I am genetically engineered and muddying the waters.

“You say all of that, but you don’t seem to be threatening me.”

Mark gave a slightly bitter smile.

“No, I brought it up to see if you were like me.”

Like him? So, he’s a subject of genetic engineering? No, this is just a gut feeling, but from his detached tone discussing the topic it feels more like….

“Were your parents or grandparents genetically engineered?”

Mark’s eyes widened slightly, and his smile grew even wider.

“That’s the kind of scary intuition that will get you called a Mod, you know?”

“I’m picking the explanation most fitted to the information I have.”

Mark gave a deep sigh at that comment, and his smile disappeared. Seeming to look past me to something incorporeal and far-away, he responded.

“That’s the problem, Elysia. Us humans aren’t that rational. We make decisions because we’re scared; we make decisions because we’re flawed. For better or worse, that’s why we can hide from things that need doing with such impunity.”

His lips twisted into a faint grimace for a moment, and then, refocusing his eyes on me, he continued.

“No matter how special or talented, and no matter how much of a Mod you are, you’ll probably find that out one day too.”

I met his gaze for a moment, before looking out a rather quaint window in the private room. The rain had stopped. Though trivial, a bird perched on a tree in a park next to the library stood out to me. A pigeon, here? At this time of year? At this time of day? In this part of Strait?

“Anyway, Elysia, considering you don’t seem to know, I’ll drop this for the moment.”

“Much obliged.”

Mark rolled his eyes at my nonchalance. It’s certainly an interesting story, but I know for a fact that I’m not genetically engineered, nor am I human. Outside of the scope of my mission, these affairs aren’t especially valuable. To that thought, a certain voice echoed in the back of my mind.

“Elysia, above all you must be kind.”

I bit my lip slightly, but Mark continued regardless.

“My personal story goes back to my great-grandparents.”

“They genetically engineered one of your grandparents?”

Nodding, Mark continued.

“My grandmother. Even back then, it was a very illegal and very closely regulated practice. Nonetheless, it was quite popular among the elite to put their children through the procedure. Later, as you might know, there were massive crackdowns on this practice, leading to the modern stigma around it.”

Mark paused before continuing, seemingly irritated at the very thought of what he was about to say.

“In any case, seeking to bring themselves into wealth, they had my grandmother turned into a Mod while she was in the womb. I’m not sure of the exact channels they went through, but I do know that they drove themselves deep into debt to have it happen.”

Pausing for a moment, Mark tapped something into his E-watch. Turning the projected display to me, I saw a picture of a stunning blonde woman who… looked shockingly similar to me. Of course, the key difference between us was that she was beaming brightly at the camera.

“Is this your grandmother?”

Mark nodded.

“Her name was Ella. You can see why I think you’re a Mod now, right?”

I slowly nodded. I could certainly see the resemblance. But I had one question….

“You say they went deep into debt for this. No matter how smart or pretty she was, I don’t see how a child was supposed to save them. Unless….”

“Yeah. What you’re thinking is probably right. My great-grandparents were unable to pay it back, and they were eventually arrested on financial crimes. My grandmother was orphaned, eventually adopted by a wealthy family. That family was my family, the Bellon family.”

I was beginning to get the full picture now. But the Bellon family? I think I’ve heard of them before. They own a chain of clubs, I believe.

“But the Bellons didn’t know about her engineering, correct?”

“Correct. She decided not to inform them until she was entirely confident of her place in the family, which happened to be after my grandfather had married into the family and they had already given birth to my father.”

“You make it sound as if the Bellons operate like an ancient noble house.”

Mark laughed a little.

“What’s the practical difference between a noble house and a sufficiently wealthy family?”

One of the practical differences in modern times would be inbreeding coefficient, but I understood his point. Mark continued.

“Anyway, as one could guess, that Mod blood running in our family has become quite the secret. I suppose that makes my sister and I third-generation Mods. You’d need to be a Mod to handle all the work our parents handle, I suppose.”

“You didn’t have to let me in on it then.”

Mark gave a scoff.

“I’m in a rebellious mood. Besides, I don’t think you are in any position to raise complaints about genetic engineering.”

Despite my fleeting thoughts about how amusing it would be to report him, I decided that I would prefer not to have my body found in a few weeks in a suicide with three gunshot wounds to the back of the head. Regardless, I had one more question to complete the picture here.

“Are you the family ‘heir’ to the business?”

Mark slowly shook his head and his eyes clouded over slightly.

“No, that’s my younger sister. My father let me choose whatever I wanted to do, and what I wanted to do happened to be working in civil service.”

Then why on Earth…?

“But why did you run away a week before the exam, then?”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier? It seemed fun.”

Something wasn’t adding up here.