Lisa sat nervously on the cold plastic bed that squeaked under her weight, waiting for Doctor Widdley. She looked over at her new husband, Tray, smiling to herself over how lucky she felt to have found him. They had met on a flight to New York; she was visiting her family, while he was on business. They talked the entire flight and exchanged numbers upon landing. One year, three months and five days later, the newly wedded couple now sat in Room 7 in Dr. Widdley’s office, waiting for the doctor to arrive and bring in their charts.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Widdley, nice to meet you. I see this is going to be your first child. Oh, how sweet. Yes, well you have a lot of thinking to do then!”

“Yes, my husband and I have thought plenty and we’re sure about our decisions.”

“But I must remind you that this procedure is still in its experimental stages, not to mention the moral and, uh, financial issues involved. As you know, this won’t be cheap. We can’t guarantee that your baby will be exactly what you’re hoping for, and there is no turning back. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

The couple exchanged glances. “We’re sure. This is our kid we’re talking about. We want her to be perfect,” said Tray.

“Of course, of course. Well, lets see, I’ll leave this chart here,” the doctor said, handing them a sheet of paper and blue ballpoint pen with the words “Samson Medical Center- The Council for the Improvement of the Human Race” embossed in blue slanted letters across its white rounded surface.

Lisa and Tray huddled around the paper that would change their lives. They smiled at each other and turned their gaze to the horizontal and vertical lines before them. They began crafting their unborn daughter; she would have her father’s deep blue eyes, her paternal grandmother’s olive skin, her Mother’s brilliant blond hair, her father’s athletic ability, her paternal grandfather’s intelligence, and her maternal grandmother’s height and thin figure. They recorded their families’ bad vision, bone deformities, cancer cases, and diabetes- genetic flaws that would be erased from their daughter’s not yet developed DNA. The couple smiled knowing that she would not have her grandfather’s big nose or her grandmother’s boring brown eyes. All of these defects would be gone- they would have the perfect, flawless baby girl.

Leila was born on February 3rd 2056: 7 pounds, 2 ounces, olive skin, blond hair fuzz and little blue eyes.


Now it was 2072 and Leila was a junior in high school. With her stunning facial features, slender figure, athletic abilities that matched those of any high school boy and a high IQ to match, Leila was one of the most popular girls in school. Her other nine best friends looked just like her, with the exceptions that Lee and Julia were brunettes and Sarah, Leah and Tisha had green eyes. They all possessed undeniable athletic and academic superiority, making them all the captains of the women’s sports teams, leaders of the academic clubs, members of the cheerleading squad and girlfriends of the most desirable seniors in school. Leila was the valedictorian, Ella the school President, and Julia the Homecoming Queen. All nine girls were accepted to the top ten universities in the country. And how couldn’t they have been? They were all genetically predestined for greatness.

As for the “normies”- the losers who weren’t so lucky to have their DNA tweaked and perfected- well they weren’t quite so lucky. No invitations for popular girls’ parties, no hot boyfriends, no academic or athletic excellence, no acceptance to Yale or Harvard. That is, except for the lucky few who could pass as almost perfect.


Leila was now thirty-one years, four months, and 17 days old and she and her husband of 2 years decided that they were ready to have a baby. They submitted their charts and were greeted nine months later by Haylie, a beautiful baby girl born 6 pounds, 6 ounces with blue eyes, olive skin and blond hair fuzz. The only problem was that all the other babies in the ward looked just like Haylie. As she got older, she blended perfectly into her perfect surroundings. Everyone was tall and thin like her, smart like her, athletic like her. She couldn’t play soccer on the school team because all the spots had already been filled by girls equally as good as her. She didn’t win Homecoming queen, because Lane had slightly larger blue eyes and slightly silkier blond hair than everyone else. She didn’t have a boyfriend, because no one noticed her perfect figure and beautiful face among those of all the other girls. Haylie cursed her parents and her perfect DNA. She just wished she was short, fat, brown-eyed, pale skinned, or wore glasses- anything to be different from the flock of mutant Barbie clones that surrounded her.



This will certify that the above work is completely original- Tamara Pier