In the year 2020, two people had first made the impossible, possible. Fifty years post the discovery of Genome Editing, the world has never been the same. But this was our normal – a world free of disease, crime, sorrow, and sadness, but the most hostile society that ever lived!
I shot a look at my sister, a sister for whom I had no emotion. We were playing a game of Tangram. Although it had been 250 years since this mind-bending “family game” was introduced in Europe, governments of countries encouraged kids to play the game to sharpen young minds, the citizens of tomorrow, who would take the country to greater heights. All countries were on a never-ending global race. The definition of “family game” evolved and changed every decade. What was once a game where players would be in good spirits even when they lost but enjoyed the fun of playing, is now one of the most competitive games, that would determine our future. Then the bell rang. The competition had begun…
Emmanuelle Charpentier and Jennifer Doudna had introduced Genome scissors to the world in the year 2020 – an amazing discovery that even won a Nobel in Chemistry. However, the world’s superpowers first encouraged and then coerced its people to pay the high price to remove unhealthy genes and make their children perfect. This made the country perfect and hence powerful – first in every field.
We are told to create a rabbit, now an extinct animal. I got to know about this animal when we studied about it in class. During e-class, we open our e-textbooks and learn it all by-brain for we, my so-called ‘friends’ included, had photographic memory. It was easy, for it was in our genes. We were devoid of emotions even towards our blood family. People with emotions were shunned in our society. Emotions, we were told, clouded judgements, and meddled with perfection. Perfection in our world is- ‘to have absolutely all the possible characteristics that were necessary to become successful, and most importantly TO NEVER EVER MAKE A MISTAKE.’
I placed my second piece on my board, my clock already showed one second. I had to finish it within seven seconds. Beads of sweat turned into a tiny stream trickling down my head. My brain could not afford to waver. No. Never! My future dangled precariously in these seven seconds. I stole a glance at my sister who was sitting across me. I had to focus. I placed my next piece. Was my mind wavering? No. No. What would my parents say? What would my teacher say? Most of all, what would society say?
I place my fourth piece. Three more to go. Somewhere else in the background another bell rang, another Tangram competition had begun. The ring faded leaving just the thought…
I remember going out on a walk with my grandfather. It was winter. The roads were clean, the bricks placed perfectly, no self-driving cars honking at each other and the wind was a gentle caress, perfectly tailored for the winter. Green trees lined the corner of the sidewalk, populated with artificial birds chirping the perfect melody. Our perfect world. That is when he said, his mind lost in another time.
He had explained. Before the Genome scissors became the normal, the Earth was a polluted garbage house where thick, black particles would envelope human bodies, invade lungs if you ever stepped outside your home. A pandemic had engulfed the world and shun them into their homes. Isolation had bred silent killers like depression and anxiety. After the Genome scissors were introduced to the world, prevalent problems vanished. However, he said, the Post-scissors era, as we call it, was the most cold- blooded society to have walked the soil of this planet. Killing emotions had done that. NO EMOTIONS, they said but he explained – emotion is what drives society. Right decisions are born from them. The lack of it made us vulnerable, mere puppets, in the hands of the government of the country we lived in, he argued. Were we any different from robots?
I listened to him but was not sure if I agreed, for it could be a figment of his imagination, but often a feeble voice in the back of my head said that he was right. How could I be sure? I had not lived in another world other than this perfect place where emotions were a taboo.
I placed my fifth and then the sixth piece. I can do it. Come on. Three milliseconds to go. 1…2….3. Then I placed my hand as fast and quickly as possible on the mini, polished bell and its shrill resounded loud. The sound was sweet candy to my ears. I closed my eyes, squeezed it shut and placed my cold, frosted hand on my face as per the rules of Tangram. Who won? Thoughts flashed through my head. Did I win? What if she won? No. She cannot win. I practiced more than she did. Then they announced the winners.
I jumped with joy. Tears rained down my eyes, my fists flying up in the frenzy of joy and victory. I did a whole lot of crazy things at the spur of the moment. My emotions had been let loose and why did I still not regret doing it.
People who stood near me, their practiced faces drained of the joy of victory, the sorrow of loss or graceful acceptance, clapped in a dull chorus ignoring my emotional diarrhea. My sister gave a sly smirk, the most she allowed her face to show what a disappointment I was, despite my win.
Amid them all, stood my grandfather, the only person who continued clapping harder and harder, a beatific smile crowing his face, as beautiful as the morning sun. On that day, an imperfect emotional outburst had made those moments perfect, human even!
the writing laboratory🔬 