The Visitor: Corrupted Genes, #1

Prologue

First a drop. Then a second. Followed by a few more. No one can see it coming. Of course, they can feel it. They can even smell it if their noses are attuned. Within moments, everyone goes inside or pops open their umbrellas as the rain falls gently upon them on the cool autumn night. It’s only a matter of time before the might of the thunderstorm presents itself. For citizens of Nusa, a thunderstorm is nothing to fear. Thunder cannot hurt them. Lightning will not pass the advanced arresters. At worst, the storm is an annoyance.

If people were more curious, more scrutinizing of the dark rain-swollen clouds, they would notice something that does not belong.

This something hurls towards the planet under the cover of the dark clouds. An orange flaming tail trails behind it, like a literal fireball destined to destroy all. Fortunately for the people, this ball of death does not blast their city into oblivion. It takes all of its anger and slams into a wooded area outside the city.

Trees crack and topple. Nocturnal animals flee deeper into the woods. The ball pounds into the ground.

BOOM!

Dirt explodes into the air. It mixes with the heavy rain, falling back down in lumps. The orange sphere rests half-buried in the soft soil. Rain touches it, only to sizzle and steam off the surface. Lightning dances across the sky. The storm continues as if nothing has happened.

The ball slowly changes color. From bright orange, it darkens to burnt orange. Then it changes its mind and dulls to brown. As time passes, it settles on metallic grey. The rain continues to pelt the ball with streams running down its sides. Steam fades out to nothing.

The ball seems to breathe. A part of it swells and falls with sporadic rhythm. It rocks a little to and fro. Then it stops. Motionless. Still. Dead.

CRANK!

The ball’s chest bursts open. Rain finds its way into the innards, hoping to soak whatever is inside. Lightning flashes in the sky, followed by drums of thunder. Something is struggling its way out. It grabs hold of the edge of the ball’s open chest. Slowly, it tries to lift itself out. It falls back inside with a soft thud. A few moments pass before it tries again. Slowly. Slowly. It lifts half of its body out before losing strength and falling back in frustration.

The cold rain gradually zaps the visitor’s energy. The being wants nothing more than to listen to the soft taps of the rain and slip into sweet, blissful unconsciousness. But that is not an option.

It clasps the edges once again to hoist itself out. Its forelimbs shake. The being refuses to fall back inside another time. It will get out. It will break free. It has gone through too many ordeals to give up now.

Finally, it slings half of its body out of the ball. It wants to stop in that position to rest, but when exerting itself, it has used too much force. It slides off the ball and sinks into the mud. The soggy earth quickly swallows its body and threatens to fill its lungs with cold soggy essence.

The being sloshes to keep its head out above the muck. It does just that, and only that for the time being. It tries to stand. Gravity will not allow it. Its legs wobble like jello in the clutches of the mud. It has to get out. Though it would be easier to suffocate.

With its head up, it reaches one arm forward and digs its fingers into the malleable ground. It repeats with its other arm. Then, with all the might it can muster, it pulls itself forward. A pathetic way to get out, but it will do. Again. One arm forward. Dig in fingers. Other arm forward. Dig in fingers. Pull.

Again.

Again.

Maybe one more time?

Not yet.

Suck in air.

Try again.

The being finally frees itself from the suction. The struggles to escape the ball is now a distant memory. The being lies down on the moist ground without fear of suffocation. It takes labored breaths. The weight of the planet is heavy.

Lightning flies off to another land. Thunder grumbles in the distance. The storm is moving away. The rain persists but, in time, it too wanes. As it does so, it leaves the being a gift: cold, soaked clothing clinging to the being’s body, zapping whatever energy it has left. Ungrateful, it places its arms and legs in position to push itself up into a kneeling position. From there it will try to stand. From there, take a step. From there, walking.

It plants its feet the best it could. The body rises no higher than a couple of inches before collapsing back to the ground. Time for plan B. One arm forward. Dig into the malleable ground. Other arm forward. Dig in again. Pull.

Despite the chilled clothing, weak muscles, heavy gravity, and hunger, the being puts some distance between itself and the ball. But that is as far as it can go. It is exhausted. It is breathing heavier now. It is sure it will die. Starvation. Exposure. Rabid animals. These are just a few things that could destroy it in this condition. The question is, which will come first? It hopes that it will be asleep for whichever comes to claim its life.

The rain begins to clear. First a few drops fall off. Then a couple less. Soon the last drops have touched the earth. The being slips into an exhausted sleep.

Chapter One

The Future-Score results offer nothing new. Another healthy baby. Another perfect citizen in the making.

Nusan slogan number four: Imperfections aren’t desirable. Nusans are perfect.

Peter Weekly stands outside the door to his office. His eyes glaze over the results on his tablet. He drags his finger repeatedly up on the screen. Everything is pretty normal. There are a couple things that will need to be fixed, but they’re nothing major.

He looks around. Ensuring no one can see him, he lets out a heavy sigh. Delivering this report to his clients will be like always. They will not like the defects of their baby. No one ever does, though they don’t have a good reason to be upset. Creating perfect people is trivial. He is a professional genmod technician. At least, professional in the eyes of society.

He taps on his tablet. A new application opens with a list of movie titles and times. Nothing interesting. He has already seen a few of them a couple times. The rest aren’t worth watching.

Keeping the tablet facing his chest, he twists the doorknob to his office. The door yields. Soft LED lights welcome him inside. A handsome man and a beautiful woman sit close to each other on a plush red sofa. The woman grips her phone tight as they watch a holographic news report. Her mouth is agape and her eyes are wide while the man slowly shakes his head and bares his teeth.

The clients.

Great! Now they’re catapulting Susans over! the woman bellyaches.

That Susan better hope it doesn’t run into me, the man declares.

They are talking about the latest news taking Nusa by storm. Reporters say that Susa is launching people over the border. It sounds too unbelievable. Susans are not advanced enough to put a man inside of a ball and fling him into Nusa without causing the rider any serious harm.

Then again, Susans are tremendously brutish. They could, in theory, survive being catapulted into Nusa. It’s only a theory. Most people have never seen a Susan in person.

Including Peter, himself.

Closing the door, the clients break away from the phone. The man relaxes his shoulders. The woman’s eyes brighten. She turns off her phone. Back with the results? she asks.

Peter nods his head slightly. Yes. He walks to his glass-top desk, making sure that the couple cannot see the movie listings on his tablet. His face remains neutral as he pretends to review the Future-Score results. Standing at the desk to prolong delivering the report, he switches the tablet back to the results and takes his seat.

These are all simple tricks to prolong the delivery of the Future-Score results. It gives the report more credibility. People don’t trust results given in haste, even though they come from a qualified scientist in the field of genetic modification. It should be more than enough, but it’s not.

The couple lean forward on the sofa. They stare at Peter expectantly. It’s time to deliver a performance. They have waited long enough.

After viewing the results of your baby’s Future-Score, he beings, You will give birth to a healthy baby boy.

The clients fall back onto the sofa with relief. The woman rubs her flat belly and looks lovingly into the man’s eyes. He smiles at her while placing a hand on hers. Peter allows them to have their moment together. His face works hard to maintain a professional demeanor.

How many times has he seen this behavior? Too many. No one should be this relieved that their child will be born healthy. Nusan law mandates it. Every illness discovered in the report is eradicated before birth. Displays of relief aren't necessary.

He waits about thirty seconds to give the pair their space to celebrate. Now it’s time for the part that is the most important for all clients. On to the desirability results.

The couple lean forward again, wide-eyed. This is what they really pay him for.

Based on the Future-Score, when the child is of age, he will have dirty blonde hair and light grey eyes.

Just like his father, the woman chimes in.

His IQ will be 103 and he will be a little short.

The pair’s eyes narrow. Their lips thin. The air of the room thickens. Peter senses their anger, but he continues with the report.

He will have facial hair, an average penis size, and may have asthma.

NOW JUST A MINUTE! the man shoots off of the sofa in unbridled anger. YOU SAID HE IS HEALTHY!

Peter jolts slightly in his seat. Angry clients ready to smash in his face never gets old and always catch him off guard. He takes a quick breath and finishes his report while trying to maintain an air of professionalism. He’ll be an introvert.

The man takes a determined step forward with clenched fists. The woman grabs the man’s shirt. She gives a firm tug, which stops him from laying siege to Peter’s desk and pulls him back to the sofa. He sits, keeping eye contact with Peter. His wife rubs his back to soothe him, but she casts Peter the stink eye herself, as if he has committed a heinous crime.

How can our child be healthy if he has asthma? I thought you were smart.

They should know this answer. Every Nusan receives a pamphlet explaining the process of genmod and the options available to sculpt their perfect child. It is clear that the pair have not read it.

In his most professional voice, Peter explains. The results from the Future-Score are created by analyzing the DNA of the fetus before genmod has been applied. Therefore, this is a representation of what your child would look like if genmod isn’t applied. This is just to give you an idea of the different modifications to consider before the genmod takes place.

He taps on his tablet. On his desk, a small, flat, circular device comes to life and projects a hologram of a handsome, dirty-blonde man. Next to the image is another projection of a chart listing different attributes and the desirability rating.

This is what the Future-Score model predicts your son will look when he is of age. If there is anything you don’t like, I can tell you what options are available.

The couple relax into the sofa once more. Their faces soften, but eyebrows scrunch slightly. Peter waits for the usual. They are not happy about the asthma. They also will not like the IQ score or the height.

His IQ, the woman starts. It’s too low.

That will be set to the national minimum of 120 free of charge, Peter informs them.

You know...Not a fan of that hair. Just doesn’t look right with his skin. And his eyes too, the man critiques.

Peter hides his surprise by looking at the tablet. Those traits shouldn’t have been an issue. What an intractable monster vanity is.

You can change the color of his hair and eyes. I’m sure you have the list of different procedures we can offer you, he reminds them, but I will mention them here. If you only want to change the hair color on his head, it will cost $400,000. For all hair on his body, it will cost $850,000. Changing his eye color will be $1,200,000.

The man shakes his head in understanding.

What about his height? the woman questions.

That will also be raised free of charge to the mandatory minimum of 68 inches, Peter assures her.

And what about this asthma? the man presses.

That will be corrected free of charge, Peter says dutifully.

The couple think for a moment before the man asks about adding more facial hair and changing the penis size.

If you want to change one area of facial hair, it will cost $200,000, Peter explains. To change all facial hair features, it will cost $550,000. These changes do not include hair color. On to his penis. Penis reduction is $1,500,000 per inch. Of course, his penis is already around the national minimum. Penis enhancement is $100,000 per inch. There is no limit to size enhancements, but few have gone beyond nine inches total. The few who have later regretted it since people thought their child had a disease.

Can we do something about his introversion? the woman asks.

There is the charisma package that will cost $500,000.

"And can we increase his