PLEASE NOTE (21/07/16): This chapter has been republished due to a notification issue. For some of you, this will be a new chapter, but some of you have read this last week. Apologies for the disappointment if you've already seen it! New chapter on its way soon.

         The flyer landed on my desk at the beginning of first class.

I looked up, but only caught the back of the dark-haired girl's head as she continued up the length of the row. Like always, I'd arrived early – whatever necessary to secure my seat at the back of the class and avoid conversation. The rest of my classmates were still filtering in around me, taking full advantage of the fact that our first teacher of the day was almost never on time.

The shade of green told me all I really needed to know about where the flyer came from, but I turned it over in my hand anyway. BioNeutral Rally, it proclaimed loudly from the top of the page.

"Can we steal your attention for a moment?"

At the front of the room, the dark-haired girl had joined a blonde, who was also carrying a stack of green flyers. The college didn't have a dress code, but they were both wearing dark green jackets, identical BioNeutral badges pinned to the front. Whatever we were about to hear, some degree of careful thought had been put into it.

A general hush fell across the classroom, and the last few students turned to look in their direction. The blonde smiled. "Thanks, guys. We'll only keep you for a second. I'm Katie—"

"—I'm Phoebe," the darker girl chipped in.

"And we're part of the student ambassador team for BioNeutral," she said, "led by our very own Jace Snowdon. You might've heard already, but this weekend the group is holding a rally – starting at noon on the City Walk. There'll be a mile-long march up the length of the walk, ending on the steps of City Hall, where Max Snowdon will be giving a landmark speech."

"Now, you'll probably hear this over and over again through the week," Phoebe continued, seemingly unable to wipe the smile from her face. "And trust me, if you're not bored of the promotion already, you will be by Friday. But we're here to say that it would be really appreciated if we could see some Old Stratford representation this weekend. BioNeutral affects all of us, but at the minute, students and young people are the most severely underrepresented group."

"Which is a big problem," Phoebe continued. One minute in, and their double act was already irritating. "You guys are arguably the most affected by all this. It's a moral issue for everybody, but for all of you in this room, it's also a case of a level playing field."

Their gazes swept across the room, trying to catch everybody's eye at least once, but it was the split second Katie's met mine that had my heart pounding. Could she tell? Was it obvious in the way I was sitting, perched on the edge of my seat like I might need to make a quick getaway? Or that however fast I averted my gaze downward, it didn't hide the striking blue shade of my eyes?

But then she glanced back toward the front row, totally unaffected, and I realised I was just being paranoid.

"When you go out there and apply for a job, or a place at another school," she said, "you want to be judged solely on your own ability. Right?"

A general murmur of assent rippled through the classroom.

"Right," she said. "So how is it fair that you could also find yourself up against peers who've been genetically engineered for success? How is hard work and talent supposed to compare against illegally enhanced DNA?"

The second murmur came louder than the last, and I watched several heads turn to shoot looks at their friends. All of a sudden, Katie and Phoebe's sugar-sweet double act had started hitting home.

I swallowed.

"If we don't stand with BioNeutral now," Phoebe said, "this is the reality we're all facing. None of us stand a chance if we're up against this genetic doping."

"So these kids are really out there?" The voice came from one of the front rows, belonging to a lanky red-haired guy I vaguely recognised. He was the sort to ask dull and long-winded questions in class, but this one had the rest of the room hanging on every word. "It's really been happening? There are modified kids our age?"

"Yes." The single word was enough to have a tense silence falling across the classroom. "It's a bigger problem than any of us anticipated. There's no way to tell exactly how many, but... they're definitely out there."

The next voice was different, a girl somewhere in the middle row. "So they could be sat in this classroom right now?"

Was I imagining the way the atmosphere in the room had turned to ice? I was hardly daring to breathe – one wrong move on my part felt like a potential giveaway, especially when everybody around me suddenly had a radar for it.

But Katie broke into a smile. "It's very unlikely," she said. "Old Stratford has recently tightened its admissions policy, so nobody's getting in without being tested. And if we can rally enough support for BioNeutral, we can fight to get the same sort of testing everywhere else. Job applications, education admission, sporting events... whatever's necessary to keep this country fair for everyone."

There were a few seconds of silence, in which I could practically hear the minds of my classmates whirring. Then, Phoebe chipped in for her perfect ending.

"So hopefully we can count on seeing your faces at the City Walk this weekend," she said, waving her stack of flyers. "Remember, just being there shows we all have strong feelings on this issue, and it'll make it easier to do something about it."

"And we can't do it without you guys. We'll leave you now, but thanks for listening."

With matching smiles, they turned to leave, soon disappearing through the classroom door in a way that made the room feel emptier without them. But contrary to the government's usual tactic, there was no mistaking there'd been there in the first place: on every desktop, the thirty flyers had me surrounded by a sea of BioNeutral green.

Just like that, my classmates were hooked.

And my space to breathe got that much smaller.

***

When I got home from school, my head was spinning.

In just one day, Jace's squad of ambassadors had perfectly infiltrated the college, capturing the student population in a way that could not have gone any better. I couldn't walk down the corridor or into a classroom without hearing someone talking about it. With some purely tactical promotion, the upcoming rally had been catapulted from something mildly interesting to an unmissable student event.

And I couldn't even blame them. The approach had been perfect, and had my DNA not tied me to such inflexible loyalties, I probably would've gone along with it too. How better to engage young people than to scare them about their futures? The New London job market was already notoriously competitive – without the thought of genetically-charged superhumans to scare them out of their wits.

I was in a bad mood when I walked through the front door, and what I was about to face in the living room certainly didn't make things better. The TV was on; I could hear it in the hallway, the evening news theme tune muffled through the wall. This alone was weird enough, seeing as I usually got home to the company of silence – but it was the sound of both my parents' voices that had me seriously wondering what I'd walked into.

Dropping my bag in the hallway, I headed for the door.

"Astrid."

Two heads turned to witness my entrance, and the stares from both put me under a spotlight. "Hi."

"How was your day?" Dad asked.

It was a simple enough question, but we could all hear the underlying message: did you get caught? Like I'd be strolling through the front door if that was the case.

"It was good," I told him, daring to step closer. On the TV, a newsreader had appeared onscreen, looking more solemn than usual – but it was the headline that caused my heart to skip a beat. "What's going on?"

"Two new arrests," Mum said quietly. "Public figures."

"You're joking," I said, though in the current situation, it wasn't hard to believe. "Who'd they get?"

"Serena Fox. Kent Adams."

My heart lurched. I'd hoped for names I didn't recognise – names I could push out of my mind with the type of sympathy you could keep at arm's length. I should've known better.

Serena Fox. Ex-KHA student, their star sprinter, national 100m champion four years running. Kent Adams. Another ex-student, only two years out of school, since the lead in three movies that had made him a heartthrob for teenagers across the city. Two success stories I'd been brainwashed to follow, now with endings I'd risk my life to avoid.

It was weird how things changed.

"What are they saying?"

And yet I didn't need either of them to answer. All I had to do was tune into the TV in the corner, where two photos had appeared onscreen. Given the situation, it felt like mugshots would've been more appropriate, but the photos of Serena and Kent could not have been a starker contrast. The National Athletics Championships, on a first place podium, beaming behind a gold medal. A still from the red carpet, stood tall in a pressed suit, flashing a winning smile. It almost felt sick to stare too long.

"Adams and Fox were both flagged as suspects during recent government investigations," the newsreader said. "Attempts at questioning were unsuccessful, due to security measures put in place at both residences. However, an extended search warrant issued by Max Snowdon allowed these measures to be breached. Both were taken into police custody last night, where tests confirmed the presence of modified markers on their DNA."

I glanced back at my parents. "What about Dysintax? Didn't it work?"

"There was no time to get hold of it," Dad said. "The time between the first attempted arrest and Snowdon's new warrant was thirty minutes."

"What does that even mean? What kind of warrant?"

"Well," he said, "it's less that, and more permission to break into property by whatever means necessary."

"That can't be legal."

"It's Max Snowdon," he said simply. "The law doesn't seem to be a concern for him nowadays."

There was a note of resignation in his voice, like he'd already given up, even though there was so much left to fight. What kind of world were we living in where the law could be bent to break and enter in a matter of minutes? I guessed the answer was depressingly simple: this one.

"And nobody's trying to oppose this?"

"Of course they are," he said. "I would imagine BioPlus have nothing else on their agenda but opposing it. But their work is always more low key, and when Snowdon's public support is growing so quickly..."

"Have they said anything about where they've taken them?"

He spared a sideways glance at the TV screen, which was showing a helicopter shot of a sprawling residential complex. "No," he said. "They're keeping that quiet."

A bit like you, then, I added mentally, though I didn't dare say the words aloud.

"Still," Mum cut in, causing both of us to look at her, "you can't go feeling too sorry for them. They led public lives, and they should've known they had to be careful when all this started..."

"Careful?" I echoed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you know." She was looking at me pointedly, but since neither of them had requested mind-reading as a BioPlus feature, I failed to see what she was getting at. "The Kelly case was enough warning. There's a lot to be said for keeping under the radar."

For a second, I just stared at her. "You can't seriously be suggesting that it's their fault for getting arrested."

"Not their fault, per se."

"They didn't ask to be modified, you know," I snapped. "Are you sure you fully understand the process? Their parents did this. Not them."

"Their parents would've done it with their best interests at heart," Dad interjected. "Just like everybody else."

"Whose best interests?" I pressed. "Their kids'? Now they're locked in away in a prison cell somewhere, you think that's still in their best interest?"

"Well, obviously that wasn't the intention."

"Then what was?" I said, only vaguely aware of the rising volume of my voice. I couldn't seem to help losing my temper; it felt like the words had been hiding within me for a long while. "Genetically engineer the perfect child so they could cheat their way through life? Give them the easiest ride possible for the sake of success?"

"It's not cheating."

"Isn't it?" I asked. "Because there are a whole lot of people out there who've just had to deal with the hand nature dealt them."

"Nature lets us make modifications."

"But that doesn't mean we should." The argument was spilling from me without thought, and I wondered how long it had been bottled up. Was this something Jace's influence had brought out of me, or had it always been there, well hidden?

"Whose side are you on, Astrid?" Mum asked sharply. "If you want to declare yourself loyal to BioNeutral, go ahead – but I'm not sure they'd be so keen to take you."

"That's not what I'm saying."

"It sounds like it."

"I just want you to step up and take some responsibility," I snapped. "Keeping your distance, whispering amongst yourselves, acting like it'd be my fault if the government caught on. You ever stop and think about the fact that if you ended up losing both daughters, it might actually have been your fault?"

All of a sudden, my dad rose from the sofa, putting his head above mine like he needed to regain some sense of power. "You're not taking the moral high ground on this," he said furiously. "I will not sit here and be made to feel like I've committed some terrible crime against my own daughter. The decisions we made nineteen years ago were for your benefit, and you are in no position to tell me they were wrong when you've spent your whole life taking advantage of them."

"Maybe I have benefitted," I shot back, "but am I supposed to be content with that? Did you ever stop and consider the fact I might have liked to know what I could achieve on my own?"

"And you really want to play that lottery of success?"

"Maybe I do," I said, folding my arms. The two sets of eyes on me could not have looked less convinced, but maybe that was a law of nature in itself: that my parents' minds were not to be changed. "It would make life a hell of a lot more interesting."

"Think whatever you want, Astrid," Mum said, with a slow shake of her head. "We stand by what we did, and you're not going to change our minds."

"Well, good." I turned on my heel. "Because you're not going to change mine, either."

I left them no opportunity to say anything else. Before they could manage it, I was out of the door, emerging alone in the marble hallway. Even by myself, I was anything but calm, and the pulsating anger still kind of made me want to punch the wall. They were too stubborn to argue with, but we seemed to end up that way regardless, and the lack of any proper resolution just made everything worse.

I couldn't face the thought of heading to my room, so I opted for the only bearable alternative. Taking a left at the top of the stairs, I pushed through the door that had since become the least used in the house.

Nova's room had remained almost untouched over the last two years – which was odd in itself, considering how willing my parents were to forget her completely. The covers were pulled tight across the bed as if waiting an imminent return, while her belongings still cluttered every surface. In here, it seemed entirely possible that Nova might stroll through the door, slotting back into family life like she'd never been away at all.

Which was probably one of reasons I spent so much time here.

But it wasn't just Nova's memory that kept me coming back; the room was also the passageway to my favourite spot in the house. If I stood in the end of her bed, fiddling with the latch on the roof window, my sister's tweaks let me open it all the way. A leg up on the windowsill, a bit of upper arm strength – and suddenly I was under the stars.

Nova saw it as her way to sneak out. For me, though, the roof had become my favourite place to think. There was more space to breathe without my parents' overbearing opinions to box me in.

Why did they act like this? It didn't take a genius to realise they had to take some degree of responsibility. They were the ones who'd spent hours cooped up in a BioPlus consultation room, picking out their daughters as if choosing new furniture. I came into the world with the decision already stitched into me, and now I had to live with the consequences.

However, as much as I argued, I couldn't ignore the obvious. There was a real difference between claiming to regret modification and truly feeling that way. The edits were part of me, and I didn't know anything different.

If nature had been left to take its own course, would I even still be me?

A bitter wind blew past, and I shivered. Spring was taking its time this year, and it was still too cold to be outside without a coat, but I made no effort to move. Cold was what I needed – it at least proved I was here, I was me, and I could feel.

I just wished that was enough nowadays.

Up and down the street, windows shone as spots of light amongst the neighbours' darkened houses. Everyone here was fond of tall iron gates, but on the roof I could sit above it all. Somehow, the flickering lights of TVs and shadows moving across bedrooms was all it took to make our cagey neighbours feel a little more human.

Then, suddenly, a siren broke the peace. I turned my head just in time to see the blue lights speeding down the road. For a split second, my heart leapt – was this it? Were they finally closing in on me? But the car stopped several houses short, swerving onto the pavement outside next-door-but-one. The officers were out of the vehicle in seconds, and their shouting echoed all the way down the street.

Basic human instinct seemed to be to help, especially when I heard the screams, but in this world it was not an option. All I could do was remain frozen on the roof, utterly powerless in what was going on.

It took five minutes for them to emerge from the house – and when they did, three officers were dragging a protesting figure toward the car. A single scream cut across the night air. Then the door slammed, cutting it off, leaving an uneasy quiet to settle over the street.

There was no siren when the car started again. Instead, the vehicle glided smoothly down the road, vanishing around the corner like the last few minutes had never taken place.

This was happening. And though I knew it was getting closer to home, I hadn't imagined the saying would become so frighteningly literal.

In the cold air, I shivered again.

--------------------

Hi, everyone! I feel so productive getting these updates out each week, and it's all because the train is doing wonders for my writing time. I don't think I've ever been so motivated to get this done -- and I really should get a move on, since I'm aiming for a trilogy with this story!

Also, can we take a moment to appreciate the beautiful banner at the top of this chapter? Thanks so much to @earlydemise for sending it in (probably a very long time ago, because I'm still working my way through the list).

Leigh